I turned on her with burning indignation. "How dare you openly a.s.sist his plans after confessing to taking his money as a bribe? Don"t mention his name to me again, or I shall refuse to listen to you."
She actually had the impertinence to look indignant. "It"s shame I cry on you, miss, for tryin" to break the pore man"s "eart. Then I s"pose I can"t give "im that there fotograft of you?"
"My photograph! Of all the unspeakable----"
"It was with "im sayin" that if "e only "ad it to look at it might "elp to parss all the dark "ours "e "as to spend away from you. "E sed "e wanted it to look at wen "e was lyin" awake at night, thinkin" of you."
I strove to be reasonable. "To let him have my photo, Elizabeth, would only encourage his mad ideas. No, all this must be stopped immediately. I shall take prompt measures. Once more, let me beg of you never to mention this painful occurrence to any one." I turned to go out of the kitchen, but when I reached the door Elizabeth called to me. "I wanted to ask you a favour, miss, if it isn"t troublin" you too much," she began.
"What is it?" I inquired rather absently, for my mind was very much disturbed just then.
"You see, miss, it"s this way. I gotta young man wot"s very poetick, like. "E"s always sendin" me portry copied from mottoes out o"
crackers. It"s very "ard to keep up with "im."
"Then how do you want me to help you?" I asked, puzzled.
"I wondered if you"d be so kind as to copy me a bit o" portry I sor in one o" master"s books. It sounds real pretty, but I can"t get it down right. My "andwritin" is that bad." She took a leather-bound volume of Byron from the kitchen drawer. "It"s just this yere bit:--
"Yet, oh, yet thyself deceeve not, Luv" may sink by slow decay; But by suddint wrench beleeve not "Earts can thus be torn away.""
"Have you had a quarrel with your young man?" I asked, perplexed at the strange selection of verse.
"No, miss, but "e"s "overin" just now--you know what I mean. I want to bring "im up to the scratch, like."
I could not help thinking what blunt direct methods the lower cla.s.ses employ in affairs of the heart. In our walk in life the sending of such lines to a gentleman who had not declared himself would be considered almost indelicate. However, I wrote out the absurd lines for the girl without comment, and rescued Henry"s volume of Byron, which I felt would not improve in appearance by contact with the meat chopper, knife-board and other miscellaneous objects which she keeps in the kitchen drawer. It is a pity Netta does not exercise stricter supervision over Elizabeth. The girl seems to do what she likes.
"You had better ask permission from Mrs. Warrington before taking books into the kitchen," I said with gentle reproof. "They might get lost or soiled."
"Right-o!" said Elizabeth. "An" do you reely mean that you"re not a-goin" to give your fotograft to Mr. Roarings?"
"Indeed not," I said vehemently, "don"t dare to suggest the idea to me again. If Mr. Rawlings ever speaks of it to you, you can tell him how amazed and indignant I was."
"Right-o!" said Elizabeth, as I hurried out of the kitchen.
On thinking the whole matter over I must admit I am greatly perturbed.
I am not like those women who glory in winning a man"s love for the mere gratification of their vanity. I know myself how much one can suffer from unrequited affection, and I am steadily determined to cure Mr. Rawlings of his love-madness by every means in my power.
CHAPTER X
The study door burst open and one end of Elizabeth--the articulate end--was jerked into view.
"Wot will you "ave for lunch, "m?" she demanded breathlessly. "Lamb or "am?"
Abruptly recalled from the realms of fiction writing I looked up a little dazed. "Lamb or "am," I repeated dully, "lamorram? Er--ram, I think, please, Elizabeth."
Having thus disposed of my domestic obligations for the day, I returned to my writing. I was annoyed therefore to see the other end of Elizabeth travel round the doorway and sidle into the room. Her pretext for entering--that of dusting the roll-top desk with her ap.r.o.n--was a little thin, for she has not the slightest objection to dust. I rather think it cheers her up to see it about the place.
Obviously she had come in to make conversation. I laid down my pen with a sigh.
"I yeerd from my young man this morning," she began. A chill foreboding swept over me. (I will explain why in a minute.)
"Do you mean the boiler one?" I asked.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Do you mean the boiler one?" I asked.]
""Im wot belongs to the Amalgamated Serciety of Boilermakers," she corrected with dignity. "Well, they"ve moved "is "eadquarters from London to Manchester."
There was a tense silence, broken only by Elizabeth"s hard breathing on a bra.s.s paper-weight ere she polished it with her sleeve.
"If "e goes to Manchester, there I goes," she went on; "I suppose I"d quite easy get a situation there?"
"Quite easy," I acquiesced in a hollow voice.
She went out leaving me chill and dejected. Not that I thought for a moment that I was in imminent danger of losing her. I knew full well that this was but a ruse on the part of the young man to disembarra.s.s himself of Elizabeth, and, if he had involved the entire Amalgamated Society of Boilermakers in the plot, that only proved how desperate he was.
I have very earnest reasons for wishing that Elizabeth could have a "settled" young man. You see, as I have previously explained, she never retains the same one for many weeks at a time. It isn"t her fault, poor girl. She would be as true as steel if she had a chance; she would cling to any one of them through thick and thin, following him to the ends of the earth if necessary.
It is they who are fickle, and the excuses they make to break away from her are both varied and ingenious. During the War, of course, they always had the pretext of being ordered to the Front at a moment"s notice, and were not, it appears, allowed to write home on account of the Censor. Elizabeth used to blame Lloyd George for these defects of organization. Even to this day she is extremely bitter against the Government.
In fact, she is bitter against every one when her love affairs are not running smoothly. The entire household suffers in consequence. She is sullen and obstinate; she is always on the verge of giving notice. And the way she breaks things in her abstraction is awful. Elizabeth"s illusions and my crockery always get shattered together. My rose-bowl of Venetian gla.s.s got broken when the butcher threw her over for the housemaid next door. Half a dozen tumblers, a basin and several odd plates came in two in her hands after the grocer"s a.s.sistant went away suddenly to join the silent Navy. And nearly the whole of a dinner service was sacrificed when Lloyd George peremptorily ordered her young man in the New Army to go to Mesopotamia and stay there for at least three years without leave.
Those brief periods when Elizabeth"s young men are in the incipient stages of paying her marked attention are agreeable to everybody.
Elizabeth, feeling no doubt in her rough untutored way that G.o.d"s in his Heaven and all"s right with the world, sings at her work; she shows extraordinary activity when going about her duties. She does unusual things like remembering to polish the bra.s.ses every week--indeed, you have only to step in the hall and glance at the stair rods to discover the exact stage of her latest "affair." I remember once when one ardent swain (who she declared was "in the flying corpse") got to the length of offering her marriage before he flew away, she cleaned the entire house down in her enthusiasm--and had actually got to the cellars before he vanished out of her life.
You will now understand why I was dejected at the perfidy of the follower belonging to the Boilermakers" Society. I saw a dreary period of discomfort ahead of me. Worst of all I was expecting the Bos...o...b..s to dinner that very week. They had not before visited us, and Henry was anxious to impress Mr. Bos...o...b.., he being a publisher. It is surprising, when you come to think of it, how full the world is of writers trying to make a good impression on publishers. Yet no one has met the publisher who ever tries to make a good impression on any one.
I will not elaborate the situation as it stood. All I can say is that there is no earthly possibility of making a good impression on any living thing if Elizabeth is in one of her bad moods. And it would be no use explaining the case to Mrs. Bos...o...b.., because she has no sense of humour; or to Mr. Bos...o...b.., because he likes a good dinner.
Finally, the Domestic Bureau failed me. Hitherto they had always been able to supply me with a temporary waitress on the occasion of dinner parties. Now it appeared these commodities had become pearls of great price which could no longer be cast before me and mine (at the modest fee of ten shillings a night) without at least fourteen days" notice.
The Bureau promised to do its best for me, of course, but reminded me that women were scarce. I asked, with bitterness, what had become of the surplus million we heard so much about. They replied with politeness that, judging from the number of applications received, they must be the million in search of domestics.
Returning home from the Bureau, I found Elizabeth studying a time-table.
"I see it"s a "undred and eighty-three miles to Manchester," she commented, "an" the fare"s 15s. 5 1/2d."
"That"s an old time-table you"ve got," I hastened to remark, "it is now L2 13s. 7 1/2d.--return fare."
"I shan"t want no return ticket," said Elizabeth grimly.
Sickening outlook, wasn"t it?
The day of my dinner-party dawned fair and bright, but Elizabeth was raging. Things got so bad, in fact, that about mid-day I decided I must telephone to the Bos...o...b..s and tell them Henry had suddenly been taken ill; and I was just looking up the doctor"s book to find something especially virulent and infectious for Henry, when Elizabeth came in. Amazing to relate, her face was wreathed in smiles.
"They"ve sent from the Domestic Boorow," she began.