Part 5
This must have been the most aggravating thing for Humphrey to think of afterwards, because when he did go and catch it, he was so very bad that if he’d only had it at the same time as us he’d have easily been king every day. He was so ill that Mother sent the little ones away into lodgings with Jane, for they make too much noise; and as Mrs. Charlton happened to ask me to stay with her just then, Mother thought I might as well go away too. I expect I ought to say honestly that Mother had spoken to _me_ about making a noise as well as to the little ones. It seemed as if I couldn’t remember about not stumping upstairs. Once I did think of it, and I took off my stockings as well as my shoes, so as to be very quiet, and went most ’straordinarily slowly, but then the horrid shoes went and spoilt it all; they dropped down right from the very top.
Mrs. Charlton is a sort of aunt of Father’s and she lives up in Lincolnshire. I didn’t know her at all, though Mother said I had seen her once when I was a baby, which is never a very nice sort of friendship. People like that always tell you how they held you in their arms, which makes you feel silly; or else, if you were too big to nurse, they say how naughty you used to be. It’s most uncomfortable. Anyway Mother said that Mrs. Charlton was a very kind old lady, though not cuddly; she said, too, that as I was going on a visit all alone like a grown-up young lady I must try and be very good. So I promised, and even though it mayn’t sound like it afterwards, I really did try.
There was some talk of Father’s taking me all the way, but he was too busy, and it ended in my going to London with him and then travelling the rest of the way quite alone! At least Father did put me in the care of the guard; I do wish he hadn’t, though the guard was a very nice man. He poked in his head at nearly every station and said, “Getting on all right, missy?” and I said, “Yes, thank you; I hope you are too.” Then he waved his flag and we went on again.
It had been directly after lunch when we left London, but it was getting quite dark before we got to Corby. I was most dreadfully starved too, because I’d eaten all my sandwiches very early. I thought I’d waited quite a long time before I began them, but it wasn’t really. That’s a funny thing about sandwiches, something seems to make you eat them almost directly you start, even if you’ve only just had dinner, and aren’t very hungry at all.
It was the guard who came and helped me out with my things at Corby station, but almost directly a manservant came up and touched his hat and said, “Miss Lawrence?” I did feel beautifully grown up. There was a carriage waiting outside with a very fat coachman and two very fat horses; the man took me to this and held the door open for me to get in. If only the others had been with me to see me driving all alone in a grand carriage like that!
Though it was very nice for the first minute or two, I was so dreadfully hungry that I couldn’t really enjoy it; I could only think of roast chickens and things like that. I did try not to; I looked out of the window to see the country and I tied my sash very tight like the Red Indians, but it wasn’t any use. It isn’t true either, what they say in books, that starving people suffer most from thirst, because I hardly wanted to drink at all. At last, though, we did get to the house, and the servant showed me into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Charlton was sitting in a very stiff chair. She got up and kissed me, and asked me how my Mother and Father were, but she didn’t seem to make me feel at all nice. I sat down in another stiff chair and seemed to get miserabler and miserabler, I don’t know why, because they had brought me my supper, though I’d have liked more. I was quite glad when Mrs. Charlton asked me at what hour I went to bed, which was very funny, because I’d never wanted people to talk about bedtime before.
Upstairs, though, it was more miserable than ever. I never thought paying visits would feel like that. If even our cook at home could have come to tuck me up in her crossest temper, I’d have been glad. It seemed so dreadful, I really didn’t know what I should do, till I thought of Mother’s little penwiper, that she’d lent me because I haven’t got one in my writing-case; so I took that into bed, and cuddled it, and then I felt better.
The next morning I woke up very early and the sun was shining and it was all much nicer. I began to read a book I’d brought from home that was called “_Vanity Fair_”; it is an interesting book, but rather muddly, and the girl in it, Amelia, is a gump. That’s what Humphrey and I call people who are silly like that. I’d read quite a lot by the time the breakfast bell rang and I took it down to go on with afterwards.
Mrs. Charlton was sitting in an armchair at the head of the table, and all the servants were there for prayers. They seemed to be all waiting for me. Just as if this wasn’t bad enough, the minute I got in Mrs. Charlton called out, “What is that book that you have got in your hand?”
Well, when I showed it to her she seemed quite cross. She said, “Has your Mother given you permission to read this?” in the most severe way. I said “Yes,” because Mother had never told us we mayn’t read anything. Then I thought that as Mother hadn’t mentioned this particular book, perhaps that wasn’t true, so I said “No.” Then I remembered Mother had said once that we might always take magazines, and this was on that shelf, so I said “Yes,” again. I said, “It’s got paper covers, you see.”
“Don’t prevaricate, child,” Mrs. Charlton said, “I’m sorry to see you are not more straightforward.” She went and locked up my book, which I did think a shame, and the prayers began. It was horrid her thinking I told stories, and very silly, just when I was trying to be so partic’larly truthful.
After breakfast we went for a walk in the village; and that wasn’t bad, only another unpleasant thing happened first. I don’t think I said that when I got up, I tied Mother’s penwiper round my neck with a bootlace, because that made me feel nice. Well, when we were starting to go out Mrs. Charlton suddenly said, “What is that untidy piece of black tape showing above your dress?”
I pretended not to hear. I didn’t know what else to do, because of course I couldn’t tell her about private things like that. She asked me again, but I still didn’t say anything. Then she shook her head and said, “Sullen, sullen,” to herself, though I was just going away to take the penwiper off so as to please her. At least I didn’t take it right off, I tied it round my waist instead, where the bootlace couldn’t show, only it was very prickly. It wasn’t my fault keeping Mrs. Charlton waiting either, for I had to quite undress to do it. I forgot to say that it was a very nice penwiper, that I’d made for Mother as a birthday present, when I was quite little. It had “Mother” worked on it in beads, and the date and how old she was; at least I’d made a mistake about the last and put seventy-eight. You see, Father used to tell us that was Mother’s age for a joke, and we really believed it. Of course I was only a little girl then.
The village wasn’t far away, and when we came back, I played in the garden. There wasn’t much to do and so I climbed a tree. Almost directly Mrs. Charlton came tearing out in a great fuss and said that it was most dangerous and unladylike and that I was never to do such a thing again. I felt very cross, because really it was a silly little tree that a baby could climb, but I remembered what I promised Mother, so I just walked about in a stupid, grown-up way and wondered if lunch-time was ever coming.
In the afternoon it was worse, because it began to rain. Mrs. Charlton and I sat in the drawing-room and did nothing. There was a Persian cat, who you would think would have been some comfort, but he was the stupidest cat I ever saw. He just slept the whole time. Mrs. Charlton asked me then if I hadn’t got any needlework, so I went and fetched the mat that I’m working for Cousin Sophy’s wedding present. (It will be rather late, because Cousin Sophy went and got married about a year ago, before I could get it done; I do think she needn’t have been in such a hurry.) I sat there and sewed for ages and ages until I thought my head would drop off; at last I found I’d forgotten to bring the skein of the silk, and I couldn’t do any more. That was nice.
Tea came just then, real afternoon tea, with thin bread and butter and two very nice little scone things on a separate plate and a little jug of cream, that I’m partic’larly fond of. Well, I tried not to be greedy, but I couldn’t help being rather pleased, when suddenly Mrs. Charlton said, “Pussy is so fond of cream, I know you won’t mind his having it,” and she crumbled up both the little scones and poured all the cream over them, every drop. Then she asked me to put it down on the floor in the corner.
After tea Mrs. Charlton asked me if I’d like to read a little, because she said she’d look out a nice suitable book for me. I was very pleased, even though I found it was a book with a shiny red cover and green leaves on it, which sort generally aren’t interesting. It was called “_How Little Susan Saved the Home_,” and it was all about poor people.
It wasn’t a bad sort of book, though it was written rather as if you had got no sense at all. It was about a little girl who used to wait outside the public-house every night to come home with her father. I don’t see that that was so horrid for her. When we were in London, the Punch and Judy shows were almost always at public-house corners, and once we saw a dear fat dog in a patchwork coat and the darlingest white mice on his back, but Cousin Sophy would never let us stop. Of course on wet nights it can’t have been such fun for Little Susan, but I dare say they’d have let her wait inside, only she seemed to be too silly to ask. In the middle of the book there was a very horrible bit, about the father getting tipsy and kind of mad, but he got all right at the end. It was in such big print I soon finished it, because I read very quickly.
Mrs. Charlton had gone off to sleep, so I didn’t know what to do. I looked at the bookcase, but it was locked, so I walked round the room, and there in the back drawing-room, rather high up, was a shelf with some old-looking books on it. I went up to Mrs. Charlton to ask her if I might take one, but she was still asleep. Well, I didn’t really think she’d mind, because they were so shabby, so I climbed up on a chair and chose one called “_Peregrine Pickle_”; I thought from the name it might be about a boy who got into scrapes. It was rather disappointing inside, and the s’s were funny and difficult to read, but bits were interesting. It was written in a nice way too, not sillily like “_Little Susan_,” and there weren’t any horrid parts in it either.
Suddenly, as I was reading, the book was snatched out of my hand. Mrs. Charlton was standing there looking furious. “How dare you take that book, you wicked girl!” she said; “go to your room and pray for a better nature.” I told her that I only took it because I’d finished the one that she gave me, and I didn’t know what to do till she woke, but she didn’t seem to believe me; it did seem curious and horrid.
I went upstairs as she told me, and it was so dull that I said the multiplication table three times forwards and once backwards, and before that I’d repeated nearly all the poetry I knew, besides trying to reckon out how much the horse’s shoe would cost if you paid a farthing for the first nail and doubled it for each one. Of course I pretended I was in the Bastille all the time, but there weren’t any rats or toads or anything nice, and I was quite glad even to see the housemaid. It wasn’t the real housemaid either, because she was old, and disagreeable; this was one I hadn’t seen before. She brought me some bread and milk for my supper.
“I dare say you’re missing your little brothers and sisters,” she said.
I hadn’t thought of it before, but directly she said it, I knew that that was why I was so miserable. I seemed suddenly to want Mother and them all so dreadfully, that I could hardly help crying. Lizzie (the servant told me that was her name, and that she was the hupandowngirl, not the housemaid), well, she was most nice; she seemed the nicest person in the house. She said she used to cry herself to sleep every night when she first went out to service. She told me about her home too, and that there were twelve of them, and that they used to sleep four in one bed, and lovely things like that. She was just telling me about her pigs, when the bell rang rather angrily.
“Lor, I must be off, the Missus will be in a fine taking,” Lizzie said, and she ran away.
When Lizzie had gone, I was just going to be miserable, but suddenly she rushed in again, and threw a lot of newspaper things on to the bed. “I thought maybe they’d amuse you, but don’t let the Missus see ’em,” she said, and she tore out, because the bell was ringing more crossly than ever.
I certainly did know that I oughtn’t to read books when I’d been sent upstairs in disgrace, and I’d better confess that at once. But then it didn’t feel to me that I’d done anything to be punished for, and it did seem so tempting. First I thought I’d just look at the pictures--for there was one on each cover--of gentlemen shooting each other and ladies in their dressing-gowns, with their hair down, and things like that, all most exciting. So I began just to turn over the leaves to see the names of the people in the pictures, but before I knew what I was doing I was reading one story straight through. I truthfully forgot then about it’s being naughty.
It was a very interesting story, all about lords and dukes; I had never read one like it before. They were most funny people, and always getting fond of quite strangers and wanting to fly with them. I was just in the middle, when suddenly I heard the door open. Before I could think, I’d pushed all the papers under the eiderdown. That was the part Mother minded most when I told her, because it seemed mean. I’ve tried to think since that I did it because Lizzie had asked me not to let any one see the papers, but it wasn’t that really, at least not mostly. Besides, what Mother said was that if I had put away the novelettes at the beginning without looking at them, and then have given them back to Lizzie at the first opportunity, that would have saved her getting into trouble just the same, and I should not have been mean.
Well, I suppose when Mrs. Charlton came in I looked rather uncomfortable; also there may have been a bit of one of the papers sticking out. Anyway, the first thing she did was to lift up the eiderdown. Then of course she saw them all. I felt awful.
No one said anything for what seemed a long time, and then Mrs. Charlton made a horrid noise in her throat and began: “You are so utterly deceitful,” she said, “that it is not of very much use to put questions to you, but I should be glad if you would kindly inform me where you procured this degrading form of literature.”
I didn’t answer. That wasn’t naughtiness, but because of Lizzie. Mrs. Charlton asked me again, and she asked me other questions of the same sort, but of course I couldn’t answer them either. She got angrier and angrier. At last she said, “I shall send you home immediately. I cannot have my household corrupted by your low tastes and deceitfulness.”
That was the first nice thing she had said since I had been there. Of course I didn’t altogether like it, because it seemed horrid to be sent home in disgrace; besides, my coming back would be a worry for them, when Humph was so ill. But I was so happy at the idea of seeing Mother again that I couldn’t really think of anything else. I could hardly help jumping, I was so happy. I said, “Please, shall I put on my coat and hat at once?”
I’m sure I said it most politely, but Mrs. Charlton replied “No” most angrily. She said, “You may certainly rest assured that I do not wish to keep you a moment longer than I am compelled, but I am afraid that it would be impossible for me to arrange for your return to-night.” Then she went away.
After she had gone I thought a lot. First of all I packed my box, so as to be ready the first thing in the morning. Then I suddenly thought, Why couldn’t I arrange my journey home all alone, so as not to bother Mrs. Charlton? Then I could start off directly? I rushed to the window to see if it had stopped raining, and it had.
When I began to plan it out it seemed to get easier and easier. It was only three and a half miles to the station, and along the big road with milestones and telegraph posts all the way. I knew, because, besides driving up the day before, we’d gone along a bit of the road to the village that morning. I’d got my return ticket to King’s Cross in my purse, and once that I got there I’d just take a cab to Waterloo, and then I could get home quite well. I know all about the trains from there, you see, because I’ve been lots of times. I’d got plenty of money, because there was the half-crown that Mother gave me before I came away (I had sewed it into my clothes, of course, like people do for travelling). Then I’d got a shilling and a farthing from my pocket-money, and a sixpence with a hole in it; I knew that with all that I could manage quite well. The only bother was about my box: I couldn’t carry it, of course; it _was_ puzzling. I thought, though, I might tell them at the station to call for it the next day, and let it go by itself, like we sometimes do at home. I wrote the address on the label in printing very neatly.
I thought then that I’d start off, though I did feel a little uncomfortable as to whether Mother would mind. She certainly doesn’t like me to go out alone, but sometimes I have been sent on a message. Of course it was getting rather late, but I thought if I ran I could get to Corby, where the station is, before it got quite dark. Besides, I knew Mother wouldn’t wish me to stop when Mrs. Charlton didn’t want me; I heard her say once herself that visitors should never outstay their welcome. The chiefest thing, though, was that I felt I just couldn’t go a whole night more without seeing Mother.
The worst part to think of was the going downstairs. My heart was thumping dreadfully by the time I had got on my coat and hat. Oh, first I pinned a little note on to the pincushion to say that I’d gone. It was most useful that I’d read Lizzie’s book, because that is what Lady Vera did before she flew with the Duke; I mightn’t ever have thought of it by myself. I forgot to say that I’d tied up all the magazines in a piece of brown paper and addressed them to “Miss Lizzie Hupandowngirl, thankyou.” I had to put just that because I didn’t know her other name.
It was perfectly awful--the going down I mean. The stairs seemed to creak just as if they were doing it on purpose. Every minute I thought some one would come. No one did, though. I expect Mrs. Charlton was having her late dinner; anyway, there was nobody about. I crept across the hall and opened the front door. The squeak it made was dreadful. I stood there for a minute feeling quite sick and funny, but still no one came. So I went out and shut the door behind me as softly as I could. Then I ran and ran.
Of course I couldn’t run all the way to Corby; I had to go slower pretty soon. I kept running little bits now and then, but it seemed a dreadfully long way. I was so afraid that some one Mrs. Charlton knew would see me and perhaps send me back, but though the people I met looked at me in rather a surprised way, they didn’t speak. I hid behind the hedge, too, until they’d passed, when I heard them coming in time.
It was getting quite dark for the last part of the way, and the lamps were all lit at Corby. I couldn’t remember the turning to the station, but I asked a little boy. They speak so funnily up there that I didn’t understand what he said, but he pointed out the way all right.
There was only one porter person at the station, and I was rather glad of that. He seemed rather stupid, but when I’d asked him two or three times, he said there was a train to King’s Cross at 8.52. That was very lucky, because it was already a quarter past eight. The porter asked me if I had got any luggage, but I said, “No, you are to fetch that to-morrow.” I didn’t think until afterwards that I hadn’t told him the address.
When the train came it was very full, because there had been an excursion or something. I found one compartment that wasn’t quite so full, and I got in. A gentleman said, “Come on, there’s room for a little ’un,” and another said, “The more the merrier.” They certainly were very merry, for they were singing songs the whole time, and fighting, but all in fun. I didn’t know grown-up people played like that.
There was a very fat lady sitting opposite me, and she began to talk. She said suddenly in rather a strict way, “Where’s your Ma, my dear?” and I said, “At home.”
After a minute or two she started again. She said, “Ain’t your Ma well?”
I said, “Yes, it’s Humph who is ill.” Then she asked me some more about him, and I told her.
I thought she’d stopped, and I quite jumped when she said very crossly, “I suppose your Pa won’t leave ’is smoke. Puff an’ pull the whole day long, that’s the way with all these men. Pigs, I calls ’em!”
I didn’t exactly understand. I said, “Father doesn’t smoke the whole day, but he is very fond of it. He likes to have his pipe if he can.” I found out afterwards that she thought I meant that Father was in a smoking compartment of the same train; I’m sure I don’t know why. I’d got so sleepy, though, that I didn’t seem to be able to explain anything or think properly at all.
There was a funny little thin man sitting next to the fat lady, who looked as if he’d got there by mistake. He was like a white rabbit with a cold in its head. Suddenly the fat lady said, “Jeremiah, change places this minute with the young lady,” and he jumped up in quite a frightened way. Then she said to me much more nicely, “You come an’ set ’ere, my dear, then you’ll be able to lean up aginst me an’ rest yourself more comfortable like.”
I was so sleepy that I could hardly stand. It was most peculiar. So the fat lady pulled me up and put my head on her lap, just as if I were a baby; I didn’t seem to mind at all. I was rather ashamed when I thought about it afterwards, but Mother says it didn’t matter, and that the fat lady was most kind. I think so, too, though her lap was rather steep to be very comfortable. All the same, I must have gone off to sleep almost directly.
The next thing I remember was being lifted up. The fat lady and the little white-rabbit gentleman were bustling about getting down their things, and the train was stopping. “No, this ain’t King’s Cross, my dear,” she said, “but we ain’t far off, so you jist pop on your ’at. We gets out ’ere, but I suppose your Pa will come for you at the next station. I’d like to give my fine gentleman a piece of my mind,” she went on to the little rabbit man, “leaving that pore child in ’ere an’ never so much as taking the trouble to clap ’is eyes upon ’er the ’ole blessed way.”
I was so astonished altogether, I could hardly speak. You see, for the first minute or two I couldn’t remember where I was. So I just said, “Thank you very much, thank you,” a good many times over. The fat lady bent down and kissed me, and said, “There’s a good little girl.” And, do you know, when her face was close, it looked for a minute like Mother’s. It was most astonishing, because she was so red and funny.