Part 15 (2/2)

”I take them generally, in the evening, after school, and deliver them at all the houses. Some are fairly near, of course--a lot of her friends live in Regent's Park--but sometimes I have to go quite a long way by bus. I don't mind that in summer, when it's light, but in winter it's horrid going about the lonely roads ... People speak to one....”

Anthony Ross stepped from behind his easel.

”And what do you do?” he asked.

”I run,” Meg said simply, ”and I can generally run much faster than they do ... but it's a little bit frightening.”

”It's infernal,” Anthony said furiously. ”I shall speak to Amelia at once. You are never to do it again.”

In vain did Meg plead, almost with tears, that he would do nothing of the kind. He was roused and firm.

He did ”speak to Amelia.” He astonished that good lady as much as he annoyed her. Nevertheless Mrs. Ross-Morton used the penny post for her invitations as long as Meg remained at Ribston Hall.

At the end of two years Major Morton, who had removed from Bedford to Cheltenham, wrote a long, querulous letter to his sister-in-law to the effect that if--like the majority of girls nowadays--his daughter chose to spend her life far from his sheltering care, it was time she earned something.

Mrs. Ross-Morton replied that only now was Meg beginning to repay all the expense incurred on her behalf in the way of board, clothing and tuition; and it was most unreasonable to expect any salary for quite another year.

Major Morton decided to remove Meg from Ribston Hall.

Many acrimonious letters pa.s.sed between her aunt and her father before this was finally accomplished, and Meg left ”under a cloud.”

To her great astonishment, her meek little uncle appeared at Paddington to see her off. Just as the train was starting he thrust an envelope into her hand.

”It hasn't been fair,” he almost shouted--for the train was already beginning to move. ”You worked hard, you deserved some pay ... a little present ... but please don't mention it to your aunt ... She is so decided in her views....”

When Meg opened the envelope she found three ten-pound notes. She had never seen so much money before, and burst into tears; but it was not because of the magnitude of the gift. She felt she had never properly appreciated her poor little uncle, and her conscience smote her.

This was at Christmas.

The weariful rich sat in conclave over Meg, and it was decided that she should in March go as companion and secretary to a certain Mrs. Trent slightly known to one of them.

Mrs. Trent was kindly, careless, and quite generous as regards money.

She had grown-up daughters, and they lived in one of the Home Counties where there are many country-houses and plenty of sport. Meg proved to be exceedingly useful, did whatever she was asked to do, and a great many things no one had ever done before. She shared in the fun, and for the first time since her mother died was not overworked.

Her employer was as keen on every form of pleasure as her own daughters.

She exercised the very smallest supervision over them and none at all over the ”quite useful” little companion.

Many men came to the easy-going, lavish house, and Meg, with pretty frocks, abundant leisure and deliriously prim Ribston-Hallish manners, came in for her full share of admiration.

It happened that at the end of July Anthony Ross came up to London in the afternoon to attend and speak at a dinner in aid of some artists'

charity. He and Jan were staying with friends at Teddington; Fay, an aunt and the servants were already at Wren's End--all but Hannah, the severe Scottish housemaid, who remained in charge. She was grim and gaunt and plain, with a thick, black moustache, and Anthony liked her less than he could have wished. But she had been Jan's nurse, and was faithful and trustworthy beyond words. He would never let Jan go to the country ahead of him, for without her he always left behind everything most vital to his happiness, so she was to join him next day and see that his painting-tackle was all packed.

The house in St. George's Square was nominally shut up and shrouded in dust-sheets, but Hannah had ”opened up” the dining-room on Anthony's behalf, and there he sat and slumbered till she should choose to bring him some tea.

He was awakened by an opening door and Hannah's voice announcing, not tea, but:

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