Part 9 (1/2)
”I'm tuk with a st.i.tch in my side! Oh, my poor, dear young lydy, I'm afeered as I won't be able to take yer for a long walk this blessed morning.”
But when Connie, later on, inquired after the st.i.tch, she was told to mind her own business, and she began to think that Mrs. Warren had pretended.
They reached Waterloo at quite an early hour, and there they took third-cla.s.s tickets to a part of the country about thirty miles from London. It took them over an hour to get down, and during that time Connie sat by the window wrapped in contemplation. For the first time she saw green gra.s.s and hills and running water, and although it was midwinter she saw trees which seemed to her too magnificent and glorious for words. Her eyes shone with happiness, and she almost forgot Mrs.
Warren's existence. At last they reached the little wayside station to which Mrs. Warren had taken tickets. They got out, and walked down a winding country lane.
”Is this real, real country?” asked Connie.
”Yus--too real for me.”
”Oh ma'am, it's bootiful! But I dunna see the flowers.”
”Flowers don't grow in the winter, silly.”
”Don't they? I thought for sure I'd see 'em a-blowin' and a-growin'. Yer said so--yer mind.”
”Well, so yer wull, come springtime, ef ye're a good gel. Now, I want to talk wid yer wery serious-like.”
”Oh ma'am, don't!” said poor Connie.
”None o' yer 'dont's' wid me! You ha' got to be very thankful to me for all I'm a-doin' for yer--feedin yer, and c.o.c.kerin' yer up, and makin' a fuss o' yer, and brus.h.i.+ng out yer 'air, and giving yer blue ties, and boots, and gloves.”
”Oh ma'am, yes,” said Connie; ”and I'm wery much obleeged--I am, truly--but I'd rayther a sight rayther, go 'ome to father; I would, ma'am.”
”Wot little gels 'ud like isn't wot little gels 'ull get,” said Mrs.
Warren. ”You come to me of yer own free will, and 'avin' come, yer'll stay. Ef yer makes a fuss, or lets out to anybody that yer don't like it, I've a little room in my house--a room widdout no light and no winder, and so far away from any other room that yer might scream yerself sick and no one 'ud 'ear. Into that room yer goes ef yer makes trouble. And now, listen.”
Mrs. Warren gripped Connie's arm so tight that the poor child had to suppress a scream.
”I know wot ye're been saying to Agnes--a-grumblin' and a-grumblin' to Agnes, instead o' down on yer knees and thankin' the Almighty that yer've found Mammy Warren. I know all about it: Yer'll stop that--d'yer 'ear--d'yer 'ear?”
”Yus, ma'am,” said Connie.
”Do yer, promise?”
”Yus, ma'am,” said the poor child again.
”I'll see as yer keeps it--yer little good-for-nothing beggar maid as I'm a-pamperin' of! Don't I work for yer, and toil for yer? And am I to have naught but grumbles for my pains? Yer won't like that room--an'
it's there!”
”I won't grumble,” said Connie, terrified, and not daring to do anything but propitiate her tyrant.
Mrs. Warren's manner altered.
”Wull,” she said, ”I ha' brought yer down all this long way to 'ave a plain talk, and I guess we 'ave 'ad it. You please me, and I'll do my dooty by you; but don't please me, and there ain't a gel in the whole of Lunnon'll be more misrubble than you. Don't think as yer'll git aw'y, for yer won't--no, not a bit o' it. And now I've something else to say.
There's a young boy as we're goin' to see to-day. 'Is name is Ronald; he's a special friend o' mine. I ha' had that boy a-wisiting o' me afore now, but he were took bad with a sort of fever. My word! din't I nurse him--the best o' good things didn't I give 'im! But his narves went wrong, and I sent him into the country for change of hair. He's all right now. He's a very purty boy, same as you're a purty gel, and I'm goin' to bring him back to be a companion for yer.”
”Oh ma'am!”