Part 38 (2/2)
”I'm the one that would express it--quick,” said Tembarom. ”She wouldn't have time to get in first. I just wanted to make sure I shouldn't have to do it. The other fellows are under you. You've got a head on your shoulders, I guess. It's up to you to put 'em on to it.
That's all.”
”Thank you, sir,” said Burrill.
His master went back into the library smiling genially, and Burrill stood still a moment or so gazing at the door he closed behind him.
Be sure the village, and finally circles not made up of cottagers, heard of this, howsoever mysteriously. Miss Alicia was not aware that the incident had occurred. She could not help observing, however, that the manners of the servants of the household curiously improved; also, when she pa.s.sed through the village, that foreheads were touched without omission and the curtseys of playing children were prompt.
When she dropped into a cottage, housewives polished off the seats of chairs vigorously before offering them, and symptoms and needs were explained with a respectful fluency which at times almost suggested that she might be relied on to use influence.
”I'm afraid I have done the village people injustice,” she said leniently to Tembarom. ”I used to think them so disrespectful and unappreciative. I dare say it was because I was so troubled myself.
I'm afraid one's own troubles do sometimes make one unfair.”
”Well, yours are over,” said Tembarom. ”And so are mine as long as you stay by me.”
Never had Miss Alicia been to London. She had remained, as was demanded of her by her duty to dear papa, at Rowcroft, which was in Somersets.h.i.+re. She had only dreamed of London, and had had fifty-five years of dreaming. She had read of great functions, and seen pictures of some of them in the ill.u.s.trated papers. She had loyally endeavored to follow at a distance the doings of her Majesty,-- she always spoke of Queen Victoria reverentially as ”her Majesty,”--she rejoiced when a prince or a princess was born or christened or married, and believed that a ”drawing-room” was the most awe-inspiring, brilliant, and important function in the civilized world, scarcely second to Parliament. London--no one but herself or an elderly gentlewoman of her type could have told any one the nature of her thoughts of London.
Let, therefore, those of vivid imagination make an effort to depict to themselves the effect produced upon her mind by Tembarom's casually suggesting at breakfast one morning that he thought it might be rather a good ”stunt” for them to run up to London. By mere good fortune she escaped dropping the egg she had just taken from the egg-stand.
”London!” she said. ”Oh!”
”Pearson thinks it would be a first-rate idea,” he explained. ”I guess he thinks that if he can get me into the swell clothing stores he can fix me up as I ought to be fixed, if I'm not going to disgrace him. I should hate to disgrace Pearson. Then he can see his girl, too, and I want him to see his girl.”
”Is--Pearson--engaged?” she asked; but the thought which was repeating itself aloud to her was ”London! London!”
”He calls it 'keeping company,' or 'walking out,'” Tembarom answered.
”She's a nice girl, and he's dead stuck on her. Will you go with me, Miss Alicia?”
”Dear Mr. Temple Barholm,” she fluttered, ”to visit London would be a privilege I never dreamed it would be my great fortune to enjoy-- never.”
”Good business!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed delightedly. ”That's luck for me. It gave me the blues--what I saw of it. But if you are with me, I'll bet it'll be as different as afternoon tea was after I got hold of you.
When shall we start? To-morrow?”
Her sixteen-year-old blush repeated itself.
”I feel so sorry. It seems almost undignified to mention it, but--I fear I should not look smart enough for London. My wardrobe is so very limited. I mustn't,” she added with a sweet effort at humor, ”do the new Mr. Temple Barholm discredit by looking unfas.h.i.+onable.”
He was more delighted than before.
”Say,” he broke out, ”I'll tell you what we'll do: we'll go together and buy everything 'suitable' in sight. The pair of us'll come back here as suitable as Burrill and Pearson. We'll paint the town red.”
He actually meant it. He was like a boy with a new game. His sense of the dreariness of London had disappeared. He knew what it would be like with Miss Alicia as a companion. He had really seen nothing of the place himself, and he would find out every darned thing worth looking at, and take her to see it-- theaters, shops, every show in town. When they left the breakfast-table it was agreed upon that they would make the journey the following day.
He did not openly refer to the fact that among the plans for their round of festivities he had laid out for himself the attending to one or two practical points. He was going to see Palford, and he had made an appointment with a celebrated nerve specialist. He did not discuss this for several reasons. One of them was that his summing up of Miss Alicia was that she had had trouble enough to think over all her little life, and the thing for a fellow to do for her, if he liked her, was to give her a good time and make her feel as if she was at a picnic right straight along--not let her even hear of a darned thing that might worry her. He had said comparatively little to her about Strangeways. His first mention of his condition had obviously made her somewhat nervous, though she had been full of kindly interest. She was in private not sorry that it was felt better that she should not disturb the patient by a visit to his room. The abnormality of his condition seemed just slightly alarming to her.
”But, oh, how good, how charitable, you are!” she had murmured.
<script>