Part 61 (2/2)
”She does it for my sake,” hinted the Virtuous Bent.
”A dangerous and designing woman,” purred Mrs. Waddy.
Worst of all, every other hotel in Simla was full!
”Polly, are you afraid of diphtheria?”
”Of nothing in the world except smallpox. Diphtheria kills, but it doesn't disfigure. Why do you ask?”
”Because the Bent baby has got it, and the whole hotel is upside down in consequence. The Waddy has 'set her five young on the rail' and fled.
The Dancing Master fears for his precious throat, and that miserable little woman, his wife, has no notion of what ought to be done. She wanted to put it into a mustard bath--for croup!”
”Where did you learn all this?”
”Just now, on the Mall. Dr. Howlen told me. The Manager of the hotel is abusing the Bents, and the Bents are abusing the manager. They are a f.e.c.kless couple.”
”Well. What's on your mind?”
”This; and I know it's a grave thing to ask. Would you seriously object to my bringing the child over here, with its mother?”
”On the most strict understanding that we see nothing of The Dancing Master.”
”He will be only too glad to stay away. Polly, you're an angel. The woman really is at her wits' end.”
”And you know nothing about her, careless, and would hold her up to public scorn if it gave you a minute's amus.e.m.e.nt. Therefore you risk your life for the sake of her brat. No, Loo, I'm not the angel. I shall keep to my rooms and avoid her. But do as you please--only tell me why you do it.”
Mrs. Hauksbee's eyes softened; she looked out of the window and back into Mrs. Mallowe's face.
”I don't know,” said Mrs. Hauksbee, simply.
”You dear!”
”Polly!--and for aught you knew you might have taken my fringe off.
Never do that again without warning. Now we'll get the rooms ready. I don't suppose I shall be allowed to circulate in society for a month.”
”And I also. Thank goodness I shall at last get all the sleep I want.”
Much to Mrs. Bent's surprise she and the baby were brought over to the house almost before she knew where she was. Bent was devoutly and undisguisedly thankful, for he was afraid of the infection, and also hoped that a few weeks in the hotel alone with Mrs. Delville might lead to explanations. Mrs. Bent had thrown her jealousy to the winds in her fear for her child's life.
”We can give you good milk,” said Mrs. Hauksbee to her, ”and our house is much nearer to the Doctor's than the hotel, and you won't feel as though you were living in a hostile camp Where is the dear Mrs. Waddy?
She seemed to be a particular friend of yours.”
”They've all left me,” said Mrs. Bent, bitterly. ”Mrs. Waddy went first.
She said I ought to be ashamed of myself for introducing diseases there, and I am sure it wasn't my fault that little Dora”--
”How nice!” cooed Mrs. Hauksbee. ”The Waddy is an infectious disease herself--'more quickly caught than the plague and the taker runs presently mad.' I lived next door to her at the Elysium, three years ago. Now see, you won't give us the least trouble, and I've ornamented all the house with sheets soaked in carbolic. It smells comforting, doesn't it? Remember I'm always in call, and my ayah's at your service when yours goes to her meals and--and... if you cry I'll never forgive you.”
Dora Bent occupied her mother's unprofitable attention through the day and the night. The Doctor called thrice in the twenty-four hours, and the house reeked with the smell of the Condy's Fluid, chlorine-water, and carbolic acid washes. Mrs. Mallowe kept to her own rooms--she considered that she had made sufficient concessions in the cause of humanity--and Mrs. Hauksbee was more esteemed by the Doctor as a help in the sick-room than the half-distraught mother.
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