Part 66 (1/2)
She borrowed theatre-paper and scribbled a note to her ex-employer, giving the address for her trunk. An orange and some biscuits sufficed for her dinner.
Not till she was in her little bedroom, surrounded by pious texts, did she break down in tears.
XI
The next morning, as she sat answering advertis.e.m.e.nts, the programme-girl knocked at the door of the bedroom and announced that Mr. Maper had called.
Eileen turned red. It was too disconcerting. Would he never take ”no” for an answer? ”I won't see him. I can't see him,” she cried.
The girl departed and returned. ”Oh, Miss O'Keeffe, he begs so for only one word.”
”The word is 'no.'”
”After he's been so kind as to bring your box down!”
”Oh, has he? Then the word is 'thanks.'”
”Please, miss, would you mind giving it to him yourself?”
”Who's Irish, you or I? I won't speak to him at all, I tell you.”
”But I don't like to send him away like that, when he's been so kind to mother.”
”When has he been kind to your mother?”
”Those grapes you brought--”
”That was old Mr. Maper.”
”So is this.”
”Oh!” Eileen was quite taken aback, for once. ”All right, I'll go into the parlour.”
He was infinitely courteous and apologetic. He had been very anxious about her. Why had she been so unkind as to leave, and without ever a good-by to him?
”Oh, hasn't your wife told you, then?”
”She has told me you were rude, and that you left without notice, and she wants me to prosecute you. I suppose you lost your temper. You found her rather difficult.”
”I found her impossible,” said Eileen, frigidly.
”Yes, yes, I understand.” He was flushed and unhappy. ”You found her impossible to live with?”
Eileen nodded; she would have added ”or to make a lady of,” but he looked so purple and agitated that she charitably forbore. She was wondering whether Mrs. Maper could really have been so mean as to omit her share in the quarrel, but he went on eagerly:--
”Quite so, quite so. And what do you think it has been for me?”
She murmured inarticulate sympathy.