Miss Million's Maid Part 39

"There was no address, Miss," I said, as I handed her the wire, which I still kept in my hand.

"Yes! But this was the second one I sent!" protested my mistress loudly.

"This was when I was at my wit's end and couldn't think why you didn't come! I sent off that first one first thing in the morning; you ought to have got it!"

"I never did, Miss," I began.

Then a robust, rollicking voice that I confusedly remembered broke in on the discussion.

"There you are, you see! What do I always say? Never trust anything except your lookin'-gla.s.s, and not that except it's in a cross light,"

cried the voice gaily. "Certainly don't trust anything with trousers on!

Not even if they are ragged ones and tied up with lumps of string! Not even if they do pitch you a tale about having served in the Boer War!"

Still feeling as if I were in a weird dream, I turned towards the direction of the voice that enunciated these puzzling sentiments.

It proceeded from----

Ah! I knew her, too!

I knew the bra.s.s-bright hair and the plump white-clad, sulphur-crested, c.o.c.katoo-like form across the table.

"London's Love," again! Miss Vi Va.s.sity herself! I'd seen her last where I last saw Million--at that supper-table.... Now what in the world was England's premier comedienne doing in this asylum--if an asylum it were?

She went on in her high swift voice. "You won't catch me giving half-crowns to any more tramps to hand in a wire at the next post-office! No! Not if they can sport a row of medals on their chests from here to East Grinstead! I knew how it would be," declared Miss Vi Va.s.sity. "My kind heart's my downfall, but I'm going to sign the pledge to reform that. And you, my dear----"--to me--

"You sit down and have a bite of something to eat with us. Your mistress don't mind. You don't mind, Nellie, do you?"--this to Miss Million.

"We all mess together in this place. I couldn't be worried with a servant's hall. Make room for her there, Irene, will you? The girl looks scared to death; it's all right, Miss--Smith, aren't you? Sit down, child, sit down----"

Before I could say another word I found that a wooden chair had been pushed squeakingly under me by some one. Knives and forks had been clattered down in front of me by some one else. And there was I, sitting almost in the lap of a very tiny, dark-eyed, gipsy-looking girl, in a blouse without a collar and a pink linen sun hat pulled well down over her small face.

On the other side of me, a big, lazy-looking blonde in a sky-blue sports coat rocked her own chair a little away from mine, and said, in a drowsy, friendly sort of voice: "Drop of ale, dear? Or d'you take a gla.s.ser stout?"

Then the flood tide of talk and laughter seemed to flow on over my head so fast that I literally could not make myself heard. I expostulated that I had already had lunch, and that I didn't want anything to drink, thanks, and that a gentleman was waiting outside on the step--but it pa.s.sed unheeded until my hostess caught my eye.

"What's that, what's that?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Miss Vi Va.s.sity, preening her white-linen-bedecked bust across the table, as she saw me trying vainly to say something against the uproar. "What's all that disturbance in the dress circle, Bella?" The honey-blonde whom she called Bella turned to me and said: "Speak up, dear; no one can hear your lines!" Then she made a trumpet of her plump white hands and bellowed across to Miss Vi Va.s.sity:

"Says she's got her best boy with her, and that he is having to wait outside on the steps!"

Here there was another general gale of laughter, in which my crimson-cheeked explanations were quite lost! In the middle of it all I saw the Honourable Jim rise from his seat, and stride into the hall and bring in Mr. Jessop. He appeared to be introducing him to London's Love.

Miss Vi Va.s.sity immediately made the new-comer sit down also, close to her at the top of the table.

I have said it was a rather strange lunch that we had had earlier in the morning at the little honeysuckle-covered inn, where we three had taken cider and bread and cheese together. But it was nothing to the extraordinary unexpectedness, yes, the weirdness in every way of this second lunch, at the long table lined with all those strange types.

Already, as I sat down, I had given up the idea that it was a female lunatic asylum and rest cure combined. But what was it, this "Refuge"?

I simply couldn't think! And I did not find out until quite a long time afterwards. After dinner was finished, when Million, I knew, was fuming for her boxes, she beckoned me to follow her away from the noisy crowd of girls, up the shallow, broad, old-fas.h.i.+oned staircase. There was one door on the landing which she tiptoed past, putting her finger on her lips.

More mystery!

I could hardly wait with my questions until the door was shut of the little, slanting-ceiling room with the snow-white, dimity-covered bed that represented Miss Million's new quarters.

There were straw mats on the bare boards. On the little chest of drawers there was a Jubilee mug full of the homeliest cottage flowers. This was a far cry from London and the Hotel Cecil!

I turned with eagerness to my mistress. She had flung herself upon the suit-case that had now been brought up to her room. She had forgotten to wait until I should unpack for her, and, having s.n.a.t.c.hed the keys from me, she began fis.h.i.+ng out her blouses and other possessions with "Ah's"

of delight and recognition.

"What on earth is this place, and what's the meaning of it all?" I began. But Miss Million laughed gleefully, evidently taking no small delight in my mystification. "Lively, isn't it?" she said. "Talk about the old orphanage! Well, us girls used to enjoy life there, but it was a fool to this. I fair revel in it, I can tell you, Smith, and be bothered to the old Cecil. I don't see why we shouldn't stop on here. Middle-day dinner and all. That's just my mark, and we can wire to that other place. Here's plenty good enough for me, for the present----"

"But, look here," I began. "I want to know----" My mistress took me up quickly. I hadn't seen her in such bubbling high spirits since some of the old kitchen-days at Putney. "It's me that 'wants to know,' and I'm just going to begin asking questions about it," she declared, as she jumped up to allow me to fasten her into the skirt of the tobacco-brown taffeta.

"Look here, for a start! Who's that nice-lookin' young fellow you came down with? I never! Motorin' all over the country with strange young gentlemen. My word! there's behaviour!" giggled Million, evidently with the delightful consciousness that her own behaviour was far more reprehensible than mine could ever be. "Bringin' him in, as bold as bra.s.s; whatever do you think your Auntie'd say to that, Miss--there! I nearly called you Miss Beatrice again. After all this time! Thinkin' of your Aunt Nasturtium, I suppose? But straight ... Smith! Where did you pick up that young man?"

"Pick him up? I didn't," I began, feeling that a long explanation was ahead of me. "As a matter of fact, he picked me up----"

"Oh, shockin'," said Million, giggling more than before. "Whoever said I was going to allow you to have followers?"

This annoyed me.

"Followers!" I exclaimed quite violently.

It really was exasperating. First the Honourable Jim! Then the girl called "Bella"! Then my mistress! They were all taking it for granted!

They were all foisting him upon me, this young American with the sleek, mouse-coloured hair and the upholstered shoulders! Upon me!

"His name is Mr. Hiram P. Jessop----"

"'Tain't pretty, but what's in a name?" said Million, as she held out her wrist for me to insert the microscopic pearl b.u.t.tons into the fairy-silk loops that fastened her cuffs. "Who is he?"

"He's your cousin," I told her.

And, of course, as I expected, it was some time before I was able to get my young mistress to believe this.

"You're sure," she said at last, "that he's not having us on?"

"I don't think so," I said rather sadly, for I thought again of what that cousins.h.i.+p might mean--the loss of all Miss Million's fortune!

However, I'd leave that aspect of it for the present. Let him explain that. They hadn't been introduced yet.

I said: "He's extremely anxious to meet you, let me tell you. He thought of nothing else all the time that he was talking to me. Be as nice to him as you can, won't you?"

"Well, I don't see why I should go out of my way," demurred Million exasperatingly. I had hoped that she might appeal to the chivalrous side of the young American's nature; appeal to it so that he might give up his idea of fighting for his rights--if they are his rights! But if Million is going to put her back up and become independent--well, they'll fight. And there'll be a catastrophe, and the downfall of Million's prosperity, and general wretchedness for Miss Million and her maid--oh, dear, what a prospect!

I began to coax her.

"Oh, yes, be nice. He's rather a dear, this cousin of yours. And he was so absurdly pleased, do you know, to hear that you had black hair. He admires brunettes."

"Very kind of him," said Million quite flippantly. "You told him, I suppose, about me bein' dark."

"He asked so many questions!" I said. "He really takes such an interest.

You ought to be flattered, Miss Million."