Miss Million's Maid Part 60

"Now we've got this new chauffeur we may hope for a little peace!" This languidly, from the lady in the uncountrified-looking hat. She, I suppose, is the Honourable Jim's employer. "Quite an efficient man, as far as one can judge, but----"

"Quite right, quite right. Far too many trees about the place. I like a good view. Plenty of s.p.a.ce around a house.... Of course, you've only ten bedrooms here, Miss Million; ah, eleven? quite right. But at home.... Of course, I had a most lovely home in the----"

Wearisome gabble! I thought.

I caught an ineffable grimace on Miss Million's small, shrewd face behind the silver teapot. I bent down to add hot water to it. Under cover of my ministrations she murmured: "You see, I don't have to bust myself talkin' polite to this lot; nothing'll stop 'em. I say! Does that cook know enough to give a nice cup o' tea to the shaveer of her that came in the car, Smith?"

"I think the chauffeur knows enough to get one!" I murmured dryly. "Or anything else he----" Here I found I was the only person in the room who was talking.

A suddenly deathly silence had fallen upon the roomful of talking women, who all knew each other, even if they had never met their little hostess before. Something had "stopped 'em." The chatter and buzz of small talk left off with a click.

And that quite definite "click" was the opening of the drawing-room door upon an apparition such as none of them, I am certain, had ever seen in a drawing-room before.

Its brightly fair hair seemed to have "sprouted" not so much a hat as a grotesque halo of black, long, feathery wisps that surrounded a face with black eyes and a complexion "made-up" to be dazzlingly pink.

Its transparent corsage gave glimpses of fair and sumptuous shoulders and of much lingerie ribbon.

The frock was layer upon layer of folded ninon in different yellows, shading down from bright lemon yellows through chrome yellow and mustard colour to a kind of marigold tint at the hem, under which appeared scarlet silk stockings and tall, gilt boots with heels so high that the wearer was practically walking on her toes, a la Genee, as she made her startling entrance.

It was, of course, Miss Vi Va.s.sity, in one of her most successful stage get-ups; the frock in which she sings her topical song--

"They've been there a long time now!"

with the usual verses about courting couples, and the Gorgonzola, and the present Government.

And she beamed round upon this gathering of natives of a quiet country neighbourhood with the same dazzling, prominent-toothed smile as she flashes from her friends in the front row of the stalls to her equally devoted gallery boys.

"No need for introductions, eh?" uttered London's Love, lightly, to the petrified-looking a.s.sembly.

I felt that I would have sacrificed another quarter's salary rather than have missed the look on the face of the acidulated lady who came in the car as Miss Vi Va.s.sity perched herself lightly on the arm of the couch where she was sitting, and called to Nellie for the love of anything to give her a nice cup of tea.

"Does one good to see a few faces around me once again!" prattled on the artiste, while the two girls from the other side of the valley leant forward and devoured every detail of her appearance with gluttonous brown eyes.

Pure ecstasy was painted all over the plain ironic face of the tall girl with the thick black plait. I saw from the look of the hussy that she was "taking in" everything to reproduce it at home, in that white house on the hill. And presently there was plenty to reproduce.

For one of the rectoryish-looking party plucked up courage to ask Miss Va.s.sity "what she thought of this place."

That opened the floodgates!

Perched on the arm of the couch, England's Premier Comedienne proceeded to "hold the house" with her views on this mansion and its furniture.

"Not what I'd call a lively spot; still, there's always the pheasant and her little 'uns walking about on the lawn at three G.M., if you're fond of geology, and the rabbit on the tennis-court at eight o'clock sharp.

That's about all the outdoor entertainment in this place," she rattled on.

"Indoors, of course, is a fair museum of curiosities. Continuous performance, eh, Nellie? The oil-lamps everywhere, with the collection of midges on all the bowls; those are very fine.

"Couldn't beat those at the Tower of London! And the back kitchen, with the water from the stand-pipe outside overflowing into the middle of the floor. Talk about Glimpses into the Middle Ages!

"What takes my fancy is the girls clinkin' to and from the scullery in those pattens they wear. Makes the floor look like nothing on earth but a bar-counter where gla.s.ses have been set down, doesn't it?"--this to the rector's wife.

"And the paint, too. And the wall-papers. Oo-er! And all the window-cords broken," enlarged the beaming apparition in all-yellow, whose personality invaded the room like a burst of brilliant suns.h.i.+ne through a thunder-cloud.

"Not to mention all the doors having to be propped open! No complete set of china anywhere. Wedges bitten out of every--er--blessed egg-cup!

Pick up a bit of real Dresden, and the seccotined piece comes off in your hand.

"As for the furniture, well, half of it looks as if it had bin used for Harry Tate to play about with in a screaming new absurdity, ent.i.tled 'Moving,' or 'Spring-cleaning,' or something like----"

Here the acidulated voice of the lady who'd come in the motor broke in with some very rebukeful remark. Something to the effect that she had always considered everything so delightful that the dear Price-Vaughans had in the house----

"Pr'aps the dear What-Price-Vaughans," retorted the comedienne, "can get along with their delightful style of bathroom?"

"Oh, do tell us," implored the girl with the black plait, "what's the matter with that?"

"The bath, Kiddy? Absolutely imposs!" decreed London's Love. "Water comes in at the rate of a South-Eastern Dead-Stop. Turn one tap on and you turn the other off. Not to speak of there only being one bath, and that five sizes too small, dear. The Not-at-Any-Price-Vaughans must be greyhound built for slimness, if you ask me. It don't seem to fit our shrinking Violet, as you can imagine. Why, look at her!"

Quite an unnecessary request, as the fascinated, horrified eyes of the whole party had not yet left her sumptuous and bedizened person.

"Call it a bath?" she concluded, with her largest and most unabashedly vulgar wink. "I'd call it a----"

We weren't privileged to hear what she could call it, for at this moment the lady with the very towny hat rose with remarkable suddenness, and asked in a concise and carrying voice that her man might be told to bring round Miss Davis's car.

I slipped out to the kitchen and to Miss Davis's man, who, as I expected, had finished an excellent tea and the subjugation of cook at the same time.

"Your mistress would like the car round at once, please," I said, with a frantic effort not to smile as I caught the mischievous, black-framed, blue eyes of the Honourable Jim Burke.

He rose. "Good afternoon, ma'am, and thank you for one of the most splendid teas I've ever had in my life," he said in that flattering voice of his to cook, as she bustled out, beaming upon him as she went into the scullery.

"Good afternoon, Miss Smith"--to me. "You've never shaken hands with me yet. But I suppose this is scarcely the moment to remind you, when I've taken on a job several pegs below what I was when I saw you last----"

Of course, at that I had to give him my hand. I said: "But why are you Miss Davis's chauffeur?"

"Because I couldn't get a job with Miss Million," he told me simply.

"She hasn't got a car of her own yet. Not that she'd have me, in any case--a man she'd found out deceiving her about her own relatives!"

"But why 'the job,' anyhow?"

"I must earn my living--honestly if possible," said the Honourable Jim with his wickedest twinkle.

"Also I'd made up my mind a little change of air in Wales would do me good just now, and I'd no friends who happened to be coming to these parts. It was these parts I'd set my heart on.

"The mountain scenery! Can you beat it? And when I saw the advertis.e.m.e.nt of that old trout upstairs there--I mean that elegant maiden lady with private means and a nice house and a car of her own--I jumped at answering it. The country round about is so romantic. That drew me, Miss Lovelace.... Well, I suppose I must be tooting her home."

He turned to the back entrance.

Then he turned to me once more and launched his most audacious bit of nonsense yet.

He said, softly laughing: "Ah! You know well enough why I'm here. It's to be near you, child."