A Girl in Ten Thousand

  CHAPTER XX.

  Just at this moment the door was opened, and the Squire came in. He wasof different stuff from his wife. When he saw Effie, his face beamedwith pleasure, and he held out a big, hearty hand.

  "Miss Staunton!" he exclaimed. "Why, this is a pleasure! Oh, you mustnot run away; you must sit down and tell me all about yourself--I'vebeen longing to hear about you. How is your brother in the City, andyour mother? I do hope she is a little better. And all those other ladsand lasses? Sit down, my clear child, I insist on it--I have lots ofthings to say to you."

  Mrs. Harvey, who was standing near the mantelpiece, came gently forwardwhen the Squire began to speak. She looked at Effie with new interest.Her face was long and pale, she had no color in her lips, her light hairwas very fashionably dressed. She wore a dress of the latest mode, andher thin fingers were loaded with rings, which flashed and shonewhenever she moved her hand.

  Effie hated those flashing rings--she turned her head so that she neednot see them.

  Mrs. Harvey began to talk in a high falsetto voice to her husband.

  "Do you know, my dear," she exclaimed, "that Miss Staunton has just beenso kind? She came here to offer her services for Freda; but you knowdear Freda is getting on so capitally at the kindergarten, that---- Why,what in the world is the matter, Walter?"

  "Matter!" exclaimed the Squire in his hearty voice. "Why, that we won'tbe such fools as to reject Miss Staunton's offer. I was told only a fewminutes ago that that kindergarten is simply full of whooping-cough andmeasles--children sickening with them and going home almost every day. Iwas going to say that Freda must be moved."

  "Oh, I should think so, indeed," said Mrs. Harvey. "Whooping-cough andmeasles! how terrible! and I never had whooping-cough--why, I shouldn'tbe able to go out for the whole season. I do hope and trust the dearchild hasn't contracted the infection. Dear Miss Staunton, of courseyou'll come. It is exactly what we'd like best. How soon can youcome?--to-morrow?--to-night?"

  "Neither to-morrow nor to-night," said Effie. "But if you really wishfor me, and if we agree as regards terms, the day after to-morrow."

  "What do you mean by saying if we agree as to terms?" asked Mrs. Harvey.

  "I want a big salary," said Effie, looking up bravely at the two, whowere watching her with half-amused, half-anxious expression. "I want tocome to you, and to leave the work which I love best, because I hope youmay be induced to give me an exceptional salary. I want the moneybecause my mother and my--my young brothers and sisters are almost--atleast they will be, if I don't get it, almost starving."

  Effie spoke in jerks. She had the greatest difficulty in keeping backher emotion. It was dreadful to have to plead with these richpeople--these people who knew nothing whatever of her sore need--to whommoney was so plentiful as to have lost its freshness, its desirability,its charm. It was awful to look into their faces--to see the blank,non-comprehending stare which came into Mrs. Harvey's pretty blue eyes,and to notice the puzzled expression on the Squire's face.

  "You can't mean that?" he exclaimed. "You can't mean there's any chanceof that?"

  "There is a chance of it, but not if I come here. I know how kind youare, how noble you have been to me. I'll come to Freda. I'll doeverything for her; I'll teach her, and I'll play with her, and I'lllove her, and I'll nurse her if she is ill, but oh, do please begenerous and give me as big a salary as you can."

  "What do you expect--what do you think fair?" asked the Squire.

  "I thought--I know it seems a great deal, but I thought you might bewilling to give me sixty pounds a year."

  "Bless you, my dear child!" exclaimed the Squire; "if you'll accept it,we'll give you a hundred and fifty."

  "No, I couldn't accept that," said Effie. "It is not fair."

  "Why not? We couldn't get anyone else to exactly take your place for themoney; and remember we have plenty of money."

  "I'll take a hundred a year, because I am in sore distress," said Effie,after a brief pause; "and--and will you pay me monthly, and may I havemy first month's salary in advance? I wouldn't ask it if they didn'twant it _terribly_ at home. Will you do this?"

  "Yes, with pleasure," said the Squire. "I insist on your accepting tenpounds a month--that will be one hundred and twenty a year. Now, willyou have a check, or shall I give you the money in gold and notes?"

  "The gold will be the most acceptable," said Effie. "Oh, I feel soashamed!" she added.

  "Why should you? You give us an equivalent. Besides, it makes mattersmore tolerable. I cannot forget----"

  "Oh, don't, Walter--don't allude to that awful time!"--cried Mrs.Harvey.

  The Squire shut up his lips. He took a little bundle of gold out of oneof his pockets and put ten sovereigns into Effie's hand.

  "It is a bargain," he said. "I cannot tell you how relieved we are.You'll be with us the morning after next? Elfreda, my love, we must tellour little Freda what a pleasure is in store for her."

  "Yes, I am more than delighted," exclaimed Mrs. Harvey. "This plan suitsme in every way. You won't fail us, Miss Staunton? for, in case Freda byany chance has taken that awful whooping-cough, you can keep her inisolation from the very first."

  "Oh, yes!" said Effie, smiling; "but I dare say she is all right."

  She shook hands with her new employers and left the house.

  The gold was in her pocket. She felt that she had sold herself and hermission in life for ten sovereigns. "It is the present need which makesthe thing so desperate," she said under her breath. "If George has drawnall the money, they have absolutely nothing to live on; but more willcome in, and there's this to go on with. We'll manage somehow now."

  She returned to the lodgings, but before she went upstairs she had aninterview with the landlady.

  "What do you charge my mother for rent?" she asked.

  "Well, Miss Staunton," exclaimed the woman, "with the dinners and onething and another, I am obliged to make it a pound a week."

  "That is a great deal too much," said Effie. "I don't suppose it is toomuch for your rooms, but it is more than we can afford just now. When wefirst came to you, you agreed to let us the rooms without attendance forfifteen shillings a week. We cannot by any possible management afford topay more."

  "But Mrs. Staunton wished for attendance, miss--she said it made all thedifference; there was half a crown for attendance and half a crown extrafor kitchen fire."

  "But the kitchen fire was included in the fifteen shillings a week."

  "Then there wasn't late dinner."

  "Surely there is no late dinner now?" exclaimed Effie.

  "Oh, yes, miss; every evening Mr. Staunton requires a nice little bit ofdinner sent up when he comes home. You see, miss, it is quite impossiblefor me to have extra fires without charging for them."

  "Certainly. Well, I don't think there will be any extra dinner infuture. And now please tell me exactly how much is due to you."

  "Four pounds, miss; but if I'm paid one, on account, I shan't mindwaiting. I'd be really sorry to dislodge such a nice lady as yourmother, Miss Staunton."

  "Here is the money in full," said Effie. "Will you give me a receipt?"

  "Oh, with pleasure, miss. Won't you sit down? I hope, Miss Staunton,nothing will induce your good mother to move from here. I will doeverything in my power to make her comfortable."

  "You must understand," said Effie, "that in future she only pays fifteenshillings a week without extras. My sisters Agnes and Katie are quiteold enough to do all the waiting which my mother requires. In fact theymust do so, for we can't afford to pay a penny more."

  "Am I to understand, miss, that there's no late dinner?"

  "Certainly not."

  "Very well; I am sure I'll do all in my power to oblige."

  Effie left her, putting her receipt carefully in her pocket as she didso. She went upstairs and entered the little sitting-room where hermother was now pacing quickly and restlessly up and down. There was adeep flush on her cheeks, and a look of despair in her eyes.


  "Oh, Effie, you've come!" she exclaimed, the moment she saw herdaughter. "George has been in. There's something wrong, I know--I knowthere is. He came in just for a minute and he kissed me, and said hewasn't coming home to-night, and he--he looked _wild_. He stuffed a fewthings into a bag, and said I wasn't to expect him back to-night. Ididn't dare ask him about the money. What--what can be the matter,Effie?"