CHAPTER XVI
A CHANGE OF CIRCUMSTANCES
When her husband's affairs were all investigated and arranged, it wasfound, to Mrs. Stubbs's great joy, that matters were scarcely quite sobad as had at first been anticipated. True everything--or what shecalled everything--was gone; but no stain was there to sully a namewhich had always been held among City men as a blameless and honourableone.
The actual cause of the crash had been the failure of a large bank,which had ruined two important houses with which the firm of Stubbs &Co. had very large dealings; these houses were unable to pay their debtsto Stubbs & Co.; and Stubbs & Co., having been living in greatextravagance up to the last penny which could be squeezed out of thebusiness, were not able to stand the strain of the unexpected losses.
But when everything was arranged, it was found that, with carefulnursing and management, the business could be carried on for the benefitof the children until such time as the boys should be of an age to takethe management of it themselves. Meanwhile, the trustees took Tom awayfrom the expensive public school at which he was at the time of hisfather's death, and, instead of sending him to Oxford, as his fatherintended to have done a few months later, put him into the clerks'department of a large mercantile house, where they made him work--as Tomhimself said indignantly--as if he were a mere under-clerk at a fewshillings a week.
It happened that the trustees were both bachelors, who understood themanagement of a large and expensive household just about as well as theysympathised with the desire for social prominence. Therefore, theybelieved themselves to be doing a really generous and almost unheard-ofaction when they agreed to allow Mrs. Stubbs three hundred a year out ofthe proceeds of the business. "And the lad will have his pound a week,"they said to one another, as a further proof of their consideration fortheir old friend's widow.
But to Mrs. Stubbs it seemed as if the future was all so black that shecould not even see where she was to get food for herself and herchildren. Poor soul! she had forgotten what the old friends of her deadhusband remembered only too well--the days when she had run up and downstairs after her mother's lodgers, of whom poor John Stubbs was one. Onthe whole, it is pretty certain that we rise much more easily than wefall. We find climbing up much easier than we find slipping down. AndMrs. Stubbs had got so used to spending twice three thousand a year,that to her a descent to three hundred seemed but very little betterthan the workhouse.
"A nice little 'ouse at Fulham!" she exclaimed, when Flossie tried topaint such a home in glowing colours. "You know I never could a-bearlittle 'ouses. Besides, 'ow am I to get them all into a nice little'ouse? There's Sarah and me----"
"Oh, Sarah first, of course!" snapped Flossie.
"For shame, Flossie; you seem as if you don't know how to be mean enoughto Sarah. I said 'er name first because she's my right 'and just now,and I lean on her for everything. There's Sarah and me, and Tom andJohnnie, and there's Minnie, and Janey, and Lily--that's seven. 'Ow amI to put seven of us away in what you call a nice little 'ouse?"
"Why, you'll have five bedrooms," Flossie cried.
"And where are the servants to go?" Mrs. Stubbs demanded. "Oh, Isuppose I'm to do without a servant at all!"
"Well, I shouldn't think you'll want more than one," returned Flossie,who had six.
Mrs. Stubbs rocked herself to and fro in the depth of her misery anddespair.
"And what's to become of me when Lily comes of age?" she cried.
For, by Mr. Stubbs's will, the business was to be carried on for thebenefit of his children until the youngest should come of age, when thetwo boys were to have it as partners.
He had believed his wife and children were safely provided for out ofhis property, which had nothing to do with the business, of which Mrs.Stubbs was to take half absolutely, and the other half was to go equallyamong the children. Every penny of this had, however, been swallowed upby the losses which had in reality killed him; so that, though there wasa provision for the children, Mrs. Stubbs was, except through the favourof the trustees, absolutely unprovided for.
"Oh, well, it's a good long time till then," Flossie returned coldly."And really, Ma, I do think it's ungrateful of you to make such a fuss,when things might be so different. Just supposing, now, May and Iweren't married; you might grumble then."
"I 'aven't as much," Mrs. Stubbs cried, "to bring up five children on asyou and May each 'ave to dress on."
"Perhaps not; but then, we have to go into a great deal of society; andlook what that costs," Flossie retorted. "Any way, Mr. Jones is toomuch disgusted at all this happening just now to let me help you. Andas for my allowance, I have to pay my maid out of it, so I really don'tsee that you can expect me to do anything for you."
"I don't think Auntie wants you to do anything for her; I'm sure shedoesn't expect it," put in Sarah, who was so utterly disgusted that shecould keep silence no longer, though she had determined not to speak atall.
"Well, Sarah, I really can't see what occasion there is for you to putyour word in," said Mrs. Jones, with an air of dignity. "We have hearda great deal about what you were going to do; perhaps now you will doit, and let us see whether the princess is going to turn out a realprincess after all or not."
For a moment Sarah looked at her with such utter disdain in her greyeyes that the redoubtable Flossie fairly quailed beneath her gaze.
"I am going always to treat my dear aunt with the respect and love shedeserves, Flossie," she said gravely; "and, even if I prove an utterfailure in every other way, you might still take a lesson from me withgreat improvement to yourself."
"Oh, you think so, do you?" sneered Flossie.
"Yes, I do," said Sarah promptly.
"Then let me tell you, Miss Sarah Gray, that I think your tone andmanner exceedingly impertinent and familiar. In future, call me Mrs.Jones, if you please, and try if you can remember to keep your place."
"Mrs. Jones, I will; and do you remember to keep yours," Sarah replied;"and do you remember, too, that you need not insult my aunt anyfurther."
"I shall speak as I like to my own mother," Flossie cried furiously.
Sarah opened her eyes wide.
"If I do put you out of the house, Mrs. Jones," she said, speaking withominous calmness, "I may be a little rough with you." And then the dooropened, and May came languidly in.
"What _is_ the matter?" she cried. "Flossie, is that you--at it again?Do go away, please. I am not well. I came to have a little talk to Ma,and I can't bear quarrelling. Do go away, Flossie, I beg."
"That Sarah has insulted me," Flossie gasped--but May was remarkablyunsympathetic.
"Oh, I've no doubt--a very good thing, too, for you've insulted her eversince you first saw her. Do go away. I'm sure I shall faint. I nevercould bear wrangling and fighting; and poor Pa's going off like that hasupset me so--I just feel as if I could burst out crying if any onespeaks to me."
On this, Flossie, finding that May was unmistakably preparing herselffor a nice comfortable faint, went stormily away, and rolled off in hergrand carriage, looking like a thunder-cloud. May recoveredimmediately.
"I really don't envy Flossie's husband the rest of his life," sheremarked. "What a comfort she has gone away! Well, Ma, dear, I came into have a quiet talk with you, and that tiresome girl has upset you. Iwould not take any notice if I were you, dear. I don't suppose Flossiemeans it. But she is so impetuous, and she's so jealous of Sarah. I'msure I don't know what you ever did to upset her, Sarah; but you and Iwere always the best of friends."
"The best of friends, May," said Sarah; then bent down and kissed hercousin's soft ungloved hand. "I didn't mean to speak, not to say aword--but she was so unkind to poor Auntie--and, May, it is hard onAuntie after all this"--looking round the room--"and her beautifulcarriages and horses, and her kind husband who was so fond of her, tohave just three hundred a year to keep five children on. It is hard."
Poor Mrs. Stubbs broke
down and began to sob instantly. "Sarah puts itall so beautifully," she said. "That's just as it was--your poorPa--and----" but then she stopped, unable to go on, choked by her tears.
"Now, Ma, dear, don't," May entreated; "we don't know why everything is.It might have been worse, you know, dear; just think, if you'd hadFlossie at home."
"Ah! it is a comfort to me to think Flossie is married," said Mrs.Stubbs, drying her eyes; "she's never been like a child to me."
"And there might have been nothing, you know; after all there issomething, and you'll be able to keep them all together. I shall helpyou all I can, Ma, dear; you know I shall do that! And if I can't domuch else, I can take you for drives, and see if I can't help Minnie toget married. You'll think it queer, Ma, dear, that I'm not just able tosay 'I'll give you a cheque for a hundred now and then.' But I can't.Life isn't all roses for me either. Of course I have a grand house inPalace Gardens, and diamonds, and carriages, and all that; but Mr. Giathdoesn't give me much money; he isn't like poor dear Pa. Of course hemade a very big settlement--Pa insisted on that--but only at his death.I don't get it now, and he pays my dress bills himself; and," with asob, "I don't find it all roses to be an old man's darling. But I don'twant to trouble you with all that, Ma, dear; you've got enough troublesand worries of your own. But you'll understand just how it is, won'tyou, dear? And, of course, there'll be many little ways that I shall beable to help you."
"Well, I have got my troubles," said Mrs. Stubbs, drying her eyes, andlooking at her daughter's pretty flushed face; "but others has them aswell. You were always my right 'and, May, from the time you was alittle girl in short petticoats; and you're more comfort to me now thanall my other children put together, all of them. Flossie's been 'ereturning up her nose at her mother and insulting Sarah shameful; andTom's grumbling all day long at what he calls his 'beggarly screw'; andsaying it won't pay for 'is cigars and cabs and such-like; and Minnie'sbeen crying all this morning because it's her birthday and nobody'sremembered it; and, really, altogether I feel as if it wouldn't takemuch more to send me off my head altogether."
"But I did remember it," cried May; "I've brought her a birthdaypresent, poor child."
"I'm sure it is good of you, May," poor Mrs. Stubbs cried. "Minnie 'llbe a bit comforted now. You know it is 'ard on her, for we used to makeso much of birthdays. But neither she nor the little ones ever seem tothink of what they've 'ad--and no more I do myself for that matter--onlyof what they 'aven't got. 'Pon my word, there is but one in the 'ouseto-day who hasn' 'ad their grumble over something or other, and that'sSarah."
Sarah laughed as she patted her aunt's fat hand. "I've got somethingelse to do just now, Auntie," she said bravely. "I've got to put myshoulder to the wheel now. I've been riding on the top of the wagon allalong."