*CHAPTER II*
*PAMELA RECEIVES A STRANGE INVITATION*
A few days before the incident occurred which is recorded in theprevious chapter, Pamela Heath was standing at the dining-room window ofher home in Oldminster (a town about forty miles from Barrowfield).Pamela, like the woman who sat watching the ivy-covered house, was alsogazing through a window--but on to a very different scene: morning, abright January morning, and a busy stream of people passing up and downthe sunny street.
Pamela was a tall, slim girl, about sixteen years old; she was verypleasant to look at with her curly, chestnut-coloured hair, tied at herneck with a brown ribbon bow, and her brown eyes and clear complexion,which were emphasized by the dark green dress she was wearing. Strictlyspeaking Pamela would not have been called pretty--in the sense thatregular features stand for prettiness; her nose was a tiny bit square atthe tip, and the distance from her nose to her upper lip was a triflemore than beauty experts would allow, and her mouth was a little toowide for prettiness. But those who met Pamela for the first time foundher expression of frank good-humour far more attractive than mereprettiness. And when she was in one of her 'beamy' moods (as herbrother Michael used to call them)--that is, when she was vivaciouslytalking, and laughing, and keenly interested in making other peopleenjoy themselves--then she was irresistible. However grudgingly youadmitted it, you found you _had_ to confess to yourself that you wereenjoying yourself--when Pamela was 'beamy.'
This sunny Saturday morning when we first see Pamela she stands drummingon the window-pane with her fingers, watching for Michael to come roundthe corner of the street from the post-office, where he has been to posttheir father's Saturday morning letters. Michael is her elderbrother--a year older than Pamela--and the two are great chums. Thereare two sisters and another brother younger than Pamela, but they willbe introduced by and by, as Pamela is not thinking of them at themoment; she is thinking of Michael, and wishing he would hurry up sothat they might start off on their sketching expedition.
They were both fond of sketching, and used to tramp out on Saturdaymornings with their sketch-blocks and pencils (and some sandwiches andfruit in a satchel) and try to picture some of the beautiful sceneryoutside Oldminster.
But there was to be no sketching for either of them this morning. Foron his way to the house where Pamela lived was a little old man, with avery high bald forehead, and a top hat, and a shiny black coat--and thenews he was bringing was to drive all thoughts of sketching from theirminds for some time to come.
Long afterward Pamela remembered every detail of this Saturday morning,all the little familiar sounds going on in the house--the clatter ofdishes downstairs; the murmur of Mother's and Doris's voices in thehall, and John's high, childish tones asking them some question--andthen their laughing at him. Father's typewriter could be heard faintlyclicking away in the study, and in the drawing-room Olive was playingthe only tune she knew on the piano. The butcher's cart came clatteringdown the street and pulled up next door.
Pamela stopped drumming on the window and, pushing it open, leant out tosee if Michael was coming. Then it was she caught sight of a ratherround-shouldered old man in a top hat hurrying down the street, stoppingevery other second to peer closely at the numbers on the gates. When hereached Pamela's gate he not only stopped and looked at the number but,straightening himself up, he pushed the gate open and came in.
Pamela withdrew her head hastily and stepped back into the room.
"Whoever can this be?" she thought. "He looks rather shabby, poorsoul--I wonder if he's come begging or trying to sell machine needles."
But the little old man's business had nothing to do with either of thesethings, as Pamela was soon to find out. A few minutes later she foundherself in her father's study being introduced to Mr JosephSigglesthorne, whose mild blue eyes and nervous manner ill accorded withthe businesslike news which he was endeavouring to convey. Mr and MrsHeath and Pamela sat facing the nervous little man, who had removed histop hat of course, and now exposed the high bald forehead which gavehim, so he fancied, a slight resemblance to Shakespeare. Slight thoughit was, this resemblance gave Mr Joseph Sigglesthorne a considerableamount of happiness; it always made him feel more important directly hetook his hat off.
"Perhaps I ought to say, first of all," began Mr Sigglesthorne,producing a pair of spectacles from his coat pocket and commencing topolish them nervously with his handkerchief, "that I--that I am--youwill excuse me, sir, _and_ madam," he turned to Mr and Mrs Heath andinclined his head, "that--I was going to say, I have the honour to be akind of distant relation of a distant relation of yours." He rubbed theglasses a little quicker. "You remember Miss Emily Crabingway,doubtless. The lady is, if I am not mistaken, a fourth cousin to--tomadam here?" He inclined his head again toward Mrs Heath.
"Emily Crabingway! Why, yes," said Mrs Heath. "But I haven't seen herfor years--quite twelve years I should think."
"So she says, madam, so she says," continued Mr Sigglesthorne. "Well--Iam her second cousin once removed, if I may say so--and she hasentrusted me with a little--er--a little transaction--I mean proposal,or rather suggestion--er--with regard to your daughter Pamela." MrSigglesthorne was still polishing his glasses energetically. "Miss EmilyCrabingway is obliged to go up to Scotland--on business. That was all Ihad to tell you about that part, I believe--yes, that's correct--on_business_, she said. She will be away for six months..." Hehesitated, his eyes on the top of the window curtains behind Mr Heath'shead. "Yes--six months--and during that time she wants to know if MissPamela will go and live at her house in Barrowfield, and look after itfor her--and--" he went on, emphasizing each word as if repeating alesson, "certain conditions being undertaken by Miss Pamela, andfulfilled properly--Miss Crabingway will--er--bestow upon the young ladya sum of--if I may say so--a not inconsiderable sum--er--in short, fiftypounds." Mr Sigglesthorne removed his gaze from the top of the curtainsto Mr Heath's boots, which he appeared to study intently for a space.
Mr and Mrs Heath exchanged surprised glances, but Pamela was lookingwonderingly at Mr Sigglesthorne's magnificent forehead, and did notmove. Before any of them could speak Mr Sigglesthorne resumed:
"If Miss Pamela agrees to accept the offer she would be required to signthis paper, promising to obey certain instructions of Miss Crabingway's;but doubtless you would like to read it--I have it here in my pocket."
Mr Sigglesthorne stopped polishing his glasses, and resting them on thetop of his hat, which lay on a chair beside him, he felt in his coatpocket. But his memory had played him false; it was the wrong pocket.He turned the contents out, but not finding what he sought he triedanother pocket, fumbling with nervous, clumsy fingers, and producingvarious papers and envelopes and odd bits of string. The longer hesearched the more nervous he got. "Tut! tut!" he kept saying tohimself. "But how careless of me! Tut! tut! Exceedingly annoying!"
Mrs Heath tried to ease the situation by murmuring something polite, butPamela was suddenly seized with an intense desire to start laughing. MrSigglesthorne looked so funny and perplexed, and he kept dropping hispapers on the floor in his nervousness, and once he knocked his hatdown, and the glasses too. Pamela, almost choking with the effort ofkeeping her face straight, was glad of the opportunity of rescuing thehat and placing it back on the chair; she was thankful to be able to doanything at all instead of sitting still and trying to keep serious. MrSigglesthorne's apologies and thanks for his hat were profuse.
At length, after going through five pockets, Mr Sigglesthorne found whathe wanted, to everybody's relief.
"Perhaps I should mention," he said, as he handed an envelope across toPamela, "that Miss Crabingway is inviting three other younggirls--somewhere about Miss Pamela's age--to stay at her house also--butyou will see about that, though, in the letter."
Pamela opened the envelope and spread out the sheet of paper itcontained so that her mother and father could read it at the same time.It was a sh
eet of foolscap paper covered with black, spiky handwriting,writing which Mrs Heath recognized as Miss Emily Crabingway's from theChristmas card she received from her every year, the interchange ofChristmas cards being the only communication she had held with thisdistant cousin of hers for the last twelve years.
"Read it aloud, Pamela," said her father. So Pamela read the followingletter:
CHEQUERTREES, BARROWFIELD, _January 3rd_
DEAR PAMELA,
Although I have not seen you since you were four years old, I have afancy that I should like you to come to Barrowfield and look after myhouse and its inmates while I am away on business....
Here Mr Sigglesthorne smiled and nodded his head vigorously, and leaningback in his chair began to polish his glasses again.
... I shall be away for six months, and during that time--if you agreeto come--you must promise to obey the following instructions. You willplease sign your name under them and give the paper to Mr Sigglesthorne,who is acting for me in this matter, as I am unable to come and visityou myself owing to my urgent call from home.
These are the instructions to be obeyed:
1. While you are staying under my roof you are not to visit, nor inviteto the house, any relatives whatsoever.
2. No letters are to be written home, but one postcard every month maybe sent; and you may only receive post-cards, no letters, from yourrelatives--and then only one card each month.
3. On no account may you try to open the locked-up room at the end ofthe first floor landing. Nor may you peer through the keyhole.
A faint chuckle escaped Mr Sigglesthorne, a fleeting, scarcely audiblechuckle which he suffocated immediately. There was a blank space afterthe 'instructions' for Pamela to sign her name; and then a few morelines ended the letter.
I am leaving my two trusted servants, Martha and Ellen, to cook, andclean the house. When I return at the end of six months I will handover to you--providing you have not broken any of the aboveconditions--the sum of L50, which is deposited meanwhile with my banker.(Enclosed you will find banker's guarantee for same.)
I am likewise offering the same sum of money to three other girls whoare being asked to come and stay at my house, and to whom I want you toact as hostess. The girls' names are: Beryl Cranswick, Isobel Prior,and Caroline Weston.
Send me a wire to reach me by Saturday evening saying whether you acceptthis invitation or not. If you accept you must arrive at Barrowfieldnot later than Tuesday next.
Trusting you will be sensible and wire 'yes,'
Yours sincerely, EMILY CRABINGWAY
There was silence for a few moments when Pamela finished reading. Shehanded the banker's guarantee across to her father, who took it withouta word.
"Well!" queried Mr Sigglesthorne, polishing nervously.
"Well," said Mrs Heath, "I think we must have a little time to considerthe matter."
"Why does Miss Crabingway want to cut me off from you all like that,Mother, for six whole months?" burst out Pamela.
Mrs Heath shook her head and looked across at Mr Sigglesthorne, who,catching her inquiring glance, shook his head also.
"I know no more than I have told you, madam," he said. "Miss Crabingwaysent for me--she has been very good to me occasionally, when I have beentemporarily embarrassed for money--if you will excuse my introducingsuch a subject--and asked me to go and see the parents of the youngladies she wished to invite, and present them personally with her letterand instructions. I have already seen one of the young ladies----"
"And is she willing to come--the one you've seen?" asked Pamela.
"She is going to make up her mind and wire to-day to Miss Crabingway,and if she wires 'yes' she will post on to me the paper of instructions,duly signed, to my address by Monday morning." Mr Sigglesthorne stoodup and began gathering his belongings together preparatory to taking hisleave. "I will leave you my address; will you kindly send me yourpaper, if you decide to accept? Unfortunately, you have very little timeto consider the matter--only a few hours--as Miss Crabingway isexpecting your wire this evening.... Now is there anything more youwould like to ask me, madam, or sir?" he asked politely.
But although Mrs Heath put one or two anxious questions, he could throwno further light on the matter than before.
"I think--if you will forgive my saying so--that it is just a whim--afancy on Miss Crabingway's part. I feel sure your daughter will be wellcared for at Barrowfield--and if she does not like it (although Isuppose I shouldn't say this) she can always come home--and forfeit thefifty pounds, can't she?"
"Yes, that's true," said Mrs Heath.
"H'm, h'm ... yes--anyway, we can talk the matter over together and wireby this afternoon," said Mr Heath.
"This is my address," said Mr Sigglesthorne, handing Pamela a thumbedand dog-eared visiting-card on which was printed: "Joseph Sigglesthorne,Fig Tree Court, Inner Temple, London." "And now, if you will kindlyexcuse me, I must hurry away, as I have other visits to pay thismorning."
Mrs Heath invited him to stay and have some refreshment before he went,but he declined, saying that he must lose no time in informing the otheryoung ladies of Miss Crabingway's invitation. So shaking hands allround he departed, leaving them not a little perplexed.
No sooner was he gone than Doris and Michael burst into the study,anxious to know what the queer little old man's business with Pamelacould be. They were soon told all about it, and read Miss Crabingway'sletter with much curiosity.
Doris, who was a year younger than Pamela, was as unlike her sister inlooks as she was in temperament. Doris was pale, very pale, with veryfair hair and eyelashes, and light blue eyes. She was inclined to bepessimistic and over-anxious about most things, and lived up to thisreputation on the present occasion.
Michael, with handsome features, an infectious laugh, andchestnut-coloured hair (like Pamela's), was nothing if not optimistic;he and Pamela were always getting sighed over by Doris because of thelevity shown by them over things which Doris considered "too importantto be laughed at." But to-day Michael's optimism seemed to havesuddenly deserted him, and he put down Miss Crabingway's letter insilence.
Pamela was watching his face anxiously. "What do you think about it,Michael?" she asked.
"I don't know. I suppose it's all right. What do you think about ityourself, Pam?" he said. ("Six whole months! And only a few miserablepost-cards! Whatever was old Miss Crabingway thinking of!" said Michaelto himself.)
"After all, it's a very simple matter," said Mr Heath. "Pamela to lookafter Miss Crabingway's house for six months. There's nothing in that.Six months' rest from her studies won't harm her, and she can keep upher sketching and take some books with her.... It'll be quite aholiday."
"It's only those restrictions about not being allowed to see any ofus--and--and that curious mention of a locked door..." said Mother.
"Ah, yes! I don't like the sound of that at all," said Doris, shakingher head.
"Oh, come now--it may be only her private and personal belongings she'sput in that room," said Mr Heath.
"It _might_ be, of course," said Doris, in a tone that implied thatnothing was more unlikely.
"Of course that must be it," continued Mr Heath (from whom Michael andPamela inherited their optimism). "Miss Crabingway wouldn't want allthose strange girls upsetting her personal things.... And remember thefifty pounds--it'll be most useful for Pamela. But still, you mustdecide yourself, Pamela, what you would rather do."
"I _don't_ want to go--and I _do_--if you know what I mean," saidPamela.
They understood what she meant. But the matter had to be decidedimmediately, and so they all sat down and began to discuss it from eachand every point of view, until at length, after much hesitation, Pamelamade up her mind to accept Miss Crabingway's invitation.
Later in the day she and Michael walked round to the post-office andsent off the wire to Barrowfield; and Pamela also sent the signed paperoff to Mr Sigglesthorne.
During
the next few days Pamela lived in a state of excited rush andhurry. There seemed so much to be done, so many friends to see and saygood-bye to; so many clothes to get ready and pack; so much shopping todo; and then there were a hundred and one odd jobs that she meant toattend to before she went away, and never got time to see to any of themafter all. Everybody seemed very kind and anxious to help her as muchas they could. Even John and twelve-year-old Olive begged to be allowedto help, and proposed that they should take a hand at packing Pamela'strunk. Olive, indeed, could not be persuaded that her help was notneeded until she had been pacified with the gift of Pamela's glove-boxand a scent satchet to keep for herself. That was always the easiestway to divert Olive's ambitions--make her a present of something youdidn't want and she quickly forgot what she had been clamouring for afew minutes earlier. John, who was two years younger than Olive, wasthe 'baby' of the family in name only. John was sturdy, noisy, andemphatic in all he said and did--and was not so easily put off withgifts. He would accept the gift and then go on asking for the otherthing as well. Fortunately he was not so insistent on helping to packas on being allowed to sit on the lid of the trunk to squash it downwhen it was full and about to be locked. This little matter was easilyarranged, and when everything was quite ready he was called in, asked tobe so obliging as to cast his weight on to the top of the trunk--whichhe did with great alacrity--and the trunk was locked in triumph.
On the Monday night Mother came into Pamela's bedroom and wished her anextra good-night.
"Be sure to come home if you are unhappy, dear. Or if you are ill oranything--let me know--and bother the old fifty pounds," said Mother."Promise me, Pamela--or I shall be so unhappy."
So Pamela promised. "But I'm sure to be all right, Mother, and you'renot to worry about me at all, dear. But do take care of yourselves, allof you, till I come back."
Pamela said good night quite cheerfully, but after her mother had gonedownstairs again she found that she did not feel cheerful a bit. Shebegan to think things like "This is the last time I shall sleep in myown little room," and "This is the last time I shall hear Michaelwhistling on his way upstairs," until she made herself cry. Then shescolded herself for being so silly, and fell asleep.