little girl."
He stooped and kissed me; his kiss was more affectionate than usual.
"Be a good girl, Dumps. What I do I do for my children's sake."
"Of course, father;" I said, touched by the feeling which seemed to bein the kiss he had just bestowed upon me.
"By the way, Dumps, I gave you that picture of your mother?"
"Oh yes, father; but I have not looked at it yet."
"It is a good likeness," he said. "She was a pretty woman, and a goodwife to me; I never forget that. I don't forget it now. Good-bye,Dumps."
"You will write, father?"
"Yes, yes; anyhow you will hear. Good-bye, child; good-bye."
I followed him into the hall. There was a neat little Gladstone bag ona chair. It really was brand-new, and it had his initials on it.
"Why," I said, taking it up in my hand, "this is exactly the same sortof bag as my trunk--I mean it is such very new-looking leather. Howpretty! When did you get it?"
"Don't be inquisitive, child. Is it new? Upon my word! Well, that'sall right. Good-bye, good-bye, Dumps."
He snatched up the bag and went out, banging the hall door. I wentstraight back to the parlour and pulled the bell. I pulled it twice indesperation. There was no response of any sort.
"Hannah gets worse and worse," I thought. I was ravenously hungry.There was not a scrap of preparation for a meal on the table, only theglass out of which father had drunk his accustomed quantity of beer, andthe bone of the mutton-chop, and a small piece of bread. Hannah wascertainly in her deafest and worst humour, and the cotton-wool wassticking firmly into her right ear.
I ran downstairs. I entered the kitchen.
"Sakes!" said Hannah.
I went close to her and dexterously put out my hand and removed thecotton-wool from her ear.
"Miss Dumps, how dare you?"
"I want my dinner," I said.
"Sakes! What with frying chops for the Professor, and him going off ina hurry, why, my head is in a moil."
"Hannah," I said, "I must have some food. I am awfully hungry."
"Well, set down right there by the kitchen table and I'll give youanother chop," said Hannah. "I hear the Professor's not coming backto-night. It's the very queerest thing I remember happening since yourpoor mother died. But you set there and I'll grill a chop for you, andyou shall have it piping hot, and potatoes as well. There, now, what doyou say to that?"
I thought I would oblige Hannah to any extent with the prospect of sucha meal in front of me, and accordingly I sat down while she prepared thechop and potatoes. Presently she brought them to me, and I ate themwith the satisfaction which only a hungry schoolgirl can feel when sheis seldom given a satisfying meal.
"Master said to me just before he left, `Tidy up the house a bit,Hannah.' Never heard him make such a remark before in all my life sinceyour poor mother were took."
"You remember mother very well, don't you, Hannah?"
"Bless her! yes, I have memories."
Hannah looked very thoughtful.
"Do sit down," I said. "You and I are alone in the house."
"You are her mortal image," said Hannah as she sank into her chair.
"I like mother?"
"Not in face, but in ways. You have a sort of coaxing way with you, andyour temper is good--I will say that. But God only knows who you harkback with regard to face, for you are plain, Dumps, there's no doubt ofthat."
"So every one says--that is, every one except Mr Von Marlo."
"That queer Dutch boy--that foreigner? Nobody minds what foreignerssay."
"Still, it is nice sometimes, by somebody, to be called even fairlygood-looking," I responded.
"Maybe you're in Dutch style," said Hannah. "I always was told they hadflattened-out faces, same as the Dutch dolls, you know."
This remark was scarcely flattering; but then Hannah, on principle,never did flatter.
"Tell me about mother," I said. "What was she really like?"
"Mr Alex takes after her. Eyes blue as the sky, a tender, gentle face,rather tall, rather slim, the sweetest of voices."
"Why did she die?" I asked.
My own voice trembled.
"Killed, child--killed."
"Killed?" I exclaimed. "I never heard that."
"Oh, there are ways of doing the job! She weren't killed by anyaccident--not by fire, nor by water, nor by a street accident--but justshe wanted what she couldn't get."
"And what was that?"
"Why, the understanding of the sort of man she had married. He is realgood is the Professor, downright good at heart, but he wanted adifferent sort of wife from your mother, some one as could rouse him andtake him by the shoulders and shake him. That's the sort he wanted, andshe weren't the kind. So, you see, she hadn't enough sunshine, andby-and-by the want of sunshine killed her. Yes, she were killed if evera woman were killed; yes, that's it--killed."
I started to my feet.
"You really are very melancholy, Hannah."
"And why in the name of fortune should I be merry? What's to make memerry?"
"Well, we all have to make the best of things. Miss Donnithorne saysso."
"Don't you mention the name of that hussy to me!"
"Hannah, you have no right to call her that. She is a most sweet, dear,charming woman."
"Get you out of my kitchen, Dumps!"
"Hannah, what do you mean?"
"Mean? I don't want that woman coming fussing round the place, makingup to you, dressing you up--I know what it means. Don't you talk to me.Get along, Dumps, or I'll say something angry. Now then, out you go!"
Hannah pushed the cotton-wool well into her ear with her thumb, andafter that I knew that I might as well talk to a deaf and dumb image.
PART ONE, CHAPTER TEN.
A VERY QUEER CHUM.
I went to tea with Augusta Moore. She was full of raptures with regardto the tickets which I had brought her. She turned in the street andkissed me quite demonstratively; but the next moment she lapsed into oneof her brown studies.
"Do look out," I said; "you will be run over."
"As if that mattered," said Augusta.
"As if what mattered?" I asked.
"Why, what you said just now. Don't interrupt me. I am puzzling out athought which will lead to--oh! it has gone--don't speak; it will comeback if you keep quiet. There, I've nearly caught it!"
"Oh Augusta!" I said, "you mustn't talk in that way while we arewalking in this street."
I clutched her by the arm.
"Guide me, Dumps; guide me, commonplace Dumps; then I shall be able tothink in peace."
I guided her then very steadily. We walked up Queen's Road. Queen'sRoad is a long street.
"I thought," I said, "that you lived somewhere near Inverness Terrace,close to the Twopenny Tube." Augusta pulled up short.
"What have you been doing?" she said.
"What have I been doing?" I answered.
"Why, you've led me more than half a mile away from home, and motherwill be very much annoyed."
"Well, you must wake up and get me there in some sort of fashion," Isaid, "for I cannot possibly guide myself when I don't know where youlive."
Thus adjured, and by dint of constant pokes, and even pinches, I didmanage to take Augusta to her own home. There was a lift which wouldtake us to her mother's flat at the top of the great house; but she wasa quarter way up the stairs before I was able to remind her of the fact.She then said it didn't matter, and began to quote from _The AncientMariner_, saying the words aloud. People looked at her as they camedownstairs. One lady said, "How do you do, Miss Moore?" but Augusta didnot make any reply.
At last we arrived at the very top of the house, and as there were nomore stairs of any sort to go up, we had to pause here.
"Now, which door are we to knock at?" I said. Augusta pointed to one.
"We're awfully late," she said. "Mother will be terrible I shall gointo my own roo
m until she subsides. You won't mind listening to her;you will probably agree with her. You are fearfully commonplaceyourself. Two commonplaces together make--oh! I ought to be able tosay something very smart and witty on that subject, but I can't. I amgoing to cultivate smart sayings. I believe it is possible to cultivatethem. The spirit of repartee can be produced with care. I have readabout it; it is possible. A person who can make good repartees is muchappreciated, don't you know?"
"Oh yes, yes; but do knock at the