The Career of Katherine Bush

  CHAPTER X

  He pulled himself together and took some papers from his bag withoutspeaking, and when he had selected two or three, he drew a chair up tothe other side of the table and began to dictate, stopping every now andthen to explain the purport of his arguments.

  They worked so for perhaps an hour.

  "One has to do these things," he said at last, as Katherine had notuttered a word. "One wonders sometimes if there is any good in them."

  "I suppose all effort has some merit," she responded, without lookingup. He began to long to make her raise her eyes again.

  "You think so?--On what grounds?"

  "It exercises a useful faculty."

  "What faculty?"

  "Will, of course; to use effort is an exercise of will, because if therewas no effort needed, no will would be required either."

  He smiled whimsically; this was obvious.

  "Then I must look upon the organisation of this very intricate charity,of doubtful use to mankind, as profitable to me because of the effortentailed."

  "It is as good a way as any other of looking at it.--Did you sayquarterly or monthly returns upon the capital?"

  "Oh--er--" glancing at his papers--"the confounded thing! Where isit--Yes--quarterly."

  The machine clicked uninterruptedly. Katherine never looked up.

  He began to allow himself to take in details. Why had he not remarkedbefore that she had an extraordinarily well-shaped head?--And whatwonderful hands--in these days of athletic, weather-beaten paws! Shewould be very stately, too, when she filled out a little. The wholething was agreeably symmetrical, throat and shoulders, and bust andhips.

  "Why, in the name of all the gods, have I never noticed this young womanbefore! She thinks, too! That was a curious reflection about will--I'dlike to talk to her--The devil takes this d--d--charity!"

  So his thoughts ran and his eyes eagerly devoured Katherine's face.

  She was perfectly conscious of the fact; she knew with unerring instinctthat the spark which she had dispatched by that first steady gaze of hereyes had struck tinder, the flame of interest was ignited, and the moredifficult she made things now, the more complete would be her triumphpresently. She resolutely kept her attention upon her work, neverraising her head.

  "To be so meritoriously industrious, are you using effort?" he asked, ina moment or two. "You look as though you had a most formidable will!"

  "Very little effort; it is second nature to me now."

  "Even if the subject is as uninteresting as this?"

  "That is all the better; one can let one's mechanical brain tackle it,and one's real thoughts can wander."

  "Where to?"

  She put in a fresh sheet of paper--and now glanced at him again for onesecond.

  "Into dreamland."

  "Yes, that is a ridiculously pleasant place devoid of draughts and ofchilling surprises. It would be very impertinent, I suppose, if I askedyou where is your dreamland?"

  "Perhaps not impertinent--out of place. You are dictating a letter tothe Lord Mayor of London at the moment."

  "To be sure I am--you made me forget it--he is an infernal bore, theLord Mayor of London, compelling me to branch off from this veryinteresting conversation to his confounded letter!--I beg your pardon!"

  Katherine read aloud the last coherent sentence he had given her, andshe permitted one of her faint sphinxlike smiles to play about hermouth, while her eyes sought the typing.

  Gerard Strobridge moved a little nearer--he felt a sudden strong thrill.

  "I shall not give you another word to type until you tell me about yourdreamland--Is it in sea or sky or air?"

  "It is half-past three o'clock and you are only to stay until five--hadyou not better attend to your work first, sir?"

  She was waiting in an attitude of respectful attention, infinitelyprovoking.

  "Certainly not! I shall ask my aunt to lend you to me for another day ifwe do not finish this afternoon--Indeed, on second thoughts, I do notthink I shall try to finish to-day--we can complete the matter atBlissington--" And then he stopped abruptly--Laeo Delemar would be there!He had melted her into a mood from which everything could be hopedduring this week of uneventful family party--Beatrice would only stayfor Christmas Day, and was indeed no great obstacle in any case. But hefeared he would probably not be able to have interesting businessinterviews during the holidays with his aunt's typist.

  He laughed shortly to himself, and dictated a long sentence, concludingthe letter to the Lord Mayor. He had better control the interest he wasfeeling, that was evident!

  Katherine made no remark, while she wondered what had stopped hisquestioning so suddenly. She smiled again a little. It had the desiredeffect--Mr. Strobridge jumped up from his chair and went to thefireplace.

  "Well--what are you thinking about?" he demanded, from there.

  "My work, of course! What else should I be thinking about?" Her eyes atlast met his in innocent surprise.

  "I don't believe you are quite truthful--one does not smile in thatenigmatic fashion over work--dull, tedious work like this, statistics ofbodies who are to benefit by this absurd charity--Oh! no, fair scribe! Ifeel there lies a world of malice in that smile."

  "Even a scribe is permitted sometimes to make reflections."

  "Not without confessing what they are."

  "We are not in the days of the Spanish Inquisition--" taking up a paper."On the first list there is a letter for the Mayor of Manchester."

  "Confound the Mayor of Manchester!"

  "Poor gentleman!"

  "I must know all about dreamland and cryptic reflections first."

  He drew the armchair now over towards her and flung himself into it. Hewas a graceful creature, not so tall or so ideally perfect of form asLord Algy, but a very presentable Englishman, with a wonderfuldistinction of manner and voice.

  Katherine Bush was experiencing intense pleasure--there was somethingfeline, if not altogether feminine, in her well-balanced brain. It waspeculiarly gratifying to find that her plans were being justified. Howglad she was that he had not remarked her in her raw days! How wise shehad been to have made ready--and then waited! The whole thing was themore effective because of the complete absence of all dramatic emotionin her. She was like a quiet, capable foreign minister playing his gameof statecraft with the representative of another country, his facepermitted to express--or conceal--only what he desired.

  At this moment, she shrugged her shoulders very slightly, as though tosay, "I am only an employe. I cannot force you to work if you will not";but she did not speak, so he was obliged to demand again.

  "Won't you tell me what made you smile?--We can drift to dreamlandafterwards."

  "No--I will not tell you what made me smile, because I do not knowexactly; the aspect of life generally, perhaps."

  "And you sit and work in this gloomy back room all day--What do you knowabout life?"

  "I am observing--I know that one must pretend interest in what one isbored by--and one must show attention to those one despises--and--keepfrom laughing at things."

  "What a dangerous young woman, watching and coming to cynicalconclusions--but you say truly; one must keep from laughing at things--avery difficult matter generally." He lay back against the brown leathercushion, and proved the truth of this by laughing softly, while helooked at her quaintly.

  Katherine Bush suddenly felt that a human being understood _with her_;it was a delightful sensation.

  "Practically the whole of life is a ridiculous sham and must arouse thesardonic mirth of the gods--Here are you and I spending an afternoonarranging a charity in which neither of us takes the least interest--Iam dictating fulsome letters to Lord Mayors to induce them to influenceothers to open their purses--I don't care a jot whether they do or theydo not--You are mechanically transcribing my asinine words, and we couldbe so much better employed exchanging views--on each other's taste,say--or each other's dreamlands."

  Katherine Bush looked down and allowed her ha
nds to fall idly in herlap--he should do most of the speaking.

  "The only good that I have been getting out of it as far as I can see,"he went on, "is the contemplation of your really beautiful hands atwork--Where did you get such perfect things in these days?"

  She lifted one and regarded it critically.

  "Yes, I have often wondered myself. My father was an auctioneer, youknow, and my mother's father was a butcher."

  Gerard Strobridge was extremely entertained. She was certainly a verywonderful product of such parentage.

  "May I look at them closely?" he asked.

  She showed not the least embarrassment; if he had been asking to see apiece of enamel, or a china vase she could not have been more detachedabout it. She held them out quite naturally, and he rose and took themin his own. Their touch was cool and firm, and every inch of his beingtingled with pleasure. He examined them minutely finger by finger,stroking the rosy filbert nails in admiration, while an insane desire toclasp and kiss their owner grew in him.

  Katherine Bush was perfectly aware of this, and when she thought he hadfelt emotion enough for the occasion, she drew them back as naturally asshe had given them.

  "I am always asking myself questions about such things," she remarked,in a tone of speculative matter-of-factness. "I am so often seeingcontradictions since I have been here--My former conclusions are alittle upset."

  "What were they?" He had returned to his chair. He was no novice to becarried away by his sensations, and he knew very well that to indulgethem further at present would be very unwise, and perhaps check a mostpromising amusement.

  "I believed that birth and breeding gave fine ears and fine ankles andfine hands--as well as moral qualities."

  "And you have been disappointed?"

  "Yes, very--have not you?"

  "No, because I have had no illusions--one never can tell where a sidecross comes in, or what will be the effect of overbreeding--that runs toenormities sometimes."

  "I suppose so--"

  "And have the moral qualities surprised you also?"

  "Oh, yes--more than the physical; I have seen and heard what I wouldhave thought were common things even at Bindon's Green."

  He laughed again--If the crew who had attended the tableaux rehearsalscould have heard her!

  "You are perfectly right--looked at in the abstract, I suppose we arerather a shoddy company nowadays."

  "There are individuals who come up to the measure, of course, but notall of them, as I had imagined. You must have opened the doors to quiteordinary people to have made such a mixture."

  "We have grown indifferent; we no longer care about a standard, I fear."

  "That is why you let all these Radicals be in power, perhaps--You havebecome effete like the nobles before the revolution in France, who couldonly die like gentlemen, but not live like men."

  Gerard Strobridge was startled. This from the granddaughter of a butcherof Bindon's Green!

  "She picks it all up from Seraphim, of course," he reflected presently."And yet--look at her strange face!--it is a woman of parts fromwherever it has come!"

  "That is an apt phrase--where did you find it--'die like gentleman, butnot live like men'?"

  "I don't know, it just came from thinking and reading about them--somuch was fine, and so much--foolish."

  "Yes--and you think we are growing also to that stage in England?Perhaps you are right; we want some great national danger to pull ustogether."

  "You will rust out otherwise, and it will be such a pity."

  "You think we are good enough to keep?"

  "In your highest development--like Her Ladyship--you are, I shouldthink, the best things for a country in the world."

  She knew he was drawing her out and was very pleased to be so drawn.

  "Tell me about us--what have we that is good?"

  "You have a sense of values--you know what is worth having--You have hadhundreds of years to acquire the quality of looking ahead. No person ofthe classes from which the Radical statesmen are drawn has naturally thequality of looking ahead; he has to be told about it, and then get it ifhe can--it is not in his blood because his forebears only had to snatchwhat they could for themselves and their families day by day, and werenot required to observe any broad horizon."

  "How very true--you are a student of heredity then, Miss Bush?"

  "Yes--it explains everything. I examine it in myself; I am alwayscombating ordinary and cramping instincts which I find I have got."

  "How interesting!"

  "No common Radical could be a successful foreign minister, forinstance--unless perhaps he were a Jew like Disraeli--but they havesense enough to know that themselves, and always choose a gentleman,don't they?"

  "You wonderful girl--do you ever air these views to my aunt? They wouldplease her."

  "Of course not--Her Ladyship is my employer and she knows my place. Ispeak to her when I am spoken to."

  "You think we on our side are too casual, then?--That we are letting ourbirthright slip from us--I believe you are right."

  "Yes--you are too sure of yourselves. You think it does not matterreally--and so you let the others creep in with lies and promises--youlet them alter all the standards of public honour without a protest,and so you will gradually sink to the new level, too--I feel very sorryfor England sometimes."

  "So do I--" his face altered. He looked sad, and in earnest and older.For the moment he forgot that he was wasting valuable time in the mostagreeable task of exploiting the ideas of a new species of female; herwords had touched a matter very near his weary heart.

  "What can we do?" he cried, in a tone of deep interest. "That is thequestion--what can we do?"

  "You should all wake up to begin with, like people do when they findthat their houses have caught fire--at least, those whom the smoke hasnot suffocated first. You ought to make a concentrated, determinedeffort to save what you can to build a new shelter with."

  "Admitted--but how?"

  "Have common sense taught from the beginning in the schools, the reasonsof things explained to the children. If you knew the frightful ignoranceupon all the subjects that matter which prevails among my class, forinstance! They have false perspectives about everything--not becausethey are bad; in the mass they are much better than you--but becausethey are so frightfully ignorant of the meaning of even the little theyhave learnt. Everything has a false value for them. There is hardly asubject that they can see straightly about; they are muffled andblighted with shams and hypocrisies."

  "You should address meetings among them."

  "They would not listen to me for a moment; the truths I would tell themwould wound their vanity; it would only be in the schools among thechildren that anything effectual could be done."

  "You think so?"

  "Oh, yes, I know--My own sisters and brothers are examples. I couldnever teach them anything, and there are millions in England just likethem. Good as gold--and stupid as owls."

  "It does not sound hopeful, then."

  "No, the rust has gone too far; there should have been no education atall, or a better one--but the present system looks as if it would swampEngland if the children are not taught things soon."

  "You are a Tory, it would seem."

  "No, I don't think I am. I think everyone has an equal right, but onlyaccording to his capacity; and I certainly don't think the scum of theearth of idiots and wastrels have equal rights with hardworking,sensible artisans."

  "Indeed, no?--Go on!"

  "I think aristocrats are things apart from the opportunities they havehad, and should know it, and keep up the prestige and make their order agreat goal to strive for. You see, if they were stamped out, it would belike cutting down all the old trees in Kensington Gardens; they couldnot be produced again for hundreds of years, and all the beauty anddignity of the gardens would be gone. But aristocrats ought to act assuch, and never slip into the gutter."

  "There you are certainly right. I am more than with you--But what canone do?"


  "You should have the courage of your opinions, as Her Ladyship has--youonly laugh when she is saying splendid things sometimes. So few of youseem to have any backbone that I have seen."

  "You shame me!"

  Her face became filled with a humorous expression--they had been seriouslong enough, she thought. His caught the light of her eyes; he wasintensely fascinated.

  "You did not, of course, come from--Bindon's Green--is it?--You camedown from Parnassus to teach us poor devils of aristocrats to stick toour guns--I will be your first disciple, priestess of wisdom!"

  "It is five minutes to four, sir--it will be quite impossible to finishthat pile of papers to-day--And I _did_ come from Bindon's Green--and Iam going back there by the six o'clock train from Victoria, to a supperparty at my home--That is why my hair is crimped and I have on this newblouse."

  He got up and stood quite near her.

  "And what will you do at the party? I can't see you there."

  "I shall look disagreeable, as I generally do. We shall have supper ofcold pressed beef and cold meat-pie, and cheese-cakes and figs andcustard, and some light dinner ale or stout, and cups of tea--and thenwhen we have finished that, there are a whole lot of new nigger songrecords for the gramophone, and my brother Bert will recite imitationsof Harry Lauder, and my future sister-in-law, Miss Mabel Cawber, willsing 'The Chocolate Soldier' out of tune--We shall make a great deal ofnoise, and then we shall push the furniture back and dance the turkeytrot and the bunny hug, and some of the elder ones, like my sisterMatilda, will make up a whist-drive, and at about one o'clock I can getto bed."

  "It sounds perfectly ideal; but you return from this to-morrow?"

  "Yes--by an early train. I am not a favourite at home. Now will youplease begin again to dictate."

  He walked up and down the room for a minute; he was not a boyaccustomed only to acting from inclination; he knew very well that itwould be much wiser now to resume attention to business. So he took uphis memoranda and started once more, and for over half an hour nothingbut dictation passed between them; the pile of papers grew considerablyless.

  "If you care to give me directions for the rest quickly, I will takethem down in shorthand, and then I could finish all this to-morrow, sometime. Her Ladyship, I am sure, would be better pleased if her wholescheme is complete."

  He agreed--he truly admired her perfect composure and common sense; shewas so capable and practical, a person to be relied upon. He would do asshe suggested, though he had not heard about dreamland yet.

  He set his mind to the affair on hand, and before the clock struck fiveall was done and ready for this admirable young woman to type when shehad leisure. And now he took her hand again.

  "A thousand thanks, Egeria," he said. "You ought to discover a likelylad and turn him into the Prime Minister. You would make an ideal PrimeMinister's wife--but--er--don't look for him at Bindon's Green!"

  "No, I won't--good-night, Mr. Strobridge. Thank you for your wishes--butI have other views. I shall not turn my 'lad' into anything; he shallturn me--"

  "Into what?"

  "That is still in the lap of the gods," and she made him the slightestcurtsey, and went with a bundle of receipts to the cupboard in the wall,while her grey-green eyes laughed at him over her shoulder.

  As Gerard Strobridge walked up the shallow marble steps to his aunt'ssitting-room, he felt like a man in a dream.