The Triumph of Jill

lookuncommonly nice in that gown."

  Jill laughed contentedly. He had told her that three times already butshe had not the least objection to hearing him say it again. She pattedthe grey folds of her dress with her grey-gloved hand, and tried to geta glimpse of herself in the shop windows as they passed. It was a verysimple costume, and a very serviceable one in light tweed. She hadmanaged to dispose of some work lately and had felt justified in being alittle extravagant; though the extravagance had not gone further thanbuying the necessary materials; her own busy fingers had fashioned thecostume with the aid of experience and a paper pattern, and the resultwas highly satisfactory and very creditable from the top of the smartlittle toque to the soles of her neat new walking-shoes.

  "Where shall we go?" enquired Jill serenely.

  "To Frascatti's," he answered, and to Frascatti's they went accordingly.St. John ordered a very recherche little lunch although he was fullyaware that even in small matters it was necessary to practise thestrictest economy, but, as he argued in answer to Jill's expostulations,it was out of all reason to expect a man to be economical on his weddingday.

  "I'm afraid it's out of all reason to expect you to be economical atall, my dear saint," remarked his wife sweetly, slowly withdrawing hergloves, and regarding her very new wedding ring with marked complacency."I shall have to keep the purse, that's evident, and dole you out anallowance."

  "It'll put me in mind of my schoolboy days," laughed St. John, "when Ireceived sixpence a week, and very often had that confiscated in paymentof fines."

  "I can quite imagine it," retorted Jill with a grave little shake of thehead. "It is strange considering what horrid little wretches boysgenerally are how really nice some of them grow up."

  St. John laughed again; the compliment was intended for him, and heappropriated it. He paused in the act of taking his soup to look acrossat his small wife. Never had he felt more supremely happy and contentedthan he did at that moment. He had a careless habit of living solely inthe present, turning his back on the past, and deliberately refusing tolook into the future--that future which with its work, its independence,and its possible poverty meant so much to them both, and would prove notonly a test to the strength of his manhood but to the sincerity of theirmutual love. To-day he was determined to put such thoughts on one side;it was his wedding morning and he meant to enjoy himself. He turned hisattention from his wife's face to the study of the wine card, and ranhis eye quickly down the list. "Do you like your wine dry?" he asked.

  "Um?" queried Jill.

  "Do you like dry wines?"

  "How funny!" she said. "I didn't know there was such a thing. I don'tthink I should; I'm so thirsty."

  St. John looked the tiniest shade put out, the waiter stared, and agood-looking man with a lightish moustache who happened to be passingtheir table at the moment glanced down at the small grey figure incareless amusement. Jill flushed, suddenly conscious of having said thewrong thing, and the man behind her, looking from her to her companionand recognising the latter, wondered what country cousin St. John hadgot hold of now.

  "I don't know much about it," she admitted in a slightly vexed tone,"but I liked what we had here before."

  St. John gave his order; then he looked into the troubled grey eyesopposite and smiled reassuringly. As he did so he caught sight of theman near Jill's chair; he was about to seat himself at the next table,but before he could do so St. John rose and intercepted him.

  "Markham!" he exclaimed. "This is luck. I thought you were abroad."

  "Only returned last night," the other answered shaking hands. "Glad tosee you again, St. John. All well at home?"

  "I don't know," St. John replied; "haven't been there lately. Come overto our table, old boy; we wanted someone to drink our health."

  Markham elevated his eyebrows in a show of surprise. St. John had holdof him by the arm, and he allowed himself to be drawn forward until hestood facing the little girl in grey, not quite clear even then as tohow matters stood.

  "Jill," exclaimed her husband, "allow me to introduce you to MrMarkham, a very old pal of mine."

  Jill held out her hand with a smile. She was a little disappointed thatSt. John had so readily ended their tete-a-tete luncheon, but shecarefully refrained from letting him see it, and graciously seconded theinvitation which the stranger appeared by no means reluctant to accept.He took the seat on her right hand and looked her over with a glancethat was at once curious and puzzled. She was a lady that was evident,though different in most respects to those he was accustomed to meet;what he could not rightly fix was the relationship between her and St.John. When he left England he had understood that the latter was tomarry his cousin--it had been for that reason that he had gone abroad--and yet a moment ago St. John had distinctly asked him to `drink ourhealth.' Whose health? And why?

  "This is a very festive occasion you are participating in, Markham," St.John observed gaily. "It is my wedding day. As the only guest presentwe look to you for a speech."

  Mr Markham stared incredulously first at St. John, and then at hiswife. Suddenly he caught sight of Jill's new ring--the plain goldcirclet seemed to carry conviction with it. He bowed to Jill andimpulsively held out his hand to St. John.

  "My congratulations, old fellow," he cried warmly, "my very sincere andhearty congratulations. By jove! I am surprised. But--"

  He paused. He had been going to ask `what about Miss Bolton?' butbethought him in time that it might not be a welcome topic to the bride.

  "You don't congratulate _me_" said Jill smiling, "and yet you might dothat more readily because you know Jack and you don't know me. I feelquite apprehensive; I've taken him for better and _worse_, you know."

  Mr Markham laughed.

  "I think your having done so does infinite credit to your judgment, MrsSt. John," he said. "I wish you both every happiness and success."

  "Thank you," Jill answered: "I feel reassured and good wishes are alwaysmost acceptable."

  "To wish success in our case is very appropriate too," struck in St.John. "I'm going to give you another surprise now, old fellow; I've setup in business on my own."

  "Eh?" enquired Mr Markham, putting down his wineglass and staring athis friend. St. John whipped a card out of his pocket and laid it onthe table cloth.

  "When you want your photograph taken," he observed in some amusement,"go to that address, my boy, and you'll get taken as you never werebefore. I'm the Co, and I go into harness a week from to-day."

  To say that Mr Markham was astonished would be to express hissensations very inadequately he was astounded--almost incredulous. Helooked at St. John's smiling face, and then at Jill's grave,matter-of-fact one, and ejaculated "By George!" in a tone that made St.John laugh more than ever.

  "It's a fact," observed the latter. "Put the card in your pocket andadvertise the firm a bit at the club and elsewhere. Besides you'll knowmy address then, though, of course, it is quite permissible for you toforget that if you want to."

  Mr Markham took up the card in silence, read it, placed it carefully inhis pocket-book, and sitting back in his chair fell to laughingimmoderately as though it were a huge joke. He had grasped thesituation immediately when he had quite taken in the news. He hadwondered that Jack and his wife should be having their wedding breakfastat Frascatti's, and alone; but now he understood. He knew that St.John, Senior, was bent on marrying his son to Miss Bolton, and he alsoknew that St. John possessed no private means. He had evidently runcontrary to the paternal wishes and this was the outcome. What a foolhe was to be sure! To chuck up quarter of a million and pretty EvieBolton for--

  "You must really excuse me, Mrs St. John," he exclaimed meeting Jill'ssurprised, and slightly disapproving glance with easy frankness, "butit's just immense to hear Jack talk about work; I don't suppose he hasdone a hand's turn in his life."

  Jill lifted her eyes to her husband's with unconcealed pride in herlook.

  "It doesn't follow that he won't be ab
le to do it," she answeredconfidently. "You none of you seem to have understood him. He is fullof pluck and perseverance, only he has always been discouraged."

  "We understood the old Jack well enough," Markham responded. "But therecomes a crisis in some men's lives when their whole nature undergoes acomplete change. It doesn't always last; they often go back to theoriginal state which means disappointment, and sometimes disillusionmenttoo. I don't mean that St. John is likely to go back, I was merely--"

  "Preparing me," suggested Jill.

  "No; wandering off into personal experience--a mistake at any time,unpardonable under existing circumstances. I won't forget to advertisethe show, old man," he continued turning to St. John, "and, if I may,will book to-day fortnight for a sitting. I rather enjoy having myportrait taken, and don't mind promising to become a regular customer.I think I can bring some others as well."

  "Thanks awfully," answered St. John. "It will be good for me if I canintroduce some fresh customers. I have posted the old man a card.Wouldn't it be a huge joke if I had the honour of photographing my ownfather?"

  Jill made a little grimace, and then the three of them laugheduproariously till Markham, raising his glass on high, drank to thehealth and prosperity of bride and bridegroom, and confusion to theirenemies.

  "It is rather unfortunate having enemies at the outset of one's marriedlife, don't you think?" observed Jill a little wistfully.

  "Well, I don't know; I always fancy an enemy or two enhance, bycomparison, the value of one's friends."

  "Yes, perhaps--if one has friends."

  "You cannot persuade me that _you_ will not find plenty as you gothrough life," Markham answered gallantly.

  "They are a long time coming," she rejoined with a smile, "but that isgenerally the case where money is scarce, isn't it? And Jack and I arehorribly poor. We are going to live over the shop, you know, in threerooms and a kitchen. We are lucky to get so many; old Thompkins--"

  "My dear Jill," interposed her husband, "you must really learn to speakmore respectfully of the head of the firm."

  "Old Thompkins," went on Jill imperturbably, "has only two. But then,of course, he's a bachelor. I think I shall flirt with him! it might bea stroke of business, eh?"

  Markham and St. John both laughed.

  "You're all right," ejaculated the former. "You can safely leaveyourself in your wife's hands; it is not difficult to foresee that oldThompkins will be speedily bowled out."

  "He might be a misogynist," suggested Jill.

  "They are the easiest to get over because they imagine themselvesinvulnerable," he replied. "I knew one once, but he married long ago.I forgot to ask him to explain the inconsistency, but it seems to haveanswered very well."

  "I'm glad of that," said Jill gravely. Then catching his eye shesmiled. "It would have been such a strong point against us if he hadfound it a mistake after all," she explained.

  He smiled too. There was something about St. John's small wife thatunconsciously attracted him; he could not help thinking what a capitalfriend she would make if a fellow were in trouble and in need of advice,though why he should arrive at such a conclusion he could not guess; sofar they had exchanged nothing but very slight commonplaces.

  "I feel I must contradict you there," he said. "Had he found it amistake it would most probably have been his fault; people with decidedprinciples are generally difficult."

  "Don't," cried Jill, "you make me nervous. Jack may have decidedprinciples for aught I know--he's got a decided temper, and I'm horriblyafraid Ilfracombe will make it worse."

  "So you propose spending the week at Ilfracombe?"

  "Yes. I stayed there with my father once while he painted the Coast, soJack is taking me there for auld lang syne."

  "It's bracing," struck in St. John, with a commendable determination tohave nothing sad, not even reminiscences, on his wedding day. "Anyplace would do me, but the little woman really wants setting up."

  "You will be putting up at the `Ilfracombe,' I suppose?" observed MrMarkham, conversationally.

  "My dear fellow," returned St. John, "you don't seem to quite realiseour position. We belong to the working-class, and will have to hunt outcheap rooms when we get there."

  "Ah! Well, diggings are more convenient in many ways, and more private,too." And Mr Markham, raising his wineglass to his lips, drained itquickly, as though he were swallowing something beside Heidsieck, as nodoubt he was.

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  Cheap apartments are not easily obtainable at watering places in thesummer, that is apartments which combine cheapness with a certain amountof comfort. It was Jill who pointed out the likeliest locality tosearch in, and who finally discovered what they wanted after manyfruitless enquiries. They did not suit St. John's taste, however muchthey might his pocket. He would have pronounced them impossible at oncehad not Jill firmly maintained that they would do. She had had to studyeconomy so much all her life that she was easily pleased, and reallyconsidered the rooms quite good enough for what they required.

  "They are," she observed cheerfully as soon as they were alone together,"clean and comfortable. To me, after my old attic, they are more--theyare luxurious. And the air is perfectly delightful."

  St. John glanced round the tiny sitting-room with its cheap saddle-bagsuite, and uncompromisingly hard sofa, and endeavoured to see thingsfrom her point of view, but with no very marked success. He was losingsight of the romance of poverty, in the realisation of its sordidness.He hated cheap lodgings and all their attendant discomforts, and hisdissatisfaction was written plainly on his face.

  "It might have been worse," he answered disparagingly.

  Jill bit her lip and turned to look out of the window. He followed herexample, and his discontent increased.

  "Not much of an outlook on somebody's bean patch," he grumbled. "Deuceof a nuisance we didn't go nearer the sea."

  "Sea view apartments are beyond our figure," she returned. "Besides youought not to want any outlook, nor anything else except me."

  St. John's ill-humour vanished, and he smiled as he put his arm roundher shoulders and drew her nearer to his side.

  "I don't," he asseverated.

  "Then what are you grumbling at?"

  "I wasn't; I was only wishing that things were a little nicer for you."

  "That's very kind of you, dear, but you might wait until I complainbefore you begin throwing a damper on things. I think that everythingis lovely, only--who is to manage the landlady, Jack? I'm sure Idaren't; she looks as if she would stick on the extras. We must do ourown marketing, and she won't like that, I suppose."

  St. John looked uneasy.

  "You always said," he remarked in a reminiscent manner, "that you wouldnever allow your husband to interfere in domestic concerns; it wasn't aman's work."

  "Well, you are a coward," cried Jill; "big men generally are. And she'sonly a little woman, not any bigger than I."

  "Little women are so vindictive," he retorted. "I shouldn't have mindedhow big she had been, but I did mind the way in which she looked us overand said, `You'll have breakfast at eight-thirty, I suppose? I can letyou have some butter that I've got in house.' Eight-thirty is such acommonplace plebeian hour, and sums up one's social status so exactly,and why couldn't she say in `the' house?"

  "Oh! don't be so ridiculous," replied Jill, "she is a Devonshire woman,of course, which makes a difference. But I don't want her butter; I'msure it isn't good and that's why she is anxious to get rid of it."

  "Then why didn't you tell her so instead of saying thank you?"

  "I hadn't the moral courage to," Jill admitted frankly. "I don't knowwhy you didn't help me out. If you were half a man you wouldn't allowme to be worried on my honeymoon."

  "It's my honeymoon too," protested St. John. "I don't see why I shouldbe worried either. Jill, dear, run and put your hat on we can't stayall the evening in this pokey room. Let's go out catering for to-morrowand have a peep at the sea."
br />   So with a laugh Jill went to do his bidding and together they salliedforth like a pair of children, or two sea-side trippers who having comefor a week's holiday, intend making the most of their time. They turnedtheir footsteps towards the sea, and sauntered along the steep windingpath up the cliff for the sake of the view, and the breezes, and tocatch sight of the little paddle steamers passing in the distance. Theytalked a great deal of nonsense, and St. John painted a golden future asbackground to the rosy present till Jill almost believed that theinsignificant firm of Thompkins and Co. was the gilded gate to fortune,and Jack's the lucky hand to hold the key. Markham's name cropped up inthe course of conversation. St. John introduced it, as he had theowner, unexpectedly, and apropos of nothing that had gone before.

  "How did you like Markham?" he enquired. "Not a bad sort, is he?"

  Jill