A Plucky Girl

  CHAPTER XX

  RUINED

  It was on the afternoon of that same day that Jane Mullins sent for meto go into her private sitting-room.

  "Shut the door," she said, "I must talk to you."

  Really Jane looked most queer. During the last month or two, eversince Mr. Randolph went away, she had been taking less and less painswith her dress; her hair was rough and thinner than ever; her littleround figure had fallen away; she seemed to have aged by many years.She was never a pretty woman, never in any sense of the word, but nowthere was something grotesque about her, grotesque and at the sametime intensely pathetic.

  "I have done all I could," she said. "Lock the door, please,Westenra."

  I locked the door.

  "Now come and sit here, or stand by the window, or do anything youlike; but listen with all your might, keep your attention alert."

  "Yes," I said, "yes."

  "We are ruined, Westenra," said Jane Mullins, "we are ruined."

  "What!" I cried.

  Jane said the words almost ponderously, and then she threw her handsto her sides and gazed at me with an expression which I cannot by anypossibility describe.

  "We are ruined," she repeated, "and it is time you should know it."

  "But how?" I asked.

  "How?" she cried with passion, "because we have debts which we cannotmeet--we have debts, debts, debts on every side; debts as high as thehouse itself. Because we deceived our landlord, unintentionally it istrue, but nevertheless we deceived him, with promises which we cannotfulfil, he can take back the lease of this house if he pleases, andtake it back he will, because our paying guests don't pay, because thewhole thing from first to last is a miserable failure. There,Westenra, that's about the truth. It was your thought in the firstinstance, child, and though I don't want to blame you, for you did itwith good meaning, and in utter ignorance, yet nevertheless you musttake some of the brunt of this terrible time. I cannot bear the wholeweight any longer. I have kept it to myself, and it has driven menearly mad. Yes, we are ruined."

  "You must explain more fully," was my answer.

  Her agitation was so great that by its very force it kept me quiet. Ihad never seen her absolutely without composure before; her usuallybrisk, confident manner had deserted her.

  "You have kept me in the dark," I continued, "and you have done wrong,very wrong. Now please explain how and why we are ruined."

  "Here are some of the accounts; understand them if you can," she said.She opened a drawer and pulled out a great account book. "Now lookhere," she said, "the house is absolutely full, there is not a singleroom to be let; I declined four fresh parties only this morning; Emmais perfectly tired opening the door to people who want to come here toboard, the house has got a name and a good one. It is said of it thatit is in Bloomsbury and yet smacks of the West End. You and yourmother and Jim Randolph, bless him! have to answer for that. It's allyour doing, and the people have talked. Everything has been done thatcould be done to make the place popular, and the place is popular, butnow, you look here. Here are the takings"--she pointed to one side ofthe ledger--"here are the expenses"--she pointed to theother--"expenses so much, takings so much, look at the balance,Westenra. Of course you don't know much about accounts, but you cansee for yourself."

  I did look, and I did see, and my heart seemed to stand still, for thebalance on the wrong side of the ledger represented many pounds aweek.

  "Then this means," I said, for I was sharp enough in my way, "that thelonger we go on the heavier we get into debt. Every week we lose somuch."

  "We do, dear, that's just it."

  "But cannot we retrench?"

  "Retrench! how? Do you suppose the boarders will do without theircomfortable hot coffee, and the other luxuries on the board atbreakfast? Do you suppose they will do without their lunch, theirafternoon tea with plenty of cakes and plenty of cream, their latedinner, at which appears all the luxuries of the season?--why, thehouse would be empty in a week. And we cannot have fewer servants, wehave only four, very much less than most people would have for anestablishment of this kind, and Emma already complains of pains in herlegs, and says she is worn out going up and down stairs."

  "But the place looks so thriving," I said.

  "Looks! what have looks to do with it?" said Jane. "I feel nearly mad,for I always thought I could pull the thing through; but it's going onat a loss, and nothing can go on at a loss; and then, dear, there arebad debts--one or two people have shuffled off without paying, andthere are the furniture bills, they are not all met yet."

  "But I thought," I said, "that the seven thousand pounds----"

  "Ay," cried Jane, "and that is where the bitterness comes in. Thatmoney was supposed to be all right, to be as sure and safe as the Bankof England, and it is not all right, it is all wrong. But that isJames Randolph's story. When he comes back he will explain the rightsof it to you, my dear. If I could only hear from him that the moneywas safe, we could wind up honourably in the autumn and stop theconcern; but I have not heard, I have not heard; there has beennothing but silence, and the silence drives me mad. Westenra, what isto be done?"

  "Give the whole thing up now," I said, "there is nothing else to bedone. We must stop."

  "Stop!" answered Jane. "You talk with the ignorance of a young girl.If we stop now we will have the whole house of cards about our ears;the tradespeople will sue for their money, the bailiffs will be in andwill take possession of the furniture, even the very bed your mothersleeps on will be taken from under her. The awful, terrible positionis, that we can neither stop nor go on. It is fearful, fearful. Oh, ifI could only borrow a thousand pounds within a week, I would not carea farthing. I would not even care if your mother was strong, but tohave this crash come about her in her present state of health, why, itwould kill her. Westenra, poor child, you are young and unaccustomedto these things, but I must unburden my mind. There is ruin before us;I can scarcely stave it off for another week, and I have not had aline from Mr. Randolph, and I am nearly wild."

  "And you think a thousand pounds would keep things going for a littlelonger," I answered.

  "Yes, we could stay on until the end of the season if I could getthat money. It would pay the quarter's rent, and the tradespeople'sbills, and the big furniture bills. And long before it was out Mr.Randolph must come back and put everything straight. His return iswhat I am hoping for more than the rising of the sun."

  "But oh, Jane, how--how am I to get the thousand pounds?"

  "I was thinking that Duchess of yours might lend it."

  "No," I said, "I cannot ask her; besides, I know she would not. Thoughshe is a Duchess she has not got a lot of money to spare. The Dukemanages everything, and she just has her allowance, and a great dealto do with it. I cannot ask her."

  "There is one other way in which ruin could be averted," said Janeslowly, "but that I suppose is not to be thought of. Well, I have toldyou, and I suppose it is a sort of relief. Things may go on as theyare for another week or two, but that's about all."

  I felt that I trembled, but I would not let Jane see.

  "You have been very brave. You have ruined yourself for our sakes," Icried impulsively. But at the same time I could not help adding, "Thatfriend of yours who promised you seven thousand pounds ought not tohave failed you at a critical moment like the present."

  "I won't have him blamed," said Jane, her face turning crimson; "it isnot his fault. Man could not do more."

  "Jane," I said, facing her, "tell me the truth now; what is the nameof your friend?"

  "You won't get his name out of me," answered Jane. "Mr. Randolph hasgone to Australia to put things straight with him. When I hear fromMr. James Randolph all will be well."

  "Have you never heard since he left?"

  "Twice during the voyage, but not since. It is wonderful why he is sosilent. There, I seem to have lost hope."

  "Jane," I cried, "why don't you give us up and go back to your ownlittle house?"

  "Bless you, child,
I'm not the one to leave a sinking ship. Oh, we'llgo on a little bit longer, and it has cheered me a little to confidein you. I will work the ship for another week or so, and there will bean extra nice dinner to-night, and spring asparagus, real Englishgrown, and your mother shall have the greater portion of it. Oh dear,oh dear, if the house were twice its size we _might_ make it pay, butas it is it's too big and it's too small; it's one of thebetwixt-and-betweens, and betwixt-and-between things _never_ do,never, never. Child, forgive me, I am sorry to add to your cares. Ifit were not for your mother I should not mind a bit."

  I could do nothing to comfort Jane. I went up to her and kissed her,and held her hand for a moment, and then went slowly away to my ownroom. I did not attempt to shed a tear, I was not going to cry justthen, it behoved me to be very brave; there was a great deal to beborne, and if I gave way it seemed to me that everything must come toan end. I felt some pride in my young strength and my courage, and wasresolved that they should not fail me in my hour of need. So I putaway the new hat and pretty jacket and went down to mother, and Iamused mother by showing her the lace I had bought, and I told her allabout the Duchess, and mother was much pleased at the thought ofseeing her old friend on the following morning, and she and I sat thatafternoon in the drawing-room making up the pretty lace fichu, and Iresolved that mother should wear it the next day when the Duchesscame.

  There was the most awful trouble hanging over us all; my mother's dayson earth were numbered, and my scheme, my lovely castle in the air,was falling to ruins about my head. But all the same mother and Ilaughed and were cheerful, and the visitors who came into thedrawing-room that afternoon thought what a picturesque group motherand I made, and what a lovely room it was, and how much superior tomost boarding-houses; and they inquired, more than one of them, whenthere would be a vacancy, and said they would write to Miss Mullins onthe subject. Poor Jane Mullins! she was bearing the brunt of thestorm. I pitied her from the depths of my heart.