Tutors' Lane

  XIII

  Tom telephoned to Mrs. Norris the next day to make certain that he mightsee her. He felt that she was an ally in the matter of Nancy, and it wasimportant to get her advice.

  He found her knitting by the yellow lamp in the library. "Well, Tommydear," she said, looking at him with a quizzical smile, "was the picnica success?"

  "Mrs. Norris, you are wonderful. When I think how much I owe to yourgeneration. After all, I think a woman is loveliest at fifty."

  "Oh, flatterer!"

  "But you know you cannot get that fine _savoir vivre_ before."

  "Oh dear me, how much more _savoir vivre_ I'll have when I'm eighty.What an old charmer I'll be then! Will you come to see me when I'meighty, Tommy?"

  "What a question!"

  "Well, I hope you won't take me off on any old wishing carpet and put medown in a damp, horrid place and give me tonsilitis."

  "Who has tonsilitis?"

  "Nancy, of course, and you gave it to her, you bad thing."

  Tonsilitis! He remembered now the damp rug and also certain snifflesthat had required, from time to time on the homeward trip, theadministration of a diminutive handkerchief with a pretty "N"embroidered, he knew, in the corner. So that is the way he would lookafter her!

  "What can I do about it?" It was true that Mrs. Norris was taking itvery calmly.

  "Do? Why, you can't do anything but wait until she gets over it. Youmight go and see her when she begins to pick up."

  "I caught cold myself." He had at least been true to that extent.

  "Are you doing anything for it? Remind me when you go, and I'll give yousome Squim. It's something new, and it did wonders for Mary."

  "Don't you think it might be nice for me to send Nancy some?" asked Tom,laughing. Tonsilitis was seldom fatal, after all; and what an excellentexcuse to visit her it would be when she was getting better!

  "Tommy, dear, haven't you something to tell me?"

  "No, not really."

  "Not anything?"

  "Well, hardly anything." He was sitting near her, and now he leanedforward and whispered, "I asked her to be my wife, and she refused." Itwas not said, however, in the tone one would expect for such an unhappymessage. Mrs. Norris looked at him curiously. "She said she couldn'tanswer me now, but as good as gave me permission to ask her again--andwhen a girl talks that way, isn't it as good as settled?"

  It did look promising, certainly. But then, there was Henry. "What aboutHenry?" she asked. "How does he feel?"

  "What has he to do with it?"

  "Oh my, he has a lot to do with it. He's more than just a brother, youknow. He's her father and mother."

  "And aunt, maiden aunt, as well."

  Mrs. Norris laughed. "Henry's to be reckoned with, though, just likeMarshal Ney--or was it Cincinnatus? I never can remember."

  "But, Mrs. Norris, what am I to do?"

  "Why, you must just be very nice and thoughtful to Nancy and as decentas you can be to Henry, and pray the Good Lord will help you."

  "Will you pray for me, too?" Tom had played too much baseball not toappreciate the value of organized cheering.

  "Yes, I'll pray for you." And then Tom jumped up and planted athoroughgoing kiss--which was designed for the cheek, but which, uponher turning quickly, was delivered, in a manner that even Leofwin wouldhave applauded--upon her neck.

  * * * * *

  On the sixth day Nancy sat up for a while during Miss Albers' hour and ahalf off. There was an abutment at one end of her room which overlookedthe Whitman garden and carried the eye on down the hill until it restedon the factory in Whitmanville--the factory which made the gardenpossible for her. There was a letter in her lap from Tom. It had comewith his roses and it asked her to go with him to the boat race. Therewas also a book in her lap, but she made no effort to read it; it was somuch easier just to gaze out of the window and let her mind wander whereit would.

  Henry knocked and entered. "Well, this is very nice. Do you really feela lot better?"

  "Ever so much, thank you. I think probably I'll get up in a day or two."

  "I suppose you'll want your tonsils out now, won't you?" The question ofa tonsilectomy had been a moot one for years. Nancy had always beenanxious to have them out, having been told that it was merely a case of"snip, snip, and a day on ice cream." Henry, who regarded tonsilectomyskeptically as a fad, and who knew, furthermore, that it was a majoroperation for adults and that old Mrs. Merton hadn't walked straightsince she had had hers out, was strongly opposed. This had, in fact,been an exceedingly sore point with them, and the amount of unhappinessengendered by it was considerably in excess of that which would haveresulted from an operation when it was first suggested.

  "I'll have to wait, of course, until I get well over this. It isn't likea rheumatism, you know." Nancy had learned the jargon thoroughly.

  Well, that subject was now disposed of, and Henry, with the directnessof a trained economist, abruptly went into the main object of his call.There had been certain features about Nancy's delirium which hadastonished and annoyed him, and he had come with the express purpose ofdiscussing them should he find Nancy strong enough. He now decided thatshe was strong enough. "Do you realize that when your fever was high youtalked at a great rate?" he asked.

  "I vaguely remember mumbling and grumbling."

  Henry did not relish his task, but he felt it to be his duty--and Henryhad never been one to shirk his duty. "You talked a great deal aboutthis Tom Reynolds," he said.

  "Yes?" Nancy was aware that she coloured. She was aware also of a suddensinking sensation, not dissimilar to the one that comes from a too rapiddrop in an elevator. So Henry had come to her at the first possiblemoment to protest against "this Tom Reynolds." "He has had a badrecitation," she thought, "and now he is going to take it out on me,"and then she called her brother a hard and inelegant name, as peoplewill when angry with their dearest relatives. Had Nancy been of asatirical nature she might have made something of her brother's adoptionof Freudian methods; but she was not, and she knew only direct-firewarfare.

  "Nancy," Henry went on, leaning towards her, "surely you are not in lovewith that man?"

  Had Tom been a head hunter with tin cans in his ears, Nancy would haveloved him at that moment.

  "Yes, I am," she said.

  Henry stared at her. It was clear she meant what she said. Then heglanced at the letter and the book that lay in her lap, as people willnotice small things at such times. He guessed in whose handwriting theletter was, and--the book was _Sonnets from the Portuguese_! She hadeven taken to sentimental rubbish!

  "Oh Nancy, can't you see that he is not worthy of you? Who are hispeople? Where is he from? I wouldn't give _that_ for his future here.He's lazy, and he's filled you up on a lot of poetry. Nancy, think wellof it before it's too late." She was gazing out the window, hardlyhearing him. She had confessed aloud, before Henry, that she loved Tom.Henry was going on. "If you won't think of yourself, perhaps you canthink of Henry Third? What is to become of him if you go?"

  Nancy turned to look at him. She felt giddy now, and she thought she wasgoing to cry. It would not do, however, to make a scene, when up to thispoint she had acquitted herself so well. "You mean that I should give upmy life to look after your son?"

  "Please don't be melodramatic. We know one another so well it isn'tnecessary. I am not asking you to give up your life. I am asking you notto throw it away, and in the meantime you have certain definiteobligations here. You are more than an aunt to Henry. Life here with himwill be far better for you than being the wife of that uncertain boy."

  She allowed it to pass, but it gave the final flick to her anger. "Youare the kind of person, Henry, who is so monumentally selfish that youthink everybody who dares to cross you in any way is himselfmonumentally selfish too. Now you come to me in a protective role tosave me from 'this Tom Reynolds' with a mass of ill-natured slander--andlies--because if I go to him you will have to get a new housekeeper."

&nbs
p; "Nancy--"

  "Don't interrupt me, please. It would be the same, no matter who came.You would find some dreadful fault in anyone. You always have beenjealous of every man that ever came here and if you had your way youwould keep me here for life." Nancy paused, but her brother did notoffer to speak. She had asked not to be interrupted, and he would bequite sure that she was through before he spoke again, but he could notconceal his anger. Nancy noticed it, and her own anger increased. "Idon't think I'd mind it so much, if you didn't pretend that it was allfor my good. That is nothing but rank hypocrisy. Just what have you everdone to make my life pleasant here? You are never interested in what I'minterested in, outside of Harry. This lecture business you just laughedand sneered at. I admit it was ridiculous, but you wouldn't lift yourfinger to make it less so. I admit, also, that I would appreciate alittle attention once in a while, but it would never occur to you togive me any pleasure unless you had to, to get some for yourself. Whenyou really want to give me a good time you sit down and talk to me aboutyour miserable old Labour class and what a wonderful lecture you gavethem. Well, Henry, that time is past, and I am going to have my own lifefrom now on." And the tears which she had been fighting back were nolonger to be denied.

  Henry was entirely put out, and he awkwardly got up. Now was clearly notthe time to renew the attack. Nothing that Nancy had said was of theslightest significance, except her lack of interest in his work. There,indeed, was a sorry confession of inability to forget herself in thegreatest interest of her nearest relation. Poor wilful girl! Well, hehad done his duty. No one could charge him with unbrotherliness.

  Nancy had also got up. "Please go away," she sobbed; and Henry, withoutfurther word, did so.

  Nancy crawled back into bed and had her cry out. What a brute hewas--and what a god was Tom! What a miserable snob Henry was aboutfamily--and then for him to say that Tom had no future! Had Tom been amember of his wretched old Grave, he would have had a very differentview of it. That was the cause of nine-tenths of his dislike, anyway.Tom was in the rival club and Henry never could see any good in anyoneconnected with it. What a miserable, juvenile business! Had not Tomfrankly confessed his need of help? Henry had never in any way indicatedthat she could be of service to him, except to order his meals and keephim comfortable. But Tom had thrown himself upon her. He "needed"her--that had been his word. With her to help him he felt that he coulddo anything. What a career for a girl! That would be living indeed.

  She thought of his unanswered letter and climbed out of bed at once."Dear Tom," she wrote, and again the tears came into her eyes, "Thankyou so much for the lovely flowers. They are by my bed and I can enjoythem all day long. It is awfully nice of you to ask me to the Boat Raceand I accept with pleasure. I don't think there will be any questionabout my being able to make it. In two weeks I should be perfectly wellagain.

  "It will be lovely to see you and I can do so at any time now.

  "As ever, "NANCY."

  The final draft of the letter was composed only after three preliminaryones. Nancy found it extremely difficult to get just the right tone. Shecouldn't put too much warmth into it, and yet it mustn't be too cold. Soshe sat at her desk, copying and recopying, and only succeeded infinishing it when Miss Albers returned.

  "I've done it at last," she announced proudly, her cheeks aflame. MissAlbers, fortunately one of the few surviving members of the Good Nursefamily, saw the situation immediately.

  "Why, I see you have," she said. "Isn't that fine! Now I think you areentitled to a nice nap." And when Tom arrived, post-haste upon receiptof Nancy's note, he was met at the front door with the news of herrelapse.