THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 
 :
 
 PRINCESS PENNILESS
 
 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 BY 
 
 S. R. CROCKETT 
 
 HODDER AND STOUGHTON 
 LONDON MCMVIII
 
 Printgd by Hasell, tVatson &' Vituy, Ld., London and Aylesbury,
 
 PR 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. THE MEETING 
 
 II. ONLY THE brave! 
 
 III. love's young dream AT THORSBY 
 
 IV. " IN THE SWEAT OF HIS BROW " 
 
 VI. IN sheep's CLOTHING 
 
 VII. GAPPING AND MINING 
 
 VIIL THE O.C. CLUB 
 
 IX. " D.O.M." 
 
 X. BREAKING OR BINDING 
 
 PAGir 
 I 
 
 9 
 
 15 
 20 
 
 V. NO. 109, BOURNE STREET, CHEVIOT ROAD 2$ 
 
 31 
 
 37 
 
 42 
 
 49 
 
 55 
 
 XL HUBERT SALVESON DISTURBS HIS FATHER 62 
 
 XII. HOME, SWEET HOME ! .... 69 
 
 XIII. JAMES PRITCHARD AND JAMES PRITCHARD'S 
 
 OFFICE 75 
 
 XIV. HUBERT TAKES HOLD .... 84 

 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XV. THE OUT-AND-OUTER COMES HOME . 89 
 
 XVI. THE TABLES BEGIN TO TURN . . 95 
 
 XVII. LATE TO BED AND EARLY TO RISE . IO3 
 
 XVIII. AS BETWEEN MAN AND MAN . .Ill 
 
 XIX. SUE TAKES A HAND . . . .120 
 
 XX. ON HUTCHIN'S HAYSTACK . . .125 
 
 XXL THE SECOND IDYLL OF GREEN LANE . 13I 
 
 XXII. AND LOVE THEREWITH . . . . I36 
 
 XXIII. A CRUMPLE IN THE ROSE LEAF . . I44 
 
 XXIV. " RAT-TAT-TAT ! " 151 
 
 XXV. HUBERT TAKES ADVICE. . . .155 
 
 XXVL OLD QUAY COTTAGE . . . . 162 
 
 XXVII. EDITH INTERVIEWS THEIR LANDLORD . 169 
 
 XXVIIL SECOND SITTING OF THE OLD CATS' 
 
 CLUB 177 
 
 XXIX. THE DILLAMS RECEIVE QUALITY . . 186 
 
 XXX. THE GREEN LANE STATION-MASTER I93 
 
 XXXI. TRIAL TRIPS OF A CRIMINAL . . 200
 
 CONTENTS vii 
 
 CHAP. PAGE. 
 
 XXXII. THE FETTERS OF MARRIAGE . . 2o6 
 
 XXXIII. THE CASE FOR THE CROWN . .211 
 
 XXXIV. THE NEW MASTER . . . .2X6 
 XXXV. FATHER AND FATHER-IN-LAW . .221 
 
 XXXVI. THE LAST OF OLD QUAY PIER . . 22/ 
 
 XXXVII. SEEN THROUGH A GLASS CLEARLY . 232 
 
 XXXVIII. THE SACREDNESS OF L. S. D. . . 24O 
 
 XXXIX. THE WATERS OF SILOA THAT FLOW 
 
 SOFTLY 249 
 
 XL. DISMISSED ! 260 
 
 XLI. A SHILLING IN THE SLOT . . . 270 
 
 XLII. WORK AND OVERWORK . . . 280 
 
 XLIII. THE NEW ASSISTANT .... 289 
 
 XLIV. HOME ON THE MOORLAND . . , 294 
 
 XLV. MR. MANSON SMELLS SCOUNDREL . 30C 
 
 XLVI. THE WIRE ENTANGLEMENT . . 305 
 
 XLVII. "I FOUND YOU" . . . . . 315 
 
 XLVIII. RECONCILIATION 321
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 ^HA.P. PAGE 
 
 XLIX. MISS MAY HEATHCOTE, CAPTAIN OF THE 
 
 GAMES 327 
 
 L. THUNDER IN THE AIR .... 333 
 
 LI. THE BEGINNING OF THE MADNESS. . 34I 
 
 LII. THE IMPORTANCE OF HISTORICAL STUDY 346 
 
 LIII. SIR THOMAS MORE — AND OTHERS . -353 
 
 LIV. "MARRIED ABOVE HER" .... 358 
 
 LV. THE INEVITABLE, MEDICALLY CONSIDERED 365 
 
 LVI. "BULLY LITTLE BILLY" .... 37O 
 
 LVII. TITHE RIDGE TUNNEL .... 376 
 
 LVIII. EDITH'S PSALM OF LIFE .... 383
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE MEETING 
 
 HUBERT SALVESON escaped with a sudden 
 feeling of elation from the prison closes of 
 the Manor House. Tim was a good fellow, but 
 selfish, already reckoning what his father would 
 leave him, discounting it, weighing the advantages 
 of this position, and that other marriage. He had 
 resolved in his heart not to take his profession of 
 barrister seriously. There was no need. In the 
 neighbourhood there were many daughters of rich 
 merchants, shipowners, and whatnot, any one of 
 whom would be glad to become mistress of the 
 ancient Manor House of Thorsby, which would be 
 his one day. 
 
 With his father the boy Hubert had even less in 
 common. His dry, reserved greetings, once made 
 at breakfast, then over for the day ; his constant 
 falling back upon absolute paternal authority ; and 
 his devotion to subjects which, to the young man, 
 seemed lifeless as last year's desiccated leaves in 
 some hollow of the dene, had raised between the two 
 an almost insurmountable barrier. 
 
 He avoided Aunt Kidson with an instinct made 
 keener by the remembrance of her hand heavy upon 
 him in days gone by. His liberal spirit felt re- 
 pressed, prisoned, strait-jacketed within the dreary 
 Manor House of Thorsby. In the garden it was 
 better. There were green walks with seats at the 
 end, where one could sit and read. Only Tim was 
 generally there, prowling up and down with a book
 
 2 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 in his hand. Then the brothers would hail each 
 other, not unamiably. 
 
 " Hello, Fat Boy ! " 
 
 This was Hubert's greeting to Tim. 
 
 " Ah, Spooner '• " . ^ 
 
 The riposte was Tim's to Hubert, referring to a 
 supposed liking for the society of ladies. Then they 
 separated, amicable as before, but without affection. 
 
 Outside began at once the curious sound which so 
 greatly excited the boy. Something tremulous it 
 was — the breath of a big workaday town, the 
 nervous hum of voices, the whir of distant hammers, 
 boiler-punching machines, the syrens of tugs out on 
 the river, the whistle and snort of great green 
 engines, the waving of flags on high bridges, red, 
 green, or dirty white, semaphores wagging stiff- 
 limbed against the sky, the rumble of tramways, the 
 sharp tinkle of their stopping bells. 
 
 This was life to Hubert. Life — life — common 
 ordinary life ! How he loved it. He inhaled it, 
 with his nostrils dilated. His bosom heaved. Let 
 Tim stay and lounge away his life in the green 
 Manor House glades, the last left of the river-side 
 gardens, and calculate how much they would bring 
 let out in building lots. He, Hubert, would go 
 down to the cjuays, or up on the distant common 
 where the wnidmills were. The cinder paths 
 crunched pleasantly beneath his feet. He liked the 
 close clayey smell of the brickfields. It was, in 
 spite of the smoke, a bright, vivid world. He loved 
 it. The Valley of Dry Bones was left behind him, 
 behind the brick walls of the Manor House. 
 
 " Be a doctor," he meditated. " Yes ; perhaps, in a 
 way I am a doctor already ; but — I will see the 
 world first. This world — ah " 
 
 He stopped, and drew a long, steady breath. 
 
 " They are fighting for their living down there by 
 thousands," he said, looking with beating exultant 
 heart at the big sheds from which the ships building,
 
 THE MEETING 3 
 
 or in for repairs, poked out their noses from myriads 
 of struts and crosspieces. Then the words burst 
 from him. 
 
 " I don't care what my father says — I will, I will ! " 
 He continued in a more subdued tone : 
 " He had his time, so they say. Why should he 
 grudge me mine ? I will make my own way. I do 
 not want his money. A doctor — perhaps ! But in 
 the meantime I will not live here under the eye of 
 that woman and her Old Cats. Nor yet in Edin- 
 burgh with Aunt Kiddy's sister, taking me to 
 hospital and meeting me at the college gates, lest I 
 come to any harm ! It makes me a laughing-stock." 
 It was in this frame of mind that he stood on 
 Fame Height, a little bit of common above Thorsby 
 city, left by a certain old lady's will to be made into 
 a public park some day. But the Thorsby munici- 
 pality, caring only for its docks, its new Town Hall, 
 and water committee picnics to the reservoir on the 
 Cheviot slopes, had left the old lady's gift to its 
 original pravity. Perhaps it was just as well. Boys 
 played cricket there, though placards prominently 
 placed all about forbade them. They kept a skinned 
 eye on the " bobbies," however, knew just where 
 they would appear and when. Then, pulling up 
 stumps, securing bats and ball, their rapidity of dis- 
 appearing was mere conjuring. And lo ! the bobby 
 stood forth alone, a grim but impotent figure in the 
 clear, sharp sunshine, and hostile winds. 
 
 Small paths, too, ran across Fame Height, be- 
 tween every street and every other. Very like 
 sheep-tracks they were, on the distant Cheviot sides 
 yonder, so blue on the northern horizon. They 
 criss-crossed inconceivably, and you had to keep 
 the shadowy gullet of the street you were making 
 for straight before your nose, in order not to be 
 drawn into broad, deceitful paths, which led — 
 whither you had no call to go. 
 
 It was there, after some years of absence at college
 
 4 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 and abroad, that Hubert Salveson met — some one 
 he thought he knew ; some one he would hke to 
 know; some one he did know! No — yes; could it 
 be ? By jove, Edith — little Edith Dillingham, who 
 used to live in "the cottage by the Waterside of 
 Thorsby, long ago. 
 
 Now she was going across the common on a 
 marketing errand. A little basket was on her arm. 
 "Edith, don't you remember me — Hubert 
 Salveson ? " 
 
 There came a little answering blush, but no 
 confusion. 
 
 " I remember you very well," she said, holding 
 out her hand quietly. (" As if somebody came back 
 every day!" thought Hubert, a little disappointed.) 
 " How you have grown ! " he burst out, " and oh — 
 
 I say ! " 
 
 He checked himself on the eve of an outcry of 
 admiration. He had never, never seen so pretty a 
 girl as " little Ede Dillingham " had become. But 
 he knew instinctively that the time for that declara- 
 tion was not yet. 
 
 " May I walk a little way across the common with 
 you ? You are going to Cheasely Farm for eggs, 
 are you not?" 
 
 She nodded, smiling, but, making no objection, 
 they went their way side by side. Working-men's 
 daughters are accustomed to look after themselves, 
 even when their fathers own two houses. Cunningly 
 Hubert strove to awaken old memories into new 
 tendernesses. 
 
 " Do you remember Green Lane station ? " he 
 said, glancing (more across than down) at the tall 
 slip of girlish figure, just beginning to round its 
 curves tenderly with the coming of the gracious 
 " twenties." " 1 do ! I shall never forget the Satur- 
 day mornings we spent there. Your mother turned 
 you out of the house, so that she could wash up, 
 swill the yard, and have all neat and straight before
 
 THE MEETING 5 
 
 your father came home. And she gave you the 
 kids— children I mean — to loolc after ! Will, wasn't 
 it ? he could toddle— just. But the baby, you had to 
 carry her — it was a her, I'm nearly sure." 
 
 Edith continued to smile and nod, but dubiously 
 looking at the ground. She changed her egg-basket 
 from one hand to the other farther from him, fearing 
 that he might think it necessary to " request the 
 pleasure " of carrying it. That was the way young 
 men in her own circle talked, and she hated it. But 
 Hubert had the fine sense with women, which can 
 never be learned. It is instinctive. A man either 
 has it, or lacks it all his life long. 
 
 " Green Lane station — yes, I remember ! " she 
 said, softly ; " you were a kind little boy in those 
 days— not like other boys ! " 
 
 " I hope I am now," said Hubert, much elated. 
 But he was wise in his day and generation. He took 
 no advantage, nor attempted any. 
 
 " And I used to wait till you were clear of the 
 street — Cheviot Road did not go far along in those 
 days. Then you and I used to carry the cub time 
 about. Gracious, how I used to fear lest any of the 
 little day-school boys would see me carrying a baby, 
 and tell our Tim !" 
 
 " You fought one once, and I did not speak to you 
 for a week ! " said Edith, becoming interested, as 
 the hour hand of memory swept back upon the dial 
 of Time. 
 
 " Yes, I did ; but that was because of something 
 or other he said ! " 
 
 Hubert was in full flood now, and from his slightly 
 superior height bent a little towards Edith. They 
 came to the high road which skirts the edge of the 
 common. A butcher's cart, recklessly driven by a 
 youth showing his powers of standing up between 
 the wheels, rattled past. As if instinctively (and 
 perhaps, who knows, really so) Hubert's hand stole 
 swiftly to that of the girl, clasped it, and drew her
 
 6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 back out of danger. But he did not hold it a moment 
 too long. That was his gift — to know that. Edith 
 could not complain, little accustomed as she was to 
 permit the least familiarities. So many girls did not 
 mind. She did. But he had passed on before she 
 had time to speak. She felt it would have been silly. 
 He was again at Green Lane. He babbled of it. 
 Nevertheless she changed the basket defensively 
 back to the hand that was a-tingle. 
 
 " And do you remember the station — what a 
 funny idea ? Yet we went there every holiday, 
 just to see the trains go by. Jove! I can smell the 
 white steam yet, that hissed out from under the 
 wheels when the ' goods ' were shunted ; can't you, 
 Ede — Miss Dillingham ? And there was the old 
 stationmaster who would not let us go on the plat- 
 form, but talked to us quite friendly-like over the 
 white gate — wooden it was, and cut into points at 
 the top. There were spikes, too, but we held the 
 children up anyway. Then there was a place at 
 the corner, from which I drew the spikes out with 
 a claw-hammer, and we used to hang half over that, 
 with Will and— the baby " 
 
 " Yes," said Edith, looking eagerly at him for the 
 first time, " and shout when a fast one was coming. 
 We knew it quite a long way away. It went ' Car- 
 ra-ta — Carata — Carata ! ' But the slow ones just 
 plain ' Shush-Shush ' and ' Bumpety-Bump ' ! " 
 
 "Exactly!" cried Hubert enthusiastically, the 
 dry-as-dust chambers of the manor a million miles 
 behind him, and all the fresh breathing world 
 before, the prettiest girl he had ever seen by his 
 side, and all the way back from Cheasely Farm to 
 go. " How you do remember ! And the lunch — 
 yours, I mean. I never had any. Old Mother 
 Kidson was too sharp for me. If I was not back 
 for lunch I got none, and my father gave us no 
 pocket-money, on principle ; I don't know what 
 principle, but an3^way we got none, Tim and I. So
 
 THE MEETING 7 
 
 you used to share with yours, ' Go shags,' we called 
 it, and say that I deserved it for helping to carry the 
 baby. How good it was! And after a while the 
 stationmaster got to know us, and I think felt a little 
 flattered that we used to come so far ; he asked us 
 once, you remember, to see his station and his trains 
 every Saturday ! And once, it was a kind of Sunday 
 — somebody dead, everybody in mourning, and few 
 trains — he took us inside the little place where he 
 sold the tickets, and let us punch old pieces of card- 
 board to make believe. He was a good sort, that 
 stationmaster, though grumpy at first ! " 
 
 Hubert had kept his eyes on Edith. Her colour 
 gradually heightened, and she seemed to breathe 
 from higher up — quicker too. 
 
 " Are you tired ? Let us sit down a moment — 
 that last bit was rather stiff." But she took fright 
 at this. 
 
 "Oh, no," she said, hastily, "it is nothing. I must 
 get on. Mother will be expecting me." 
 
 "Where do you live?" he asked simply. She 
 knew where he lived. There was no reason why 
 he should not know where she lived. 
 
 " Along in Bourne Street, off the Cheviot Road, 
 Father bought two houses there after we left Water- 
 side. They are not our own," she added, quite 
 quickly; "we are paying them off by degrees — 
 Building Society, you know." 
 
 " Ah," said Hubert, indifferent to worldly goods, 
 at his age and in his circumstances, "what number?" 
 
 " 107 and 109," said Edith, rather piqued at his 
 indifference (yet somehow secretly pleased, too). 
 " We live in 109." 
 
 " I— I," began Hubert. 
 
 He was going to say, " I would like to come and 
 call upon you 1 " But he recognised that, both for 
 the sake of the Manor House circle and for Edith's 
 own sake, the time for that had not yet come. 
 News, and especially such gossip, travels swiftly in
 
 8 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Thorsby. The town was not big enough to be 
 fitted with the " not-know-your-next-door-neigh- 
 bour " armour-plate against undue carrying of tales. 
 
 So he was silent. Presently they were within 
 sight of Cheasely Farm, a little snug farmhouse 
 among trees, now shrinking into a mere hen-run by 
 the gradual encroachments of the market gardener 
 on one side, and the speculative builder on the 
 other. 
 
 " I shall wait for you here, if I may, till you come 
 out ? " he said. 
 
 " You are going farther — I am quite accustomed 
 to getting home alone ! " 
 
 On this occasion Edith's answer was hardly quite 
 ingenuous. She knew well enough from the first 
 that he would walk back with her. Furthermore, 
 without being of the prophetesses, she foresaw a 
 great number of walks on egg-days over Fame 
 Height and along the lanes to Cheasely Farm. 
 Clearly she would have to be careful. And she 
 meant to be. She had been accustomed all her life 
 to look after herself, but though Green Lane Station 
 was very delightful to talk about, and she liked this 
 handsome, fair young man, with the boyish eagerness, 
 to bend towards her, while he recalled those forenoon 
 lunches and shy half-pence spent at the neighbouring 
 cottage with the " pop-beer " ticket in the window 
 corner — still 
 
 In fact, she had a father, and he had another— the 
 two men very different. He had a career. She — 
 but she had not yet thought out what hers was to 
 be. At any rate, one thing was clear. Green Lane 
 could not come twice in their lives. She was twenty, 
 or near it. And he — was it two-and-twenty orthree- 
 and-twenty ? 
 
 " I will wait then," he said, 
 
 Edith said nothing, as he watched the clear lift of 
 her heels from the muddy farm lane, and the lissom 
 sway of her young body. She passed out of sight.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ONLY THE brave! 
 
 CHEASELY FARM proved of good omen for 
 the welding of ancient friendships. It chanced 
 that there was a young man there, a visitor out for 
 the day to see his aunt, Mrs. Owen Jones. Richard 
 Jones was his name, a slouching youth, dark-skinned, 
 sidelong of regard, somehow giving the impression 
 of squinting without actually doing so. But he did 
 not use the name of Jones, which is not popular in 
 his profession on English race-courses, rie was 
 book-keeper to a bookmaker, but one day he hoped 
 to be a " booky " himself and have a clerk of his 
 own. In the meantime, he had an off day or two 
 between Dean Heath races last Thursday and those 
 of Alnwick Moor on Monday. 
 
 It was one of his fixed ideas that no girl could 
 withstand him. His aunt, a jolly Welsh woman, 
 laughed at his half-comprehended jokes, and specially 
 admired the way he had of pushing back his hat 
 from his brow, in order to dab a fine uncrumpled 
 cambric handkerchief upon it. In doing so he 
 showed his gold studs, his cuff-links, while the 
 diamond pin in his tie flashed. Richard Jones, alias 
 Dicky Wood, " booky's " clerk, considered himself 
 the citizen of no mean city out among the "greenies" 
 at Cheasely Farm. 
 
 So it was that, having availed himself of certain 
 opportunities, while his aunt was away fetching the 
 eggs, he followed Edith out to the big farm gate, 
 still pressing his assiduities upon her. He would 
 
 9
 
 lo PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 carry her basket. He had a trap in the stable. He 
 would " drive her over." He could refuse her 
 nothing — such lovely eyes ! 
 
 Edith Dillingham came forth from the big wooden 
 gate of the farm with heightened colour. Her eyes 
 were indeed flashing. She had just been told how 
 well she looked when angry. And there, just where 
 she expected to see him, was Hubert, standing 
 thoughtfully at the corner of the road, tapping the 
 point of his shoe with his stick. He was very 
 content to wait. But, at the quick, light sound of 
 footsteps he looked up quickly. 
 
 Edith Dillingham walked straight to him and said 
 in a clear voice : " That fellow there has been 
 annoying me. Please tell him to go away ! " 
 
 And she felt glad that it was Hubert. If it had 
 been her father, he might have killed the man. And 
 Will would have been of little use, in spite of the 
 best intentions. But, somehow, she felt she could 
 trust her old comrade of the Green Lane days to do 
 enough without doing too much. 
 
 Something fine and keen as the pricking of many 
 needle-points danced in all the veins of the young 
 man. His heart felt light and glad. He drew a 
 long breath, looked once over his shoulder to see 
 that Edith was far enough out of earshot. Then he 
 approached Mr. Richard Jones, alias Wood, who 
 stood staring. 
 
 "You have been annoying that young lady," he 
 said, so quietly and without menace that the " bookie " 
 was reassured. " Another turnip ! " he thought. 
 
 " And what may that be to you ? " demanded 
 Mr. Richard Jones (or Wood). He was rather 
 fancied as a middle-weight among " classy " amateurs 
 at the back of racing stables. But he did not know 
 that Hubert, whose medical education at the 
 University of Edinburgh had not been wholly 
 serious, had spent a good deal of time being knocked 
 about under the able tuition of Billy Eames, of the
 
 ONLY THE BRAVE! n 
 
 Victoria Bar, wliere he was rated easily as Champion 
 of the Heavies. 
 
 He did not look it, taking out his weight mostly 
 in length of limb and thickness of chest. It was as 
 in the days of primaeval man. There was one 
 woman — two men. And till, as the children say, 
 one •' gave the other best," there could be no peace 
 in the land. One last glance at Edith to see that 
 she was too far off to see him fighting, afforded the 
 honourable Mr. Richard Jones Wood his chance. 
 His left shot out and took Hubert Salveson on the 
 turned cheek solidly. Then he sprang back, on the 
 defensive in a moment. 
 
 Very calmly Hubert turned his cuffs up, loosen- 
 ing the plain gold bars which held them. Then he 
 stepped towards Mr. Richard Jones as if to con- 
 gratulate him. 
 
 But something hard and irresistible broke under 
 that youth's favourite high-guard. His left eyebrow 
 got that. A falling chimney-pot seemed to hit him 
 under the ear. There was no chimney-pot. Richard 
 hit out wildly. His arms were not long enough. 
 Then came an earthquake shock on the point of his 
 chin. He lost his balance, and a moment after his 
 consciousness. 
 
 He awoke in a half-dry ditch, with the farm dog 
 licking his face. 
 
 He kicked it angrily. 
 
 " Get off, you beast ! " he cried, sitting up. 
 " Where am I ? — what has happened ? Oh, that 
 fellow — a regular windmill ! I'll have it out with 
 him yet, or my name is not Richard Jones — I mean, 
 Wood ! I'll teach him what a sand-bag means." 
 
 And as he looked across at the scrabbled paths of 
 Fame Height Common, he saw a pair walking side by 
 side— very small, clear, and black figures halfway up. 
 
 And it seemed to him that it was the man who 
 was carrying the egg-basket.
 
 12 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Hubert Salveson had said nothing when he 
 made up on Edith DilHngham. Back there at the 
 gate of Cheasely Farm all had passed in a couple of 
 minutes. He had replaced his studs, pulled down 
 his cufFs, gathered a little hedge-root bouquet of 
 wild violets, and so was by her side, the same 
 gravely smiling Hubert as before. 
 
 " May I give you these for the sake of old Green 
 Lane ? " he said, ignoring the little affair with Mr. 
 Richard Jones entirely. But though she took the 
 flowers, Edith was not thus to be put off. 
 
 " Did he say anything ? " she queried. 
 
 " Not much," said Hubert curtly. 
 
 " Has he gone back to the farm ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Hubert ; " the brute ! " 
 
 "What — did he strike you?" said Edith anxiously. 
 
 " Not that I know of," said the young man 
 carelessly; and would again have directed the 
 talk to the fruitful topic of Green Lane, but a little 
 cry from his companion interrupted him. 
 
 *' Oh ! there is blood on your cheek ; he did strike 
 you ! You are hurt ! Oh, I shall never forgive 
 myself! Never! I made you ! " 
 
 And she turned pale at the thought that she, 
 Edith Dillingham, had been the cause of all that. 
 
 " Pah ! it is nothing," said Hubert, laughing and 
 dabbing his cheek-bone with his handkerchief. " It 
 happens every day in the ' salles.' " 
 
 But Edith would have nothing of this. She did 
 not know what " salles " were, and did not care. 
 He was wounded — wounded for her, and forgive 
 herself she never could. She carried, however, 
 a little old-fashioned housewife in her pocket. Her 
 father and Will were always coming home from 
 their work with knuckles chipped and bits of skin 
 knocked off here and there. So she snipped the 
 black court-plaster with experienced scissors. 
 
 Then, standing on tip-toe, she first dried the 
 slightly bleeding bruise and then affixed the plaster,
 
 ONLY THE BRAVE! 13 
 
 knowingly enough. Hubert hardly dared to breathe. 
 All his faculties were alert. He wanted just to keep 
 on so for ever. He felt her breath on his cheek, her 
 lips were near to his, parted a little, anxious, eager — 
 her eyes, too. 
 
 But he refrained himself, being a gentleman, and 
 also having that inner sense. He knew that the 
 girl blamed herself for what had happened. She 
 pitied him — nothing more — yet. He was not going 
 to make a mistake by forcing the pace. He thanked 
 her gravely and rightly. 
 
 " You ought to have been of my profession," he 
 said ; " you would do us credit. More than 1 ever 
 will." 
 
 " Yes, you will," she answered, inctherently, her 
 nerves still shaken; "are you really a surgeon — a 
 doctor?" 
 
 "My father wishes me to be," he said. "1 am 
 not greatly enamoured of the business, to tell the 
 truth. But the appetite comes in eating, as some 
 proverb or other says." 
 
 " Oh, tell me," she said ; " I knew you had been 
 a long time away ! Tell me all about it ! " 
 
 At this point it was that he stretched out his hand 
 for the egg-basket, which she let him take as if not 
 noticing. They were remounting the steep slopes 
 of Fame Height Common. He only wished that he 
 dared ask her to take his arm. 
 
 And just at that very moment, away back at 
 Cheasely Farm, a dusty, bedraggled youth, half 
 raised from the ground in a sitting position, was 
 shaking his fist at them. 
 
 " I don't know how ever I can go back there for 
 eggs," said Edith, "and mother likes them so. They 
 do her so much good. They are so much fresher 
 and cheaper than those you buy in the market." 
 
 " I do," said Hubert, possessing himself of his 
 ancient comrade's hand (this was better than Green 
 Lane station). " / will come with you ! "
 
 14 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 But Edith, seeing more truly, shook her head 
 a trifle sadly, and gently withdrew her hand ; not, 
 however, quite at once. 
 
 Thus once again were old lamps exchanged for 
 new, and that by the kind intervention of Providence, 
 plus Mr. Richard Jones, alias Wood. Two young 
 people set their feet in the ancient path again, along 
 the lane that was green — very green that high, 
 bright April day, while over the Tor estuary the 
 white clouds sailed like all the galleons of Spain. 
 
 1
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 love's young dream at thorsby 
 
 " OAY, Sue Dillam, what 'ud you give to have 
 ^ that windowful of gold ? " 
 
 It was on the Plain Stones of Thorsby, market 
 day, the shop windows all dressed to draw custom. 
 Mr. Tom Hime, the new jeweller, had made a 
 special display. Tom had been a Thorsby boy, but 
 had spent ten years learning the ways of the metro- 
 polis, and he objected to be called " a watchmaker." 
 It was, indeed, a name palpably absurd. For 
 watches were made far off in Switzerland or America, 
 as was generally stated on some inconspicuous part 
 of their fabrics. Specially did the jeweller object 
 to being called (as he was for the most part) " owd 
 Billy Hime's Tom ! " 
 
 The shrewd Thorsby people, who had not then 
 added a watchmaking and "jewellery " department 
 to the " Co-op," or Co-operative Store, soon learned 
 how to put " Mr. Hime " in good humour. They 
 had only to ask for the latest news from Bond 
 Street. Then their watches were soon done, and 
 they were not charged 20 per cent, additional on 
 their purchases — chiefly in the hair-brooch and 
 keepsake line. 
 
 Young Sue Dillingham (Dillam for short) stood 
 with her friend, Agnes Anne Jacox, rubbing their 
 knees against the jeweller's brass plate, which went 
 all the way along under the window, and served as 
 an excuse for his 'prentice, Ebie Fleming, to spend 
 most of his time on the street, with a dirty clout in 
 
 15
 
 i6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 one hand, and words of mocker}^ in his mouth. It 
 was good to be the " 'prentice " of the leading dealer 
 in the precious metals in Thorsby. 
 
 Tom Hime did not do much hard work himself — 
 indeed, very little of any kind. He had had enough 
 of that in Bond Street. But he had two men, and 
 this same said invaluable Ebie. One of these two 
 was constantly " on the road " — that is, he visited 
 the great houses of the neighbourhood once a week, 
 wound up and " regulated " all the clocks from 
 second floor to basement. The Salveson boys, 
 young m.en with little taste for getting up early in 
 the morning, or going to lessons with their tutor, 
 declared that he " wrongulated " them. But old 
 Bidon, a shuffle-footed, conscientious, once-capable 
 old " foozle," certainly did his best for Tom Hime. 
 Indeed, it was not in his nature to do anything else. 
 He thought there was nobody so clever, so accom- 
 plished, so handsome as Tom Hime. He had known 
 his father, and had served him with fidelity, when 
 there were no plate-glass windows, neither any 
 array of gold watches, beginning very small and 
 ending very big. There was just a narrow-paned 
 oblong to admit the light, two benches, and two 
 men with black horn lenses screwed in their eyes, 
 regarding intently the entrails of various "verge" 
 watches, which, apparently, they were stirring up 
 with a pin to do their duty. These were old Billy 
 Hime and his journeyman, Araham Bidon. 
 
 Abraham was a real "journeyman" now, and 
 besides winding clocks and " wrongulating " them 
 (according to the brothers Salveson), he sold watches 
 on the credit system, and all manner of cheap 
 jewellery from coloured catalogues, with the prices 
 entered in Tom Hime's hand. He got a penny in 
 the shilling commission on all he sold, and con- 
 sidered that he was doing well. There was an air 
 of reposeful honesty about him which people liked. 
 And indeed with cause. Above all, he was faithful.
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM AT THORSBY 17 
 
 with an immense fidelity to " owd Billy Hime's 
 Tom " — that very clever and smart young man, who 
 played such an excellent game of billiards (and, 
 less excellently, other games) at the Thorsby 
 Merchants' Club. Tom's second adult subordinate 
 was Peterson, the new shopman, who had no very 
 marked characteristics save white teeth, which 
 caused him to be fond of singing hymns, and 
 obtained for him an invitation to sit in the choir. 
 As to his voice, the less said about that the better; 
 but he looked well in a black cutaway coat — and 
 the teeth. 
 
 Meantime Sue Dillingham and her friend Agnes 
 Anne swung their green baize bags and rubbed 
 their worn school frocks against the brass plate in- 
 scribed "Thomas Hime, Art Jeweller, etc., late from 
 Messrs. Savory and Rose, Bond Street, London." 
 There were two windows, so that a casual observer 
 would have been justified in thinking that Messrs. 
 Savory and Rose occupied one side of the shop, 
 while Tom Hime ran a strong opposition on the 
 other. The door came just after the " late from " 
 in the printed announcement. 
 
 " Get away, you girls I Go home ! " 
 
 Sue Dillam and Agnes Anne Jacox started. They 
 thought it was Tom Hime himself, who was a great 
 man to them ; or, even worse, the new shopman, 
 whose teeth they had admired in church. They 
 were ready to move off when they saw the ruddy 
 cheeks and kindly carroty hair of Master Ebenezer 
 Fleming peeping past the glass door. He held the 
 duster behind him, and grinned at their discomfiture. 
 Whereupon the retreating girls promptly rallied. 
 Ebie Fleming indeed ! He had not long since left 
 school, and Sue had more than once boxed his ears. 
 What did she care for Ebie Fleming, even though 
 he called himself an apprentice art jeweller? And 
 nobody knew what that was. 
 
 " Come out and clean those dandy-plates," she
 
 i8 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 retorted. " If Tom Hime comes back from the 
 * Royal ' [hotel understood] and sees the dirt on 
 them, he'll — he'll whip you. Then you'll howl ! 
 You always used to when old Galway welted you — 
 howled like a baby, you did. I can hear you yet ! 
 Can'tyoH, Agnes Anne ? " 
 
 " M-m-m-m-m-m ! " said Agnes Anne uncertainly. 
 She was a little older than Sue Dillam, and knew 
 that both she and Ebie Fleming would grow up 
 still more. There was no use spoiling chances 
 which might come in useful later. One never knew. 
 There was a goods clerk at the station who was 
 now going with Marjory Baikie (a minx !), who 
 
 might, if it hadn't been for that tongue of Sue's 
 
 But, ah, well, it couldn't be helped now. And 
 besides, there was the new assistant, with the 
 lovely white teeth (they said he cleaned them with 
 pearl-powder, like the shop jewellery) grinning at 
 them from behind the window-screen. 
 
 " Shut up. Sue Dillam ! " she whispered, nudging 
 her friend with her elbow. 
 
 "No, I won't. Shut up yourself, oyster!" said 
 Sue out loud. Then she continued her pitched 
 battle with the " 'prentice." Agnes Anne did not yet 
 know the opposite sex. Ebie Fleming was enjoynig 
 himself very much, and though he did not think 
 her so pretty, he immensely preferred Sue to Agnes 
 Anne. He called the latter (privately to Sue) "a 
 softie." 
 
 " Come out and do your cleaning, housemaid ! " 
 she called loudly. Ebie, strong in the knowledge 
 that the brass name-plate was speckless, contented 
 himself with the mood called irony. She was only 
 a little dirty schoolgirl, and hadn't even a clean 
 handkerchief to blow her nose withal ! He dwelt 
 rudely on the necessity for this, till Sue was really 
 aroused. She drew forth her " spare " handkerchief, 
 carefully unfolded it, and put it delicately to her 
 lips, inhaled the (quite supposititious) perfume.
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM AT THORSBY 19 
 
 Ebie made a dash from the door, failed to secure 
 a new cleaning rag, but caught instead a sound box 
 on the side of his cheek, which made his head ring 
 for hours after. He dropped his own duster on the 
 flags as he was making a dash for safety. 
 
 Sue Dillam picked it up, carried it gingerly to 
 the gutter, carefully gathered as much of what she 
 called the "sketch" as possible without wetting her 
 fingers. Then she stepped forward, daubed the 
 contents all over the sacred names of Messrs. Savory 
 and Rose, deleted the delightfully suggestive Bond 
 Street, London, W., and finished up by dragging 
 the filthy rag across the style and profession of the 
 notable owner himself. 
 
 Then she flung the remainder poultice in the 
 astonished face of Ebie, and walked off home with- 
 out turning round— except, of course, once to put 
 out her tongue at him. The merest self-respect 
 required so much. 
 
 Thus is begun love's young dream, as it is known 
 to the "'prentice" lads and future dressmakers of 
 Thorsby.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 "in the sweat of his brow" 
 
 SUE DILLINGHAM had a big sister, Edith— and 
 a bigger brother, Will. Indeed, it seemed 
 that other people's brothers might prove good 
 enough for her. Sue scorned the delights of "com- 
 pany keeping," declaring that all boys in a lump 
 were " beasts." She couldn't bear them. As for 
 men, they walked about in clothes of different 
 shapes, with hats high and hats low. But, saving 
 her father and Will, her brother, she knew none 
 of them. She was fond of her father ; of Will, too — 
 that is, sometimes. More often she would gladly 
 have scratched his eyes out. He teased her so, 
 and it was such a worrit turning the mangle to do 
 his shirts. Three a week he must have — one 
 because he went to choir practice (Tuesdays) at 
 their chapel, two because he went to Bible-class 
 (Fridays), and three because, of course, he had to 
 have one for Sundays fresh and fresh. So had her 
 father, though he never went to church, for some 
 reason at that time dark to Sue. 
 
 Many things were dark to Sue — why she was 
 forbidden to go near the docks, where there was 
 such a stir of life, such curious foreign smells of 
 pitch, and cordage, and casks with nice new hoops 
 and branded tops. Her father was first teamster 
 there in the railway service, " lorr3'man " they called 
 it in Thorsby, where the most northerly English 
 speech of the east coast almost met the twang of 
 the Scottish " lallan." 
 
 A rough, gruff, smoky, healthy, wind-swept, 
 
 20
 
 "IN THE SWEAT OF HIS BROW" 21 
 
 grimy place was Thorsby, with shipbuilding yards, 
 iron-works, rolling mills, a port bigger than its 
 present needs, and far-extending suburbs, so new 
 that whole quarters smelt of the warm reek of the 
 brick-field. These were generally building society 
 houses, which (on some plan that never worked 
 itself out) were one day to become the property of 
 the occupant. But no one had ever seen the day 
 when the original proprietor had paid off all and 
 sat a free man under his own porch, with geraniums 
 in the front-window boxes. 
 
 The system was beautiful — on paper. But the 
 house always came back to the Moon- Washington 
 — original co-operative building society. Obviously, 
 too, there was profit in the affair, somewhere. Look 
 at those mahogany-countered offices and the vast 
 staff of clerks and collectors. The nominal house- 
 owners thought hardly and spoke slightingly after 
 a few years' experience of the mysterious Mr. Moon- 
 Washington. They pictured him riding about in 
 his carriage, or smoking priceless cigars on twenty 
 thousand pound yachts. But really Mr. Moon- 
 Washington was a harmless dreamer, ensconced in 
 a ragged dressing-gown, ink on his fingers, and 
 many wrinkles across his vast brow. He had gone 
 mad on the multiplication table as applied to house- 
 building. His scheme was perfect. Only he had 
 left out of account the migratory habits of the 
 working-classes, strikes, lock-outs, death or dis- 
 ablement of bread-winners and instalment-payers. 
 Otherwise, there was no doubt at all that Mr. Moon- 
 Washington would have created a new earth of 
 neat little brick boxes, in which people might live 
 and keep themselves warm. 
 
 The Dillingham house was their own — on Mr. 
 Moon- Washington's plan. They were also respon- 
 sible for that of their next neighbour, Jo Challoner, 
 That is, Jo's wife paid the rent occasionally to Mrs. 
 Dillingham, and she (poor wx)man) had to pay two
 
 22 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 rents, instalment of price and interest on each to the 
 Moon-Washington Building Society collector every 
 Monday morning. It lay under a particular blue 
 saucer on the kitchen-dresser, and was greatly sacred. 
 
 Her husband had done it all for the best. He 
 was always going to meetings, and bringing home 
 the Iconoclast — the organ of advanced free-thought 
 and the mistakes of Moses. His wife did not like this, 
 for, except when preparing dinner, she continued to 
 frequent the chapel where she had been christened, 
 and her father's pew, to which she was attached, 
 because of the brown inscriptions under the book- 
 board, cut so deeply by her brothers' penknives, 
 that not even varnish or paint could fill them up. 
 She was not on speaking terms with the most part 
 of them, but somehow their names cut in the pew 
 caused religious feelings to arise in her heart. 
 
 All manner of sects did well in Thorsby. 
 
 The little Presbyterian kirk throve amazingly. So 
 did the Wesleyans. There were a good many Bap- 
 tists, but for the present they either went to the 
 Presbyterian kirk in Kingdom Come Lane, or read 
 Spurgeon's sermons quietly at home. That made a 
 wondrous good excuse for staying away from church. 
 Not that Ned Dillingham had any such weakness. 
 
 "I am an unbeliever!" Daily he declaimed the 
 fact — upon the windy landing-stages and chilly plat- 
 forms of the G.N.R., where the trucks clicked up to 
 the unloading cranes, and the casks of Archangel tar 
 and the North Sea herring-barrels swung creaking 
 this way and that across the granite-fronted quays. 
 
 "An out-and-outer, yes, Jo — that's me, and no 
 mistake about it ! " he would say to his neighbour 
 and nominal tenant, Jo Challoner. But the "out- 
 and-outer " would frequently lend Jo " half-a-sov." 
 to give his wife to hand over to Mrs. Dillingham to 
 pay up the two weeks' rent owing to the " out-and- 
 outer." Moreover, the " out-and-outer " would say 
 nothing about this transaction to any living soul.
 
 "IN THE SWEAT OF HIS BROW" 23 
 
 It might hurt Jo if it were known. Besides, the 
 mates would laugh at him — Ned Dillingham, and he 
 would have to " mell " somebody — always an un- 
 pleasant necessity for the " out-and-outer." 
 
 As for the parson of the church by law established, 
 he came little in the way of that section of Thorsby 
 to which the Dillinghams belonged. He lived in an 
 out-at-elbows vicarage, had many children, paid his 
 bills with some irregularity, and from the black 
 aureole of a hat set far back on his head, a kindly 
 anxious face beamed out on the world. Thorsby 
 had no high Anglican sympathies. It was all rough, 
 vigorous life ; whenever it took to religion, it flung 
 itself into the more active forms of Methodism, into 
 conceit-breeding Plymouth Brotherhood — while, 
 owing to its proximity to Scotland the Kirk Pres- 
 byterian held its own. 
 
 " We're pretty divided," said Sue Dillingham ; 
 ** Mother an' Edith go turn about to Mr. March- 
 bank's, just as mother always did. Will is * New 
 Connexion,' because his girl goes there. Father is 
 nothing at all, and takes a walk instead. I'd go 
 with father, only he'd whop me. He says I'm too 
 young to know anything about anything. He's a 
 Socialist or something. I wish he would preach on 
 a chair in the park. That would be fun. At least, 
 I think so. But Edith says not." 
 
 Thus far Sue Dillingham explained matters to her 
 comrade, Agnes Anne. She was little, dark, wiry, with 
 very bright eyes. She did everything in a rush, from 
 buttoning her boots to slamming the wash-housedoor 
 in her brother's face when he teased her past bearing. 
 
 " You, Agnes Anne Jacox" — she went on — " you 
 think no end of yourself, just because Ted Jones, 
 the ugly, red-headed pupil-teacher, favours you in 
 school, and takes such a while to show you how to 
 hold your pen ! Fve seen you. Think you can 
 take me in — me with a brother who has had six girls 
 a'ready, and a sister like our Ede — yah, garr'on !"
 
 24 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Why, what about your Edith — has she got a 
 sweetheart really and really?" Agnes Anne's eyes 
 were now all alive with curiosity. Talk of sweet- 
 hearts always interested her. It was, indeed (said 
 her comrades), the only thing that kept her from 
 going to sleep on her feet. 
 
 " M — m — m — m — ! " said Sue, in her turn, " what'd 
 you give to know ? " 
 
 " I don't believe she has," said the well-advised 
 Agnes Anne. 
 
 "And why — she's the prettiest girl in Thorsby, 
 and j^ou'll never be like her ! " 
 
 Sue bristled up in sharp defence of the absent, 
 though, owing to Sue's temperament, sisterly tiffs 
 were not unknown in the Dillingham household. 
 
 " Well," retorted Agnes Anne, " you needn't tell 
 me. Edith Dillingham goes with her mother to that 
 dreary Presbyterian meeting, while an3^body who 
 is anybody is either Methodist or Church. And 
 though it's swellest to be Church, all the young men 
 — the nice ones, I mean — go to our New Connexion 
 chapel. We have lots of anthems and solos and 
 silver trumpets, and hardly any sermon at all. Then 
 at Sunday-school all the young ladies get chances 
 to talk to the young gentlemen — the teachers, of 
 course, I mean. Why, I'm only in the junior Bible- 
 class, but Ephraim Skinner, who is first counterman 
 with Sampson, the grocer in Cross Street, patted 
 my arm twice when he was serving out the library 
 books. Just you wait till I'm a teacher, that's all — 
 won't I have fun ? " 
 
 " Pu-u-uah," scorned Sue, through puckered lips, 
 " our Ede doesn't let grocers' boys pat her arm " 
 
 " Eph Skinner isn't a boy," cried Agnes Anne ; 
 " he's out of his time — a regular improver, and can 
 make twelve shillings a week ! And I shan't inter- 
 duce him to j-ou. Now, then ! There ! See what 
 you've done for yourself ! "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 NO. 109, BOURNE STREET, CHEVIOT ROAD 
 
 IT was Sunday morning, and we have for once 
 caught all the Dillinghams at home. A little 
 house, 109, Bourne Street, Cheviot Road, in the 
 Moon-Washington Building Society district, in its 
 reddest, brickiest, unpaid-upest depths, stood, or 
 rather was propped up between two others, the 
 cottage of the Dillinghams. You knew it easily as 
 you came along the street, passing the grocer's 
 shop at the corner (with its aggressive biscuit-tin 
 advertisements), by an oval glass shade with waxen 
 fruit underneath, and a couple of books laid corner- 
 ways so as to show the gilt on the edges. Edith 
 Dillingham knew better than that as to decoration, 
 but she would not vex her mother by any change. 
 Besides, the oval glass cover was a difference. AH 
 the others were round. And none had books. The 
 books were not without their purposes, innocent as 
 they looked. 
 
 If the back of one was turned to the street, Hubert 
 Salveson, the doctor's college-bred son, knew that 
 Edith Dillingham would not be going to church 
 that morning alone. If, on the contrary, the edges 
 of the photograph album were turned for him to see 
 as he passed carelessly along the pavement, waving 
 his cane, there was hope for the evening. Hubert 
 Salveson had astonished his father by becoming an 
 ardent Presbyterian. The doctor thought it must be 
 the going to a Scotch college which did it, and re- 
 solved to see if he could not save enough money to 
 
 25
 
 26 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 send him for a few terms to Oxford. For, you see, 
 the Salvesons were somebody in Thorsby — the 
 Dillinghams nobody in particular. Only the father 
 was known to be an " out-and-outer," and Edith 
 very decidedly the prettiest girl. 
 
 Thorsby was so near to the Border that on fine 
 days from the top of the church tower one could 
 make out the long blue dyke of the Cheviots on the 
 north-western horizon. But what a tumult of 
 wharves, crackling boiler-sheds, and thunderous 
 rolling mills, of fussing steamers and snarling tug- 
 boats — what wildernesses of masts and stacks of little, 
 neat, '* one-brick-thick-standing-on-end " Building 
 Society houses lay between the Dillinghams' cottage 
 and the hills of sheep and heather and far-crying 
 whaups, which represented the Border line. 
 
 Thorsby was almost on the Debatable Land, and 
 there was a time when a Scot was executed there 
 merely for failing to prove himself an Englishman. 
 Now fully one-half of the population was either of 
 Scots emigration, or merely Scottish folk born on 
 English soil. 
 
 Breakfast was being got ready at 109, Bourne 
 Street, running up from Cheviot Road. They did 
 not talk much on Sunday mornings in the Dilling- 
 ham household. Edith had been up since a little 
 before seven. Her father followed up an hour after- 
 wards. Then he lit his Sunday briar and sat 
 watching the girl polishing the kitchen stove, 
 narrowing a contemplative eye through the smoke. 
 He liked pretty girls — even his own. Then he 
 went into the yard, as it was a fine bright morning, 
 and smoked steadily, with his hands in his 
 pockets. 
 
 He could hear the cheerful clatter within. Break- 
 fast cups jingled. Spoons clicked. " Rattle-rattle- 
 rat-tat l'' That was the postman's knock. "A 
 circular, father, and a tax-paper," called out Edith 
 through the open window of the little scullery.
 
 I09, BOURNE STREET, CHEVIOT ROAD 27 
 
 But she said nothing about what she had thrust in 
 her pocket. She had, indeed, always objected to 
 Sunday mails on principle, and had signed a petition 
 to that effect got up by Mr. Marchbanks, the Pres- 
 byterian minister. No wonder! Her father was 
 always at home on Sundays — also Will. But they 
 would keep on. They were "so silly!" All young 
 men in Thorsby were — except perhaps Hubert 
 Salveson, the doctor's son, who lived in the big 
 house called " The Manor," in the midst of orchards 
 and gardens — a fine sober old house once, and still 
 holding the fort against the advancing tide of Moon- 
 Washingtonianism. 
 
 " Ede, where are my collars ? " This was Master 
 Will from his room, beginning to think of the New 
 Connexion morning service and of a certain May 
 Timson who would be there. She would be clad in 
 sky blue, with a blue hat and eyes to match. So 
 Master Will, with two years of his time to serve in 
 the model department at Pritchard's building yard 
 down by Torside, called for his collar. He thought 
 May Timson would last longer than the others, il 
 she were only in a milk-shop. But in any case a 
 collar was an immediate necessity, and Edith had to 
 get that collar. She had also washed, dressed, and 
 ironed it earlier in the week — twice, indeed, because 
 of an unexpected fall of sooty "smuts" from the 
 glue factory chimney, down on the Cheviot-road 
 marshes. Now she must find it, and stop putting 
 down the breakfast things to do it, too. 
 
 Of course ! Had she not put it away ! Brothers 
 are considerate animals in every rank of life. 
 
 Then, from the front room, Mr. Dillingham heard 
 a kindly hoarse voice speak through a fit of coughing. 
 It demanded a pair of scissors. 
 
 "And you may as well let out this waistband 
 when you are about it, Ede ! " 
 
 That was his wife, who had always been delicate, 
 and took accordingly a longer rest on Sunday morn-
 
 e 
 
 28 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 ings. Edith was young, and did not need it. Of 
 course not. 
 
 Mr. Dillingham smiled and listened, cocking his 
 eye at the progress of the tobacco in the briar-root. 
 
 "About my turn now," he muttered. But Sue 
 was before him. 
 
 " Ede," she cried, " oh, come up quick— I can't find 
 my left stocking " 
 
 •' Look under the bed," came Edith's reply, heard 
 faintly through a pleasant buzz of frying bacon. 
 
 " And my other garter." 
 
 " Look on the floor. I've something else to do, 
 silly." 
 
 " Oh, I've got them. And see here, Ede, I wish 
 you would do my hair for me, I'm going New Con- 
 nexion to-day." 
 
 " Handed if you are — always spying on mc ! " The 
 voice of Master Will growled from the landing 
 above, where he was struggling with a rebellious 
 button, which presently, resenting rough usage, 
 went off with a crack. 
 
 " Here," cried Will, " Ede, you come up at once 
 and sew me on a button. Look sharp. I'll be late 
 if you don't, and it'll be your fault. Girls never have 
 any sense, loitering about doing nothing ! " 
 
 " In a moment. Will," called out Edith quietly. 
 " I must get the breakfast ready, or father will be 
 talking. Then I'll do your hair, too, Sue." 
 
 "I'll talk now!" murmured the "out-and-outer" 
 grimly. "Will," he called up sharply, "and you, 
 Sue, d'ye hear me? Answer, both o' ye." 
 
 Young man and maiden agreed that hear him 
 they did. It was not good to be deaf on these 
 occasions. 
 
 "You, Will, come down and help swill the yard. 
 Bring the buckets and the mop. I'll give you a 
 hand." 
 
 " But I'll have to take off my shirt, father. I'm 
 very nearly dressed."
 
 109, BOURNE STREET, CHEVIOT ROAD 29 
 
 The protest was quite out of season. 
 
 " Take off your skin," cried the out-and-outer ; 
 " only come sharp and swill the yard. Now — 
 jump ! Don't need two tellings, for you won't get 
 them." 
 
 Master Will descended in some haste. He had 
 donned an ancient football "sweater" kept for such- 
 like fatigue duties. 
 
 "And now you, Susan "—Sue jumped — " go down 
 and help your sister to get breakfast. I'll be indoors 
 in a jiffy." 
 
 For some minutes nothing was heard in or around 
 the Dillingham cottage save the fresh splash of 
 buckets of water sluicing upon the yard flags, the 
 cool, slushy " wisp " of the mop moving to and fro 
 in the rear of the deluge, the plad-plad of Master 
 Will's bare feet, and the busy to and fro of break- 
 fast preparation in the little kitchen. Sue had still 
 one stockingless foot thrust into a slipper without 
 a heel, and hoped her father would not notice it. 
 
 " Are you ready, father ? Breakfast is." 
 
 Lifting his head, the out-and-outer saw the 
 prettiest girl in Thorsby, all the prettier for the 
 close-fitting blue dress, with the white work apron, 
 and her hair with the morning disorder still visible 
 in its kinks and tangles. 
 
 "Jove, Ede," said the out-and-outer, "but that 
 smells good." 
 
 Edith Dillingham held the door open and smiled. 
 
 " Come in and see for yourself, father," she said ; 
 " it isn't Easter Sunday every day in the year." 
 
 The out-and-outer stood a moment wholly taken 
 aback. Between the refills of his pipe he had been 
 reading a most destructive article by " Iconoclast" 
 concerning Easter and Easter observances. He 
 recollected the last decimating sentences : 
 
 "Such toten-work is worthy only of tattooed 
 savage tribes, and not of a land of Free Thought 
 and Free Speech I Yet still the absurd mummery
 
 30 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 goes on in families. And that by the weakness of 
 fathers of famihes who know better — yet who, 
 instead of putting this fetish-worship down with a 
 strong hand, permit and encourage the gibble- 
 gabble of priests to take the place of the right 
 reason of a Darwin and the remorseless logic of 
 a Mill." 
 
 The out-and-outer did not understand all " Icono- 
 clast's " allusions, but he felt he was being hit at 
 unfairly, and for once the article did not subdue 
 him. Usually " Iconoclast " went for the churches, 
 the clergy ("a pampered priesthood"), or the 
 useless, ignorant set of politicians calling themselves 
 Liberals. Then Ned Dillingham was delighted ; 
 such " language " on paper delighted him like a 
 good boxing match. But when " Iconoclast " saw 
 fit to hit him, he was read}' and willing to hit back. 
 
 " What business is it of his what I do in my own 
 house?" he muttered. " If I had him down at the 
 shop I'd show him, or behind the * returned empties.' 
 I'm as free a thinker as he is, and that I'll show 
 him." 
 
 And he endured while Edith said a grace before 
 meat, only keeping his eyes open as a silent 
 protest.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 IN sheep's clothing 
 
 PRETTY girls were common enough in Thorsby. 
 The Thorsby breed, in its root-stock North- 
 umbrian Scot, had been mixed with bank 
 fishers, far-recruited foundry men, ships' carpenters, 
 and traders to Baltic ports. Now it made as sturdy 
 a mixed race as could be found betwixt John-o'- 
 Groats and the Lizard. They were strong men — 
 indeed, had to be to make a living in Thorsby — and, 
 since in all ages the strong men have had the pick 
 of the wives, after a generation or two you could 
 not see prettier girls anywhere than on Thorsby 
 Main of a Sunday. 
 
 Onl3^ Edith Dillingham was the prettiest where 
 most were pretty and wholesome. The breezes of 
 the German Ocean ruddied their cheeks, and, as 
 there were no vast mills in Thorsby where girls 
 were immured by the thousand, one saw none of 
 the waxen complexions and delicate veined bluish 
 brows a little narrower at the temples which mark 
 so fatally the inland mill-working population. 
 
 " Besides," said the out-and-outer to Joseph 
 Challoner, his neighbour and debtor, " I can make 
 enough for the women folk. Thorsby wages are 
 good wages, and I don't ask the girls to do more 
 than help their mother." 
 
 " Ah," said Jo Challoner, with as near to a sneer 
 as he dared allow himself within reach of that 
 puissant left, " make ladies o' them, eh, Ned ? " 
 
 " Nay, Jo," said Ned Dillingham, reverting to his 
 South Border talk, " I donnot mean nothing o't' sort. 
 
 31
 
 32 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 And have a care o' thy tongue, Jo. It'll mayhap get 
 thee into trouble one o' thae days. What I do 
 mean is that it's the lads that are to be set to the 
 wark. They needs the polish pitten on them — wi' 
 besom-shank if nowt else will do. But leave the 
 lasses alone ! 1 hae nobbut two, and our Ede's a 
 wonderful taking wench, an' there's no end o' young 
 fellows what would go from here to Berwick Brig 
 on their knees to get her. I know we've got to part 
 wi' her some day, the missus an' me. We've talked 
 it over, lad, often an' often. Then there's little Sue. 
 She's more my kind, and gies the lads mony a cuff 
 to bring the water to their eyes. Aye, though she's 
 nought but a skelpin' brat at her lesson-books yet, 
 there's good stuff in Susan. I've always stuck to 
 that, though she's as brown as a sixpenny cigar, and 
 has a tongue that could clip clouts. She'll shoot 
 up, some day, Jo, black but comely, as the Book 
 says ! That's our Sue ! " 
 
 Jo Challoner laughed loud and long. 
 
 " I thowt," he chuckled, " that you was an ' Icon'- 
 clast-er' out-and-out, and here you are picking 
 words out o' the good Book like a very passon." 
 
 " I was brought up, Jo," said the out-and-outer, 
 with heavy severity, "which is more than any of 
 your mother's bairns ever could say. And if ye 
 have owt to object to that — weel, lad, say on ! " 
 
 But Jo Challoner had good reasons for changing 
 the subject. He was a cunning, plausible man, a 
 great shouter of hymns at street-corners, a great 
 obtainer of goods on long credit, and he lived 
 practically rent and tax free. It was not every man 
 who could borrow both of these from his own 
 landlord! Jo did, and despised the out-and-outer 
 for letting him. He felt it was in some way a 
 judgment on Ned Dillingham for unbelief. He 
 knew that it was specially permitted to spoil the 
 Egyptian. 
 
 Besides, one Sunday morning, when he was
 
 IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING 33 
 
 singing lustily " Crown Him Lord of All," had not 
 the out-and-outer interrupted from the other side 
 of the garden wall with "Aye, crown Him, Jo, but 
 first give them canary birds o' yours a drop o' water. 
 They've been hanging in the sun for hours, and 
 gaping their heads off for the want of it ! " 
 
 This saying rankled in Jo Challoner's mind and 
 slowly matured into a steady purpose of revenge. 
 Besides, he hated the out-and-outer with the 
 deadliest of all hatreds. He had received favours 
 from him. That was the type of man Joseph 
 Challoner was. But, all the same, no denomination 
 of Christian people was good enough for him. So 
 he was seriously thinking of founding one for 
 himself. 
 
 When he did, Edith Dillingham, who hated the 
 very sight of him, with a girl's instinctive mistrust, 
 had a designation all ready for it — a name which 
 she dared not tell her father, whose curious favour 
 for Challoner was known to all the household 
 of 109. 
 
 Edith's irreverent designation for Jo Challoner's 
 projected sect was " The Holy Spongers." But 
 where Edith erred was in not remembering that 
 the disciples of Joe's new church were to " have all 
 things in common " — same as the early Christians. 
 This was " Heads I win — tails you lose " for Jo, 
 because he had nothing whatsoever. He only 
 wished he could get his landlord, the out-and- 
 outer, to join. But that being hopeless, he daily 
 mourned over the unbeliever, and to his wife, who 
 somehow was always ailing, he predicted with 
 power the fate of the ungodly. Mrs. Challoner did 
 not sleep all that night, owing to the fact that (be- 
 cause of her hard heart) Joseph had very little hope 
 for her either. She had been brought up " Church " 
 and had always hankerings that way. In an un- 
 guarded moment she had confided to Jo, who 
 called them desires o' the flesh.
 
 34 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Meantime, Joseph, her husband, watched her 
 carefully out of the corner of his little porcine eye, 
 which was for ever slouching in her direction, and 
 then being snatched away again in haste. 
 
 This attention comforted Mrs. Challoner some- 
 what, especially when he called her " Molly," which 
 he did sometimes. Then she would go about con- 
 tent for a whole da}^, in spite of the pain in her 
 breast, a pain which always grew more intense 
 after eating. She would have pretty smiling 
 thoughts of Corwen, and the sweet bells that 
 sounded so far over the green commons and fertile 
 fields. It was by a stile there, within sight of the 
 square church tower, just when the bells were 
 chiming for evensong, that Jo had first called her 
 " Molly." 
 
 Dear Jo ! He did not mean to be unkind— ever. 
 She was sure of that. Though sometimes, turning 
 quickly as she did her work about the house, she 
 caught a strange look on his face, a square ugliness 
 about the jaw, a drawn pallor about the wicks of 
 the mouth. Then she thought that Jo was troubled 
 about money. 
 
 Well, he was ! Jo Challoner was always troubled 
 about money. But that was not what was squaring 
 his jaw, hollowing his cheeks, and setting a fire 
 like that of dying embers in his eye. 
 
 Nor was it the new sect. No, it was something 
 else, quite different. 
 
 Meanwhile, being an observant man, he also 
 watched all that went on in and about Number 109. 
 His own house was 107, and Jo always felt it as one 
 of the worst evils of landlordism that Ned Dilling- 
 ham had taken about nine feet by six of the bottom 
 of his (Jo Challoner's) yard, so as to put up a little 
 workshop for himself. 
 
 Especially and particularly Jo was interested in 
 Edith's admirers, and he could have given the out- 
 and-outer much information with regard to his
 
 IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING 35 
 
 elder daughter of which he was entirely un- 
 suspicious. 
 
 For instance, he knew that Alf Hazel, the senior 
 draftsman in Will's pattern shop, had three times 
 gone up to the High Barnes station bookstall in 
 order to get a copy of a paper {Frocks and Fiction) 
 which Edith liked because of the patterns it con- 
 tained. For Edith made her own dresses, and very 
 cleverly too. She had an eye for the clean line, 
 and knew the points of her figure with a calm 
 certainty of judgment which had in it nothing either 
 of conceit or of depreciation. 
 
 Jo Challoner, a chalky faced, partially bald, 
 youngish-looking man of about fifty (which was 
 his age), knew all the comings and goings of Edith 
 Dillingham, even to the fact that she sometimes 
 received letters which she hastily thrust unopened 
 into her pocket, and that — well, that Flubert 
 Salveson walked homewards with her from the 
 Presbyterian Church at the back of Bewick Dene, 
 time, light, and solitude aiding and abetting the 
 first secrecy of the escort. After all, there was not 
 much to find out. But with a man like Jo Challoner, 
 rnuch could be made out of little. And it satisfied 
 his mean soul to put on a cloak and pull a big soft 
 hat over his brows, like those which fishermen wear 
 ashore. He limped a little, and bent over a staff, 
 as he followed Edith Dillingham to church and 
 back again. He noted to whom she spoke. On 
 one or two occasions he was fortunate enough to 
 hear what was said. Then, letting himself cautiously 
 in, he hung up his detective dress behind the front 
 door, and went in to see how his wife was looking. 
 If worse, he was kinder, and perhaps even called 
 her " Molly." If better, he dragged his brows into 
 a bunch, and wondered audibly what she had found 
 to waste her time over all the evening. Supper 
 ought to have been ready. Or if ready, the food 
 was bad, disgusting, uneatable, enough to turn
 
 36 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 a pig. It did turn one, for Jo would fling upstairs 
 to bed leaving his wife quietly crying below. 
 
 Jo Challoner was a man with a purpose. And 
 there were those who affirmed that it took all the 
 sheep's clothing he could heap on decently to cover 
 the wolfs shag underneath. 
 
 But then ill-natured people will say anything.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 GAPPING AND MINING 
 
 WHEN you met Edith Dillingham face to face, 
 and in a good humour, you saw that per- 
 fection of beauty which only happens in the English 
 lower, middle, and upper working-classes. She had 
 a small head, about which she dressed her ruddy 
 gold hair daintily (they did not call it Venetian red 
 in those days). She brought it rather low in front of 
 her ears, then suddenly swept it rippling back into 
 a smooth coil at the back of her head. The coil 
 was, at least, as smooth as circumstances would 
 allow. A rather placid-looking girl was your first 
 thought. Not much fun in her — until you heard her 
 views on the follies of your sex, when you changed 
 your opinion. At such times the smallest, evenest, 
 whitest teeth in the world would smile out upon 
 you with a kind of joyous malice, and Alf Hazel or 
 Harry Quarll would have their manoeuvres unmasked 
 with laughing frankness, so that the listeners, 
 always feminine and sympathetic, laughed too. 
 
 Ede Dillingham was popular with her own sex 
 and age, which is saying a good deal in Thorsby, 
 considering Ede's chances. She never poached on 
 preserved waters ; she never took anybody's "young 
 man " away from them. If such a one " came 
 round," Edith could be trusted to tell him what she 
 thought of him. She was trusted, too, with secrets. 
 She was the only one of all the Dillinghams whose 
 family name was never contracted. Ned Dillam 
 mostly — Sue and Will Dillam always — Mrs. Dillam, 
 with the addition of the adjective " poor," on account 
 
 37
 
 38 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 of her keeping the house so much ! But Edith 
 DillingJiani invariably. 
 
 " I like my nice friends to call me Ede," she said ; 
 " but I won't have it from every 3^oung whipper- 
 snapper who happens to know you, Wilfor Sue. I 
 like to choose my friends for myself." 
 
 So that at an early period she informed Will that 
 their friendships were to be kept in watertight 
 compartments. He was not to know her friends 
 unless they so chose. She was not to be compelled 
 to acknowledge his. 
 
 " Look here, Ede," argued Master Will, looking 
 to his advancement in the office, " there are as good 
 fellows about our shop as among the girls' brothers 
 at your old school. You think that, because father 
 gave you a bit more education than the rest of us, 
 you are away up the ladder. But we'll show you ! 
 I tell you, Alf Hazel is worth a dozen of young 
 Salveson of the Manor any day. He could knock 
 him out in two rounds ! " 
 
 In saying this Master Will was wrong, but Edith 
 took different ground. 
 
 " See, Will," she said, " I don't want to quarrel. 
 I work just as hard at home as you do at the office, 
 or father with his horses at the yard. On washing- 
 days I work a deal harder than either of you. 
 Now, I get no wages ; father gives me something to 
 dress on. I buy the stuff, and make them myself. 
 Now, as it happens, I know some nice girls, and 
 they like me to go and see them. Sometimes they 
 come and see me too — mother and me. If you are 
 here when they come, you can speak to them, of 
 course, and as much as you like But, for instance, 
 1 know you were making up to the Fentons' cook 
 last half-year. So I won't have you speaking to 
 Nelly Fenton in the street. Now, do you hear me ? " 
 
 " You always were a prig, Ede ! " said her brother 
 contemptuously. " You are now, and you always 
 
 were 
 
 I
 
 GAPPING AND MINING 39 
 
 "Very likely," said Edith, with her eyes on the 
 seam. " You play your own game. Will, my friend, 
 and I'll play mine. I've told you, that's all. It's all 
 I ask of you, and 3^ou know very well I give you a 
 hand with father many a time, besides other things !" 
 
 But Will was not so easily appeased. He patted 
 the carpet nervously with his foot, looking down on 
 Edith with a just-wouldn't-I-if-I-dared expression, 
 which was partly caused by his prominent blue eyes 
 and partly by a determination to make Ede pay for 
 being " superior." 
 
 " Nelly Fenton's mother's cook is every bit as 
 good as Nelly Fenton any day," he burst out, " it 
 not better. You daren't go to father with stuck-up 
 rubbish like that. He's an out-and-outer, is father — 
 a kind of Socialist, I believe. He would take you 
 up pretty smart if you tried on any of that nonsense 
 with him." 
 
 " Father is a gentleman in his way, though he drives 
 a railway team," said Edith sweetly. " He takes off 
 his hat to a lady, if the lady bows to him. But he 
 doesn't force himself on any one. I am only trying 
 to make his son a little bit like him ! It's hard ! " 
 
 " Look you here, Ede," said Will, exasperated out 
 of measure, " this isn't your house, I believe. I 
 suppose your ladyship will allow so much. It's 
 mine just as much, and if you don't want me to 
 speak to any of your fine friends — why, tell them to 
 stop away, that's all ! I'll do as / like ! " 
 
 But, alas ! he had forgotten that Moon-Washington 
 walls are thin, and that one can hear a good deal 
 through an open window. So it came to pass that 
 a voice fell upon Master Will's ear at the close of 
 this family explanation with his sister. 
 
 " Here, young 'un," remarked the out-and-outer 
 from the yard, " that is no way to speak to your 
 elder sister. If I hear you at it again, I'll stuff your 
 head in a bucket ! " 
 
 The threat was no mere form of words. Master
 
 40 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Will shivered still at a recollection. He had a high 
 and very stiff collar on at that time, and it hurt. 
 Even the remembrance did. 
 
 ' " You heard v^hat I said ? " thundered the out- 
 and-outer, taking a step nearer. 
 
 *' Yes, father ! " cried the bucket-chastened young 
 man. 
 
 " Heed, then!" said his father briefly, with which 
 admonition the incident was closed. 
 
 But nevertheless Will's passing allusion to young 
 Salveson had taken Edith rather aback. Yet it was 
 but a random comparison after all. On one or two 
 occasions Hubert had walked part of the way home 
 from Mr. Marchbank's church with her mother and 
 herself. The books in the window did not always 
 act, because the good dame, her mother, had a habit 
 of changing her mind at the last moment. Besides, 
 it eased Edith Dillingham's conscience, and seemed to 
 give a kind of regularity to the whole affair. Edith 
 Dillingham did not like doing anything on the sly, 
 though sometimes she did. But she was in mind and 
 thought a great deal above her surroundings, and, 
 having been at school with his cousin, she did not see 
 any reason why young Mr. Salveson of the Manor 
 should not be friends with her. So it delighted her, 
 even partially, to regularise the situation. 
 
 " Mother," she said, the first time when they all 
 met coming out of an evening service at the Pres- 
 byterian Kirk of Thorsby, " this is Mr. Hubert 
 Salveson, Dr. Salveson's second son — you remember 
 him, don't you? He remembers you." 
 
 The young man saluted, gravely raising his hat 
 and smiling respectfully. 
 
 " You used to be very kind to me when you lived 
 down on the front," he affirmed brazenly — "jam and 
 sugar on slices of bread and butter. You remember 
 when I was not allowed to eat between meals. 
 'Jam-butties,' we used to call them, Tim and I! 
 Tim never got many; I used to fight him for them."
 
 GAPPING AND MINING 41 
 
 The good old lady could not quite remember 
 Hubert's face, but the thing was likely enough. She 
 had a reputation that way, and her former house had 
 been just on the marches of the Manor House, in 
 which the Salveson boys had passed their youth. 
 
 "That was where I met Edith," he went on, 
 quickly and cleverly; "won't you take my arm, 
 Mrs. DiUingham, at least till we get in shelter of 
 the houses ? The streets are slippery." 
 
 " It does blow a bit, but— but " 
 
 " Do," said Hubert eagerly, looking at her with 
 heightened colour, and sliding his slim umbrella 
 over her head. " Miss Edith, there, can take care 
 of herself. Let me pilot you. It's a nasty crossing, 
 this, when the South Dene boats are coming in 
 and the streets are crowded." 
 
 He chattered on, talking to the old lady with a 
 certain vivid ease. He contented himself with an 
 occasional glance now and again at Edith. He 
 also had good reason to be content, for that young 
 lady was smiling, well pleased. She felt faint, 
 strange drawings of the springs of life towards 
 the young man who could be so gracious to her 
 mother. 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Hubert Salveson had the ready 
 sympathy to understand this. Who knows? Such 
 things are instinctive with some men from boyhood 
 to the grave. 
 
 If you had asked Hubert he would have said, 
 "Oh yes, of course I do it for Edith's sake. But 
 then what is there that I don't do for her sake ?" 
 
 He parted with them at the corner of Cheviot 
 Road. The shower had passed. The gaslights, 
 just beginning to glimmer, made lustrously golden 
 the tangles of the young girl's hair. He stood and 
 looked after them. 
 
 That night, on going in, with one accord, and 
 without consulting each other, mother and daughter 
 said nothing about the matter.
 
 N 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE O.C. CLUB 
 
 TEVERTHELESS Hubert Salveson felt that 
 he had made a distinct advance. He re- 
 peated this over and over to himself as he strolled 
 homeward — slowly, very slowly homeward, as men 
 do at such times ! The world seemed so very 
 empty. But there were the lilac-tinged cloud-banks 
 of easterly storm scudding towards him over the 
 house-crowned heights of South Dene, across the 
 wide tidal river. A big liner slowly went by to 
 her berth. Red, black, and white were the stripes 
 on her funnel, though he could see the Red Jack 
 blown out taut over her stern. 
 
 Hubert knew it was the Hamburg boat, knew 
 it without looking, as he knew that two and two 
 made four, or that he was to be a doctor and his 
 brother a barrister. As to this last, old Dr. Salveson 
 had not consulted either Tim or Hubert. He had 
 pronounced views on prophecy, and had made a 
 special visit to the Mount of Olives, where the 
 matter had been made clear to him. His procedure 
 was simple. 
 
 One of his boys was to be a lawyer, the other 
 a doctor. The spinning of a coin decided which 
 was to be which. 
 
 He might as well have stayed at home and settled 
 in his parlour, quoth the ignorant. Ah, but wait ! 
 The place was the Mount of Olives, which, against 
 all foolish-minded critics, he held to be the true 
 Mountain of Illumination and Transfiguration, while 
 the coin was a genuine shekel (made two years 
 
 42
 
 THE O.C. CLUB 43 
 
 before in Birmingham, and sold to the confiding 
 for twenty times its weight in gold). 
 
 The bust outlasts the throne, 
 The coin, Tiberius. 
 
 Dr. Salveson quoted the lines with a fine fervour. 
 For he was a well-read man, though an Indian sun 
 had given a curious turn to his vievi^s on revealed 
 religion and the forestalling of future events. The 
 walls of his study were covered with charts and 
 curious models to account for all that was going to 
 happen, and he alone knew how to reconcile Daniel 
 and the Revelation. It is whispered that his method 
 with these divergent prophetical authorities was as 
 simple as his manner of deciding the fates of his two 
 sons. When one did not appear to agree with the 
 other, up went the silver shekel. And it was so. 
 
 Withal, and in spite of certain terrible pictures 
 of Palestine which he commanded you to admire, 
 he was a fine, generous, free-spoken old Christian 
 gentleman of the school now entered into its rest. 
 If he erred, it was chiefly upon the interpretation 
 of the tenth and little horns. In his youth (so they 
 say) he had been something of a gay dog. But 
 now, having turned the age limit, and the sun of 
 India having (as aforesaid) prophetically excited 
 certain brain-lobes and volutes, he was resolved 
 that his own puppies should be kept well in leash. 
 That is to say, Timothy and Hubert Salveson were 
 to begin where he had ended. 
 
 The Manor was a big, roomy house, three times 
 too large for the requirements of the two youths 
 and their father. An Aunt Kidson, of a degree of 
 blood-relationship profoundly vague, kept house 
 for them — a grim-mouthed, murky-eyed old v/oman, 
 who frequently opened the door herself to visitors, 
 and scared them off the doorstep with the sole 
 venom of her glance if they asked for the doctor, 
 or froze them with icy disapproval if they came 
 in search of Tim or Hubert.
 
 44 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Aunt Kidson had at some remote period been 
 christened Abigail, if such a woman could be said 
 to bear a Christian name of any kind. There were 
 yet vaguer memories of an " Uncle Kidson," who 
 departed for a better and certainly happier world 
 "at the early age of 49," as a tombstone in East 
 Dene cemetery affirmed with a luxury of detail, 
 and the remarkable verse engraved thereon : 
 
 His wife, resigned beneath the blow, 
 Remains to weep him here below ; 
 And in the world where all is love 
 He waits her coming there above. 
 
 (Signed) Abigail Kidson. 
 
 But those best informed thought otherwise. Even 
 the doctor, in his hours of ease, whispered that he 
 would not blame Jim Kidson if he used his interest 
 with the authorities, and emigrated to some out- 
 lying track, between which and the well-trodden 
 Elysian fields no extradition treaty of any sort had 
 yet been framed. 
 
 But Mrs. Kidson had friends of her own — sex, 
 temper, temperament, if not with all her concen- 
 trated capacity for evil-speaking and general intoler- 
 ance. There was Miss Fly, commonly called " Fly 
 Blister" by the irreverent. She kept "St. Alde- 
 gonda's," a rest-house (on High Church principles) 
 for invalids, nurses temporarily out of employment, 
 and the better class of domestics. The idea was 
 her own, and an admirable one it was — for Miss 
 Fly. You see, it worked thus. The nurses waited 
 on the invalids — just to keep their hands in ; the 
 upper domestics washed, dusted, cleaned up, ironed 
 — for a like reason. The legend, so noble and 
 helpful, " Work Makes Happiness," was illuminated 
 in Old English capitals over every doorway, in 
 letters of gold and green. A lady artist had stayed 
 there temporarily. Then, of course, all paid back 
 (when in work) what their benefactress had spent 
 upon their lodging. Each nurse paid 50 per cent, 
 of her wages till she stood clear on Miss Fly's
 
 THE O.C. CLUB 45 
 
 books, by which time she was generally out of a 
 place again. The upper domestics did the same, 
 though, as their rate of wage-earning was slower. 
 Miss Fly felt herself obliged to take two-thirds of 
 their emoluments. And, of course, as in every 
 well-regulated establishment, the invalids paid 
 weekly and sweetly — as who would not be glad to 
 do for such excellent if varied service, with the 
 society of the admirable Miss Fly thrown in ? 
 
 Then there was Mrs. Skipton, caretaker at 
 Girnagain, profanely called by the Salveson boys, 
 " Mother Shipton, "'because (so they declared) she 
 tried to " suck in " with their father, by bringing 
 him desperate and distressing Bel-and-the-Dragon 
 pictures, and prophecies as to the near fate of the 
 world, calculated to make the least serious consider 
 their ways. 
 
 If the Salveson boys could " sneak " these, they 
 used to ornament with them the walls of their 
 work-room, altering the heads of the most uncanny 
 beasts to resemble Miss Fly, Mother Shipton, and 
 even their father's own housekeeper. Aunt Kidson 
 herself 
 
 These caricatures, however, cannot have been 
 very striking likenesses. For that lady often 
 looked at her own image "cavorting" over the ten 
 kingdoms of the earth armed with teeth of iron 
 and brass (together with a widow's cap as a helmet), 
 without discovering any resemblance whatsoever. 
 
 She only said she was pleased to see the young 
 men taking an interest in serious subjects. Their 
 general conduct was very far indeed from leading 
 her to suppose such a thing possible. Privately 
 also she did not approve of the caretaker at 
 Girnagain supplying the doctor with his favourite 
 literature. She might prove a supplanter. 
 
 They might have been found out if their father 
 had paid any attention to their wall decorations, 
 which he never did — only visiting their " den " in
 
 46 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 quest of some tool of his which they had " sneaked " 
 out of his summer-house work-room. He entered 
 like a whirlwind, routed about till he found what 
 he wanted, pronounced anathema, and was gone in 
 the slamming of a door. 
 
 The weekly gathering of the "Old Cats' Club," 
 as the boys called these reunions, were mostly held 
 from three to five on a Friday afternoon. Aunt 
 Kidson was free then till dinner-time. Miss Fly 
 had done her forenoon's "blistering" among her 
 "idle" nurses, "lazy" domestics, "incompetent" 
 tradesmen, " cheating " purveyors, and "ungrateful" 
 invalids. She had need of a restorative cup of 
 (some one else's) tea. Mrs. Skipton was always 
 free to gather or retail ill-natured gossip, except 
 during the intervals which she spent in inventing it. 
 
 Draw about the fire, in spite of the Easter 
 weather. There is always a Baltic chill about 
 bleak Thorsby. The Old Cats' Club is in seance. 
 There is no reading of minutes. All the world of 
 scandal is their oyster, and though the old is not 
 so piquant as the new, it is perhaps, on the whole, 
 more satisfying. There is more " cut and come 
 again " about an old scandal. 
 
 But, all the same, there was generally something 
 quite new at the O.C. Club, as there was in the 
 outdoor club-house of the Athenians on the Hill of 
 Mars. Each member was at liberty to bring a 
 well-primed friend, who, if she proved communica- 
 tive, would be invited again, and as the tea was 
 Dr. Salveson's, the extra hospitality mattered 
 nothing. 
 
 They began, almost cautiously, with old, well- 
 worn topics first. When was Mr. Marchbanks 
 going to get married ? It did not " become a minister, 
 going from house to house in attendance upon the 
 sick of both sexes, to put off the matter so long." 
 
 Sad to relate, the remainder has been lost. But 
 even as they stand, the lines contain a noble moral
 
 THE O.C CLUB 47 
 
 in brief, as to the importance of the strifes of High 
 and Low, in times when all creeds and churches are 
 upon their trials. 
 
 A newcomer to the O.C. Club (as by Aunt Kitson 
 established) was emboldened to break the silence 
 with startling news. 
 
 " That upsetting piece, the atheist's daughter, who 
 used to live down this way — what is her name?" 
 (though she knew very well). 
 
 " Oh, yes, we know," exclaimed with unanimity the 
 O.C. Club. "Edith Dillingham, she calls herself!" 
 As if the parish register called her Mary Brown. 
 
 And the O.C.C.'s waited expectant the record of 
 poor Edith's latest misdemeanour. 
 
 Now Mrs. Simon Waddleham, the new-comer, 
 felt elated. Every eye was upon her. She was 
 about to justify a possible election to the O.C. Club 
 by the slaughter of a reputation — as members of the 
 "Silver Skull " had to prove two single-handed un- 
 provoked murders before receiving their talisman 
 and card of membership. 
 
 " Edith Dillingham," she repeated slowly, " 'as 
 been and refused Alf Hazel, as is first draftsman in 
 Pritchard's yard, and can earn — ^ood week and bad 
 week — his four gold soverings. What he saw in her 
 I can't think. But I had it from the pore young 
 man's own feymale cousin, 'Lizbeth Hazel, wot is 
 fitted to be a comfort to any man, if her nose zvas 
 squeezed flat when a babby, by falling out of a first- 
 floor window, waiting to see the firemen go by, to 
 put out no fire at all, but only all because the Mayor 
 and the Corporation had turned them out to show 
 Mister Gladstone (who was 'avin' his lunch at the 
 Town Hall) how smart they could come up to t' 
 scratch, with their brass helmicks and fire-brick 
 trowsers, and all and all ! " 
 
 The O.C. Club appreciated the news, but felt that 
 the new-comer's tendency to diffuseness must be 
 checked. Aunt Kidson took that upon herself.
 
 48 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " We like to speak our minds here, Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham," she said ; ** and as our time is limited, we 
 can't begin with Adam and Eve every time we tell a 
 tale. We are obliged for the news as to Alf Hazel 
 and Edith Dillingham. It is what we should have 
 expected. That girl will come to no good ; but we 
 don't know anything about the other Hazel with the 
 flat nose, and what's more, we don't want to ! One 
 idiot of that name is quite enough ! " 
 
 ** I was only telling you," said Mrs. Waddleham, 
 feeling her nomination slipping away from her, " and 
 I had it from first hand, as one might say — so being 
 as 'Lizbeth Hazel 'as 'ad 'opes for ten years that Alf 
 might draw up alongside o' her, an' make one team 
 of it, as it were ! " 
 
 The O.C. Club felt that this would never do. Mrs. 
 Waddleham's mode of expressing herself was low — 
 " draw up alongside o' her," indeed ! They were 
 not used to such language. Aunt Kidson looked 
 severely across at Mrs. Skipton, v/ho had brought 
 her. 
 
 About this time the O.C. Club usually partook of 
 an intimate little "taste" of " somethink " esoteric 
 from a curiously-shaped bottle out of Mrs. Kidson's 
 cupboard. But on this occasion the hostess hesitated. 
 She would pay Mother Shipton out by letting her 
 depart unenlivened, while she would signal Miss Fry 
 to stop behind for a private sight of the quaintly 
 shaped green bottle. 
 
 Then, as even her introducer looked askance 
 at her, poor Mrs. Waddleham staked her all on a 
 desperate throw. 
 
 '* Yes, and I know the reason why that Dillingham 
 girl refused Alf Hazel, as is so much above her. It 
 is because young Master Hubert Salveson, of this 
 very house, sees her home from t' Presbyterian 
 Meeting House in Kingdom Come Lane every 
 Sunday night ! There ! "
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 "D.O.M." 
 
 THUNDERBOLT, earthquake, hurricane, vol- 
 canic eruption, shrapnel, torpedo, floating 
 mine, lyddite — all means of destruction, human and 
 divine — are mere mild incidents to a malevolent 
 tongue. The unruly evil is still untamed, blighting, 
 poisonous, blasting, fatal. 
 
 Mrs. Simon Waddleham sat back preening herself, 
 proud of the sensation she had caused. Mother 
 Shipton nodded across at her. She had nobly 
 vindicated her introducer. But Aunt Kidson was 
 critical, even hostile. 
 
 Upon occasion, indeed, she could receive, and even 
 propagate, an unfounded and libellous assertion with 
 any one. And even now, had Edith Dillingham 
 only been concerned, she would have passed on the 
 tale, like the French lady's kiss, "revised, corrected, 
 and considerably augmented." But since " the 
 House " was concerned, the affair wore a different 
 aspect. The honour of the manor was at stake. 
 Also a thought, long simmering in her brain, now 
 appeared ready for the table, as it were. If only — 
 only — she could sow dissension between the doctor 
 and his two sons, her portion might be considerably 
 increased. She would begin with Hubert. She 
 had visions of a temptestuous parent and of the 
 traditional "cutting off with a shilling," "Residual" 
 and even " Universal legatee " became by no means 
 vain or impossible words. Dr. Salveson was an old 
 man. He was very passionate and headstrong, and 
 the young men — well, would be young men. Proof 
 
 49 4
 
 50 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 — proof was what she needed. And to get it she 
 proceeded to cross-examine Mrs. Simon Waddle- 
 ham. 
 
 " And, pray, who was there to certify that ? It is 
 a serious charge to bring against any young man." 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham laughed. She felt now the 
 strength of her position, and was inclined to take 
 advantage. 
 
 " Serious charge ? Pshaw ! nonsense ! " she said, 
 glancing up at the cupboard (of whose fame she 
 had heard) with an expectant and almost command- 
 ing eye. " I am old enough to remember the doctor, 
 his father, when he came back from college, afore he 
 was packed off to Injy by his pa. Lor' !" 
 
 And she laughed again, clapping her solid knees 
 at the jovial remembrance. 
 
 " He were a oner ! 'Ow he did go on ! Why, 1 
 remember when him and Ted Cripps, that made a 
 fortune out of tallow and lost it all in one day on 
 Dene Heath racecourse " 
 
 " These reminiscences are most unbecoming this 
 house," said Aunt Kidson, with her nose in the air. 
 " Pray consider my relationship with the gentleman 
 whose name you soil with your lips — I mean with 
 those aspersions. In short, let me hear no evil- 
 speaking of the honoured and intimate kinsman 
 whose tea we are drinking " 
 
 " An' very good tea it is, ma'am," said Mrs. Wad- 
 dleham propitiatingly. 
 
 " Or out 3'ou go ! " continued Aunt Kidson, un- 
 appeased. 
 
 " But then we would hear nothing about the young 
 gentleman," insinuated Miss Fly, " and I'm sure you 
 desire to be a mother to him, poor young man." 
 
 " We all do ! " cried the O.C. Club, with a unan- 
 imity seldom displayed by them in a good cause ; 
 "we would all be mothers to him." 
 
 " Thank you," said Mrs. Kidson tartly ; " he is 
 sufficiently supplied so long as, by the will and
 
 "D.O.M." 51 
 
 desire of Doctor Heathcote Charles Salveson, I am 
 mistress of tliis house." 
 
 She did not approve of all these widows and 
 ancient maidens, even though friends of her own, 
 becoming so interested and maternal over the sons 
 of the wealthy Indian ex-surgeon-general. But de- 
 tails she must have at any price ; and at last, unable 
 to avoid the persistent glances which went cupboard- 
 wards with such regularity, she produced the cele- 
 brated fat bottle. 
 
 " So excellent for the digestion, they do tell me," 
 sighed the Widow Skipton's friend. " I have heard 
 speak of it often, but little did I think that these 
 eyes would hever gaze upon it — not in this life." 
 
 "Made and bottled by holy men 'at the convent.' 
 See, it is marked on the bottle with their motto," 
 said the hostess in a whisper. 
 
 " D.O.M.," spelt out Mrs. Waddleham, pronouncing 
 the resultant word with a strong North-country 
 gusto, reminiscent of her late husband. " What a 
 funny motto for ho-ly men like them at that 'ere 
 convent." 
 
 "Ah," sighed again Miss Fly, lifting up her 
 mittened left hand with a kind of saintly rebuke, 
 " but it doesn't mean what you think, madam. The 
 idea ! " 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham laughed. "Then what does it 
 mean ? " she demanded. She held trump-cards, and 
 knew it. 
 
 "That I don't know, not exactly," Miss Fly 
 answered lamely ; " but it's something they put on 
 flags and banners when they have processions in 
 the streets in them countries." 
 
 " It's wot ri'e heard a good many say as them 
 very processions went by in this country — good 
 Church-people they was, too, that said it!" cried 
 Mrs. Waddleham, laying herself back in her worn 
 hair-cloth chair so that she could laugh the more 
 comfortably. " My 'usband that was, an' my own
 
 52 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 brother, Joseph Challoner, that is, never did hold 
 wi' them new-fangled Papish ways." 
 
 Certainly Mrs. Waddleham (nee Challoner) was 
 low. Her manner, language, and connections proved 
 it. But 
 
 " Will 3^ou accept a glass of this original Bene- 
 dictine?" said the hostess, with due dignity, a 
 certain severity underlying the invitation. 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham picked up the glass between her 
 fingers, and regarded it with contempt, mixed with 
 amusement. 
 
 " You needn't drop it into this for me to taste," 
 she said. " I am sure to like it, I will take a proper 
 glass now." 
 
 "This is a proper glass," said Aunt Kidson, with 
 immense dignity. 
 
 " Yes, for medicine." Mrs. Waddleham held the 
 V-shaped little liqueur glass between her and the 
 light, pretending to make out the markings. " Why, 
 it doesn't hold even a tablespoonful," she said. " In 
 my time I've been a nurse — by the month — and 1 
 know. I'll take mine in a teacup, if you please ! " 
 
 They all felt that the newcomer was irretriev^ably 
 loiv. Even Mother Shipton, co-religionary and in- 
 troducer, blushed for Mrs. Simon Waddleham. 
 
 Yet she held out her teacup to the lady of the 
 house, who was pale with rage. And what is more, 
 she got it filled to the brim. Then, with one mind, 
 they envied her ; for they had not got as much out 
 of that curiously sealed bottle in a twelvemonth ! 
 
 "Well, and about Mr. Hubert ?" whispered Miss 
 Fly insinuatingly. 
 
 " I don't think much o' this stoof," said Mrs. Wad- 
 dleham. " Things like that gets cracked up, because 
 they are sold in bottles with swear words on 'em. 
 But give me good, honest London gin, unsweetened ; 
 that's my taste, and I don't care who knows it. Not 
 that this 'ere D.O.M. stoof mightn't be aw'right if 
 one got enough of it to turn over in one's mouth ! "
 
 "D.O.M." 53 
 
 " It's a liqueur, and very valuable," said Miss Fly. 
 
 " It requires a cultivated palate " 
 
 ** Eh, wot?" said Mrs. ^Vaddleham ; " wot's that — 
 more swearing?" 
 
 " It means," said Aunt Kidson, in austere tones, 
 never before known to fail, " that to appreciate it, 
 one must have good taste." 
 
 "Taste?" quoth Mrs. Waddleham ; "is it taste? 
 Why, this hasn't none " — she smacked her lips—" not 
 no more nor so much soapy water flavoured with 
 red herring and goose grease ! " 
 
 Miss Fly tapped her brow behind Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham's back as an intimation to the hostess that the 
 "stoof" had gone to the visitor's head, and that she 
 had better be treated gently accordingly. 
 
 "About that there Edith Dillingham. What was 
 it you said ? — very interesting it was," suggested 
 Miss Fly, still more soothingly. 
 
 But Mrs. Simon Waddleham's pacific mood had 
 passed. 
 
 " I said nothing," she cried. " I doan't know such 
 people — my brother Jo does, though. You can ask 
 im. He'll give you your answer. Very straight is 
 Jo. You ask 'im— if you want to know." 
 
 " But you said 3^ourself," purred Miss Fly. Was 
 it possible that their prey was about to escape them, 
 after all ? 
 
 " Said myself, did I ? I said nothing. I tell you 
 again. But I seed you a mocking o' me, making 
 faces behind my back — yah — catched you at it. You 
 don't even know what looking-glasses are for, I 
 suppose ? What's that to you, anyway, Miss Fly 
 Blister ? You and your take-in-shop. Eh ! Answer 
 me that ! Hey — you can't. You want to know what 
 I think about you all ? " 
 Apparently nobody was anxious. 
 " Well, you're a lot of rare old tabbies. Gimme my 
 retticule, and be good enough to see if my kerridge 
 an' pair is at the door. Gooo — oood-night, tabbies !
 
 54 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 1 was only 'avin' you on a bit — just to see what you 
 would swallow. An' what 'arm would there be if 
 and supposin' a decent young man walked home 
 from meetin' with a respectable young woman ? I 
 suppose it 'as 'appened afore — though maybe not 
 to the likes o' you ! Not to look at ye, it wouldn't." 
 
 " Come away, Maria, do ! " pleaded her friend and 
 introducer, feeling her responsibility in the matter 
 rapidl}' increasing. 
 
 " I'll come w'en I'm ready — not afore." This de- 
 fiantly. " There's not one o' yer that could put me 
 out, if it were my mind to stay. Would you, Missus 
 Kidson, with your pore, wizened, vinegar face ? Or 
 you. Fly Blister, would you like to have a try? No, 
 not you, nor all of them pore nusses o' yourn, wot 
 you robs of every penny they arns ! God help them 
 that gets into your hands. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I'm goin', Missus Albert Eddard Skip- 
 pon — I'm goin'. An' it'll be a long day an' a short 
 un afore I puts my feet in this 'ere 'ouse ! I don't 
 go w'ere I'm not welcome. But if any of you has a 
 word to say to Maria Waddleham, say it now afore 
 she goes. For if it comes to her ears after — better 
 for you that you had got under the big steam 
 hammer down yonder at Pritchard's. Young people 
 — of course, ten times better than you — ugh — I can't 
 abear you ! " 
 
 And the big woman, with the black basket in her 
 left hand and her right cleared for action, went out, 
 pausing only to hurl a last defiance at the discomfited 
 party in the housekeeper's parlour of the Manor 
 House. 
 
 " Only say so, you know, if you 'ave a desire to 
 'ave it out!" 
 
 None of them said it, however, so the virago, 
 widow of famous fighting Simon of the aforesaid 
 steam hammer, went out, quoting briefly and for the 
 last time the inscription on the bottle of monastic 
 liquor on the table.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 BREAKING OR BINDING 
 
 AS the summer advanced Edith Dillingham con- 
 tinued to take the longer road to the farm 
 beyond the common, to seek fresh eggs, which 
 were her mother's chief daily pleasure. Mrs. Ned 
 Dillingham took her younger daughter Sue, and 
 went to the big new market at Thorsby. She her- 
 self went in the tram both ways. She carried the 
 heavier of the baskets, and if the conductor hap- 
 pened to be " a nice man," he would let her stay 
 beside her baskets, as it were, in the verandah of 
 the car. If not. Sue sulked in the fairway, and told 
 the world in general her opinion of that conductor, 
 his appearance, physiognomy, and general character. 
 He generally told the driver to hurry up a bit. 
 
 '* That'un," he remarked, " is a real chip of the old 
 block — an out-an'-outer, if ever there was one. God 
 pity the man that should marry her." 
 
 Meanwhile Edith took her way by Church Lane, 
 Ashton Willows, and Lower Binfield, turned into 
 Fame Hollow, and so to Cheasely Farm. She had 
 never again seen Mr. Richard Jones, otherwise 
 Wood. Per contra, not a Saturday passed that she 
 did not see Hubert Salveson. 
 
 But she came suddenly to that understanding with 
 him which is known in diplomacy as a " working 
 agreement." 
 
 " I like you, Hubert," she began, with that tranquil 
 expression of calm blue eyes which led many to 
 imagine that they might presume on her good 
 nature — always to their cost and sorrow. ** Yes, I 
 
 55
 
 56 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 like you. And if we walked over Fame Height 
 every Saturday forenoon, you and I together, it 
 would be pleasant enough, I do not deny — better 
 than dirty lanes and slippery pavements. I used 
 to enjoy seeing the water shining, and the ships 
 coming and going " 
 
 ** If I am keeping you from all that " began 
 
 Hubert, instantly ruffled. 
 
 Edith put out her hand towards him a little 
 waveringly, and then drew it back. They were 
 passing the long dead walls of Patten's Furniture 
 Stores, in which were no windows to the street, 
 but only great arches pierced for the entrances and 
 exits of mammoth vans. 
 
 "Silly!" she said softly. And prompt at the 
 word Hubert came obediently into line again. 
 " You know I did not mean that. But, though we 
 are friends, there must be a limit. You are a rich 
 man's son ; I, a working-man's daughter." 
 
 " What has that got to do with it ?" said Hubert, 
 lowering suddenly, his eyes straight before him. 
 
 She smiled wistfully at his dour visage. But she 
 kept on, because she knew she was in the right. 
 
 " It has everything to do with it," she said. " I 
 am not going to be compromised just because I 
 went to school with your cousin Amy (whom you 
 ought even now to be sitting at the feet of), and 
 because once on a time you helped me to carry Baby 
 Sue to Green Lane station ! " 
 
 " I don't see where the difference comes in," argued 
 Hubert. "If I went with my cousin Amy every 
 day across Fame Height, nobody would have a word 
 to say ; but I want to go with you." 
 
 "That is just it," said Edith quietly; "and you 
 see the reason very well — that is, if you are willing 
 to see. We can be friends, you and I, but it must 
 be at a distance. A working-man's daughter, who 
 lives in a cottage house only half paid for, may be 
 spoiled for her own class by some extra education
 
 BREAKING OR BINDING 57 
 
 and a little reading; but that does not make her 
 mount into yours." 
 
 "You are far better and cleverer than my cousin 
 Amy, or any girl I know." Hubert was blustering 
 now. He felt instinctively that he was bound to get 
 the worst of it. 
 
 " Hubert," said Edith, with a peculiar stillness in 
 her tone, "listen. I have something to say to you, 
 which has been on my mind for a long time. I have 
 been wrong in letting you meet me. You have 
 been wrong in coming without telling your father. 
 And mother — poor mother ! — has been a little wrong 
 too, for she has not said anything to my father. 
 We have all been wrong— I the most, because I 
 always knew — yes, from the first I knew that nothing 
 could come of it." 
 
 What might have been vanity in another was 
 plain statement of fact to Edith Dillingham. 
 
 Silently Hubert walked by her side, his face 
 working, but otherwise very stern and grave. It 
 seemed to him as if the end of all things had arrived. 
 They were coming up out of the little hollow called 
 Boggart Clough, which in its turn leads past many 
 old-fashioned cottages into Binfield Bottom, and so 
 out at last upon Church Lane. Much was waste 
 land, but there were many cottage gardens and 
 walled orchards all along the way. 
 
 Edith held to her explanation. Her mind was 
 fixed to make an end. " No ; I have been 
 wrong — far the most wrong," she said, " but now 
 I am going to do the right. You are wasting your 
 time, Hubert. You have a profession. Get away 
 from here ; find a place, and get to work." 
 
 " My father will not give me the money to buy a 
 practice," he answered gloomily, " and what chance 
 is there for a fellow going on spec to one place or 
 another already overstocked, and putting up his door- 
 plate ? It is only sitting down to wait for patients 
 who never come — and if they do, never pay ! "
 
 58 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " I have heard of partnerships with old men who 
 do not wish night work," suggested practical 
 Edith. 
 
 " Not to be had," said Hubert, biting at the finger 
 of his glove; "scores of fellows with flaming testi- 
 monials after every one of these ! " 
 
 " Well," said Edith, " I've heard my father say 
 that there never was a good job yet that came 
 knocking at a man's door, and begging him to have 
 it. And I'm sure you will never get on waiting 
 about for me to go to church on Sundays, to lecture 
 on Thurdays, or the long walk to Cheasely Farm 
 on Saturdays." 
 
 " If I am in your way," said Hubert doggedly, 
 wilfully ignoring the better voice within him, " I 
 can easily get out, you know." 
 
 Edith Dillingham laid a hand gently on his 
 sleeve. 
 
 *' That was not spoken like my old comrade ol 
 the Station, who picked the spikes out at the 
 corners, so that we could hold up the babes to- 
 gether, to see the fast ones go by. I think you 
 are putting in the nails — and needlessly." 
 
 Hubert gave way. 
 
 " Then what would you have me to do ? " he 
 asked, with a kind of sob in his voice. It some- 
 times happens that women are the stronger on 
 such occasions. Men, being stupid, say that it is 
 owing to hard-heartedness. 
 
 " I will not have any misunderstandings," said 
 Edith, turning quickly upon him, as they paused 
 under the great ash at the corner of the Binfield 
 Bottoms, where the cinder-path is broad and 
 sheltered. " I can't even bear to read books with 
 misunderstandings in them. ' Silly people,' I always 
 say ; ' why don't they speak, and clear the thing up.' 
 At any rate, I'm going to be plain with you. This 
 is our last walk, Hubert, until things are different. 
 I will tell my father the next time you and I meet
 
 BREAKING OR BINDING 59 
 
 one another. I expect that you will do the 
 same ! " 
 
 " Edith, I love you ! " said Hubert suddenly, 
 grasping her wrist hard. " I cannot lose you for 
 all the fathers in the world. I have lived on it. 
 It has been my life, sleeping and waking all these 
 months. Have pity on me, Edith ! Don't send 
 me away ! " 
 
 The girl paled and paled until the rose fled from 
 her lips. But her eyes kept their lustre. She had 
 heard much the same thing by others, but never 
 by one like Hubert, of whose reverence and truth 
 she was sure. Her old comrade ! Could she ? 
 
 Yes, she could — she must. He must go. There 
 was nothing else for it. 
 
 "Hubert," she said gently, ^^ love — love — I hardly 
 know what the word means. I have heard so many 
 things called by that name which are not — love. 
 I cannot say truly that I love you. 1 like you, 
 certainly — better than any other man. But — 1 am 
 not quite a girl. I have seen many hard things. 
 One does, you know, living as we do. But I do 
 not think that you are yet a man — a man as I am 
 a woman. You have to prove yourself. Go out 
 then, make a name, and I shall be proud of you — 
 prouder than I dare tell you ! Now, go ! " 
 
 He flung the girl's wrist from him, angrily. 
 
 "You want to get rid of me! I'm in your way! 
 I see it ! Well, I will go, as you bid me. But 
 remember, you will never see me again. You will 
 never have a second offer " 
 
 "What is that you offer me now, Hubert?" she 
 said, the words falling clear and quiet, all the while 
 looking at him out of two eyes of limpidest blue. 
 
 "What do I offer you?" the young man stam- 
 mered. 
 
 " Yes, what ? " she nodded. 
 
 " Why, love — all my love. I love you to dis- 
 traction, Ede, my little Ede ! Will you marry me
 
 6o PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 now, and risk all ? I am of age — I can — 1 
 will ! " 
 
 She flushed now, red as any rose, and, instead 
 of the brilliance, something infinitely sweet and 
 cloudily grey passed like mist over the morning 
 of her eyes. But she bit her under-lip hard, and 
 lo, it passed, 
 
 *' Hubert," she said, " such words as yours are 
 always worthy of any girl's respect, honestly 
 spoken. But, my boy, it cannot be ! It would not 
 be fair to you." 
 
 How much older she seemed than he in that 
 moment. 
 
 " Even supposing that I — cared — enough, how 
 could I be sure that you would keep on loving me ? 
 I would take you out of your class. I would waste 
 your life, drag you down, spoil your career ■" 
 
 " All that is nothing, if I do not have you, Edith," 
 said the young man. 
 
 Edith Dillingham let a little sigh escape her. 
 It was so hard to make him understand. He would 
 not, say what she would. She would be obliged 
 to — to speak the other thing. 
 
 " Hubert, perhaps I am going to hurt you. God 
 knows I do not mean to," she said very gently ; 
 " some day you will give me credit for that. But 
 I have a pride too. And the man I marry (if I ever 
 do) shall be a worker, a bread-earner. Even now 
 I do all the work of a house— I have done it for 
 years. See how my fingers are drawn and puckered 
 with a fortnight's washing. To-night I shall have 
 the ironing. It will take me till midnight. I shall 
 be up at five again on Monday morning to get my 
 father and my brother off. I could earn my living 
 any day, even as I do now, but more easily. I 
 could be a maid, a laundress, anything. But I 
 would not live a day on the bounty of another — 
 no, not if it were my own father, least of all perhaps 
 if it were my own father, and I a young man ! "
 
 BREAKING OR BINDING 6i 
 
 "I understand," said Hubert heavily; "you need 
 say no more ! But some day you will see that I too 
 am a man." 
 
 And without leave-taking or salutation, he turned 
 on his heel and tramped back to Thorsby. Edith 
 continued her way, entered late with one egg 
 broken, and was received by her mother's voice. 
 " Why, girl, what is the matter ? — you've been crying. 
 Your eyes are all red. Oh, you've broken an egg 
 again. I knew it. There it is. You are a careless 
 monkey. I shall send Sue next Saturday instead 
 of you ! " 
 
 And Edith Dillingham was glad to let it go at 
 that. 
 
 She had broken more than an egg.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 HUBERT SALVESON DISTURBS HIS FATHER 
 
 THESE mornings of late April the Manor House 
 almost exaggerated its usual expression of 
 shut monastic close, of cloistered ease grown a little 
 drowsy — the self-sown early poppies only just 
 touched to a darker cardinal by the Thorsby 
 "smuts." You had to be careful in outdoor pro- 
 menades at the manor. If, in a light summer suit, 
 you leaned a casual elbow on the branch of a tree, 
 the fuller had no art wherewith to white the result. 
 This, indeed, was hardly Thorsby's fault. The 
 over-river winds brought to Thorsby the produce 
 of the high chimneys from the greater cities of North 
 and East Dene, set on the opposite ridge, and 
 scattered down by the sea. 
 
 Hubert had become almost as much of a recluse 
 as Tim. Nevertheless his father, immersed in a new 
 system of arranging the vials and trumpets (with all 
 which he was on intimate terms, but which no 
 doubt spitefully aggravated him no little at times), 
 paid no heed to the vagaries of either of his sons. 
 All that he asked was that they should leave him 
 alone with his charts and models. 
 
 Not so his housekeeper. Aunt Kidson, with Miss 
 Fly as a useful outdoor adjunct, formulated theory 
 after theory as to the sudden stoppage of Master 
 Hubert's pilgrimages. She resented it, just when 
 she was beginning to get on his track, and when she 
 and Miss Fly might really have made something of 
 it between them. But she never once thought of the 
 right reason, which was much too simple for her. 
 
 62
 
 HUBERT DISTURBS HIS FATHER 63 
 
 That Edith DilHngham had dismissed the son of the 
 master of Thorsby Manor, the future owner of some 
 acres of ruddy brick houses and factories — that 
 never entered her mind. She did not trouble her- 
 self with the impossible. And Miss Fly— of the flies 
 which own their prince — was like unto her. 
 
 Nevertheless, something great was stirring in the 
 young man's heart during these beautiful spring 
 days. He lay in an arbour with a medical book, but 
 he did not read. In his mind was ever present the 
 slight, tall, rounded figure of Edith Dillingham. In 
 his ear sounded always the words of dismissal, cruel 
 but (he owned it) just. " I can earn my living, I, a 
 girl, and I will not marry any man who does not 
 earn his ! " 
 
 Project after project had flashed above the horizon 
 of his mind, arisen, flowered, flushed his temples 
 with hope, only to wither barren and unrealisable. 
 Everythmg broke against the barrier of his father's 
 absorption in the things of another world, and his 
 reluctance to spend even a few of the gold pieces 
 amassed or inherited in this. 
 
 Then Tim annoyed him. Tim liked to have the 
 whole garden to himself, and fussed at Hubert's 
 idleness till they had nearly come to blovvS. He 
 would not have medical books and "cultures" and 
 " dissection " lying about. They disturbed the 
 beauty of his day-dreams. But slowly, in spite of 
 Tim, and because of his father, a resolve grew up 
 within him. After all, this was not life. Edith had 
 spoken true. He lay in a green shade, but he could 
 not, like Tim, be content with the green thoughts of 
 a young man. 
 
 He heard from without the low growl of the cease- 
 less " works" — night-shift and day-shift, the pour of 
 operatives along the streets — mornings, dinner-hours, 
 and stopping-times. The rollicking of young ap- 
 prentices, the sober confidences of men carrying 
 nome their wages to their wives — all made this
 
 64 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 young man out-of-work discontented with himself 
 and ill at ease. Often he would betake himself to 
 the carriage-house. It was now empty. For on the 
 eve of one of the dates fixed for the Final End of All 
 Things, Dr. Salveson had got rid of his horses. 
 Here Tim and Hubert, during a fit of unusual 
 activity on the part of the elder, had fitted up a 
 gymnasium, which, after the first day, Hubert only 
 had used. The young man flung himself on the 
 bars, drew himself up by one hand, then by the other, 
 tried the Indian clubs, and then, after a quarter of 
 an hour's sharp work, threw them down unbreathed. 
 
 " I am * fit,' " he said, ** more shame to me. Edith 
 was right ! " And he went upstairs and knocked at 
 his father's door. 
 
 " Who is there ? You cannot come in. I am 
 busy ! " exclaimed querulously a voice from within. 
 
 " It is 1 — Hubert I " said his son. 
 
 " Well, come in then," this impatiently, " but I 
 warn you I am busy ! " 
 
 Dr. Salveson was seated at his big table, cleared 
 as usual of tablecloth, so that the charts and models 
 might detach themselves clearly. It had not been 
 polished, but retained the rough surface of planed 
 wood. It was furrowed all over here and there with 
 slots, some running parallel to Dr. Salveson's big 
 study chair, and others at right angles. Into these 
 slots slid small convenient metal frames for the 
 support of authorities, commentaries, models, and 
 bas-reliefs. Brass rods also screw^ed into holes, and 
 being made hooked at the top, they carried, ready to 
 the good ex-surgeon's eye, many violently coloured 
 charts and diagrams. At his hand a revolving 
 bookcase, containing a bound set of the famous 
 prophetical periodical, " The Wrath to Come — How, 
 Where, and When ! " 
 
 "Good morning, father," said the son, with his usual 
 deference, " I hate to disturb you, but I must speak 
 to you, on a matter of infinite importance to myself."
 
 HUBERT DISTURBS HIS FATHER 65 
 
 The father signed and glanced at his papers piled 
 a foot high on the great table. 
 
 " Speak quickly, then," he said, " for I am in the 
 midst of a research, which is not only of infinitely 
 more importance to me, but to all the world of poor 
 perishing creatures. Year after year I did my best 
 to patch up their bodies. Now, in the decline of my 
 days, and with 1 know not how few years before me, 
 I am striving to do something to save their souls." 
 
 To this Hubert answered nothing. But he won- 
 dered what relation there might be between soul- 
 saving and that warm hushed parlour in which his 
 father played at rebus and charade with that which 
 none shall know till the Seals are opened. 
 
 " Father," he began, " this is serious for me. I am 
 twenty-three, and 1 have never begun the active 
 business of my profession. I am rusting before I 
 have ever had a chance of being properly sharp. It 
 is true I was house-surgeon for a while over at the 
 North Dene Hospital. But you made me give up 
 that, because of the class of men 1 had to associate 
 with." 
 
 " Mere butchers," cried Dr. Salveson, " not an 
 idea in their heads except ' sharpen the saw and 
 fall to.' " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Hubert ; *' but since then I have 
 done nothing." 
 
 " And pray, sir," said his father, " have I not 
 frequently invited both your elder brother and 
 3^ourself to assist me in my prophetical labours ? 
 It is your own fault if you are idle. Have you 
 ever seen me idle ? There is no need for you to 
 do any work unbecoming of a Salveson of Thorsby 
 Manor. You are here to keep me company in my 
 old age, that is, you and Tim. I have but you two, 
 and what I possess, together with what was left 
 me by my elder brother, will one day be divided 
 between you — that is, if you do as I ask you. And 
 it is no difficult thing tnat I require of you — surely, 
 
 5
 
 66 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 nothing unreasonable — to be your father's com- 
 panion, when the wearisome but sacred labours to 
 which he has vowed himself afford him time for 
 human society ! " 
 
 " Father," said Hubert abruptly, ''what were you 
 doing at twenty-three ? " 
 
 His father stared at him with marked surprise. 
 Never before had either of his sons addressed him 
 in that tone. It was a thing to resent. 
 
 " At twenty-three — I was in India, sir, in South 
 India — busy in a cholera camp, I daresay. They 
 entered us pretty young in those da3^s. But what 
 is that to you ? " 
 
 " Well, I want to go work — cholera camp or else- 
 where," said Hubert. " It is all the same to me. I 
 am not like Tim. I want to be doing things. You 
 gave me a profession " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted his father, " but you know 
 very well that 1 never intended you to practise. 
 It is one thing to take rank as the surgeon of a 
 British regiment, and another to be a mere pill-and- 
 potion dropper, the man with the black bag, the 
 drug-seller with letters after his name that you 
 would be here ! " 
 
 "I do not care," said Hubert desperately, "let 
 me work, father. Let me go. I do not care how 
 or where I begin. I do not ask for any money, 
 onl}^ for your permission. I will make up the pills. 
 I will deliver the bottles — I don't care what I do. 
 Only I want to begin, and if possible with my 
 father's permission." 
 
 " Permission — permission," cried his father, getting 
 angry for the first time ; " I see you have been 
 reading some humanitarian trash — Gospel of Work 
 and so on ! I tell you I only worked because I had 
 to. I was the second son, as you are. But then, I 
 had not such a father as you have. He gave me an 
 education and told me to quit. He was glad to see 
 the back of me. He never meant to give me another
 
 HUBERT DISTURBS HIS FATHER 6^ 
 
 farthing. Nor would he. All was to be for my 
 elder brother. And so it would have been had he 
 not died unmarried. Then I, like a wise man, sent 
 in my papers at once and came home." 
 
 " But 1 want to work," repeated Hubert sullenly. 
 He always stiffened his neck when talked to in that 
 tone. Then, all suddenly, his father burst into flame. 
 
 " You are resisting me — yes, resisting and in- 
 sulting my riper judgment. Moreover, you have 
 taken up already more than three-quarters of an 
 hour of time which I can never recover." 
 
 "I must begin somehow — begin now," continued 
 Hubert sadly ; " if you will not help me, then I 
 must try for myself." 
 
 "Help you — the boy is crazy!" cried the old 
 man, bringing his hand down on a lacquered tin 
 paint-box, from which he was filling in his most 
 recent map of the kingdoms of the earth, with 
 Ireland's place finally arranged to every one's 
 satisfaction as a dependency of Austro-Hungary. 
 " Help you ! Have I ever refused you anything ? All 
 my life ? Speak." 
 
 "You have been very good, father," said Hubert 
 quietly, " but — work of some kind i must have. I 
 am choking here. I cannot stay." 
 
 "The reason — the reason?" cried the old man, 
 starting up, *' come — out with it ! There is a 
 reason ! " 
 
 There was, but Hubert did not give it. 
 
 " Some girl — some woman," cried Dr. Salveson. 
 " I had heard whispers ! But I paid no attention 
 to them. I trusted my boy. I honoured him too 
 much. Is it because of the atheist's daughter — the 
 railway lorryman's wench ? Speak — let me have 
 your reason ! " 
 
 The old man nearly choked in his fury. His 
 prophecy had not enabled him tu foresee that. 
 
 " Yes, it is ! " Hubert answered firmly, now that 
 Edith had been mentioned ; " that is, she will have
 
 6S PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 nothing to do with me. She made me promise to 
 work, and I am going to ! " 
 
 The old prophetical student came out from behind 
 his big table, overturning a model of the stellar 
 universe, designed to show in which particular 
 constellation the Almighty dwelt. It crashed on 
 the floor, but he paid no heed. 
 
 ** Out of my house,"" he shouted, lifting his hand 
 to strike; "out of my house. Kidson wiU send 
 your baggage after you. My law3-er will tell you 
 what m}- plans are for you. But never set 3'our 
 feet across this threshold again — you hear me ? 
 Never — never ! " 
 
 *' I hear 3'ou, father," said Hubert, '* I never will ! "
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOME, SWEET HOilZ ! 
 
 HUBERT passed through the garden. He had 
 hurriedh* flung his books and more precious 
 belongings into a couple of ding^' trunks, the same 
 he had carried to and fro many times to Edinburgh 
 during his college days. He locked them and went 
 out. 
 
 The garden was surprisingly green and bright. 
 It looked almost in\-iting for the first time. Some 
 quality of tears somewhere — April skies, white far- 
 sailing clouds, surprised him. They were not in 
 his eyes, he was sure. He seemed to get a glimpse 
 of Tim's dream world, about which he had never 
 previously cared. 
 
 "Hallo; Spooner!" 
 
 "Hallo, Fat Boy!" 
 
 They exchanged their usual greetings amicabh^ 
 enough. Tim, book in hand, already with his father's 
 manner upon him, was turning awa}' towards an 
 old thatched summer-house, in which "he had rigged 
 himself up a kind of sofa to lounge in and read. 
 
 His brother hailed him. 
 
 "Good-bye, Tim, I'm off I " 
 
 " All right — see you at lunch ? " 
 
 -No!" 
 
 " At dinner then ? " 
 
 " No," said Hubert, slowly coming nearer to his 
 elder brother, who halted disconsolate at being 
 interrupted, a forefinger thrust between the leaves 
 of his thin book of verse. '* No, Tim, lad, Em never 
 coming back. The governor's turned me out !" 
 
 69
 
 70 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Chut, he doesn't mean it," said his brother 
 easily; "you've been riling him, that's all! Stay 
 away from lunch — turn up at dinner as if nothing 
 was the matter. It'll be all right. Got any 
 money ? " 
 
 " Some," said Hubert doubtfully. He had not 
 yet fronted the fact that now he would have to pay 
 for his meals, and even for his bed that night. Tim 
 took his old brown leather wallet out of his pocket, 
 and shook his head dolefully. 
 
 " Doesn't keep us very rich. Hue," he said, after 
 inspection : " hasn't paid me for three months — 
 you neither, I suppose ? Hold on, I'll go down and 
 dig some out of old Kiddy ! She owes us plenty." 
 
 In five minutes he returned with five pounds and 
 some silver. 
 
 *' I told her I knew who paid for the liquor and 
 stuff they guzzle at their Old Cats' Club ! " he 
 exclaimed triumphantl3^ " She wouldn't like father 
 to know about that ! " 
 
 *' Thank you, Fat Boy ! " said the junior, with 
 more gratitude than the look of the words conveys. 
 " What was it all about, at any rate ? Can't I do 
 anything?" inquired Tim. 
 Hubert informed him. 
 
 " Work ? A girl — the little mite with the white 
 pinafore at the Waterside long ago ? Well, you 
 are a fool ! " 
 
 "Very likely!" said Hubert calmly. "I can't 
 help it anyway, old man. I'm not made like you. 
 A book, a pipe, and a garden-seat, and you are all 
 right. I'm not, you see. I'm sick — sick as a dog 
 going to be hanged. I must get work — if it's hod- 
 carrying on the street ! " 
 
 " Humph," quoth sceptical Tim, " you'll precious 
 soon have enough of that ! Mind when you were in 
 the volunteers — fatigue duty in camp, and so on ? 
 But about the girl. Are you in love with her? 
 Honest, now?"
 
 HOME, SWEET HOME! 71 
 
 "Of course I am!" said Hubert slowly. It is 
 very difficult to make tender confessions to your 
 elder brother — sisters are quite different. " I can't 
 help it, that's sure. I can't live without her, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "So you are going to work; dignity of labour, 
 and all that, a shield under which to get at the old 
 man ! Look here, Hue, that's all nonsense, you 
 know. You make love to her as much as ever you 
 want to. Defy old Kiddy and her ugly sour-milk 
 face ! 1 know about her, and so long as you steer 
 clear of father, and don't worry him for money, you 
 can do almost anything you like. I've tried." 
 
 Hubert said something in a low, earnest tone. 
 
 " Won't have you unless you are a worker ! Bah ! 
 And marry her ! Bah, and Bah, and Bah ! / know 
 girls!" 
 
 Hubert kindled a little, yet knowing how useless 
 it was to get angry with Tim. 
 
 "You don't know this girl," he said; "it is of 
 Edith Dillingham I am speaking." 
 
 "Don't mount and ride. Hue," said his brother; 
 " of course every fellow says that — the first time ! " 
 
 "Tim," answered the junior, "about girls you 
 know just what you have got out of books. You 
 read poetry and that. But I'll wager that you never 
 talked a straight hour to a girl in your life. If you 
 have, give me her name. But I've been meeting 
 Edith Dillingham for weeks. And it was she who 
 broke with me — she wouldn't let me speak to her 
 again till I found some work — and told my father ! " 
 
 Tim's eye twinkled. He thought he saw the 
 girl's " game." But he had the strong good sense 
 not to put his thought into words. 
 
 " She's making a corner in herself to bull the 
 market ! " he said, under his breath. For, quaintly 
 mixed with fiction and latter-day verse, this up-to- 
 date young recluse kept an eye on the financial 
 papers, and knew for how much he meant to sell
 
 72 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 the Manor House and grounds to the new Thorsby 
 Deep Sea Dock Company when the time came. 
 Then he would go to Capri, wear a khnono, and be 
 happy ever after. 
 
 " Well," he meditated aloud, " I suppose nothing 
 I can say will stop you now till you've given the 
 thing a trial ? " he said, holding out his hand ; " but 
 look here, I'll have my 'quarterly' out of father this 
 week — 3^ours too, if I can make it work." 
 
 "Thank you, I do not wish a penny of his," 
 answered Hubert. " He told me to go to Bixby 
 
 and Garrett's, the lawyer fellows, but I . As 
 
 things are I can't take any of his money, you 
 see ! " 
 
 " Well, 3/0U have got nothing against me, at any 
 rate," said Tim ; " you can't refuse a loan from me, 
 if there is need. Heaven knows, I've come down 
 on you for a few shiners many a time and oft— on 
 the Rialto, and elsewhere ! " 
 
 " No, Tim ; of course, if I get very much in a hole, 
 I don't mind asking you. I will " 
 
 " You promise ? " 
 
 They clasped each other's hands, tighter than 
 usual, their eyes meeting. 
 
 " Like a shot ! " said Hubert. 
 
 " So long, Spooner 1 " 
 
 "So long. Fat Boy!" 
 
 And these two English brothers parted, as perhaps 
 it is most fitting that brothers, ciifferently but not 
 antagonistically constituted, should part.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 JAMES PRITCHARD AND JAMES PRITCHARD's OFFICE 
 
 HUBERT clicked the iron gate of the Manor 
 House behind him. He had been born there. 
 He had come back there from school. Later, with 
 a tutor, he had read and studied there. From college 
 he had come back three times a year. Now he clicked 
 the gate for the last time, he did not weep. No tear 
 stood anywhere near his eye. There was just a 
 heavy weight about his heart. His head ached — 
 nervously, he knew. A couple of trunks stood 
 roughly packed upstairs. Odd things of no value, 
 belongmg to him, littered the house, in this room 
 and that. But no heart yearned for him, that he 
 knew of. His father was long ago deep in his inter- 
 rupted calculations. Aunt Kidson had always hated 
 him— only Tim — yes — Tim was a good sort. Good- 
 bye, old Tim ! 
 
 And with some feeling of comfort he waved a 
 hand towards the thatched house with the stubbly 
 brown top, where he knew Tim to be ensconced. 
 He would not have done it if he had imagined that 
 Tim was looking. But, of course, Tim was on the 
 sofa, stretched out with his legs on a chair, a book 
 before his nose, his briar by his si^de. 
 
 Now Hubert made a mistake. ^At the moment of 
 that salute towards the summer-house Tim was 
 doing just what he was doing. But being English, 
 the two brothers would have died, almost, rather 
 than let each other see the small display of feeling. 
 Nor did they ever speak of it after. 
 
 Hubert walked steadily down the little lane, turned 
 
 73
 
 74 PRLXCESS PENNILESS 
 
 once to look at the manor, its upper windows glanc- 
 ing in the bright sun of April, and brightened by the 
 reflection off the dancing waves in the tidal river, 
 A servant was pulling down the white blind in his 
 old room. And that was all. He was the Accursed, 
 the son shut out. And his father would never see 
 him afar off, in spite of the big Wra}' telescope with 
 which he swept the stars, hoping to encounter the 
 Inner Inmost where was the Throne, in some addled 
 wisp of primaeval light. 
 
 The fatted calf would never be killed for him. On 
 the other hand Tim would never go out and sulk 
 like the elder brother. He had five pounds in his 
 pocket which Tim had wrenched from the tyrant — 
 the thief who had made his bo3^hood a burden. 
 
 Curious!}^ enough this thought also cheered him. 
 
 '' Tim is a good sort ! " he said aloud, and so 
 turned the corner into King Street. Then he had 
 to pass along Cheviot Road. From Cheviot Road, 
 Bourne Street turned up at right angles, a long red 
 defile, making nighth' a double curve of gas-lamps 
 over the hill that faced the estuar}^ 
 
 But Hubert gripped himself and would not look, 
 though he knew to an exactness where number 109 
 came. And sJie might be entering. She might even 
 be coming his way. But he held steadily on, looking 
 neither to the right nor to the left. 
 
 Women clustered gossiping at doorways and over 
 cottage railings. The}" said, " Look — 3'oung Mr. 
 Salveson, from the manor — 'im as was brought 
 up to be a doctor, like his father. Precious little 
 doctoring he'll need to do — as rich as a gold mine, 
 my dears. And more than thev can ask, as soon 
 as they sell to the Dock Board — m}" old man, he 
 sez so ! " 
 
 But Hubert kept on his way. Young ladies out 
 shopping glanced at him. It was a pit}' that he and 
 his brother — particularly he — did not pay visits or 
 go to dances. They kept themselves so dreadfully 
 
 \
 
 JAMES PRITCHARD 75 
 
 to themselves — these Salvesons. But oh, how hand- 
 some ! And they did sa\', husssh — no, it was impos- 
 sible, a girl like that, living in a house at eight-and- 
 six a week, and her father an atheist. But, of course 
 all that would pass. It was nothing. He would be 
 all the better for it. And so on — and so on. The 
 early-sown-wild-oats theory does not vary in its 
 statement, though it does as to its crop. 
 
 He was going in the direction of Pritchard's 
 big yard, where he was pretty sure to find James 
 Pritchard, senior, and indeed, sole partner, in his 
 office any time from ten till five. True, iVIr. Clarence 
 and Mr. Egerton (named to please their mother, a 
 first cousin to " titled people ") drove up once a 
 day — generally — in their automobiles. But the 
 "Governor" never budged, and had his steak and 
 potatoes done at the cook-house like one of the 
 foremen. 
 
 He it was that Hubert meant to interview. 
 
 Within the great gates of Pritchard's building 
 yard, five thousand workmen earned their bread in 
 the sweat of five thousand brows. Other five 
 thousand were scattered about at various engineer- 
 ing and repairing yards on both sides of the river. 
 
 No woman entered the place, even if her husband 
 were dead or dying. She waited for the stretcher 
 at the gate. James Pritchard had willed it. The 
 yard was for work. Visitors, even, were discouraged. 
 Into one corner ran a filmy spread of railway sidings, 
 and the official railway " lorries " thundered past, 
 drawn often by three or tour horses, when it was 
 a question of guns or armour. " Pritchard's " did 
 a great deal of work for Foreign Powers, and there 
 were clever men known to James Pritchard who did 
 nothing but collect the mone3^ It is little to say 
 that in so doing they took their lives in their hands. 
 
 " Pritchard's " had one formula with such bad 
 payers — chiefl}^ South and Central American 
 rowers.
 
 ^6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Pay up — or your ship will be blown up ! We 
 give 3^ou six months " — or twelve months, as the 
 case might be. Revolutions were a speciality of 
 the firm, but only in Island Republics. James 
 Pritchard knew where he could lay his hand on as 
 tough a set of fellows as the world held. He had 
 made a fortune. And then, because he knew noth- 
 ing equally interesting, he set to work and made 
 another. 
 
 " Well, sir, and who are you ?" 
 
 This was his greeting to Hubert as he entered 
 the " den on stilts." It was hardly an appropriate 
 name. James Pritchard's public office was a place 
 of long and solemn counters, of much carefully 
 selected material for writing, for scraping out writ- 
 ing, for filing letters, and finding when filed. There 
 were mahogany doors, French-polished to a glassy 
 surface. And upon everything reigned that austere 
 and gloomy hush peculiar to every well-regulated 
 "office." 
 
 Behind these doors dwelt chiefs of departments, 
 designers, accountants, heads of sections. Swing- 
 chairs supported their frames ; mirrors reflected 
 their correct visages, each patterned to salaries of 
 from five to twelve hundred a year. 
 
 But James Pritchard's chamber was not of these. 
 The head of works employing twelve to fifteen 
 thousand men (roughly stated) kept his old place. 
 It had been " run up for him " when on a vacant lot 
 of useless riverine marsh he had started the repair- 
 ing of coast-wise "Geordies." Then he built proper 
 " colliers," buying the engines, and taking the risk 
 of selling the finished article. The Crimean War 
 came in the nick of time, when he was within an ace 
 of shutting down. " My last thousand, sir!" James 
 was fond of saying. 
 
 That cleared the yard out in a week. Moreover, 
 he had more orders than he knew what to do with. 
 Soon he was building ironclads for the allied govern-
 
 JAMES PRITCHARD j^ 
 
 meiits, and for the other powers which were streng- 
 thening their marines with a view to eventualities. 
 Then in the American Civil War he had many 
 orders, some of which afterwards cost the country 
 millions of money. 
 
 In the early sixties, James Pritchard, head of this 
 young and growing concern, had deserted the refuge 
 of rough planks out on the edge of the first slip, 
 from which he had surveyed the last of the old-type 
 battleships, and moved to an office of his own 
 designing higher up the yard, away from the 
 glowing clang of the riveting hammers and the 
 falling thunder of the mallets. 
 
 It was a curious place even forty years ago, 
 James Pritchard's office. It was built like a New 
 Guinea house, on high piles, fourteen feet above the 
 ground. It had windows on every side except to- 
 wards the south, where was the mile-long retaining 
 wall of the yard. He had a little telescope mounted 
 on a stand, and (in these latter days) telephones to 
 communicate with the heads of departments, who 
 trembled when they heard his bell ring. And from 
 thence, as from a crow's nest in a beech-tree, he 
 surveyed the new world he had made on Thorsby 
 Marsh. 
 
 Looking about him, Hubert saw stacks of plans, 
 druggist's shopfuls of drawers — some broken as if 
 with a hammer, when for any reason they refused 
 to open quickly enough. He saw a carpetless floor, 
 a rude stove stuffed with broken pencils, bits ot 
 sealing-wax, smashed ink bottles, torn envelopes. 
 Beside it was a poker — if poker that could be called 
 which had no claims to the respectable household 
 name, save that it could poke, being merely a piece 
 of iron bar hooked at one end and thrust into a 
 lump of hard wood at the other. But it weighed 
 seven pounds. 
 
 So whenever James Pritchard was displeased with 
 a pen, a pencil, a letter he was writing, an ink bottle
 
 78 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 which rail untimely dry — anything, in fact — he stuffed 
 the offender into his stove and " mashed it " (the word 
 is the only one) with this poker till his anger had 
 evaporated. It was whispered in the yard that if 
 you looked among the debris, which was taken away 
 at intervals, secretly by night, you would find the 
 braised bones of several heads of departments, and 
 more than one inspector of government work ! 
 
 Of this, however, there is no serious proof. What 
 Hubert saw was a little, greyish man with hair 
 standing erect, partly naturally, and partly because 
 of its owner's constant habit of passing his fingers 
 through it in an ascendant sense. 
 
 " My name, sir, is Hubert Salveson ! " 
 
 ** Hum — any friend of old Salveson's of the 
 manor ?" 
 
 " I am his son," said Hubert. " His younger son," 
 he corrected. 
 
 The little bright grey eyes twinkled from under 
 the peaked thatch of brindle he had on his eye- 
 brows, in place of the usual arches. 
 
 " Well, what do you want with me ? Surgeon- 
 General Salveson's son didn't come here to say 
 'How do?' to James Pritchard. Do you want a 
 job, eh?" 
 
 He laughed, throwing himself back in his chair at 
 the idea. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Hubert promptly, "that is just 
 about what I do want. My father won't let me 
 work ! " 
 
 " By gosh ! '' exclaimed James Pritchard, staring. 
 " Say that again, will you ? " 
 
 " My father won't let me work," said Hubert, 
 " and I mean to work, if I have to put a hod on my 
 shoulder." 
 
 The little grey master of thousands straightened 
 himself suddenly, and set half a dozen telephone 
 bells working one after the other. 
 
 But the message was the same.
 
 JAMES PRITCHARD 79 
 
 " I don't want to see anybody till further orders 
 —Mr. Egerton there ? — well, tell Mr. Egerton 
 to " 
 
 The telephone, being a correct official instrument, 
 no doubt refused to transmit what followed without 
 omission and revision. 
 
 James Pritchard dropped back in his chair, 
 sighed, and looked a long time at the young man 
 before him. 
 
 "This is no hoax?" he asked doubtfully; "re- 
 member, if you aren't Salveson of the Manor's son, 
 I'll have you kicked out b}^ the men in that shed 
 yonder — and you'll remember the circumstances all 
 your life long." 
 
 Hubert shrugged his shoulders slightly. 
 
 " Most of them would know me, though you 
 don't," he said. " I'm a doctor, like my father, and 
 I've done a bit of tinkering at their hurts when I 
 got a chance. Had nothing else to do ; but now I'm 
 not going to live any longer on my father, I am 
 going to work for myself." 
 
 "Well, why come to me?" said James Pritchard, 
 "Ask your father to set you up in a practice. He 
 could buy the swellest over there in East Dene, 
 and never miss the money." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Hubert, "but he won't do it, 
 and I wouldn't take it." 
 
 " Had a row ? " queried the head of Pritchard's, 
 cocking his sharp little head to one side, — " like a 
 blessed cockl3^-oly bird," said his irreverent sons 
 when they got safely outside. 
 
 " I don't see what that has to do with the matter," 
 he went on, " but in fact, my father offered me a 
 choice between idling away my time till he died, or 
 going out by the front gate. And I went ! " 
 
 "Nothing else?" The little grey man's words 
 clinked like pebbles dropped one by one into a 
 tumbler. 
 
 " Yes — a girl," said Hubert.
 
 8o PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 The little grey man whistled a long, low, mellow, 
 whistle, singularly young. 
 
 " Marry ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Of course," said Hubert hotly, " that is, if she'll 
 have me — won't unless I work, she says ! " 
 
 " Ha! " said James Pritchard, scratching his chin, 
 and staring steadily at Hubert, " says that, does 
 she ? Good girl ! Sense in that ! " 
 
 Then he changed the subject briskly, in a way 
 that Hubert was not expecting. 
 
 " Look here," he said, " get your father to sell 
 the manor lot to me instead of to the Dock Board, 
 and I will give you any commission you like to ask 
 that is in reason." 
 
 ** I can take nothing to do with that, sir," said 
 Hubert, eye to eye. 
 
 " Well, then, get him to hold on, and not sell at 
 all — and I'll give you a thousand pounds down and 
 a job. There's no harm in that! " 
 
 ** I can do nothing. I have told you, sir. I am 
 very sorry. I shall not again meet my father." 
 
 " Ha, not till quarter-day, that means — I know 
 how it is when young men quarrel with their 
 fathers ! " 
 
 " No, nor at quarter-day, I have a friend who 
 bosses a gang on the new waterworks. I can 
 always get a job from him ! " 
 
 " How much money have you ? " 
 
 " Five pounds," said Hubert, with a gasp. 
 
 " Get it from your father ? " 
 
 " No, my brother lent it me — gave it me, rather," 
 said Hubert. 
 
 " Quarrel with him ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, Tim and I are pretty good friends." 
 
 "He doesn't want to work, too, does he — no girl 
 in his cup ?" 
 
 " No," said Hubert simply, " he is a literary 
 fellow in a way. He reads and all that. He doesn't 
 fancy work much. He's a barrister! "
 
 JAMES PRITCHARD 8i 
 
 James Pritchard laughed his sharp crackling laugh, 
 something like the fireworks known locally as " rip- 
 raps." 
 
 " Just what I should have expected Salveson 
 would make of his boys," he said, " a barrister who 
 doesn't want ever to have a case, but w^orries over 
 sonnets. And a doctor whom he won't let practise, 
 even when he wants to ! " 
 
 "You know my father?" said Hubert very 
 gravely. 
 
 " I was once his father's groom, and we fought. 
 1 think he licked me. Anyway he never told, but 
 went off to school with a black eye, just turning 
 the colour of a green apple. Oh, there's good stuff 
 in your father. But what's all this prophecy busi- 
 ness, and lecturing with magic lanterns, and so on ? " 
 " That is my father's business — 1 do not interfere 
 with that!" 
 "You don't?" 
 "No, sir!" 
 
 " Well, ha, ha — you're a new type of son ! I 
 wish mine were built more on these designs. Work 
 — girl to work for, speak no harm of your father, 
 even when the old man kicks you downstairs ! 
 Hang it all. We must do something for you — now, 
 what's your idea ? Be sharp about it ; for there 
 are some dozen heads of departments, each as 
 clever as Mister Gladstone, prancing about under 
 the stork legs of this old shanty, and trying to 
 keep from speaking to each other, so as not to 
 sw^ear. Now, what do you want ? A fellow like 
 you hasn't come to James Pritchard, asking him to 
 do the thinking for you as well, I'll wager ! " 
 
 "You have here five thousand men, and about a 
 dozen accidents a day," began Hubert at once, 
 calmly and clearly. " Across the river you have 
 more. Now I am a surgeon — six months se-nior 
 assistant at the accident ward over yonder at East 
 Dene, two Edinburgh degrees, professor's dresser, 
 
 6
 
 82 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 and so forth. You have to pay a lot for the hospital, 
 I know ; still more for your accident insurances. 
 Now, half the men who go to hospital play off. 
 What you want is somebody on the spot, who will 
 be here at six and leave at six. First-aid surgeon 
 and doctor, that's the idea — who will save you half 
 your cases of illness or injury, and report exactly 
 on each man's case, give evidence in the courts 
 if the thing is exaggerated to stretch out the 
 damages " 
 
 " And how much do you want for all that?" the 
 boss of Pritchard's lifted his grey and brindle head, 
 cocking a cunning eye at the tall young man. " Leave 
 it to me, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No," said Hubert, " I v/ant two pounds a week 
 to begin with, till you find out if I pay you, a good 
 little fire-brick operating room, the usual appliances, 
 my medicines and bandages, of course. My instru- 
 ments I have. Tim will send them to me ! " 
 
 " Two pounds a week is no great shakes for a 
 doctor," said James Pritchard ; " my boys spend 
 more than that on petrol ! But still, all that runs 
 into money. I think we will blood you first. There 
 is a job as timekeeper at a pound a week which you 
 can have. Will you take it ?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Hubert, " not if afterwards I am to 
 be the yard doctor, I could not keep the respect of 
 the men," 
 
 " Good, again," said James Pritchard. " Off j'^ou 
 go — you are engaged on trial. Let those fellows 
 come up, else they will bite!" 
 
 He scribbled something on a paper, ending with 
 a scrawl, which represented a very powerful signature 
 indeed. 
 
 " There, doctor, I shall expect you to be in the 
 office at six to-morrow. Tell them from me to have 
 a room with a fire for you ! And see here, bring 
 me an estimate of your requirements. Now off with 
 you ! "
 
 JAMES PRITCHARD 83 
 
 Hubert vanished down the iron stairs which led 
 to the sanctum of shipbuilding omnipotence. 
 
 James Pritchard watched him stride across the 
 rough ground of the yard, not picking his way, but 
 taking everything as it came. 
 
 " I married at twenty-one — young fool — my first 
 
 wife — ah " he murmured, pausing to think, ** and 
 
 he wants to work — won't do nothing on his father's 
 money. Lord, I wish I had a boy like that. But 
 we must blood him — yes, blood him strong ! We 
 mustn't spoil him — his nose very hard to the grind- 
 stone, for a bit. Come up, you ! " 
 
 Hubert passed the slip of paper to the gloomy 
 cashier at the desk to which he was directed. He 
 was treated as of some importance. He had been 
 three-quarters of an hour with the boss, and had not 
 been thrown out of the window. 
 
 " He must have been ordering an ironclad worth 
 a million at the least — the agent of some good solvent 
 government ! " So ran the report. 
 
 " What," said the Scots cashier, " enter ye on the 
 books— payment every Saturday — may 1 ask as 
 what ? What's your position in the yard ? " 
 
 " Resident Surgeon ! " said Hubert very curtly, 
 
 " Gosh ! " said the Scotch cashier, for once startled 
 out of his phlegm.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HUBERT TAKES HOLD 
 
 AS Hubert moved smartly across the yard, he 
 kept his eyes about him. Here one and there 
 another nodded to him. In a stained and dripping 
 shed he saw a young apprentice handhng a white 
 lead mixer without gloves. 
 
 "Here, stop that," he said; "where are your gloves? 
 Don't have any ? I must see about that. Come to 
 the office to-morrow at half-past six — you hear ? " 
 
 An older man, evidently in charge of the job, 
 moved up. He looked the young man over with a 
 surly expression. 
 
 "What's that? What's your business with that 
 boy?" he demanded. 
 
 " Just the same as my business with you," said 
 Hubert, resolved to grasp his nettle at once, and to 
 treat the five thousand men of Pritchard's yard as 
 he would his ward in the Infirmary. " Let me see 
 your hands." 
 
 " I'll let you feel them in your eye, if you give me 
 any lip ! " said the great fellow, clenching his fists at 
 the word. 
 
 " Ah, you are a reduced foreman," said Hubert, 
 with calmness. " I have heard they put them to 
 the paint-mixing. I am Doctor Salveson, resident 
 surgeon to this yard. For any further information 
 you can apply to Mr. Pritchard. Let me see your 
 fingers — I thought so. Come and see me to-morrow 
 in the office at six-fifteen, and don't keep me waiting. 
 Meantime get on your gloves, you and the whole 
 gang. You will die in about four months, if you 
 
 84
 
 HUBERT TAKES HOLD 85 
 
 don't. You may, as it is — from the look of your 
 finger-tips. You will have to go to hospital, my 
 man, with those nails ! " 
 
 And he left them staring after him. 
 
 But he did not know that James Pritchard's little 
 telescope was on him, and that the grey old badger 
 in the "glass-house on stilts" was rubbing his hands 
 gleefully as he squinted along the tube. 
 
 " Made Mobsy Higgs show his paws and get out 
 his gloves! He will tumble, never fear! Right 
 once more, James ! Testimonials no good — all lies 
 — put them in the fire — dance on them ! Talk to a 
 man and look him in the face while he is answering. 
 That's the way to engage good men ! Hey, you — 
 next ! " 
 
 Hubert came out on a clearer network of rails, 
 spreading fan-shaped away to various " lies " and 
 " sidings." He was just in time to see a railway 
 delivery lorry drawn by three horses tear madly 
 across, driving athwart the push-push of the " bunt- 
 about " engines, and ultimately stopped upon one of 
 the long trains of loaded cars. A granite post on 
 the edge of the quay received the driver, who had 
 been thrown off, after having valorously stuck to his 
 horses till the last moment. 
 
 The man lay stunned on the hard kerb as Hubert 
 ran up. 
 
 " One of them railway lorries — started by some 
 fellow throwing red cinders out of one of our 
 shunting engines. He'll get it when 'James ' hears. 
 What — if it isn't owd Ned Dillam, the out-and- 
 outer ! Well, he'll have found out by now whether 
 he or the parson is right ! " 
 
 " Stand out of the way," cried Hubert, excited to 
 a cold professional serenity by the rush of life and 
 death about him. " I am the doctor. Better shoot 
 that leader horse. Cut the harness off the others. 
 Open the way there ! "
 
 86 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 And he was by Ned Dillingham's side. 
 
 He was unconscious, dreadfully bruised, the blood 
 trickling from under his tight, crisp, grey-sprinkled 
 hair. But it was his laboured breathing, and a certain 
 looseness about the arm which chiefly occupied him. 
 In a minute he had him stripped, and was in need of 
 bandages. 
 
 "Any about the place? What, that room there? 
 Young Mr. Pritchard's dressing-room ! There ought 
 to be some shirts there. Bring them ! " 
 
 He tore the unstarched parts into strips, and 
 bound Ned Dillingham's right arm, lifting the 
 shoulder where the great muscles had been torn. 
 
 A very smart young man hastily approached. 
 He had left his motor in the newly erected shed, 
 and he was going towards the private dressing- 
 room when he caught sight of the throng. 
 
 "What — what are you doing with my shirts?" 
 he cried. " I need one, I tell you — I shall not have 
 time to go home to dress." 
 
 " This man needs them more," said Hubert, 
 stitching away with a little crooked needle he had 
 taken out of a pocket case of instruments in black 
 leather, stamped with " Young, Edinburgh," inside 
 the cover. 
 
 " But the man ought to have been taken out at 
 once — there are stretchers for the purpose. We 
 pay for the hospital," cried the young man, furious 
 at the loss of his evening wear. " Who are 
 you, anyway?" he cried, not recognising the busy 
 surgeon. 
 
 " I am attending to my business," said Hubert, 
 restraining a strong tendency to add, " and pray 
 attend to yours." 
 
 " Not even one of our own men," growled young 
 Egerton, " a railway employe." 
 
 But he was growing ashamed of his attitude, all 
 the same, in face of those white wrappings. 
 
 " Here," called out Hubert, looking about him for
 
 HUBERT TAKES HOLD ^7 
 
 the first time ; " any one got a pocket-knife with a 
 spring catch ? " 
 
 " Hallo, Salveson ! " said Egerton Pritchard, recog- 
 nising him, " what are you doing here ? " 
 
 " Never mind that just now," said Hubert ; " have 
 you got a knife ? " 
 
 Presently, he scarcely knew how, Egerton Prit- 
 chard was kneeling and acting as Hubert's assistant. 
 They finished just as the carrying couch came up at 
 a trot. 
 
 " This will never do ! " cried Hubert; "straps far 
 too tight. Got a rug or anything to put under his 
 head ? Yes, fetch it ! Thanks, that will do ! " 
 
 Then he added : " And all this shall be changed 
 before I am a week older. Stand back there, men ! " 
 
 "Now, Salveson," said young Pritchard, "what 
 are you doing here?" 
 
 " I'm yard doctor,'' said Hubert, smiling quietly ; 
 " I begin to-morrow morning, and you shall help me 
 to get some decent shop to keep things in. Come 
 along about six, will you ?" 
 
 " Oh, what ! Me !" said Egerton Pritchard, laughing. 
 " Why, I'm never down till about noon — if then ! " 
 
 " You will be to-morrow morning," said Hubert. 
 " I want some one with brains, and who can order 
 about the slow coaches. These writing fellows will 
 obstruct like— Irish M.P.s!" 
 
 " All right," said Egerton, " I'll try if I can wake 
 in time. But does my father know about all this ? " 
 
 " He appointed me half an hour ago." 
 
 " Holy Mercedes ! " said Egerton, aghast. " Did 
 you mesmerise him? I wish you would show me 
 how." 
 
 "So long!" said the young doctor. "I must see 
 my patient home. I don't really enter till to-morrow 
 morning." Then a new thought struck him. " I 
 must get off a wire," he said, " to Tim, my brother, 
 to send down my instruments and surgical traps. 
 Or perhaps "
 
 88 PRINXESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Perhaps what ? " said young Egerton Pritchard. 
 
 " Your auto all in trim ? " 
 
 " Of course I " said the owner proudly. He lived 
 for that. 
 
 " Would you mind running up to the manor, 
 asking for Tim, and bringing them do\\Ti yourself? 
 There's a folding table, and a lot of chemical traps. 
 You ma}- need two trips." 
 
 " I don't care a hang if it takes me all night," said 
 Egerton, laughing again; ''3-ou've done for my 
 dinner an^-wa}-. You'll have to help me with the 
 lie to-morrow. I'm delighted to do an3'thing for the 
 man that got over mv old governor." 
 
 He began to find it amusing. 
 
 •' Here she is ! " And they were at the door ot 
 the corrugated iron shed, where reposed the 60 h.-p. 
 Mercedes, since well known to fame. 
 
 Hubert, his heart singing within him, drunk with 
 responsibilit}-, yet cool as only a bom surgeon can 
 be, shouted to the men who were carr3-ing off Ned 
 Dillingham. 
 
 " Easy \\"ith that pole. Get a man not quite so 
 tall. That will even things a bit. I'm going ahead 
 to see that his wife is not taken by surprise. Tramp, 
 men ! " He turned to Egerton, who was bringing 
 the great motor-car out of its shed as easily as a 
 trick bicycle. "Now, then," he said, "please don't 
 run over an^'body, but drop me within five minutes 
 at the end of Bourne Street, along the Che\-iot 
 Road." 
 
 " You shall be there in two — I don't care if they 
 fine me for it." 
 
 And the cream-coloured Mercedes shot down the 
 wide, finely macadamised shore road like a blonde 
 thunderbolt, trailing mellow dust-clouds behind it, 
 punctuated here and there xs-ith blue policemen, like 
 petrified marks of exclamation.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE OUT-AND-OUTER COMES HOJIE 
 
 AT 109, Bourne Street, oft the Che\'iot Road, 
 Hubert knocked. The 3^oung man was 
 trembling now — he who had been so peremptory 
 and forceful in the yard. Happih-, it was Edith 
 who opened the door. But her mother was behind 
 her, on the way upstairs to take off" her bonnet. She 
 had come in with her daughter Sue. The}' had met 
 on the street, and a strapful of ragged books was 
 13'ing on the mat. Sue, holding a knitted garter in 
 her mouth, was calml}- adjusting her foot-gear, 
 sitting on the second lowest step. 
 
 Edith stood fair in the doorway as if to hide all 
 this— perhaps also in the fear that Hubert Salveson 
 had suddenly gone mad. She had heard of such 
 things. But that 3'oung man, b}' a powerful eff'ort, 
 had become again the professional man performing 
 a painful but necessary- dut\'. 
 
 " 1 beg 3'our pardon, Miss Dillingham," he said, 
 lifting his hat, ** but I am the resident surgeon at 
 Pritchard's yard and works. I am sorr}- to say 
 that your father has had a slight accident " 
 
 But from the dusk of the passage, overturning the 
 hat-stand, and throwing Edith aside, surged a new 
 woman, whom none of them had ever seen — Emma 
 Dillingham calling for her husband I 
 
 "He is dead — dead — m}- Edward — m}- Edward I " 
 she cried ; '' oh, Mr. Hubert, this is a judgment on 
 me. I should have told him — I know I should I I 
 never kept aught from him before ! " 
 
 89
 
 go PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 None had ever heard the out-and-outer called 
 Edward before. 
 
 " No, no," said the young man, " I was on the 
 spot. I gave him the first attentions. He is only 
 stunned. He will be here in a few minutes. I must 
 beg of you to be calm. You must be yourself. 
 Mr. Dillingham was unconscious when I left him, 
 but he may have come to himself with the air and 
 the movement. Get a bed ready quickly, please — 
 no, not a feather bed — yes, Miss Edith, a good 
 mattress ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dillingham sank moaning into her chair. 
 She was a large, soft, affectionate woman. Her 
 tears flowed easily, which was the better for her. 
 
 " Oh, I know he is dead — it is a judgment on 
 me !" she sobbed. 
 
 ** Mrs. Dillingham, I assure you, on my word, 
 that with care there is nothing to fear except a 
 somewhat long detention indoors. May I see the 
 room ? Thank you ! " 
 
 Edith was at the height of the occasion in a 
 moment. For a long moment she had stood regard- 
 ing Hubert fixedly. But all at once, comprehending 
 that this idler had suddenly found his manhood and 
 would have to be obeyed, she set herself to help him 
 as best she could. 
 
 She "bustled" Sue, as that young person indig- 
 nantly expressed it, in short emphatic sentences. 
 
 " Take away that bag — clear up these crumbs. 
 Come and help air those sheets. Don't stand gaping 
 there like Miss Keck ! Give mother the smelling 
 salts and leave her alone. When they bring in 
 father, stay with her, and do what you can ! Keep 
 telling her that it is all right. Then I am going to 
 lock the kitchen door, till we get him settled." 
 
 " Oooooh-booooo !" said Sue, suddenly snatching 
 at her apron, " father's dead ! I know he is ! " 
 
 " Nothing of the sort," snapped Edith ; " did you 
 not hear what the doctor said ? "
 
 THE OUT-AND-OUTER COMES HOME 91 
 
 " The who ? He's not a doctor ! It's only young 
 Salveson from the manor ! Ooooh-hooo, father's 
 dead ! What shall I do ? " 
 
 " You'll do as I tell you, miss ! " commanded her 
 sister ; " there, stop crying ! Go and keep mother 
 quiet if you can. Here they come ! Now ! " 
 
 And even as she spoke, the foremost of them that 
 carried Ned Dillingham were clicking the latch of 
 the little green gate before the door. 
 
 Edith swiftly turned the key of the kitchen door, 
 and, amid the loud wailing of Mrs. Dillingham, 
 alternately throwing herself against the panels, anon 
 sinking back into her big padded chair to sob the 
 easier, the out-and-outer was carried up to the first 
 floor back. It had been Edith's own room, and she 
 had had just time to sweep all the ornaments and 
 little knick-knacks off the drawers and dressing-table 
 into a big dust-sheet, so that when Hubert entered, 
 it was as bare and clean as an hospital private ward. 
 
 Hubert, in short, sharp words, the like of which 
 Edith had never heard from him, expressed his 
 admiration— as any surgeon might. Strictly so. 
 
 Then Edith went downstairs to show the men 
 out. Hubert was busy above. All Bourne Street 
 was at its several doors, looking towards Number 
 109. Bourne Street was well accustomed to these 
 solemn processions — the little tent of white canvas 
 over the upturned face — the swathed figure, so 
 terrible ! At whose door would it stop ? Or the 
 next similar convoy of carriers, all marching in step ? 
 Then the men, with their own names in the lottery 
 box of chance, wondering if their turn would come 
 next ! Small wonder their faces were sober and 
 unjovial as, in silence, they relieved each other at 
 the poles. 
 
 " From the yard ! — From the yard ! Who is it ? 
 Ned Dillingham, the out-and-outer?" 
 
 So ran the rumour, swift as the lightning, from 
 group to group.
 
 92 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 And no preachers — Church, Methodist, or Presby- 
 terian — nor yet Salvation Army captain at any street 
 corner could have preached a better sermon than 
 did the atheist that day, as they bore him with his 
 toes turned towards the flushed skies of heaven, 
 and his head hidden under the little merciful V of 
 the tent. 
 
 " Have you any neighbour who can help you 
 to-night ? " asked Hubert, as they arranged the 
 sufferer on his couch, and the young man began to 
 undo the bandages for a more complete examination 
 and treatment. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Edith hastil3^ She had a reputa- 
 tion for "keeping herself to herself," and wanted 
 none of the gossip of Bourne Street. " I can do 
 all that is necessary, I feel sure. I and my sister, 
 that is. She will do what I tell her. I will keep 
 her from school." 
 
 " Get me some old linen," he said ; " is that your 
 mother I hear ? Perhaps it will be better to let her 
 come now, and assure herself that he is breathing. 
 That will get the worst over for her, and after- 
 wards — well, we must either keep her out, or find 
 her something to do ! But quiet we must have." 
 
 As Edith went down the stairs, through the little 
 fanlight above the doorway she saw something swift 
 glance past. It must have stopped suddenly — 
 somewhat further on. For it was there again 
 before she had reached the bottom step. From 
 one end of Bourne Street to the other there came 
 the sound of running, shouting children. 
 
 The knocker sounded faintl}^ wielded by a 
 nervous hand. There were no bells in the Moon- 
 Washington eight -and -sixpence -a -week houses. 
 Two young men stood without. One was guarding 
 the most magnificent automobile in the northern 
 shires. He looked up from his glasses, and said, 
 " By Jove ! " quite audibly. 
 
 The other stood on the doorstep, a more than
 
 THE OUT-AND-OUTER COMES HOME 93 
 
 plump young man, clean-shaven, with a look as it 
 he had put on a hat that was not his own — indeed, 
 several sizes too small. 
 
 " My brother Hubert — Dr. Hubert Salveson — is he 
 here ? " he asked all in a gasp, as if out of breath. 
 Edith nodded, and then spoke. 
 "They brought home my father, who has had a 
 bad accident at the yard — he is with him now ! " 
 Behind her Edith shut the little glass door, which 
 Ned Dillingham had put up himself — for style, the 
 neighbours said. She could hear the wailing in 
 the kitchen, and Sue's shrill " Don't, mother, don't ; 
 then, oh, don't ! " 
 
 " Can I do anything ? " said the young man, still 
 hesitating on the doorstep, one foot playing a kind 
 of tattoo. 
 
 " I think not," said Edith ; " I must go to my 
 mother. It has been a shock to her — she — she is 
 not quite herself yet ! " 
 
 " Please tell my brother first that we have all 
 his traps here— in Mr. Pritchard's touf-toul. If he 
 wants anything he can come down and get it. We 
 are taking everything he doesn't want direct to the 
 works ! " 
 
 " I will tell him.*' 
 
 And she flew upstairs again. Hubert was doing 
 something with a small syringe of silver and glass. 
 
 " 1 do not want him to come to himself yet," he 
 explained; "there is something to be done to his 
 shoulder which will hurt him." 
 
 "Your brother is below with all your medical 
 things in Mr. Pritchard's automobile ! " she said. 
 ** If you want anything, I was to say that you were 
 to go down for it." 
 
 " Keep that bandage there firmly, then," he an- 
 swered, " and do not let him turn his head !" 
 
 In a minute Hubert was back, his hands full ot 
 bandages, splints, and a little locked case which he 
 carried carefully.
 
 94 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Good-night, Salveson — I mean doctor," cried 
 the young owner of the creamy Mercedes ; " I'll 
 try and be on hand to-morrow morning. That's 
 not off, I presume ? " 
 
 "No, certainly not; it will be all right here 
 before then. He will have an uneasy night, of 
 course, but I shall be at the yard all right by six." 
 
 "So long!" 
 
 " Good-bye, Tim — thank you, old man ! " 
 
 " That's all right ! " 
 
 And before one could crack finger-and-thumb the 
 cream-coloured racer had turned to the left into 
 Cheviot Road, and half Bourne Street was running 
 to look at what, by the time they got to the corner, 
 was no more than a whiff of spent petrol, a double 
 puff of amber dust, and a black speck fast receding 
 into nothing against the tawny rose of the western 
 sky.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE TABLES BEGIN TO TURN 
 
 THE morning hours make for confidences — that 
 is, if people can keep awake. I know a man 
 who never becomes the half-angel, half-impish 
 changeling which his initials suggest to all the 
 world, till he has passed the " wee short hour ayont 
 the twal." Then he walks the floor like a tiger, and 
 coruscates. It is good then to be silent 
 
 There was a tiny fire in the old-fashioned register 
 grate in the big back bedroom at 109, Bourne Street, 
 On the bed Ned Dillingham lay, still unconscious, 
 and moaned. The shoulder had been put as far into 
 place as possible. Time, good nursing, and better 
 bandaging, with (afterwards) skilled massage, must 
 do the rest. 
 
 Mrs. Dillingham, besotted with emotion, was in 
 bed, asleep. Sue drowsed in an armchair, her feet 
 gathered up under her, and a shawl over her head. 
 Hubert and Edith sat on small chairs, facing each 
 other by the bedside. The out-and-outer turned 
 and turned, moaning. 
 
 " He is not suffering," Hubert reassured her ; " it 
 will be worse when he wakes. I will leave you 
 some drops for him to take." 
 
 She looked up quickly : 
 
 ** You are not going ? " she said, her look travelling 
 from the sufferer to the sleeping Sue. 
 
 It meant — " to leave me alone ! " 
 
 He understood, and added quickly: "I do not 
 anticipate any immediate change. I shall look in 
 to-morrow morning, as soon as I can get away. 
 
 95
 
 96 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 I have some men to see at the yard at six. Your 
 brother will help you— no, I forgot — he has to be at 
 his work by seven, hasn't he ? But if you like, I 
 will get a nurse." 
 
 "No — no — no!" cried Edith. " I can do all that 
 is necessary for my father. He will listen to me 
 when he won't to any one else." 
 
 "Very well," said Hubert, "I think you will do 
 all right. Your sister is a strong girl for her age ? " 
 
 Then, without waiting for an answer, he talked 
 about diet. 
 
 Edith interrupted as he was treating of the making 
 of strong soups. 
 
 " But you will be wanting to go home. You have 
 had no sleep. And if you have to be at the yard at 
 six — that does not give you much time. I think I 
 can get along all right now," 
 
 Hubert glanced at his watch. 
 
 "I will wait half an hour yet," he said; "it is 
 very probable he may need a sedative. His tem- 
 perature is rising slightly." And he touched the 
 broad, deeply trenched brow, upon which the sweat 
 was beginning to pearl. 
 
 " Then you will go home ? " pursued Edith. 
 
 " I have no home just at present," he said, not 
 looking at her, but arranging a perfectly admirable 
 ligature. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Edith almost gasped. 
 She turned to Sue. She had not wakened. 
 
 Hubert faced her, suddenly erect. 
 
 " I mean," he began, speaking quietly, and with 
 the manner he had kept up ever since he had felt 
 that curious tremulous sinking of the heart just as 
 he knocked at the door — " I mean that my father 
 has turned me out because I was determined to go 
 to work. I went and made a proposition to Mr. 
 Pritchard at the yard. He appointed me doctor at the 
 yard. To-morrow I will look for lodgings. They 
 must be modest. I asked only two pounds a week."
 
 THE TABLES BEGIN TO TURN 97 
 
 "Oh!" said Edith, with a sharp intake of breath. 
 She sat up and stared at him, not daring to ask the 
 question that was on the tip of her tongue. 
 
 Then, mastering herself, she said more cahnly : 
 " My father gets more than that — just as foreman 
 on the railway quays. I thought a doctor " 
 
 " I was a beggar — I was not a chooser ! " said 
 Hubert, smiling. 
 
 "And what do you mean to do to-night ?" asked 
 Edith, a little anxiously. 
 
 "This morning, you mean ?" he smiled brightly. 
 " Oh, I shall go down to the yard, and perhaps the 
 night watchman will find me a place to lie down on. 
 It won't be long- till six o'clock." 
 
 " More than four hours — and frosty ! " said Edith, 
 looking out of the window at the winking gaslamps. 
 "You will do nothing of the sort. If you don't 
 mind a shakedown in Will's room, I can easily wake 
 you in time for the yard. I have always done that 
 for my father." 
 
 " If it is really not too much trouble," began 
 Hubert. But already the girl was gone. Sue 
 moved sleepily on her chair, blinked at the unaccus- 
 tomed man sitting with his finger on her father's 
 pulse. Then she began to cry. " Ooo-ooo ! He is 
 dead ! I know he is dead ! " 
 
 "Hush!" said Hubert imperiously; "he is only- 
 asleep. You must not waken him. See, I will 
 make you comfortable." And he pushed a second 
 chair under her feet, wrapped a shawl about them, 
 and lowered the red cotton cushion to fit her head. 
 
 " That is the way we do at the hospital," he said ; 
 " I am the doctor, you know. You have got to do 
 what I say." 
 
 The girl's sleep-heavy sobbing hushed, her breath- 
 ing lengthened, and she was asleep in five minutes 
 Hubert stood by the bedsideregarding her little black 
 tousle of hair on the red cushion. The out-and-outer 
 awakened. He looked about him drowsily also.
 
 98 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 '* It's all right," he said, in a slow, thick, stifled 
 voice. *' Parsons are all wrong. It was just like 
 sleep, a blue sleep — and me running without legs ! " 
 
 Hubert held to his lips the little graduated glass, 
 and bade him drink. 
 
 " Your health, mate ! " said the out-and-outer, 
 looking at him with unseeing eyes. Then Edith 
 entered, and Hubert laid her father's head down 
 with professional care. He was asleep again. 
 
 " He will do now for some hours, I think," he 
 murmured. "You should try to get a little sleep. 
 Draw those two chairs together. See how I have 
 settled your sister." 
 
 Edith smiled and shook her head slightly, as if 
 putting the proposition aside. She was now the 
 ofticer on deck. 
 
 " Go next door," she said. " There is an old 
 couch in the corner. It used to be in mother's room 
 when she was so ill ; but it is nice and soft. I have 
 
 often But be quick, Dr. Salveson — the candle 
 
 is burning. Never fear, I will awaken you in lots 
 of time." 
 
 He went. He threw himself down, and, quite 
 contrary to his expectation, he had followed Sue's 
 example before he knew it. 
 
 Edith moved into the vacant place beside her 
 father's pillow. She sighed a little happy sigh as 
 she heard the creak of the couch in Will's room. 
 
 " I couldn't bear he should go down to that horrid 
 yard at this time of the morning," she said, speaking 
 to Hubert's graduated medicine-glass. 
 
 Then a smile which never man had seen came 
 over her life, like a cloud passing over a wet rose- 
 garden, the colour flashing out with the coming ol 
 the sun. 
 
 "Did he do it for my sake?" she thought. "I 
 wonder ! " 
 
 All the same, she knew.
 
 THE TABLES BEGIN TO TURN 99 
 
 With a crescent wonder Hubert awoke to un- 
 familiar surroundings. It was beginning to be light 
 without. He lay half undressed on a couch covered 
 with faded blue and white striped chintz. A young 
 man was l3^ing huddled up on a bed in the opposite 
 corner, a patchwork quilt up to his ears. There was 
 a light tapping at the door — light, and yet a signal 
 which would not be denied. The young man with 
 the bristly head and prominent ears stirred, 
 grumbled, and broke out in denunciation. 
 
 " It's not time yet, Ede ! Can't you let a fellow 
 sleep?" 
 
 He had it now. He knew where he was. 
 
 ** Thank you," Hubert said quickly, " I shall be 
 downstairs in a minute." 
 
 He was in Edith Dillingham's house, attending on 
 her father, who had had an accident. Dear Edith — 
 
 oh, the dar No, that was not the key. He had 
 
 to begin in a more professional tone. 
 
 By this time he had combed his hair, washed with 
 haste and dried with dispatch, snapped on collar 
 and tie, and was ready. Edith stood on the little 
 landing. Light was filtering in from the front room, 
 and he could hear the regularly checked sound of 
 a bronchial sleeper — her mother, without a doubt. 
 
 "Good mornmg. Miss Edith," he said, "how is 
 your patient now ? Ah, that is good. I will take just 
 one look at him before I go down to the works ! " 
 
 That was the style he had decided upon. There 
 was pride in saying it, too. James Pritchard could 
 not have mentioned " the works " more proudly, 
 even in the early days of the first " Crow's Nest." 
 
 The out-and-outer promised to fulfil his name as 
 a patient. He had slept lightly but sufficiently, had 
 taken his draught, had asked quite calmly for 
 something to drink, had taken it, and dropped oft 
 to sleep. Hubert gave some directions, with a 
 vague continuous imitation of his old professor's 
 manner, to the chief " sister " of the ward.
 
 100 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Then he passed downstairs — to be surprised out 
 of all reason. In the kitchen a bright little fire was 
 blazing between the bars of the range. The brasses, 
 turncocks, even the handles winked. A kettle was 
 singing in a friendly fashion. There was also 
 a little table daintily laid out — for one. Under 
 a twisted white napkin were two eggs. Bread and 
 butter was ready cut on a plate, according to the 
 fashion of the country. At his elbow a cottage 
 loaf on a huge wooden platter obscured half the 
 china on the "dresser." 
 
 The teapot crouched under a worked cosy. It 
 was all like magic. Edith Dillingham stood in the 
 doorway, her white working apron and high- 
 gathered hair emphasising her slight, graceful 
 figure. 
 
 " How did you manage it?" he asked, surprised 
 out of his dictatorial manner. " Oh, Edith ! " 
 
 He took a step towards her, but in a moment she 
 had whipped her hands behind her, and was re- 
 treating into the dusk of the lobby. 
 
 From half-way up the stairs he heard her say : 
 " I think you will find everything you want, 
 doctor ! " 
 
 The next moment her light foot was pattering on 
 the wax-cloth which connected the oasis of the 
 stair-head mat with the carpeting in the large first- 
 floor chamber where lay her father. 
 
 A clock with the inscription "John Helme, 
 Hexam, 1790," in a semi-circle above the dial, 
 ticked heavily, as if fully aware of its eight-day 
 dignity, at his left hand. Hubert was surprised 
 that he could eat with such appetite. He did not 
 remember that he had gone practically without food 
 all the preceding day. He finished two eggs and 
 laid the cottage loaf under heavy contribution. 
 
 ^^Ting!'' John Helme, late of Hexam's eight- 
 day masterpiece, had informed the latest recruit of 
 Pritchard's yard that it was time to be going.
 
 THE TABLES BEGIN TO TURN loi 
 
 Hubert received the same information in other 
 ways. The walls of Moon-Washington houses are 
 not thick, nor their policies extensive. He could 
 hear — not indeed the clang of the wooden shoon 
 (for the yardsmen and builders do not go to work 
 in clogs, like mere operatives), but a steadily 
 increasing tramp of heavily tacketed boots on 
 concreted pavements. 
 
 *' Hey, Johnnie ! Hey, owd cove ! * When 
 Johnnie went marching home,' Owd Pritch 'ad guv 
 'im the sack ! " 
 
 "Come, make haste, lad! Thee's alius tyin' thy 
 shoe ! " 
 
 Which last sally, for some esoteric reason, never 
 failed to raise a laugh. 
 
 Hubert wished Edith would come down, but 
 nevertheless, his heart was proud within him. For 
 the first time in his life he was " going to work." 
 Two pounds a week and find himself! It was not 
 much. But he was a working-man. He kept him- 
 self. He could even afford to have a little home like 
 this— a little fire, glinting bright and early, and 
 
 " Come along, or you'll be locked out ! " 
 
 The words were not applied to him, but they 
 applied nevertheless. No time for day-dreaming 
 now. He was one of the others. He opened the 
 door and went out. The sun, into whose last beams 
 he had seen the cream-coloured car roll so swiftly 
 the night before, was now greeting him over the 
 chimney-crowded ridges of East Dene, through 
 a russet fulminance of smoke, fallen earthward with 
 the crisp stillness of the morning. 
 
 He buttoned the overcoat which Tim had brought 
 him, for the chill was not yet out of the air, and 
 strode down Bourne Street, legging it yardward 
 with the best. He turned once to look at the lace- 
 curtained windows of 109. 
 
 " I did it for her ! " he said ; " but I like it fot 
 itselfr
 
 I02 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 There spoke the man. 
 
 And behind the unswerving straightness of the 
 lace folds, two lips that belonged to the prettiest 
 girl in Thorsby murmured, even as they smiled : 
 " He did it for me ! " 
 
 And that was the woman, who, in love, makes 
 nor plus nor minus.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 LATE TO BED AND EARLY TO RISE 
 
 PRITCHARD'S yard never quite slept. There 
 were processes which had to be watched night 
 and day, castings to be tended like newborn infants, 
 temperatures to be watched, and much else. All 
 these at ordinary times. But when there came a 
 real pressure, then on their poles the huge electric 
 lights flashed, blazed, drooped, hissed, and buzzed 
 all night long to the fall of the hammers and the 
 thunder of machinery. 
 
 Now it was a quiet, average time. James Pritchard, 
 to use his own words, " could do with such periods." 
 He knew that, under continuous pressure, work soon 
 began to be slackly done. Nevertheless, he was in 
 his office on the morning of Hubert's debut at an 
 earlier hour than usual. Something in the young 
 man's manner had stirred him. He could not tell 
 what or why. But instead of doing work in his own 
 study at home, he had bidden his man get him early 
 breakfast, and fetch the plans and tracings to the 
 yard. 
 
 James Pritchard had kept to his old habits of early 
 rising. And though nowadays he did not usually 
 visit the works before nine o'clock, yet there were 
 occasions when, for disciplinary purposes — " to 
 keep the lads up to the mark " — he would make an 
 early flying visit, which no one could be sure of. 
 He did not come by automobile or carriage and pair 
 like his sons. Instead he took the local train — 
 third-class ordinary — to Kelmscott Station, at the 
 corner of the yard, and let himself in by a side 
 
 103
 
 104 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 door, so as to be in the midst of things without 
 warning. 
 
 Hubert was in the great office of Pritchard's at 
 six o'clock sharp. The heads of working depart- 
 ments were clustering for the morning gossip about 
 newly lit fires. Hubert went up to a commission- 
 aire-looking individual in a uniform. 
 
 " Is my room ready?" he asked quietly. 
 
 The Jack-in-Office (literally) looked scornfully at 
 the tall young man in the overcoat. 
 
 " I didn't know that you had a room," he said ; " if 
 3''ou want accommodation, the asylum is higher up 
 the hill." 
 
 This stupidity was greeted with laughter. For, 
 as it happened, none of these men had been out in 
 the yard at the time of the accident, and though a 
 few may have seen Hubert pass a scrap of paper to 
 the cashier, they had thought no more about the 
 matter. Nor was it the hour for that exact and 
 cautious Scot to make his appearance behind his 
 pay-desk. 
 
 The laugh at the very spectral wit ot the office- 
 keeper had hardly died away, and he was still 
 looking about for applause, when suddenly he 
 received a severe application of the toe of a boot 
 between the tails of his bottle-green coat — as he 
 himself afterwards expressed it, " a bit of a lifter 
 behind." 
 
 " See here, my man," said young Egerton Prit- 
 chard, " I've a great mind to boot you out of the 
 yard, and I may do it yet. If ever I hear you 
 utter an insolent word to any gentleman in this 
 office, I'll break your head myself, and then my 
 father can have the rest of you to put in his stove. 
 Get along, and make a fire in my room. This is 
 Doctor Hubert Salveson. My father has appointed 
 him resident surgeon at the works, and what he 
 says goes. And any one who considers his privi- 
 leges infringed, let him come to me for information."
 
 LATE TO BED AND EARLY TO RISE 105 
 
 The fire was already burning in Mr. Egerton's 
 room. There was a large double window looking 
 out on the river, a north light, but all very brilliant 
 within, owing to the reflection from off the dancing 
 waters of the tidal river. 
 
 "You can have this!" said the young man. 
 " There is a clerk's room to the right I can do a 
 bit of fitting-up to — I don't work my clerk to 
 death, anyway. I'd better take away these things, 
 though. They do look a little out of place in a 
 temple of — what was the old chap's name ? — oh, 
 iEsculapius." 
 
 He referred to many prints of hunting scenes, 
 pictures of motor races, and a whole pack of cabinet 
 photographs of pretty ladies, arranged in fan- 
 patterns about the mantelpiece. Many of these 
 were tacked to the walls with the broad-headed 
 pins out of drawing boards vanished from the 
 draughtsman's office. 
 
 ** But I am depriving you," said Hubert wistfully. 
 For his eyes were fixed upon the wide trough in 
 the little ante-room, fitted with running w^ater, 
 where once on a time Egerton had thought of 
 developing his own Kodak negatives. 
 
 " Not a bit," said the youth heartily ; " do you 
 suppose I would be here at this hour in the morning 
 if I meant to stick at a trifle like that? Besides, 
 I've my other dressing-room, you know — the one 
 you raided last night to such a tune. I shall have 
 to have a Chub lock on that door, I see, or I shall 
 never know when I have a shirt to my back." 
 
 Hubert laid out the stores and instruments trans- 
 ported by the Mercedes. He established the cases 
 on the top of the low ranges of bookcases which 
 Mr. Egerton had never troubled to fill. 
 
 Then he turned to his companion. 
 
 " There were two men — or, rather, a man and a 
 boy — whom I told to be in waiting down in the 
 office at a quarter past six and at the half-hour,"
 
 io6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " I say, you have not been long. What's up ? 
 No operating, I hope, before breakfast," 
 
 "ISo," said Hubert smiHngly (he had had his 
 breakfast), " but I mean to scare their immortal 
 souls out of them. They are ' white-lead mixers', 
 whom I caught without the proper gloves." 
 
 Egerton twirled his pointed moustache, and 
 touched a bell. 
 
 " Here, you. Lush ; send up these * white-lead 
 mixers,' one at a time ! " He spoke to the now 
 humbled bottle-green person as if he did not see 
 him. 
 
 " Please, sir," said Lush (for Lushy, so-named 
 from his habits), " Mobsy Higgs is below, and he's 
 swearing fire-an'-all ! " 
 
 " Up with him," said Egerton, *' and I'll tame him — 
 or rather the doctor here will ! " 
 
 Now Hubert was more properly a surgeon, and 
 ought accordingly to have been addressed as " Mr." 
 But that word has no honour with the people. To 
 them a doctor is a doctor, and all others imitations — 
 except, perhaps, an occasional miraculous " bone- 
 setter," who has learned his " knack " by rule of 
 thumb and the bones of sheep. 
 
 While Mobsy Higgs of the violent vocabulary was 
 coming up, guided by Lush, Egerton was looking 
 about. 
 
 " I say, look here," he cried eagerly, opening a 
 door which led out of the little ante-room with the 
 trough and running water, " this gives on an empty 
 passage ; and there's a side-door to the yard all to 
 yourself. We will have a brass plate on it as big 
 as a house — one that they will see wink right across 
 in East Dene. And then you can have all your 
 patients come in as it suits you, and go straight 
 out again without going through the main office. 
 That will be ripping! I'll see about it to-day, after 
 lunch." 
 
 Mobsy lurched in — a truculent, dirty fellow, beetle-
 
 LATE TO BED AND EARLY TO RISE 107 
 
 browed, heavy-jawed, dangerous-looking. He was 
 prepared to be insolent, in private, to the doctor. 
 
 ** Only an owner's dodge to keep us from ' kipping' 
 a bit!" he had explained to his mates, for he con- 
 sidered himself something of an orator. " Don't ye 
 see, lads ! We can't play off so easy with a doctor 
 on the premises. We'll strike agin it — that we 
 will ! " 
 
 But the sight of " 3^oung maister " daunted Mobsy. 
 The yard was considerably " fond o' young maister." 
 ** He were siccan a wild 'un, he were ! They were 
 proud on 'im ! Yea, moor nor a bit. And thae 
 dowgs as he kep' ! That bull, now — ah ! 'Im wot 
 gripped Deasy of the ' Shamrock's ' fightin' mastiff, 
 three times his size, and never let go till the 
 funeral ! " 
 
 "Show your fingers, Mobsy," said Hubert, standing 
 up to him like the "young maister's " bull himself. 
 
 And Mobsy Higgs forgot his prepared oration, 
 and showed up to him, as per order. 
 
 It was then that James Pritchard came in. 
 
 He stood silently regarding the scene without a 
 movement, save of his restless bushy eyebrows. 
 The grey-white gorsy stuff about his mouth and 
 chin quivered slightly, and he stood, as it were, 
 worshipping upon the top of his umbrella. 
 
 " Eh, what's that ? " he said at last, in a tone of 
 expostulation. 
 
 " I cannot take any more cases at present — stay 
 below, please ! " said Hubert. Egerton, of course, 
 had seen his father, and tried to nudge Hubert in 
 time. 
 
 " You are disturbing my assist Mr. Egerton, 
 
 I mean," said Hubert, still without looking up — 
 "steady, if you please. And as for you, go down- 
 stairs, and wait your turn ! " 
 
 James Pritchard grinned, shook his head at his 
 son, and went.
 
 io8 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Hubert finished the dressing of Mobsy Higgs, 
 who was in a state of collapse — first, at the fear ot 
 death, which Hubert was putting on him, but, 
 secondly, consoled to some extent by the thought 
 of what he would have to tell the mates in the red 
 paint and white lead sheds. The maister — " Owd 
 Jimmy "—ordered out of his own ofBce by a whipper- 
 snapper, and going! 
 
 "Next!" said Hubert; "the young apprentice — 
 not the man who came up afterwards ! " 
 
 He cleansed the nails of the apprentice, applied a 
 temporary dressing, lectured the lad, and told him 
 to come again in three days at the same hour — " and 
 if ever I catch you or any of your gang without 
 
 gloves Now, Where's that other man ? " he cried, 
 
 showing out the white-lead apprentice, threatening 
 him all the time. 
 
 And James Pritchard appeared in the doorway. 
 
 Hubert stood staring at him. But he had learned 
 at the hospitals that the acting-surgeon is, and must 
 be, sole master on his own ground. So he looked 
 the despot of Pritchard's squarely in the eye, and 
 said simply, " Good morning, sir ! ' 
 
 " Good morning," said James Pritchard, grimly 
 humorous ; " at work, I see. That's right ! And 
 standing no nonsense ! Right again ! Don't stand 
 it ! Never here ! " 
 
 Then he turned to his son Egerton. 
 
 "You," he said brusquely, "what are you doing 
 out of bed at this hour of the morning — and in the 
 yard? Speak out. Did you come straight here 
 from that dinner of Hornifields' ? " 
 
 " No, father," said the youth. " I came down from 
 home to give Dr. Salveson a hand." 
 
 "Eh, wha-a-a-a-t ? " exclaimed his father; "say 
 that again ! " 
 
 The young fellow, flushing a little, repeated his 
 statement. 
 
 " Then you weren't at that dinner at all ? "
 
 LATE TO BED AND EARLY TO RISE 109 
 
 '• No, father." 
 
 " And you accepted ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" 
 
 "And what are you going to do about it?" de- 
 manded his father, 
 
 " Well, you see, sir," said Egerton, " Tim Salveson 
 and I had to go at it hard last night with the ' teuf- 
 teuf ' to get all doc's traps down from the manor, and 
 look after that lorryman who was smashed up " 
 
 " One of our men?" queried the head of Pritchard's, 
 frowning. 
 
 " Railway-man," said his son, briefly ; " but it was 
 one of our fellows who set off his * gees,' throwing 
 hot cinders among their legs " 
 
 Old James Pritchard made a mental note. That 
 careless man and his stove-poker would be acquainted 
 before many hours were over. 
 
 " Well — what else ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," said Egerton. " Salveson— the 
 doctor, I mean — is going to give me a hand with 
 the excuse to the Hornifields presently, when he 
 gets through. And we look to you, sir, not to say 
 anything to mother ! " 
 
 " Dinner engagements sacred— that sort of thing? 
 Accessory after the fact ! " said his father grimly. 
 "Well, what else?" 
 
 " Oh, only came down here this morning to see 
 that Salveson got a proper room. Of course, nothing 
 had been done. It was nobody's business. So he 
 is to have mine, and I can go in with the clerk. I 
 have my dressing-room down by the auto-shed, any- 
 way; so really, if you don't mind !" 
 
 The sharp, bristly little man looked at son first, 
 and at Hubert after. 
 
 " He's done a lot more for you than ever he'd have 
 done for his old father," he growled. " Had any 
 breakfast, young 'un ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said his "young 'un." 
 
 " And you, doctor ? "
 
 no PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Oh, yes ; at half-past five, before I came to the 
 yard ! " 
 
 And, very strangely, the blood flew crimson to his 
 face. James Pritchard eyed him curiously, but said 
 nothing. He would have it all in time. 
 
 " Very well," he said ; " what are you going to do 
 now ? " 
 
 " I shall be very busy," said Hubert. " I have to 
 arrange my stores and instruments. Then to speak 
 to the foremen of the foundries and forges in their 
 breakfast hour. I want a little depot of Carron oil, 
 cotton wool, lint, bandages, and other simple things 
 in each department. The jforemen shall keep it, and 
 I will give them all a little talk about how to use 
 what they have. Then 1 must run up and see the 
 
 man who was thrown out last night " 
 
 " Think he will get round ? " James Pritchard 
 inquired. 
 
 " I think so, sir," said the young surgeon ; " but it 
 was a near thing ! " 
 
 "Jolly near! " said his son, 
 
 "Then you have no further use for this young 
 jackanapes?" demanded James Pritchard, looking 
 at Egerton. 
 
 " No, sir — not for the moment. He is an excellent 
 assistant ; nerve very good ; but, if you would name 
 a time, I should much like to bring a note of my 
 requirements for your approval." 
 
 " Oh, any time, any time. I'm always up aloft 
 there," said James Pritchard. "But you've had no 
 breakfast, young 'un. Come along, and have some 
 of your father's." 
 
 It was the first time in his life he had ever asked 
 either Egerton or his brother to the Crow's Nest 
 to share a meal. James Pritchard was very much 
 pleased indeed with his son.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AS BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 
 
 NEVER had the world appeared so bright and 
 wholesome a place to Hubert Salveson as 
 that morning of May when, at nine o'clock, 
 he lifted his "topper" from the box in which it 
 reposed, gave it a brush with his arm, and went out 
 into the obliterating silence of the streets. They 
 were busy enough streets, too — workaday streets, 
 with Tom Hime's shop, Tom Hime's foreman with 
 the white teeth, and Tom Hime's apprentice, all 
 fulfilling various functions. Carts passed laden to 
 the market, or rattled away empty from it. Noisy 
 enough in all conscience. But coming out of the 
 clash and thunder of the yard, the sharp din of 
 hammers, the graver boom of mallets, the shriek of 
 inter-crossing and short-tempered " bunt-about " 
 engines, it seemed to Hubert Salveson as if he had 
 been suddenly stricken deaf. 
 
 Before going out he had, truth to tell, hesitated a 
 little. Then, obeying a sudden professional im- 
 pulse of correction, he had put on his frock-coat, 
 and taken the tall hat out of the big hat-box, made, 
 Tim, had declared, for the purpose of carrying off 
 the slain. He made the sacrifice with a pang. But 
 he was no fool, this new, self-reliant surgeon, born 
 in a night out of the faineant who so lately had 
 been Hubert Salveson of the Manor, waiter on dead 
 men's shoes. 
 
 He knew that so long as he wore a straw hat and 
 a tweed jacket, the men and, what is much more, 
 their wives would never receive him as verily " the 
 
 III
 
 112 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 doctor." Concerning this Thorsby has no hesita- 
 tions. No high hat — no right doctor ! 
 
 He was confirmed in this shrewd guess, by the 
 appearance of Mrs. Dillingham at the door of the 
 cottage, No. 109, Bourne Street, at which, twenty 
 minutes afterwards, he tapped with professional 
 gentleness. 
 
 " Dr. Budden, who has been our family physician, 
 has called," she said in a hoarse, shame-faced 
 way. 
 
 ** I shall be very glad to consult with Dr. Budden," 
 said Hubert, entering briskly, before the lady in the 
 doorway could make up her mind. 
 
 He did not mean to be shut out of that house. 
 
 " Dr. Budden is in the parlour," whispered Mrs. 
 Dillingham. " He is displeased. Ned refuses to 
 see him. He is always so violent, Ned ! " 
 
 At that moment a great voice, trained to command 
 and adjure a team of horses amid the shocks of 
 Great Eastern shunting lines and the roar of 
 Pritchard's yard, made the house shake. 
 
 " Is that pill-fellow gone ? If he comes up here, 
 I'll brain him with my good arm ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dillingham silently wrung her hands, and 
 with red, tearful eyes, she appealed to Hubert, still 
 under her breath. 
 
 " Our family physician for years," she said, "and 
 such a comfort in sickness. But Ned never could 
 abide him. I'm sure I can't think why ! " 
 
 From the first floor back Ned informed her. 
 
 " Budden's a blessed, chattering old wife, and I 
 won't have him touch my bandages. I'll wait for 
 the young 'un ! I heard the door just now," he 
 added ; " was that him gone ? You can come up 
 and read to me, Em — anything — the Bible, if you 
 like, as a thankoffering — so be old Budden's gone ! 
 Good riddance ! " 
 
 And this was the very gentleman with whom, 
 without any warning, save a piteous uplift of
 
 AS BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 113 
 
 Emma Dillingham's hands, and the opening of 
 the parlour door, Hubert found himself face to 
 face. 
 
 "How are you, Dr. Budden?" he said, holding 
 out his hand heartily. But Dr. Budden kept one of 
 his behind him, holding a very broad, flat-brimmed 
 tall hat, and in the other his never worn black 
 gloves. 
 
 He contented himself with bowing stifQy. 
 
 ** I believe I have not the pleasure of your 
 acquaintance," he said rigidly. He was a man in 
 appearance like a butler of a good house, who has 
 lived well — replete, heavy, his brain sodden with an 
 overloaded digestion. He had red "frogs" in the 
 corners of his eyes like a St. Bernard, and long 
 side-whiskers of a sandy grey. Otherwise he 
 had been clean-shaven the day before yesterday, 
 washed (probably) yesterday, and in need of both 
 to-day. 
 
 Before this person Hubert stood up tall and 
 immaculate, his hand slowly falling back to his 
 side. 
 
 " There is — ah — such a thing as professional 
 etiquette," announced Dr. Budden. " It is usual for a 
 new-comer to call upon his seniors, and — hem — give 
 them an opportunity of appreciating — yes, of appre- 
 ciating his credentials. Hem!" 
 
 Hubert smiled pleasantly. "As to who I am," 
 he said, "you can inquire of my father, Surgeon- 
 General Salveson, at the manor. But I did 
 not consider that it was necessary to call upon 
 you. Dr. Budden, as we had met before, when 
 I was house-surgeon at the hospital over at East 
 Dene — case of false infantile tuberculosis in the 
 finger-joints. You treated it with poultices, you 
 remember, and the later stages of the case fully bore 
 out your excellent diagnosis." 
 
 Dr. Budden expanded his chest and shifted his hat 
 and gloves into his left hand. 
 
 8
 
 114 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " M}^ dear sir " he began portentously. But 
 
 Hubert had not quite finished. 
 
 "Besides," he said, "I am here as the resident sur- 
 geon at Mr. Pritchard's works. I represent the firm. 
 I do not, in the meantime, intend to take any private 
 practice ! Indeed, my contract forbids me to do so ! " 
 
 At this welcome announcement Dr. Budden shook 
 him warmly by the hand. 
 
 " Say no more," he said. " I am glad indeed to 
 know that a son of our old and honoured friend, 
 Surgeon-General Salveson, of Thorsby Manor, has 
 entered our noble profession." 
 
 " IS— THAT— FOOL GONE ? " 
 
 The thunder of Ned Dillingham's voice from the 
 first floor back was partly drowned by a severe fit 
 of coughing on the part of Mrs. Dillingham on guard 
 outside. She had also let fall a tea-tray over the 
 banisters. 
 
 " I am delighted to have made your acquaintance," 
 said Dr. Budden, ignoring the voice from above — if, 
 indeed, he heard it — "and if on ariy occasion I can 
 give you the benefit of my experience, sir, you know 
 where to find me. Hospitals, sir, are very well — a 
 rough-and-ready way of making medical men. But 
 for real knowledge, you will find that there is 
 nothing so valuable as an extensive and long- 
 continued private practice. Good-day, sir — good- 
 day ! Ah, Miss Edith, blooming as the rose as 
 usual ! No need to tell me that you have no need 
 of my treatment." 
 
 He turned as if to say something to the young 
 man, but thought better of it. Instead, he addressed 
 Edith. " I leave your father in good hands — the 
 son of " 
 
 Edith, returned from shopping, took in the situa- 
 tion swiftly, and conveyed the respectable but not 
 brilliant practitioner to the green gate, talking 
 brightly all the time, in order to drown the quite 
 libellous declarations of the out-and-outer as to
 
 AS BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 115 
 
 Dr. Budden's intellect, knowledge, and general rela- 
 tionship to certain of the most unpopular members 
 of the animal kingdom. 
 
 Then, entering, Edith closed the door and shook 
 hands with the tall, frock-coated, professional-look- 
 ing young man who stood with his hat in his hand. 
 It could not be for him that she had got breakfast 
 that very morning, as for an ordinary workman going 
 to the yard. It flashed across her mind (such things 
 will) that on two pounds a week it could not be 
 done — rent, clothing, firing, taxes, water, and — oh 
 (here she blushed vehemently) how her thoughts 
 ran away with her ! How silly she was ! And yet 
 — the busy housewife's brain ran on in spite of her- 
 self — why did they teach her mental arithmetic at 
 school ? Yes, she thought it could be done. She 
 had seen the price of gentlemen's frockcoats in the 
 advertisements in the Illustrated News, also in the 
 shop windows. They are always the blackest ones 
 as you go along the streets, and often have an 
 oblong panel looking down the street, as you come, 
 so that you can see yourself without stopping. They 
 are thoughtful men, gentlemen's tailors — a fact she 
 used often to notice over at East Dene when she 
 was at school there. 
 
 Then she heard her father's voice. 
 
 "Your mother's a fool," cried the out-and-outer, 
 speaking as he ought not of the wife of his bosom, 
 who, however, instead of resenting the words, was 
 glad to have him partially appeased. Her crime 
 was that she had let in that other old wife of a 
 pudding-faced, double-ended sausage of a Budden ! 
 
 " I say," he cried out suddenly, " has the young 
 'un come? What ! He has? Why not bring him 
 up, then? Sharp, there ! " 
 
 And with a look at each other, which said many 
 things, Hubert and Edith separated. 
 
 " I took the liberty of showing myself up," he 
 said, smiling ; " how goes it this morning? I was
 
 ii6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 obliged to speak a moment with Dr. Budden, whom 
 I found in the parlour " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know," said the invalid, irritably. 
 " Emma's a fool. Thinks that because Budden 
 keeps a pill-shop, and sails round like an old he-hen 
 monthly nurse, he can splint and bandage me, Ned 
 Dillingham, like a proper hospital surgeon ! " 
 
 Ned submitted himself to the proper hospital 
 expert aforesaid, and presently Edith had to be 
 called upon as an assistant. She was complimented 
 on her quickness and precision. Even the patient 
 refrained from abusing her, 
 
 "And now," said Ned Dillingham, when he had 
 been re-settled, "what are you going to do with 
 yourself? They tell me that your father has turned 
 you out, and that you have got a job down at the 
 yard — that right ?" 
 
 " That's right ! " said Hubert. 
 
 " Well, then," continued the out-and-outer, " how 
 are you going to fix yourself? " 
 
 " I have got Mr. Egerton's room at the back of the 
 office rigged for a surgery," said Hubert evasively. 
 
 " I don't mean that, and you know it," said the 
 out-and-outer. " Ede, tell your mother I shall 
 want her in five minutes." 
 
 Then, with the girl's departure, he returned to 
 Hubert. 
 
 " I mean, where are you going to lodge ? You will 
 have to make up your mind. You can't live at the 
 * Grand ' for that, you know ! " 
 
 " I thought — I was advised to trj^ to get lodgings 
 at your neighbour's, Mr. Challoner's," said Hubert, 
 with some hesitation ; " he has a large cottage and 
 lots of rooms ! " 
 
 "Never — never," cried the out-and-outer; "you 
 shall not set a foot in Jo Challoner's house and eat 
 Jo Challoner's meals. A pretty ingrate I should be 
 to let you. No, this house is as big and bigger, and 
 there is a little sitting-room and a big bedroom
 
 AS BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 117 
 
 downstairs which are a brace of white elephants to 
 us. Em and I have often spoken of taking a lodger, 
 but never quite found one to our mind. You can 
 have 'em, if you like. Em won't overcharge you, I'll 
 warrant." 
 
 Hubert Salveson swallowed something, which 
 seemed to him to contain the chance of all the joy of 
 earth done up in a "cachet" — a large "cachet," 
 difficult to swallow. 
 
 " Mr. Dillingham," he said, very gravely, " I 
 appreciate your offer, but 1 cannot accept it without 
 telling you plainly, as man to man, that I — love 
 your daughter, i left home to work for a living, so 
 that I might not be dependent on my father, and, 
 in time, be able to marry the girl I love — mean to 
 marry." 
 
 There were feet on the stairs. 
 
 " Stop where you are till I call you, you women ! " 
 shouted the out-and-outer, " I'm talkin' ! " 
 
 They turned and retired, Mrs. Dillingham ex- 
 plaining to her daughter the exigencies of domestic 
 life, and extolling the virtues of marital obedience. 
 
 " Well, / wouldn't," said Edith, determinedly 
 recalcitrant, "I'd — oh, I do wonder what they are 
 saying ! " 
 
 Then she sighed a somewhat comforted sigh. 
 
 " But I'll make him tell me when he comes 
 down '• " . 
 
 Edith Dillingham did not refer to her father. 
 
 Above stairs the out-and-outer looked at the 
 young doctor, and Hubert Salveson looked at the 
 out-and-outer. For a long moment neither spoke. 
 
 " I had better not accept your offer," said Hubert, 
 with a tremble in his voice. The out-and-outer 
 took some time, and when he spoke it was almost as 
 soberly as Hubert himself had done. 
 
 '• Between you and me it does not matter," he said 
 slowly. "'They say — what say they? Let them 
 say ! ' as my Em's old Scotch father used to say.
 
 ii8 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 But women are kittle cattle, and Edith — well, 
 
 perhaps it were better not . But I'm sorry. 
 
 Yes, doctor — sorry. You're going ? Then good- 
 day to you, if you must go. You have spoken as a 
 man to a man. I believe you. I count on you. 
 And I ask no better than that my Ede should also ! " 
 
 Hubert went down the narrow cottage stairs, 
 aware that he had done the right— the inevitable 
 right, the only right — but yet with a weight on his 
 heart. He would have been so sure of her then. 
 No one could have come between them. 
 
 " Well, and what do you think of my husband 
 to-day?" asked Mrs. Dillingham, as they stood on 
 the oilcloth near the door, Edith a little behind. 
 
 " Oh, much better," reported Hubert, " I have 
 cautioned him about moving too soon. I shall come 
 back — in a day or two. And oh, by the way, there 
 is a little case of things, and a bag that my brother 
 brought last night in Mr. Egerton's automobile. I 
 will get some one from the works to come and fetch 
 them during the afternoon. I shall send a card with 
 the man." 
 
 Edith's face had lost its glow. 
 
 " Something my father has said to him ! " she 
 thought. And her heart grew hard to the out-and- 
 outer. 
 
 "You are going home — back to the Manor 
 House ? " she asked, with a new velvety accent in 
 her voice. 
 
 " Oh, no," he answered, dully enough, " I have not 
 yet decided where and how I am to set up my 
 nousehold gods. I shall go down to the works 
 and see what can be done." 
 
 " I thought you spoke of lodgings," said Edith 
 keenly, surer than ever that it was her father. 
 
 " Well, yes," hesitated Hubert, " I did think of Mr. 
 Joseph Challoner's — next door " 
 
 " Oh no — no ," cried Edith involuntarily, " not 
 
 there ! "
 
 AS BETWEEN MAN AND MAN 119 
 
 " So your father also said — I am sure that you 
 must know best. I shall wait a day or two before 
 making up my mind." 
 
 They went to the door together, but the veil had 
 descended between them. The morning — the break- 
 fast hour — the vigil of the night — all seemed a 
 million years away ; whole eternities, grey and chill, 
 surged between. They were not the same people. 
 Neither could speak to the other as once they 
 had done. Green Lane— there never was a Green 
 Lane. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Edith," said Hubert, " you 
 will not forget." 
 
 His voice, so firm in the yard, faltered. He 
 hardly knew what it was that she was not to forget 
 — all that he had told her — all that he had done — 
 was going to do— for her sake. But she cut him 
 short. 
 
 ** I will not forget," said Edith, her head high, 
 and wilfully misunderstanding him, "the bag shall 
 be sent ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SUE TAKES A HAND 
 
 WHEN Hubert called again, two days after, to 
 see his patient, Edith was out. But Ned 
 Dillingham lay in his bed with a curious smile on 
 his face. He kept it all through the examination 
 and dressing. 
 
 "No assistant to-day, doctor?" he said, with a 
 smile a little forced. 
 
 " No," said Hubert, shortly, busied with his 
 work. 
 
 " This your first trial at this sort of thing ? " said 
 the out-and-outer. "Ah, you need not blush. It 
 does you credit. I can see for myself easily enough. 
 It's a rough school down there, between the N.E.R. 
 heavy goods lines and Old Jamie's slips and sidings, 
 but it learns a man to know men. It's about all 
 there is to know — to my thinking ! " 
 
 " I do not see things in that way," said Hubert. 
 
 " No ? " said Ned Dillingham, '* and you a doctor ? 
 Well, each man to his style o' thinkin'. In my 
 opinion how a man treats his neighbour is a good 
 deal better test of religion than what he thinks about 
 God and that sort o' thing ! ' 
 
 " He can have his thoughts about God and that 
 sort of thing, and yet treat his neighbour all the 
 better for it," said Hubert, taking the end of a 
 bandage from between his teeth. . 
 
 " Well, you have treated me pretty decent, what- 
 ever you believe in," said Ned Dillingham ; " as for 
 me, as all the world knows, I'm an out-and-outer, 
 but I don't interfere with the beliefs of any one else ! 
 
 1 20
 
 SUE TAKES A HAND 121 
 
 Ede and her mother go to one shop — Will and Sue 
 to another ! " 
 
 " Ah," said Hubert, " try and keep from turning 
 on that side till we get the muscles back in place. 
 And, by the by, Mr. Pritchard bade me say that 
 your wages would be paid to you every Saturday 
 from his cashier's office, and any reasonable com- 
 pensation for the carelessness of his employe as 
 soon as the amount is arranged." 
 
 " Old Jamie said that — sent that message to me, 
 Ned Dillingham!" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The out-and-outer said something here, indicating 
 the small hopes he had of his own happiness in an 
 after-life. Then immediately, " I beg your pardon, 
 doctor! — but Owd Jamie! Did he mention a 
 figure?" 
 
 " No, he only said that if you would mention 
 some one to represent you with a view to an amicable 
 arrangement, he would do the same." 
 
 " Well, I name you, doctor," cried the Colossus 
 on the bed heartily. " What's the matter with 
 that?" 
 
 " The matter with that is," Hubert answered, 
 smiling, " that Mr. Pritchard has done the same 
 thing." 
 
 " Well, he must a' taken a dead, knock-me-down 
 fancy to ye from the start," said the out-and-outer ; 
 "why, I've seen Jamie throw a man down the 
 ladder of the Crow's Nest, and that's fourteen feet 
 high, good ! " 
 
 " Well," Hubert continued, " I ventured to propose 
 another arrangement to Mr. Pritchard. I have been 
 a good deal about on the yard receiving-banks and 
 sheds since your accident. I am satisfied that the 
 whole system there is wrong. There is checking of 
 goods, and all that. The clerks' part is all right, I 
 presume. But what is needed is a strong man, with 
 authority to compel the carters — both those be-
 
 122 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 longing to the yard and those of the company, to 
 enter by one gate and go out by another — go to this 
 or that siding, and unload at this receiving-bank or 
 that ! Do it, and no words about it ! Keep still, 
 please, Mr. Dillingham. You are my patient, re- 
 member. Well, I showed Mr. Pritchard how he 
 could save money and time, work with fewer and 
 better men, have supervision — in short, I advised 
 him to offer you the post at your present railway 
 wages, with certain additional benefits, such as a 
 pension after a certain number of years and service, 
 as is the custom with yard foremen." 
 
 " And you saw that, what I've been swearing 
 myself hoarse about for years, and you told Owd 
 Jamie! You are a wonder! 1 say," he continued, 
 " he'll either murder you one of these days, or have 
 you running half the yard ! " 
 
 Hubert smiled again, but contented himself with 
 asking what answer he should take back to Mr. 
 Pritchard. 
 
 " Oh, I'll come, of course," said the out-and-outer, 
 " and be glad of the chance. Railway work is good 
 work, but there is nothing at the end of it. Prit- 
 chard's foreman is another matter — that is, if you 
 can get on with the man up in the Crow's Nest ! " 
 
 Ned Dillingham had something on his mind. He 
 was awkward and nervous. " I say, excuse me 
 asking, doctor," he said, as Hubert was preparing 
 to leave, " how are you doing yourself — about 
 lodgings, I mean ? " 
 
 " Oh," said the young man lightly, buttoning his 
 frock coat, " I have a folding bed which shuts up in 
 the day-time, and I get my meals sent up from the 
 cookhouse ! " 
 
 There came an explosion from the out-and-outer, 
 who confounded in one disastrous heap the cook- 
 house, the public opinion of Thorsby, and all the 
 scandal-mongering of the world. He also made 
 excursions into the private lives of certain persons
 
 SUE TAKES A HAND 123 
 
 who " 'ud have to have their heads punched," and 
 stated that he (the out-and-outer) would be con- 
 demned if he did not do what he vehemently pleased 
 in his own house. 
 
 Hubert shook the unbandaged hand and said, 
 gravely : " I will wait. It is much better. I would 
 do nothing to hurt Miss Edith." 
 
 And with a nod he was gone, leaving the out- 
 and-outer groaning impotently. 
 
 A tall, skimpish figure was waiting for him at 
 the corner — a girl of fourteen carrying a bag of 
 damaged books; the strap she carried twisted 
 about her hand as a weapon of offence. She had 
 had a bout with Ebie Fleming. 
 
 " I'm Sue Dillingham," she said breathlessly. 
 " What are you going to do Saturday afternoon ? 
 You've forgotten me ? " 
 
 " I don't know — what should I do?" said Hubert 
 astonished, recalling the girl who had drowsed 
 under the shawl on the night of the accident while 
 Edith and he were waiting for consciousness to 
 return to the battered frame of the out-and-outer. 
 
 "You used to carry me to — somewhere — when 
 I was a baby," said Sue, somewhat fluttered at the 
 idea of speaking to a doctor all by herself. " I don't 
 know exactly where it was, but, perhaps you do. 
 Do you know, if I were you, I should go there 
 Saturday afternoon ! " 
 
 "Oh!" said Hubert, with a sudden start and a 
 great gratitude ; " thank you— is there anything I 
 can do for you ? " 
 
 " Oh, if you could only— but of course you won't ! " 
 
 "What?" said Hubert, kindly; '' if I can, I will." 
 
 " Well, give me something to make warts grow 
 all over Agnes Anne Jacox. She's a mean, horrid 
 thing. I'm * outs ' with her, and she thinks such 
 a lot of that pasty face of hers. Oh, give me some- 
 thing to rub on when she's asleep— she sleeps half 
 the time in school. I could — easy ! "
 
 124 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " You young cannibal ! " cried Hubert, laughing, 
 "next time I come I'll bring you something which 
 will make you ' ins ' with Agnes Anne. Won't 
 that do as well ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," said Sue ; " she's a horrid thing !'' 
 
 " What has she done to you ? " 
 
 " Done ? " said Sue, with her nose in the air, " she's 
 always runnin' after — wo, not after girls, boys, big 
 boys ! She makes love to them — iigh ! And she 
 believes them when the wretches tell her she's as 
 pretty as our Ede ! Just think, Agnes Anne Jacox ! 
 Our Ede ! " 
 
 Miss Susan Dillingham was loyal to her sister — 
 in her absence. 
 
 " But / am fond of your sister," said Hubert, 
 burning his boats. " I would be very glad to make 
 love to her, if I could get the chance." 
 
 " Oh, I know that — I've always known — before 
 Ede did, of course !" said this astonishing maiden ; 
 " but that's all right. That should be. And say ; 
 leave off these things when you go to — to that place 
 where you used to carry me. I heard — somebody — 
 say she liked you best in your nice grey suit and 
 straw hat ! I do, too ; you ain't so fearful grand, 
 you see. You're sure you can remember the name 
 of the place ? It's Green — something ! " 
 
 "Yes, more than you are ! Thank you — oh, yes," 
 said Hubert, lifting his hat. " I think that by trying 
 very hard from now till Saturday I shall be able to 
 remember ! " 
 
 " Eirst tall hat I ever had taken off to me," said 
 Sue triumphantly ; " wait till I see Agnes Anne 
 Jacox ; won't I make a face at her ! "
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ON HUTCHIN S HAYSTACK 
 
 SUCH a frame as Green Lane station in which 
 to set an idyll ! You approached it by grimy 
 footpaths of rasping underfoot cinder, only here 
 and there changing for a hundred yards at a time 
 into rambling lanes and " doughs," in which the 
 lovers of a former Thorsby had wandered a century 
 ago, before Lower Dene was thought of, when East 
 Dene was only then a red-roofed village on the 
 ridge, and when all about Pritchard's yard ex- 
 tended the great Thorsby salt marshes. 
 
 Now, even the trees had gone — a few orrly left, 
 clinging to thin soil blackened with smoke, putting- 
 out a tentative timid leaf or two, which presently 
 blackened and wizened before coming to any- 
 thing decided. There were hills in the distance; 
 away to the north the Cheviots, long, grey-green 
 ridges. The water of the estuary was lost behind 
 great masses of building. Mills where syrens 
 hooted by day, and furnaces which flickered in 
 the uncertain night, fenced it off Green Lane 
 now stood on a wide plain, across the parched 
 surface of which the branch line from Thorsby to 
 Blinton made a wheal hke a half-healed scar. The 
 chimneys of mills and factories smoked all about 
 the horizon — many more now (so at least Hubert 
 thought) than when he went that way before, 
 carrying Baby Sue, and pattering stories of his 
 tutor's incompetencies to make Edith Dillingham 
 laugh. 
 
 Something within him, strong and compelling, 
 
 125
 
 126 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 took him past the old Dillingham cottage by the 
 waterside. It had fallen into saddest disrepair. 
 Dirty children played there. Discontented, "yawpy" 
 fowls promenaded in and out over the unwashed, 
 bedropped doorstep. It was hard to conceive the 
 pretty, white Waterside Cottage, as Mrs. Ned 
 Dillingham had kept it when she was first wedded 
 and all the world was young. 
 
 Then there was the Manor House to pass. He 
 could see his own room, with the blind still down, 
 like a sightless eye. Tim would be somewhere 
 about the garden. He felt inclined to shout to 
 him over the ten-foot wall, "Hallo, Fat Boy!" 
 just to hear his counter retort of " Hallo, Spooner ! " 
 which certainly carried more point now than in 
 the days of old. 
 
 But, after all, better not. Still, he liked Tim. 
 He had not known how much before. His father 
 — well, he was his father ; and a thrill passed 
 momently, very momently, through his heart; the 
 appeal of blood. But temper is stronger than 
 blood ; at least, the Salveson temper was. Hubert 
 passed on with step a little quickened. 
 
 The manor and all within it slipped behind as 
 soon as he breasted the rise, and saw the grey, 
 open plateau, with the paths dipping and trundling 
 across it — to the right the whinny scarps of Fame 
 Height, and away down on the seaboard, where 
 the Tor estuary widens, the vast irregular purplish 
 splash of Pritchard's yard. 
 
 He had come out at two. On Saturdays Prit- 
 chard's emptied itself at one o'clock precisel}^ as a 
 reservoir empties itself through the broken wall 
 of a dam. After that, there was peace over Prit- 
 chard's till Monday, except, that is, for the ex- 
 ceptional processes, the repairs, and the occasional 
 turns of night-and-day work on a big battleship 
 or cruiser, wanted in a hurry to back some notable 
 diplomacy of peace — plus the big stick.
 
 ON HUTCHIN'S HAYSTACK 127 
 
 Hubert walked along, picking up the landmarks, 
 like a sailor who, after long years, visits a long- 
 forgotten port with which he was familiar in youth. 
 Hutchin's Farm — yes, that was its name, that low- 
 lying one to the right. He had stolen turnips there 
 — for Edith, so that he might have something to 
 add to the lunch dessert ; fresh fruit, as it were ! 
 Yonder was the very gap in the wall leading into 
 the brickfield, over which he had escaped from the 
 pursuing Hutchin, hot on revenge and armed with 
 a pitchfork. 
 
 Near the path which went past Hutchin's stood 
 a big haystack, crumbly at one end like a carious 
 tooth, but in the main high and freshly roped. 
 
 Hubert had walked smartly. He did not wish 
 to arrive too early at Green Lane. Perhaps — if, 
 indeed, Edith was there, as Sue inferred, as she 
 obviously meant him to understand — she might turn 
 and go back again if he allowed her to catch sight 
 of him. He excused his duplicity by the fact that 
 he had something very definite to say. She would 
 give him no chance at the house. Her mother was 
 either in or else Edith was out. She seemed to 
 do most of the marketing now, and at the hours 
 when she well knew that he would be coming to 
 see her father. 
 
 But all and any opposition aroused a Salveson. 
 So Hubert firmed his mouth and prepared to take 
 Time by forelock or backlock, just as he could 
 grip him. 
 
 The young man was passing the little stackyard 
 of Hutchin's when, over the wall, he saw a curious 
 sight. Hanging from the high haystack, long and 
 solid as a barn in spite of the part eaten away at 
 one end, was something between a bundle and a 
 human figure. Looking more closel}^, he saw it 
 was a girl hanging by a rope of straw twisted 
 about her middle. Her hands and head hung down 
 on one side ; her dress and feet straggled on the
 
 128 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 other. There seemed to be a faint movement, but 
 no crying, and the idea that first crossed Hubert's 
 mind as he vaulted the dry stone dyke was that 
 of an attempt at suicide. Yet would-be self-de- 
 stroyers, even the most determined, do not hang 
 themselves pour le bon, as the French say, with a 
 rope of straw round their waists. 
 
 All the same, when Hubert cut the rope and 
 received the girl's body in his arms, she was past 
 speech, her face purple and congested. A lesser 
 rope of rough hemp running horizontal-wise had 
 caught her neck ; and it was indeed well that 
 Hubert passed by Hutchin's when he did. He ran 
 instantly and got some water from a pump in the 
 deserted yard. 
 
 "Bless me! why, it is the little Dillingham," 
 
 he cried, " the girl who told me— to " 
 
 Sue Dilhngham, catching her breath, looked up 
 and caught at his hand, apparently alarmed at 
 seeing him there. 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right now ; you go on ! Don't waste 
 time ! " she gasped. 
 This Hubert declined. 
 
 " What are you doing here?" said Hubert, with 
 some sternness. " How did you come to be 
 hanging up there like that?" 
 
 He felt that he was being played with. 
 "Oh, go on; go on!" gurgled Sue, pointmg to 
 the little square of white above the long red wheal 
 of the railway, which was Green Lane station on 
 the Thorsby and Clinton line. 
 
 "Not till you have told me!" he said, firmly. 
 " Come, out with it ! What were you doing there, 
 and how can I tell that you won't do it again as 
 soon as I'm gone ? Do you know if nobody had 
 passed, you would most likely have been dead in 
 an hour ! " 
 
 Sue was impressed by his tone. 
 
 "Would I— dead?" she said. "Well, I'm glad
 
 ON HUTCHIN'S HAYSTACK 129 
 
 being dead is no worse than that. It's not half as 
 bad as the cane at Board School. That's some- 
 thing Agnes Anne Jacox doesn't know ! But go 
 on, will you ; go on, or you'll miss her ! " 
 
 " Miss her ? Who ? " said Hubert. 
 
 Sue's look of infinite contempt travelled from his 
 straw hat to his dark brown shoes. 
 
 "And me that told you, too," she said; "surely 
 you needn't pretend — not to me ! " 
 
 "I don't," said Hubert, laughing in spite of 
 himself; " what I want to know is, what you were 
 doing up on the haystack, hanging with one rope 
 round your waist and another round your neck ? " 
 
 " Slipped — there ! " cried Sue ; " got on the ridge 
 stridelegs, and hitchin' along to get a better look, 
 I put my foot on a place that slid. I slid too. Now 
 you know ! Quick ! " 
 
 " Then you were not trying to hang yourself? " 
 
 " Of course not," said Sue, " was only trying to 
 see what you two 'ud do ! But don't tell Ede. 
 She'd never forgive me. Wanted to see how they 
 do love-making — nice people, 1 mean. Not sit- 
 together-in-the-park on moonlight nights on an 
 iron seat ; no, nor kiss-in-the-ring on Fame Height 
 on Bank Holiday ; but nice — you know ! " 
 
 "You young brat!" said Hubert; "and so you 
 got me to come here so that you could watch- 
 are you not ashamed of yourself? And your own 
 sister too." 
 
 " No," said Sue Dillingham defiantly. " I wanted 
 to know ; Agnes Anne Jacox always thinks she 
 knows such a lot, and our Will, he stays out late, 
 and I daren't! 'Cos of father, you see! And 'sides, 
 he only walks with cooks, and— oh, anybody. Not 
 like you — and our Ede ! " 
 
 " Susan Dillingham," said Hubert solemnly, 
 " you'll surely be hanged ! " 
 
 " Not twice," retorted Sue quickly ; " was once ; 
 you chopped me down. Can't be twice. Law
 
 I30 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 doesn't allow. I've heard father say so! Now, 
 will you go on ? " 
 
 " Not to have you following my tracks, my young 
 lady. Have you been reading detective stories ? " 
 
 " Don't know what they are ; but, if you don't 
 go, Ede will be coming back. And she'll row me, 
 and you'll lose your chance. She won't go to 
 Green Lane again, neither ! " 
 
 " I won't stir a foot till I've seen your back go 
 over that hill," said Hubert ; " I won't be an ex- 
 hibition, nor make Edith one. No, nor yet an 
 object lesson for your friend. Miss Jacox ! " 
 
 Sue clasped her hands — her mother's gesture. 
 
 "Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed, quite 
 suddenly. " I've worked so hard to make this 
 come right. And now you go and spoil it ! Go 
 on ! " she commanded, shaking him fiercely by the 
 sleeve. " I swear I won't go again on the haystack. 
 I'll feed the chickies — Mrs. Hutchin lets me. I 
 stay behind to do it; but Ede, she likes to go on 
 to Green Lane station. I don't know why. But 
 if you are not a fool (like Agnes Anne Jacox), 3^ou'll 
 go on and find out what takes her there. Perhaps 
 it's to meet Alf Hazel. I shouldn't wonder. He's 
 dead in love with her, and has got a bigger wage 
 at the yard than you have ! Will, he says so. He 
 is in Will's office." 
 
 " You— little— reptile ! " 
 
 " All right ; but go ! " acquiesced Sue cheerfully, 
 " I've got the hens' meat here. Then I'll look for 
 the eggs. We get ours here now, not at Cheasely 
 Farm any more. I thought you would like to 
 know ! Chuck ! — chuck ! Chucky — chucky — 
 chuck ! " 
 
 And Hubert was left alone, with Green Lane 
 station drawing him like a magnet across the 
 waste.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE SECOND IDYLL OF GREEN LANE 
 
 EDITH ! " he said gentl}^ 
 She was standing at the old corner, up 
 the steps and a little to the right. The spikes he 
 had pulled out ten years ago had never been re- 
 placed. Yonder, at the far end of the weather- 
 beaten platform, mending it with a hammer and 
 plank, was the old station-master. He seemed 
 hardly a day older, his mind made serene by the 
 contemplation of passing trains, and comfortably 
 occupied by his solicitude for the score or two of 
 tickets he issued and took per day. As a relaxation, 
 he gossiped with whichever of the two neighbouring 
 signalmen happened to be off duty. His life, indeed, 
 was a railway-junction idyll — a junction where two 
 lines branched off, but at which none of the big 
 through trains ever stopped. Even goods trains 
 fought shy of it, carrying their merchandise to other 
 and better equipped stations. 
 
 " Edith ! " 
 
 The girl turned with a quick, half-frightened look. 
 She could not get the wistful, almost despairing 
 expression out of her eyes quickly enough. 
 
 " Edith — what is it ? 1 demand to know ! " 
 
 This was Hubert's hospital manner and Salveson 
 temper. 
 
 Thump ! Thump ! came the station-master's 
 hammer from the platform. Scree-eech went his 
 saw on a nail. He said something too distant to be 
 more than guessed at. Hubert glanced at the signal- 
 box, '.which used to be a better tower of observation 
 
 131
 
 132 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 even than Sue's haystack over at Hutchin's. It had 
 been moved dov/n nearer to the embranchment of the 
 lines. There was only a short, stumpy, shunting 
 signal in the place where it used to stand. 
 
 Hubert brusqued the preliminaries and put his 
 arm about Edith's shoulders. " You must tell me," 
 he said gently ; " I see by your eyes ! " 
 
 ** I have not been crying," faltered Edith, un- 
 conscious (so at the proper moment it is given to 
 women) of the circling arm ; " I only like to come to 
 Green Lane — for the sake of old times ! " 
 
 It was a lame enough answer, but somehow it 
 pleased Hubert. 
 
 A whistle in the distance — the approach of two 
 long streams, one of black, one of white smoke — 
 another whistle, and a long train of " empties " and 
 coal trucks clucked past, idly, casually, as if it had 
 nowhere in particular to get to that day. The 
 engine-driver and stoker caught sight of the two 
 figures, standing close in by the railings, noted 
 better than Edith the position of Hubert's protecting 
 arm, and being ready-witted and genial men, looked 
 back and blew kisses to them, as an encouragement, 
 so long as the train was in sight. 
 
 Hubert felt murderous. Luckily, however, Edith 
 never raised her head, and as for the station-master 
 he took no more heed of a train of empties passing 
 within three feet of the heels of his boots and the 
 tails of his second-best official coat, than if it had 
 been in another and less noisy world. 
 
 Wheeze — Wheeze — Gr-r-r-r ! went his saw. Then, 
 Thud — Thud his hammer. 
 
 " Edith," said Hubert, just past her ear, " you love 
 me, or you would not be here. I have told you 
 that 1 love you, and I have told your father " 
 
 *' What!" cried Edith, with a quick, nervous glance ; 
 " you have not spoken to father ? Oh ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Hubert; "he asked me take your 
 empty downstairs rooms, when I spoke of going to
 
 THE SECOND IDYLL OF GREEN LANE 133 
 
 Challoner's, next door. And of course — of course I 
 could not " 
 
 He hesitated, watching the hand of the station- 
 master rise and fall away at the end of the platform, 
 keeping a little ahead of the knock which arrived 
 heavy and dull on the slumberous air. 
 
 " Because of me ? " Edith murmured, her eyes 
 raised now, fixed not on Hubert, but on the pennon 
 of smoke, which, all white now and light as a 
 feather, was wreathing over the face of the moor- 
 land in the track of the retreating train. The festive 
 engineer had shut off steam, as he ran down the hill 
 into Clinton with his clucking, bouncing " empties " 
 behind him. 
 
 "Because of you — yes!" said Hubert, drawing 
 her slowly to him. (What a blessing about that 
 signal-box !) 
 
 " My little girl," he said, his voice (thought Edith), 
 oh, so firm and dear, " you are going to marry me ! — 
 and soon ! " 
 
 "Am I ?" she cried. 
 
 She was looking at him now, but the pride, the 
 dash, the defiance, even the independence seemed 
 curiously gone out of her eyes. 
 
 "And soon!" he continued, almost fiercely, to 
 take advantage of that yielding mood, which, he 
 well knew, might not last long. 
 
 " Yes," she said. 
 
 But whether the reply was question or agreement, 
 interrogation or exclamation, Hubert could not tell. 
 Nor can I give any instructions to the printer. He 
 must let it go at a comma. 
 
 " I have only two pounds a week, just now," he 
 continued ; " we will need to be very careful. We 
 can't keep a servant " 
 
 Edith nestled closer. (Bless that crumbling plat- 
 form, and that diligent station-master !) 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad ! " she exclaimed, " it would not 
 be the same at all with a servant ! "
 
 134 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 And then he knew. He did not kiss her. She 
 did not kiss him. Only their lips mutually sought 
 —and found. 
 
 Carcita — Carata — Carata ! 
 
 "Oh, a 'fast one'!" cried Edith, with shining 
 eyes, moist, but not this time with tears. She was 
 excited, and clapped her hands like a little girl 
 again. 
 
 Carata — Carata — Car-RA-ta ! 
 
 A very fast one — the " high-level" express indeed, 
 pouring eddies of smoke, green flashing engines, 
 two of them, no less, dining-saloons, lofty first-class 
 corridor carriages ! 
 
 The station-master had flung his hammer behind 
 him, kicked the odd piece of wood to the side, 
 hidden his saw, and now stood proudly in his place 
 with his hands at attention, saluting, as he did daily, 
 the pride and glory of Green Lane station. 
 
 A flash of white faces at windows. The guard's 
 van going past with a final woof, which carried all 
 the station-master's shavings after it, leaving only a 
 little thrill of their hearts, a gladness that they were 
 standing thus, hand-in-hand. The white spars hid 
 them. 
 
 They walked back very silent. They could not 
 speak to the station-master, though Hubert had a 
 wild, idiotic idea of leaping the barrier and com- 
 municating his joy to the old fellow, who had seen 
 them as children munching bread and stick}^ with 
 jam, and who had let them punch cardboard for 
 tickets. But a glance at Edith's face stopped him. 
 She was grave again, and eager to be on the road 
 towards home. But Hubert promised himself the 
 pleasure of telling the old fellow all some day— yes ; 
 they would walk out together — some Bank Holiday 
 , . . after/ 
 
 They found Sue with a dozen eggs in a basket, 
 standing demurely outside the farm. She gave 
 Hubert a look to intimate that she had kept her
 
 THE SECOND IDYLL OF GREEN LANE 135 
 
 word. She had not " spied." Honour to whom 
 honour — especially among thieves ! 
 
 " Sue," said Hubert, putting his hand fraternally 
 on her shoulder, " this is my wife. We are going to 
 be married on the first of June ! " 
 
 Edith looked at him in flushed amaze. But all she 
 said was only : " Oh, Hubert, are we ? " 
 
 Sue worked this out by herself afterwards. 
 
 "Tisn't at all as Agnes Anne Jacox said, nor is it 
 as I supposed. I always thought our Ede would 
 have ordered anybody about. But she doesn't. 
 Why, she didn't even know the day of her own 
 wedding ! She only just said, ' Oh, are we ? ' like 
 that, soft as jam-roll ! Well, 1 never did. Catch 
 7ne, that's all ! And Ede— I never would have 
 believed it of our Ede ! " 
 
 And, indeed, that night, when left alone, Ede could 
 not very well believe it of herself.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AND LOVE THEREWITH 
 
 IT was some time till evening, however. They 
 went back over the dreary brow of the common, 
 the debris heaps all turned to gold and jewels — a 
 Tom Tiddler's ground of the heart. At first Sue 
 walked a little behind, with the kind apparent intent 
 of allowing them to talk freely. But Hubert, who 
 remembered the haystack, felt his back fairly creep 
 with the keenness of Sue's observation. So he re- 
 called her. Indeed, it was hardly the time for speech 
 yet. They formed no plans for the future. Sue 
 walked demurely on the far side of Edith and 
 triumphed over Agnes Anne Jacox. 
 
 "That's his father's place!" she thought to her- 
 self. "Ha! grocer's assistants, indeed ! Mrs. Doctor 
 Hubert Salveson will have the pleasure of not leav- 
 ing her card on the likes o' you, Miss Agnes Anne 
 Jacox 1 " 
 
 They arrived at 109, Bourne Street. Sue was 
 bursting. But Edith seemed to wake suddenly, and 
 in a low tone said sharply to her junior : " Now, 
 Sue, you hold your tongue ! " 
 
 " But are you not going to tell them ? " she 
 whispered, amazement in her face. She had ex- 
 pected to come to her own at once. 
 
 "When Hubert thinks it right!" said Edith, 
 speaking the proper name with a wonderfully soft 
 intonation noted by Sue — who charitably concluded 
 that her sister was going " dotty." 
 
 Mrs. Dillingham looked up. She was reading a 
 novel about the conversion of an atheist, to an 
 
 136
 
 AND LOVE THEREWITH 137 
 
 exceedingly depressed (and bandaged) out-and-outer. 
 Already he had nodded three times, and had been 
 reproved by his wife. Emma Dillingham had told 
 him that if the reading was doing him any good she 
 would go on, but she was not going to make guesses 
 at all those long words only to be grunted at. 
 
 " Moreover," continued Mrs. Dillingham, who had 
 not had her husband under her hand for a long 
 time, " I believe you were going to sleep, and this 
 book was recommended from the pulpit by Mr. 
 Marchbanks! From what I understand, it just fits 
 your case, and if your heart were softened by your 
 troubles you could not be so ready to doze off like 
 that. It isn't right of you, Ned." 
 
 *' But I wasn't, Emma," disclaimed the out-and- 
 outer. " I did not mean anything of the kind. I 
 think it is that stuff the doctor gave me this morning 
 that makes me a bit drowsy ! " 
 
 Such being the state of the case, it is small wonder 
 that^the incoming of Edith, her sister, and the doctor 
 was greeted enthusiastically by one at least of the 
 students of fictional theology. Even Mrs. Dillingham 
 sighed, not ill-content ; for " incommensurability," 
 with several adjectives before it, does put a strain 
 on the reading powers of people who left school at 
 ten, and have only read the Bible since, and that 
 mostly in church. 
 
 The out-and-outer held out his available hand to 
 Hubert. 
 
 " This visit is not to be charged in the bill," he 
 said, laughing. " But where did you pick up the 
 girls ? Met them coming home from the farm with 
 mother's eggs, eh ? " 
 
 Hubert dodged Sue's frown, but was conscious 
 of Mrs. Dillingham's anxious look. Edith remarked 
 that she would go up and take her things off. 
 
 "You go too, Sue," said her father; "and see 
 here, wash your face and look if there's a brush in 
 the house 1 Why, you are not fit to walk through
 
 138 PRINCESS PENNILESS. 
 
 the streets. You have been all over that farmyard, 
 after the eggs, I'll be bound ! " 
 
 Sue moved slowly out. She dared not disobey, 
 but she signalled piteouslyto Hubert not to "do it" 
 till she came down. She was very anxious to learn, 
 so as to be upsides with Agnes Anne Jacoxin know- 
 ledge. Hubert smiled good-naturedly. Yes ; he 
 felt that her services in sending him that day to 
 Green Lane station certainly left him somewhat 
 deeply in Sue's debt. 
 
 It was a pleasant room, the kitchen of the Dilling- 
 hams', and Hubert looked with a new intention at 
 the shining appointments. There was the scoured 
 white-wood dresser, with the ranges of plates above, 
 and the drawers and shut cupboards below. 
 
 The range — no, he would not have to pay for that. 
 The armchairs — two — a few other ones, besides the 
 big white-wood oblong table, now covered with its 
 fringed cloth of red-and-black. It could be extended 
 for Edith to do ironing upon. But such things were, 
 at that moment, hidden from Mr. Hubert Salveson. 
 The three who were left talked of indifferent things 
 — of the yard mainly, and when he, Ned Dillingham, 
 would get back to work — of how he w^ould make 
 them aware of themselves on the " bank." And all 
 the time Mrs. Dillingham eyed the young man sus- 
 piciously, wistfully, as he sat on the sofa and played 
 with the ribbon of his hat. 
 
 Then Hubert's heart fluttered suddenly. He 
 heard a footstep on the stair. Sue? Not a bit of 
 it. Sue — his trained stethoscopic ear had told him 
 that she had never gone upstairs at all. Indeed, 
 she had slipped into the little scullery behind, where 
 was a bit of soap, by the side of the fixed tubs, which 
 were the glory of the two " Dillingham " houses. 
 Here, with the door " on the crack " and knowing 
 that if discovered she would get her ears boxed and 
 be sent upstairs for good. Sue performed a very 
 perfunctory toilette. She partly dry-cleaned herself
 
 AND LOVE THEREWITH 139 
 
 with the corner of the rough towel, and partly top- 
 dressed her hair with her black, semi-circular 
 celluloid catch-comb used as a rake. With that, 
 and soap on her ringlets, she hoped to pass muster. 
 
 She would wait till Edith came down, and then 
 in the fuss that followed there would be no time to 
 think about her. 
 
 Edith came down in a "princess robe" of cream- 
 coloured oatmeal cloth, which she had bought at 
 a bargain counter of Leysham and Leysham's in 
 East Dene, and had made up herself. The extra- 
 vagance of such a thing on the part of a working- 
 man's daughter had been commented upon at more 
 than one meeting of the Old Cats' Club. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the oatmeal cloth dress, made 
 from a damaged remainder, had cost iust thirteen 
 shillings — lining, buttons, and everything as you 
 saw it. It had served her a year, had been cleaned 
 once, and then the flawed piece had made a very 
 nice cape for coming home in from church on winter 
 evenings. But how were the Old Cats to know all 
 that ? Besides, they did not want to know. 
 
 This Saturday afternoon, as she went, even in the 
 thrilling disorder of her mind, to ask Hubert to stay 
 to tea, Edith had added one real extravagance — a 
 sea-green neck-ribbon carrying her sole ornament, 
 the little gold locket her father had given her on her 
 twenty-first birthday. It went well, that blue-green 
 ribbon, with the rippled coils of her Venetian-red hair. 
 
 Hubert rose at her entrance. Behind was the 
 flurry and slam of the washhouse door. Sue meant 
 to be in at the death. But she did not reveal her 
 presence. There were geraniums and calceolarias 
 m the Dillingham window, partly for the effect of 
 light and colour, also to shut out the yard ; partly, 
 too, because the pots were company to poor Mrs. 
 Dillingham when she had nothing else to think 
 about. 
 
 The sun from the west always struck among them
 
 140 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 about this hour, making translucent ruby and gold 
 of the flowers, and rendering splendid the little room 
 and plain cottage furniture. 
 
 But surely never had Moon-Washington "rickle 
 of brick " held such a gracious flower of beauty as 
 Edith Dillingham. She hesitated a moment on the 
 threshold ; she knew his eyes were on her; she did 
 not know whether he had spoken or not. That he 
 would do so she never doubted. 
 
 Hubert took her hand and said slowly: " I -have 
 asked Edith to be my wife, and she has promised to 
 marry me " 
 
 "No, he didn't," burst out Sue; "he never did 
 ask her ! He just told her ; and the day too ! She 
 daren't say it isn't so. Now then, I know! " 
 
 At this everybody laughed, except Mrs. Dilling- 
 ham, who put her hand in her capacious pocket in 
 search of her handkerchief. And then, not finding 
 it, lifted her black-beaded apron to her eyes and 
 sobbed undisguisedly into it. 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do— what shall I do without 
 my Edith ? " 
 
 The out-and-outer put a huge hand on her 
 shoulder and patted his wife gently. 
 
 "Why, lass," he cried, "just what your mother 
 did without you, when I come along and took you 
 off wi' me. She cried, too, didn't she ? " 
 
 " She had other daughters," said Mrs. Dillingham, 
 mournfully shaking her head and refusing to be 
 comforted. 
 
 "And how about me, mother, if you please?" 
 cried Sue shrilly. " I've been long enough at school 
 anyway ; I'm sick of it. I want to come home. I 
 know more than Agnes Anne Jacox, and, after a bit, 
 I could work every bit as well as Edie — if our Will 
 does call me ' Little Skinny Blackhead ! ' " 
 
 Edith put her arms about her mother, while 
 Hubert had all he could do, as a responsible surgeon, 
 to prevent his patient shaking hands with his son-
 
 AND LOVE THEREWITH 141 
 
 in-law in such a manner as materially to retard his 
 recovery. 
 
 " Cheer up, mother," said the out-and-outer ; " it 
 was bound to come some time. There was that 
 Alf Hazel, that Will has for ever on the doorstep, 
 and " 
 
 Edith looked round to check him, in some indig- 
 nation. 
 
 " I never would have married Alf Hazel — if it had 
 been ever so ! " she said sharply. 
 
 " Ah," said the out-and-outer, " that's very well, 
 missy ; but from what I hear Alf has double the 
 wage at the yard of your man ! " 
 
 Hubert drew a long, happy breath. He loved this 
 atmosphere of man to man, and each man for his 
 daily bread. Another (Tim, for instance) would 
 have been shocked by the out-and-outer's rough 
 talk ; but Hubert had left conventions behind him. 
 Indeed, he had hardly ever known them. To be 
 accepted as a fitting husband by the best and the 
 most beautiful girl in Thorsby — to be, in her 
 father's phrase, "her man" — why, the very words 
 put iron into his blood and strength into his heart. 
 
 Tim might marry for position, or money, or any- 
 thing that pleased him. He was not Tim. He was 
 Hubert Salveson, yard surgeon at Pritchard's, and 
 was in receipt of two golden sovereigns a week, 
 upon which he was going to marry ! He had them 
 in his pocket now. 
 
 Folly, idiocy, and deliberate throwing away of his 
 chances ! So the talk would run. He knew it. But 
 then Hubert Salveson did not care. He had thought 
 the thing out in the long, lonely days in the garden, 
 with Tim mooning about with his poetry books, and 
 the busy " drool " of the world outside coming to his 
 ears — the world where all were working except 
 himself. 
 
 These honest, plain, owe-no-man-a-penny folk — 
 the very pile of silver in the corner of the dresser
 
 142 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 to pay the Moon-Washington collector on Monday 
 — the hearty, natural goodwill, the truth-speaking, 
 the rough Thorsby manners, and this fine, fair 
 flower of an Edith growing up amid it all. For him ! 
 He could have thrown up his hat. What a world ! 
 
 He had his own life to live. He had a profession 
 — a handicraft, if you like. If his father would be 
 friends with him, so much the better. But Surgeon- 
 General Salveson had lived his own life, chosen it, 
 sought this doubtful by-way, and halted in that 
 pleasure-garden ; but still, on the whole, had passed 
 nis life laboriously and happily in a hard-working 
 profession. 
 
 So would he, Hubert Salveson. He did not ask 
 a penny from any one. He would write to inform 
 his father of his intention, as a son ought ; but he 
 would also do as a man ought — a man who has 
 taken upon him certain responsibilities, being of full 
 age and sound mind. He would marry Edith, and 
 ask the permission of none. 
 
 All these thoughts ran hastily through Hubert's 
 mind as he turned over in his pocket the two 
 sovereigns he had received that day as he passed 
 the pay-desk at Pritchard's, and the Scotch cashier 
 had said, " Guid day to ye, doakter ! " 
 
 What a tea that was ! Edith poured it out. The 
 out-and-outer behaved, and made no outrageous 
 attacks on any one's household gods. He had, 
 indeed, taken to Hubert from the first. The evening 
 sun shone. He had but to catch the dear, lingering 
 look in Edith's blue eyes fixed upon him, to be 
 arrested by the wonder of her hair, to see how 
 exactly right she had placed the little bow of ribbon 
 — green like that — about her neck. 
 
 How differently she talked from the others — ah, 
 how differently from any one else ! 
 
 The spoons played a pleasant tune. The cups 
 rattled — plates also. 
 
 " Come, doctor ! " cried the out-and-outer, *' you
 
 AND LOVE THEREWITH 143 
 
 are not eating. That's your second cup of tea, and 
 you never even drank your first." 
 
 It was true, Edith had taken it away without 
 saying a word, and given him a fresh one. And yet 
 they say that women are bhnded by love ! 
 
 But Sue, eating right and left, watched the pair 
 with wide-open eyes over her fifth slice of bread 
 and jam, secure for that afternoon from all inter- 
 ference, and feeling that she was gaining every 
 moment some new facts (or theory supported by 
 facts) wherewith to triumph over Agnes Anne Jacox 
 in the great science of love. 
 
 " Come, Emma," said the out-and-outer, after all 
 was over, " you and I will go into the parlour a bit. 
 I want to hear more o' that book. About four 
 chapters '11 do the trick, I think." 
 
 " Nonsense, Ned," said his wife, recovering some 
 of her humour; "stay where you are. Let Edith 
 take the doctor into the parlour and show him 
 our albums ; they are full of pictures of people he 
 has never seen in his life. You have never seen 
 our photograph albums before, have you, doctor?" 
 
 " Oh yes, he has ! " cried the irrepressible Sue. 
 " I've seen him watch them from the other side of 
 the street, time and again, from under an umbrella 
 too, and it not raining a drop ! " 
 
 " Look here, young woman," said the out-and- 
 outer, " you are gettin' to know too much. You put 
 on your hat, go down to Posthlewaite's at the East 
 Dene ferry, and bring me a copy of Lloyd' s^ 
 
 " Oh," said Sue, " I know where I can get that 
 paper ever so much nearer." 
 
 *' It's last week's I want, I tell you, and you can 
 only get it at Posthlewaite's. On with your hat 
 now, and be off with you." 
 
 " As if I didn't know what that was for ! " sneered 
 Sue, as she closed the door. "/wouldn't have 
 listened at their old keyhole. And after all I did for 
 them too ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A CRUMPLE IN THE ROSE LEAF 
 
 WELL, no more will we. At least the secret 
 of the ballot shall be observed. We shall 
 only publish results. I know what they said. 
 When I was younger I might have told, or rather 
 retold it word for word. A riper chronicler must 
 confine himself to ascertaining facts ; though, on 
 such a subject, a few fancies may also flower his 
 page. 
 
 Such as that when the woman you love cries, 
 the best way to stop her is to take her promptly on 
 your knee, tell her repeatedly that it is all right, 
 that she is to cry as much as ever she wants to. 
 Then she doesn't want to, and stops, such being 
 the nature of her kind. 
 
 But she does not move as you might think. She 
 sits up, or doesn't, as the case may be. But she 
 doesn't leave. She may give notice to quit, but 
 she stays. Let her, say the wise. Get as much 
 pleasure as possible out of sitting in one chair 
 before marriage ; you will find two more com- 
 fortable afterwards. 
 
 Then of course, various serious subjects were 
 discussed, in this pleasing economy of furniture 
 permitted to young lovers. 
 
 Imprimis, whether Hubert Salveson, M.B., CM., 
 Edin. (present) had, or had not ever" made love " to 
 Edith Dillingham, equally present. The gentleman 
 aforesaid sustained, with fervour and address, the 
 negative. He had been in love — he was in love, 
 he would remain in love. But ; mark him well, he 
 
 144
 
 A CRUMPLE IN THE ROSE LEAF 145 
 
 had never " made " love. The love had made 
 itself. 
 
 Miss Dillingham with fewer words, but a larger 
 quantity of gestures, ably sustained the affirmative. 
 
 " Never made love to me, Hubert Salveson ? 
 Why, you never did anything else." 
 
 "That night of your father's accident?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 Edith looked steadily at him. 
 
 " That was worse than all," she said ; " you knew 
 your advantage, when I could do nothing else. You 
 took command of me, and have never given me a 
 chance since. If only I had been wise, I would 
 have stuck to what I told you that day on Fame 
 Height. But I was foolish ; I did not go back 
 there again by the longer road. Instead, I went 
 to Hutchin's farm, and that alas ! was near to 
 Green Lane station, which has proved my undoing." 
 
 Hubert opened wide his arms with the gesture 
 of one who uncloses a bird-cage that the captive 
 may flee away. But Edith was too deep in her 
 argument — also too comfortable, to dream of 
 moving. 
 
 ** I believe you thought I would come to Green 
 Lane," he said, trying to get her to look him in the 
 face. 
 
 She flashed her eyes upon him, blue as forget- 
 me-nots, and between lips of coral he saw for a 
 moment the fine line of her white teeth. She 
 smiled. Then she dropped her eyes. 
 
 " I did not think ; I knew," she said. 
 
 Then they talked business, strict, stern business. 
 How much money would it take to furnish a little 
 house. Must see the house first, Hubert thought. 
 Edith moved the previous question. There were 
 many things that would go into any house, such 
 as tables, chairs, chests of drawers, ah ! 
 
 A sudden flush on hers, an access of folly on 
 Hubert's part, culminating in an " Oh, you darling, 
 
 10
 
 146 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 and to think it will be all ours — yours and mine, 
 Edith ! " 
 
 " I can't believe it yet," said Edith, recovering a 
 little, and setting her hands to the arranging of her 
 hair, with that primaeval gesture instinctive to all 
 women in such emergencies. 
 
 "Well, how much?" That sounded practical, 
 and kept them aware of themselves. 
 
 "About eighty to ninety pounds," was Edith's 
 estimate. " You see," she said, " it depends so 
 much on the fixtures. You don't know what fix- 
 tures are ? Oh, Hubert, and you a doctor, and 
 know so much ; why, your father owns hundreds 
 of houses ! " 
 
 " And I only own you," said Hubert, and would 
 soon have been on his way to another crisis, when 
 the voice of the original Edith of Fame Height 
 stayed him. 
 
 "And you have to find a house to put me in," 
 she said. " Two pounds a week," repeated Edith 
 several times, her finger to her lip ; " that's easy 
 enough, and we can save money as soon as we get 
 started. I won't have any three years' hire system, 
 though. I've known so much unhappiness come 
 through that. Nor I won't have a Moon- Washington 
 house, and have to work all our lives to pay for it." 
 
 " And then perhaps not want to live m it, when 
 all is done," added Hubert. 
 
 " I've about sixty pounds of my own," said Edith, 
 with a modest pride ; " money that my aunt 
 Christina left me — mother's sister in Scotland, you 
 know. It isn't much, but it will help." 
 
 Hubert gasped. This was wholly unexpected. 
 
 " Why, Edith, you are the moneyed one. But I 
 can't take your money — you — you wonderful pet." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Edith practically; "it isn't much, 
 of course ; but mother has it safe in the savings' 
 bank for me when I get married. Sue will have 
 the same,"
 
 A CRUMPLE IN THE ROSE LEAF 147 
 
 ** You won't want to marry a poor penniless 
 fellow like me," said Hubert, drolling ; " you, an 
 heiress — why, where were my eyes ? I never once 
 dreamed of it." 
 
 " Don't make fun of me," she said, pouting ; " once 
 1 wanted father to take it to help him with these 
 houses, but he wouldn't. * We don't want our little 
 Ede to leave us quite with the empty hand, do we, 
 mother ? No — no, you will keep it for your own 
 goodman.' But of course, I protested that I never 
 meant to get married, and would stay with them 
 always and always." 
 
 " You have changed your mind, eh, Edith ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said gallantly, " I have changed my 
 mind, I never thought I should." 
 
 Upon which saying, Hubert Salveson thought 
 himself the finest fellow in the world. 
 
 Then the fashion of his countenance changed. 
 He looked in his pocket-book, and took out certain 
 papers therefrom. 
 
 " I haven't got much, I'm afraid," he said, dole- 
 fully, " not so much as you ! " 
 
 " Never mind," said Edith ; " of course, you haven't 
 been at work long yet ! " Hubert laid his all in her lap. 
 
 There was Tim's " fiver " untouched. He did not 
 confess how it had been wrenched from Aunt Kid- 
 son at the point of the bayonet. Edith might not 
 understand. Then — the bulwark of his state — came 
 five-and-twenty golden sovereigns, worn out of the 
 patience of an indignant father by the methods of 
 the importunate widow. (Tim again !) Lastly five 
 pounds, seven shillings, and four pence, saved out 
 of his three weeks' wages. 
 
 "Why," cried Edith, indignantly, "you have 
 lived on nothing! You'll kill yourself" 
 
 " Oh, no," Hubert expostulated, " I have had my 
 meals from the cook-house, and generally, since you 
 took being cruel to me, I sent half of them back. I 
 wasn't hungry ! "
 
 148 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 "Oh, you poor, poor boy!" cried Edith, em- 
 phasising her pity. Hubert entered into details, 
 that this valuable tender chord might continue to 
 vibrate. 
 
 " Oh, just wait till I get you to take care of! " said 
 Edith. 
 
 And as for Hubert, he wished for nothing 
 better. 
 
 • • • ' • • 
 
 There was a noise of voices loud in the street, 
 approaching 109. "Come along — do!" cried one, 
 pressingly. " Ede will be glad to see you ; I know 
 she will. Father too ! " 
 
 Then Edith rose hurriedly, whispering : " Let's go 
 into the kitchen to father and mother. That's Will, 
 my brother, with some of his chums. He often asks 
 them in on Saturday night. Oh, how I wish he 
 wouldn't ! It just spoils it ! " 
 
 And Hubert, with a curious sudden chill of his 
 feelings, followed her into the kitchen. But he 
 would not let Edith suffer, and laughed it off. It 
 was not her fault, of course. She could not help 
 what her brother did, and yet — something jarred as 
 he heard the rough words without, and the too loud, 
 too " jolly-good-fellow " laugh of younger Thorsby — 
 a roughness not at all like that of the out-and-outer, 
 who was of an elder day, and in heart and m.anners 
 as good a gentleman as anybody. 
 
 " You see we have come back," said Hubert, before 
 the young men had had time to pass the gate; "we 
 have settled where to buy our chairs " 
 
 " Not at Gantley's, I hope," said Mrs. Dillingham, 
 anxiously ; " theirs are only sticks glued together — 
 and as for their bedroom furniture, I would never 
 allow " 
 
 "Hush, mother," said the out-and-outer, "here 
 come Will and his crowd. They're not bad fellows, 
 doctor. But — you let me tell them the news in my 
 own way. I don't think they will be very fresh
 
 A CRUMPLE IN THE ROSE LEAF 149 
 
 with Owd Ned Dillam, even if he has one hand in 
 these bandages of yours ! " 
 
 Master Will entered, and stared in a rather taken- 
 aback way at Hubert, seated easily by the geraniums, 
 his arm on the window-sill. 
 
 "Arm no worse, father?" he inquired, deciding 
 to let Hubert's presence go at that. 
 
 Dr. Salveson was introduced to " Mr. Hazel of 
 our office," a dark young man with a huge moustache, 
 who might have been a first-rate draughtsman, but 
 was without doubt a poor conversationalist. Indeed, 
 he said hardly a word the whole evening. He only 
 glared at Hubert as if he could have eaten him 
 without spice or condiment. 
 
 There was also Jo Challoner, the Dillinghams' 
 next door neighbour, clean-shaven, glabrous, un- 
 wholesome looking, skinned like a large mushroom 
 done in oil. He, on his part, never once looked at 
 Hubert, but also never took his eyes off Edith. 
 There was also a tall youth, with a meandering 
 backbone, and hair cut so short that his bullet head 
 seemed like a slightly moss-grown skull. He slunk 
 into a darkish corner, and said nothing. But he 
 laughed at everything that was said, however serious 
 in its bearing, in a mixed springboard voice, which 
 descended into the cellar and anon vaulted to the 
 ceiling with agility and impartiality. 
 
 He was known as "You, young Dick"! And 
 nobody stood on any ceremony with him. He was 
 told not to laugh like an ungreased waggon wheel. 
 And then, when he stopped, it was " You, young 
 Dick, if you don't know any better than to come 
 into a house and sulk " 
 
 Hubert did his best. Naturally, he had an easy 
 way with every one. But for some reason he found 
 the present company difficult, and at last rose to go. 
 
 " Edith, see the doctor to the door! " commanded 
 the voice of the out-and-outer, who had been trying 
 to extract some information as to "futures " (that is
 
 150 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 to say, vessels to be built at the yard) from under- 
 neath the silent and Saturnine moustaches of Mr. 
 Alfred Hazel. 
 
 Hubert shook hands with Mrs. Dillingham, nodded 
 to his patient, and bade the new-comers pleasantly 
 good-night. There was a curious silence in the 
 wide kitchen while Edith passed out with the doctor, 
 as bidden by her father. All the men seemed to be 
 listening their hardest. But there was nothing to 
 hear. For Edith went all the way to the outer 
 green gate with Hubert before she spoke. 
 
 " Oh, I am so vexed ; I could cry," she said ; " you 
 will think I am like them ! " 
 
 Hubert could not reassure her as he wished, 
 owing to the parliament of Bourne Street in con- 
 clave assembled that pleasant summer evening in 
 many fours and fives about the gates, and in the 
 little dusky garden plots. 
 
 But he found means notwithstanding. 
 
 " Never mind, little girl," he said gently and yet 
 swiftly, as her hand lay a moment still in his grasp, 
 " it will matter very little when I get you to our 
 little house — you and I. Let our watchword be the 
 First of June ; that is, if you still mean to share 
 with me those sixty pounds ! " 
 
 She smiled, Aprilwise. He lifted his hat, smiled 
 at her with his eyes, and was gone — tall, swift and 
 strong, with purpose in every step. Edith turned 
 and went straight up the stair to her own room, 
 from which she could watch him turn into Cheviot 
 Road. 
 
 But she was dreadfully conscious that through 
 the open door, before Hubert had time to get out of 
 earshot. Will's strident voice had come in words 
 that brought the hot blushes to her cheeks. " You're 
 out of it proper, chaps — you, Alf Hazel, and you, 
 young Dick ! Bet you four to one that's our Ede's 
 new ' bloke 1 ' "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 " RAT-TAT-TAT ! " 
 
 LONG before he stretched himself on his perilous 
 scissors bed, in the corner of his room at 
 the yard, Hubert thought no more of the awkward 
 irruption of Will Dillingham and his companions. 
 The wonders of the day carried him into a crowded 
 and delicious dreamland. 
 
 Edith loved him. Green Lane was now a sacred 
 spot — his first; his only! Of course. Dear, dear Edith! 
 How lovely she had looked ! Never any one in 
 the least like her. And the little house — so glorious 
 it would be. Life, life ; the life he had dreamed of 
 was upon him. Even those rough fellows— after 
 all, they were more akin to him than men who 
 thought only of amusement, horse-racing, motoring, 
 laboriously killing time, or yet more wearily 
 arranging to kill it as it came along. 
 
 Of course, he knew (or thought he knew) the 
 faults of the working-classes. They laid bets, though 
 many never had seen a race-horse in their lives. He 
 had seen the rush for the sporting editions of the 
 evening papers. They " spotted winners." They 
 had their favourite jockeys whom they would 
 follow throughout an entire season — in the betting 
 columns. 
 
 But still they acted squarely and honestly, worked 
 hard, earned their money, and in the main spent it 
 well. A little drink, a sparring match, a row of 
 horny knuckles shoved into another man's face ; 
 but good husbands, good fathers — even fair-to- 
 middling brothers. So Hubert, that first night, as 
 
 151
 
 152 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 he lay listening to the tugs hoot out of the river, and 
 the grind of paddles on the late ferry-boats, thanked 
 God for Edith, for the out-and-outer, for Mrs. 
 Dillingham, even for Sue. The good, clean, united 
 home-life fascinated him. And as for those others 
 — well, when once Edith and he got into a house of 
 their own, they could choose their company, save 
 and except those he had already named. But it was 
 otherwise with Edith. 
 
 With a woman's quick instinct, she felt that there 
 was more danger than she had thought, or than he 
 thought. Had she the right thus to take him ? 
 Four or five times she stole from beside Sue, lighted 
 a candle, and began a letter of renunciation to 
 Hubert. But she destroyed each one before she had 
 written more than the first lines. 
 
 Finally, she sat looking at the stars so long, 
 praying in her simple, child's way, that she almost 
 dropped asleep. And Sue, when she got in beside 
 her, flounced off to the far side of the bed with 
 sleepy grumbles and complaints as to her " being 
 cold enough to freeze a pig." 
 
 Then she too slept, and with the counselling 
 morning, the ordinary Sunday tasks all sweetened 
 by her remembrances, she forgot all save the love 
 that had leaped upon her so suddenly. And Hubert 
 — ah, there was nobody like Hubert. But while her 
 father promenaded in the yard with his morning 
 pipe, shirt-sleeved and meditative ; while the late 
 sleepers drained the dregs of their rest above stairs ; 
 while she carried up her mother's morning cup of 
 tea ; while she descended again to prepare breakfast, 
 and from the stairfoot advised the rest of the family 
 upon its toilet, Edith had only a very little weight 
 on her heart — which was the ghost of a fear. 
 
 She was taking him out of his class. Would he 
 be happy in hers ? Was there any betwixt and 
 between ? 
 
 But with the " rat-tat-tat " of the postman, first
 
 "RAT-TAT-TAT!" 153 
 
 heard far up the street, and approaching in a sort 
 of crescendo, thus : " Rat-tat-tat ! Rat-tat-tat ! rat- 
 tat-tat ! " Edith's troubles were over for that day. 
 Thorsby has a Sunday dehvery, as indeed we have 
 seen before. Edith, in the early days of her ac- 
 quaintance with Hubert, had received letters from 
 him then — even when she had told him not to write 
 on pain of her displeasure. And, of course, others 
 had written also. She could not help that. She 
 never answered one of them. None of them could 
 tell Hubert a single thing about her ; save a little 
 merriment, perhaps, at times, which never did any 
 one any harm. Yet but little even of that. For the 
 bit of education her father had given her over in 
 East Dene had raised that subtle barrier between 
 her and the young men she met, which is fatal to 
 sentiment. They were uneasy with her. She was 
 not "jolly." 
 
 They wrote Edith Dillingham down as " above 
 herself." She thought herself this, that, and the 
 other. When you sent her a letter, she did not 
 answer it, even when you put in a stamped, directed 
 envelope. She even gave the envelope to her 
 brother to take back to you. And he laughed and 
 made fun, unless you could " punch " him. 
 
 Then she did not go to dances. When a fellow 
 did go to church and sit through that dreary 
 sermon (Scotch), she always had an umbrella, if it 
 was raining. She said : " No thank you, I can find 
 my way quite well alone ; indeed, I prefer it ! " 
 
 In Master Will Dillam's set Edith was accounted 
 pretty, but she was certainly not popular. Still, 
 you never could tell, and the letters continued to 
 arrive. Either she or Sue answered the door, 
 tripping it very smartly indeed, and Sue, sisterly 
 kind, would slide one of Ede's letters into her 
 pocket every bit as quick as Edith herself She 
 wondered if the like would ever happen to her. 
 
 But this morning, all unexpectedly, there was a
 
 154 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 letter, besides the usual forms, statements, Moon- 
 Washington Extension Acts, for the out-and-outer. 
 
 Edith thrilled instinctively, it went into her 
 pocket. It was from Hubert. 
 
 " Dear" (it said), " I am not going to protest as I 
 used to do. We love one another so much that we 
 are going to face life together, you and I. I have 
 wondered much at your great goodness to me. I 
 know you are beautiful, but already I have thought 
 so much about your face that now I cannot recall 
 it in the least. I could explain this phenomenon 
 medically, but I prefer to refresh my memory by 
 calling to see your father this afternoon about five. 
 If you like, we can walk to church together. If 
 that is, for any reason unknown to me, impossible, 
 at any rate I shall see you. The first of June. The 
 little brick house somewhere ! Your aunt's sixty 
 pounds ! You and me ! 
 
 " If you can tell me anything else that matters, I 
 shall be obliged to you. 
 
 " Hubert." 
 
 What Edith did with this epistle, standing with 
 hurried fingers and flying eyes, divided betwixt 
 love and the frying-pan, it is difficult to recount. 
 It was a series of clever conjuring tricks. The 
 omelette (" Oh, the darling ! "), Scrambled eggs ! 
 (" Oh, how could he know ?) Turn the bacon (" Just 
 — just what I wanted to be told ! ") Father's coffee 
 ("and to go out this morning himself to the letter- 
 box!") Not too much butter on the toast, mother 
 does not like it (" in the chill and . . . danger ") 
 " Yes, father — nearly ready " (" to send this to me — 
 sob — sob — I mustn't cry — they'll see what a little 
 goose I am !). Yes, you can come down, all of you. 
 It's all ready. Yes, mother, I'll come and hook it 
 up the back." 
 
 (" And I thought he didn't love me ! ")
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 HUBERT TAKES ADVICE 
 
 HUBERT SALVESON considered it his duty 
 to inform Mr. James Pritchard his employer 
 of his intentions as to matrimony. Mr. Pritchard 
 was always busy and more than usually unapproach- 
 able on Monday mornings, as if the day of rest had 
 not agreed with him. This is, it appears, a well- 
 noted fact in other business houses. " The Boss " 
 is to be left severely alone on Monday mornings. 
 
 But Hubert did not know this, and none (in the 
 office) had good-will enough to tell him. He was 
 "an incomer," and had better be left to find out 
 things. So he was permitted to mount unwarned 
 to the door of the Crow's Nest. 
 
 He knocked. 
 
 " If you don't let me alone, I'll " 
 
 The words burst from within, hoarse and snarly, 
 as if through the cracks. The poker's ominous 
 jingle filled out the sentence. 
 
 Nevertheless, having no reason for fear on his 
 conscience, Hubert opened the door and went in. 
 The little grey man with the tight lips lifted him- 
 self from the stove into which he was pushing, 
 grinding, and stamping a mass of correspondence, 
 which had been marked "Personal" or "Private." 
 Some had been brought down from his house, and 
 the rest had been sent up from the office. The 
 office boy always, if he could, "lagged" to see 
 what would happen. 
 
 "Oh, it's you, doctor!" he growled, his stubby 
 hair standing up fretful and menacing, his sensitive 
 
 155
 
 156 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 eyebrow tufts quivering like hostile rapiers. " Well, 
 what do you want ? This is Monday morning. I 
 have always this to do ! Oh, I know them ! No, 
 I never open one of them — never one ! Why should 
 I ? I know them by sight, outside the envelopes. 
 This is an application for a bazaar — these church 
 subscriptions — new organs — east windows — poor of 
 Thorsby parish (and I pay thousands of pounds in 
 rates and taxes !) — St. Aldegonda's Rest House — 
 that's an application for a loan. If they want 
 money, let them work for it as I do. If they have 
 any claim upon me, let them write to the firm — 
 plainly. It will be opened and answered by my 
 clerks. But the scoundrels won't take the re- 
 sponsibility — if it has got ' Personal ' marked on it. 
 Laziness — sheer laziness ! They don't want to. 
 I'll clear out the office, that's what I will do ! U^h — 
 Ugh ! Ugh ! ! ! " 
 
 The last represent the exhaustion of breath 
 caused by vehement shoves with the heel of his 
 boot, complicated by thrusts of the heavy-hooked 
 poker. 
 
 One letter escaped, rebounding after a vigorous 
 assault. Hubert saw in a moment it was in his 
 father's handwriting. He was tempted to say 
 nothing. That his father should be writing to his 
 employer could bode no good to him. But he 
 successfully resisted the temptation. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," he said, as James 
 Pritchard stooped to fling the big square envelope 
 after the others, "but I think that is from my 
 father?" 
 
 The fierce, tense countenance turned savagely 
 upon him. 
 
 " You know anything about your father writing 
 me?" he demanded. 
 
 "No, sir, I do not," he said, "but — he may 
 wish ... to tell you something to my — to give you 
 some information about me, I mean. And I would
 
 HUBERT TAKES ADVICE 157 
 
 not wish that — I mean that I would hke to remain 
 in your employ on perfectly clear terms, so that 
 neither my lather nor any other should be able " 
 
 " That'll do," snapped James Pritchard ; " business 
 is waiting. Have you got a match ? Well, then — 
 set these a-going, and I'll — see — what the — pestilence 
 Charles Salveson has got to say to me ! " 
 
 The dashes were punctuated by strokes of his 
 wiry fore-finger disembowelling the letter with the 
 seal and crest of Surgeon-General Salveson of 
 the Manor, Thorsby. 
 
 He glanced it over first. Then he read aloud, 
 pulling his eyelids down till the black pin-point of 
 each pupil just scintillated across the paper. His 
 nose, also, curled and uncurled curiously, some- 
 thing like a probably hostile, certainly irascible 
 bull-dog, whose temper and digestion had been 
 spoiled by being chained up on an inappropriate 
 diet. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I am in receipt of a letter from my second 
 son, Hubert Salveson, in which he informs me that 
 he has entered your service as resident surgeon at 
 your shipbuilding yard. He also informs me that 
 he proposes to contract a matrimonial engagement 
 with the daughter of one of your labourers — an 
 infamous and well-known atheist. 
 
 " I desire to know if these things are true. Also 
 if, being true, you are prepared to take the re- 
 sponsibility of sanctioning them. You are a father. 
 How would you like if one of your sons were to 
 marry my cook ? 
 
 " Lastly, in the event of your refusing to yield 
 to my just representations, I would warn you that 
 it is written that those who draw the sword shall 
 perish by the sword. Also, that, as the fruit of my 
 special researches, I am able to foretell the date at 
 which wars shall cease, and when there shall be no
 
 158 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 further use for all that hateful enginery of battle- 
 ships and cannons, by which you have amassed your 
 ill-gotten gains ! 
 
 " I am, sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " Ch. Heathcote Salveson." 
 
 " Oh, let me get hold of a pen — where is the ink- 
 bottle ? " cried James Pritchard, precipitating himself 
 upon them. "I'll answer him!" And he wrote 
 accordingly. 
 
 " C. H. Salveson, Esq., 
 
 " Manor, Thorsby. 
 " Sir, 
 
 "Your favour of 19th (undated) received. I 
 run a business, not a matrimonial and lost-stolen- 
 and-strayed agency. I only require your son to do 
 his work fairly while employed by me. I should be 
 very glad if either of m}^ sons married your cook, or 
 any other honest hard-working woman. I heartily 
 wish your special study of prophecy could assure 
 me that they would come to so excellent an end. 
 As for war and rumours of war, they are likely to 
 last my time. And if not, I can build anything you 
 may require from a canoe to an Atlantic liner, 
 
 " I am, sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " James Pritchard." 
 
 He closed, addressed, stamped, and tossed the 
 letter into the basket marked " To Post." 
 
 " Now," he cried, getting up, " I've had enough of 
 your family affairs for one morning. Come back 
 again at five. Dr. Salveson, and I will hear what 
 you have to say." 
 
 Hubert moved about all day, studying how this 
 detail of work, and that other process, seemed to 
 bear too heavily on the men employed. He had,
 
 HUBERT TAKES ADVICE 159 
 
 after ten in the morning and two in the afternoon, 
 a good deal of time on his hands. One of these 
 slack-water periods he employed in visiting his 
 "out" patients in their own homes, and reporting 
 on stray "kippers" who had reported themselves 
 sick. But during the afternoon he had found time 
 to dress his report as well. He titled it "Medical 
 and Sanitary Suggestions as to the General Conduct 
 of Work in Pritchard's Yard, designed to effect a 
 Saving in Men, Money, and Time." 
 
 " Rather long for a title," he thought, " but I can 
 make the report itself concise enough." And he 
 endeavoured to imitate the style of Mr. James 
 Pritchard himself. 
 
 He took the first part in his pocket that afternoon 
 with intent to feed the tiger. But on climbing up 
 to the Crow's Nest, he found quite another James 
 Pritchard from the cyclonic despot of the morning 
 hours. 
 
 As soon as Hubert entered, the boss went to the 
 door, which opened in two parts, an upper and 
 a lower. The lower he barred — then turning a 
 wheel within, a simple mechanical arrangement, 
 swung the ladder into guides along the side of the 
 Crow's Nest. Thus they were isolated, and, indeed, 
 the sign was well enough understood by all the 
 yard. 
 
 " Have half of this rump-steak," said James 
 Pritchard, cutting into it with a large clasp-knife ; 
 " there's bread and butter at your elbow. Help 
 yourself to the beer. I always bring down a good 
 piece of meat in my tail-coat pocket — buy it at 
 Saunders's. They can't cheat me. I'm not going- 
 home till late to-night — my wife has something 
 high and mighty on at Oaklands. I haven't told 
 her, or she'd be asking you. I suppose you don't 
 want to do that sort of thing on two pounds a week 
 — though I began on a quarter of that ! And then 
 there's that girl you spoke of, eh, lad ? What of her ? "
 
 i6o PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 This was the very opening Hubert had been 
 waiting for. He could not have wished for better. 
 So into the breach he went. 
 
 " That was just what I wanted to speak to you 
 about, sir," said the resident surgeon. 
 
 James Pritchard nodded repeatedly. 
 
 " I knew it, young fellow ! — I knew it ! Trust an 
 old dog! Want to get married, eh ? Yes? House? 
 Furnishing? A little advance ? " 
 
 Hubert flushed to his temples. Pie never could 
 see when this leader and trier of men was leading 
 and trying him. At least, it took him a long while 
 to be sure. 
 
 " No, sir," he said emphatically, " Miss Dillingham 
 has a little money of her own— I, to my shame, 
 much less. And I might so easily have saved, but 
 being a fool, I didn't ! " 
 
 " Two pounds a week will be your saving, lad ! " 
 growled James Pritchard to himself. Aloud he 
 said : 
 
 *' So you are marrying a Miss Dillingham ?" 
 
 " The daughter of the man whom you made over- 
 seer of the railway sidings and deliveries -" 
 
 " Yes, at the request of his future son-in-law ! " 
 
 James Pritchard slapped his thigh and chuckled. 
 
 " A-well — a-well," he said, " he will do his duty, I 
 make no doubt. I've got good accounts of him. 
 Railway folk sorry to lose him and all that. No 
 harm — no harm ! But — eat your dinner, man. Good 
 Saunders' steak (and rump at that) is not to be 
 treated in that fashion. And so you don't want 
 any advance for furnishing? No? Well, you 
 will be doing it on the three years' system, I 
 suppose ?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Hubert ; " Edith will not allow it ! " 
 
 " Mirthful Jeremiah ! " cried the boss of Pritchard's, 
 " I must see this heiress — this Edith of yours ! She 
 has a wise head ! " 
 
 Then he paused a little.
 
 HUBERT TAKES ADVICE i6i 
 
 " Well, what do you want ? " 
 
 " I wanted simply to inform you of my intentions, 
 sir," said the resident surgeon, simply, " and to ask 
 if you could tell us of a cottage which would not 
 cost too much — and yet — be near enough my work, 
 and — not in or about the yard ! " 
 
 " Well, there is such a thing as asking and having, 
 doctor," said the master of ten thousand ; " of course, 
 I am delighted to be at your service. I have 
 nothing else to do — to think about ! Come along 
 now. We will search ourselves. Go — look — see ! 
 By the way, what rent do you think of giving ? 
 That might be a guide to me." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Hubert gravely. He 
 thought it was very kind of James Pritchard. He 
 did not at all appreciate the greatness of the con- 
 descension. 
 
 And the little wiry tyrant grinned and chuckled 
 as he put on his overcoat, found his umbrella, 
 swung the drawbridge to its place, locked the door 
 of the Crow's Nest, and followed his two-pound-a- 
 week surgeon down to help him look for a ten- 
 shilling house ! 
 
 " ' Go — look — see ' ! Nothing like that ! " he said ; 
 " a good habit. All that has come out of it ! " And 
 he waved an appreciative and even respectful hand 
 towards the seething tumult of the yard. 
 
 II
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 OLD QUAY COTTAGE 
 
 THINK," said James Pritchard thoughtfully, 
 ^ " that there may be something down by 
 Thorsby Old Wharf which may suit you ! You 
 don't know where that is ? And you have been 
 brought up in the town? Well, there are some 
 things which 1 have yet to teach you. Yes, a few ! " 
 The nervous little wire-strung man walked 
 smartly down the narrow private way which led 
 from his famous Crow's Nest to the private door in 
 the great retaining wall, by which he let himself in 
 and out of his yard. Click— \\q had turned the key 
 in the lock. Hubert passed through and found him- 
 self in a fragment of rural lane, which, save for a 
 slightly more dusky colouring of the foliage, might 
 have been miles in the country on the sunny slopes 
 of far Hexham or Bamborough. He stared about 
 him in wonderment. But James Pritchard moved 
 on; not, however, south to the station, but river- 
 wards. On the map, the place was in the very 
 centre of Thorsby. Vet, but for the lamp-posts and 
 the corner letter-box, Hubert might have been in 
 the heart of the country. True, there was the 
 rumble of the yard behind, and before, to the left, a 
 forest of masts — the Tresham, Stephenson, and 
 Craster Docks. 
 
 They came in sight of an ancient pier. About it 
 clustered some tumble-down outbuildings. But on 
 a height looking over the river were three small 
 white houses, solidly built of stone and w^hitewashed, 
 not at all after the manner of Mr. Moon-Washington 
 
 162
 
 OLD QUAY COTTAGE 163 
 
 — green and white, somewhat official-looking, and a 
 flagstaff in front of each one. 
 
 "Two of these are occupied by very respectable 
 people," said his guide. "The other is empty, but 
 has been kept in thorough repair ! " 
 
 Hubert looked his wonderment. It seemed a 
 thousand miles from the yard. 
 
 " Yes," continued the head of Pritchard's, " and 1 
 ought to know. For I own the cottages and the old 
 landing-stage. My right to the piece of land is, 
 however, a disputed question. There is no doubt 
 at all about my owning the right of way to the pier, 
 that lane through which we have come. So it has 
 been through all the courts for many years : Is the 
 pier mine or the Ferry Company's ? And all that 
 has yet come out of it is just that there is an inter- 
 dict against my extending my yard to the Old 
 Thorsby Quay — while the ferry steamers may bring 
 their steamers to the landing stage, but are inter- 
 dicted from landing a passenger unless they can 
 provide them with wings. We have stood snarling 
 at each other here for twenty years. So, owing to 
 that, these three houses, the old pier-master's and 
 two belonging to the original village of Thorsby, 
 have been preserved. Now you are to be pier- 
 master." 
 
 " I am afraid it will be too dear for us," said 
 Hubert, with a sinking of the heart. 
 
 " Well," said James Pritchard, shaking his head, 
 ** I feel that I shall be obliged to charge you ten- 
 and-sixpence a week for rent. But I will pay your 
 taxes. There are gas and water, which will cost you 
 nothing. You use the yard supply. And as for 
 coal, you can buy it for pit prices at the wharf 
 below your door. But as a servant of mine you 
 will help me to keep title. For if the cottages go, 
 the land will go also — the road as well, because it is 
 the means of access to my cottages. And continuity 
 of tenure will help. The other two are occupied
 
 i64 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 by a retired sea-captain and his wife, good friends 
 of mine and very worthy people ; you could tell as 
 much by the figure-heads and rockeries. The last 
 is occupied by the curate of the parish, if he wishes 
 to live in the midst of his work, as they mostly do." 
 
 By this time James Pritchard was within, looking 
 about him with quick eyes that missed nothing, in 
 which arose something of sentiment, inconceivable 
 in the autocrat of the morning. 
 
 " I will tell you something that is not generally 
 known," he said. " I took up my house here many 
 years ago — thirty-five, perhaps — with my first wife. 
 I have always kept the place up. Indeed, I like 
 well enough to do a bit of carpentering here yet, 
 when I can spare the time from the yard. It rests 
 me to bide awhile with old faces and old dreams ; 
 better than the reality. Can you explain that, doctor, 
 with your medical science?" 
 
 " I understand," Hubert answered modestly. 
 
 " Now, I have a condition or two to make," said 
 James Pritchard ; " first, what you pay me for this 
 house rests between you and me alone. But I will 
 give you a written lease, properly drawn out for 
 you to sign. Second, your . . . iiyife does not 
 know me, think you ? " 
 
 " I could not answer as to that," said Hubert, 
 looking a little puzzled. " I don't think so. At 
 least, Edith was asking me to describe you the other 
 day." 
 
 "Ah," said James Pritchard, "and you drew a 
 flattering picture, I'll warrant." 
 
 Hubert smiled without replying. 
 
 " Well, doctor," said James Pritchard, " as you 
 see, I am one man at the yard and another here. I 
 have kept this house through all these years, as that 
 in which I had my best days. You are never likely 
 to have better, and that I tell you, young man. But 
 of late, I suppose because I am getting old, I have 
 felt a loneliness in opening the door, a restlessness
 
 OLD QUAY COTTAGE 165 
 
 in reading in the room which used to be our sitting- 
 room — that with the asbestos gas fire. Some one 
 beginning as I did — as we did — ought to have it. 
 And when you spoke to me that first day, of the 
 work you were determined to do, and the girl you 
 were resolved to marry, I thought of Old Quay 
 Cottage at once. It is small, but I think you will 
 find little lacking. 
 
 " Yes," continued James Pritchard, pointing from 
 one thing to another with pride, " I have put up 
 that woodwork. I fixed the range. I have arranged 
 the fittings and gas-brackets — for the sake of one 
 whom you will never see ; and I — well perhaps it 
 is my only hope. Now, I would like sometimes to 
 come here as I have always done, and take off my 
 coat, and do a little repairing with my own hands." 
 
 He lifted a kind of hatch in an outhouse. " Here," 
 he said, " are my overalls, my paint-brushes, tools 
 and so on ! " 
 
 Hubert looked over the brick wall at the flag- 
 staff from which the red ensign flew. 
 
 "Captain and Mrs. Broadly will say nothing; 
 they are accustomed to me. The captain went 
 through pretty desperate things for me when he 
 was younger. Besides, they think I'm a little " 
 
 He touched his forehead, smiling. 
 
 "Well, maybe I am," he went on, "but this is the 
 little locked-away part of my heart which I have 
 never shown at Oaklands to my lady, nor yet to the 
 four men in knee-breeches waiting in the hall ! " 
 
 He turned to Hubert, his hair wiry and erect, his 
 eye brilliant, almost defiant. 
 
 " Do you wonder I care about the place ? " he 
 demanded. 
 
 " No," said Hubert, " I only wonder you ever left 
 it!" 
 
 "Ah," said James Pritchard, taking his hat off as 
 if at a sudden memory, " going or staying was not 
 mine to choose. My wife died. During the day I
 
 i66 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 had my work ; it was just beginning to stretch out. 
 But after that was done, to come back to the loneH- 
 ness — the darkness — the emptiness ! No, I could 
 not stand it. I had to go." 
 
 He led Hubert into a kind of tower, which opened 
 on the roof. 
 
 " We used to sit here," he continued, looking sea- 
 ward. " More than once, I remember, I was pretty 
 near the rocks. And now " (he turned towards 
 the yard, which extended, fuming and roaring, 
 clinking and thundering along the Tor estuary), 
 " behold Great Babylon that I have built ! " he said. 
 He made a sort of contemptuous gesture, as for 
 something unavailing. 
 
 He led the way down again. All at once he be- 
 came very business-like. " As this is between our- 
 selves I will call for the rent myself, say fortnightly 
 as will be convenient for you and for myself. Then 
 I shall see — yes, I shall see ! " 
 
 But he did not say what it was that he would see. 
 He took a little old-fashioned case from his pocket. 
 " Have you given this Edith of yours a ring ? " he 
 said suddenly, " an engagement ring? " 
 
 " No, sir," said Hubert ; " I have not had the time, 
 nor the money." 
 
 The old fierce face brightened amazingly. 
 
 "Then give her this," he said, "tell her it is 
 something precious, ancestral. For that is true. It 
 was once on the finger of the happiest girl in all the 
 north. May 3^our happiness be longer than mine ; 
 I know it cannot be greater ! " 
 
 Hubert found no words to thank him, thinking of 
 Edith in this daintily fitted nest with the ships 
 coming and going in front. He could see the cosy 
 fires shining, the twilight shutting two people, who 
 loved each other, in unto themselves; while upon 
 the opposite shore, the lights of East Dene sprang 
 into far-hung illuminations — docks, streets, crescents, 
 all in wisps and garlands of fire, from the low
 
 OLD QUAY COTTAGE 167 
 
 riding-lights of ships to the highest houses on the 
 ridge, where it meets the sky, and in summer clips 
 the tail of the Great Bear itself. 
 
 " Well, bring your Edith to-morrow night to see 
 it, about the same hour. And take her the ring. 
 No, do not thank me. I only want to see it on her 
 finger. No ; it has no right to go to my sons. 
 They have no concern with it ; no one, but I. 
 Good-night ! Good-night. I will stay a little longer. 
 I have some things to arrange ; some few also to 
 remove. And as I told you, 1 am not expected 
 home!" 
 
 " Good-night, sir," said Hubert. " I cannot thank 
 you " 
 
 "Then don't try," said the little man, suddenly 
 fierce, " but remember, all this has nothing to do 
 with your being at your work at proper hours, giving 
 your whole attention to my interests, and drawing 
 two pounds a week, of which you pay me ten- 
 shillings-and-sixpence for the rent of this house." 
 
 " 1 think it ought to be more," Hubert began 
 feebly. In his innocence he feared lest he should 
 be taking an advantage of James Pritchard, the 
 man who had built all that huge roaring Babylon at 
 their backs. 
 
 " Be off now, and see if that ring fits ! " cried 
 James Pritchard. " Lord, if it were only I ! " 
 
 And the door shut so rapidly upon Hubert that 
 the beautifully polished brass knocker clacked of 
 itself. 
 
 " I mustn't spoil that boy," James Pritchard 
 grumbled to himself " I must keep him to the 
 mark. But two pounds a week, a good little wife, 
 and his nose to the grindstone for a year or two, will 
 be the salvation of him ! Even with that Salveson 
 blood of his." 
 
 In the parlour of 109, Bourne Street, Edith was 
 exclaiming at that moment ; " Oh ! and it just fits —
 
 i68 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 how strange — a ruby heart set all round with 
 diamonds ! How good of you, Hubert ! I shall 
 always keep it." 
 
 Meanwhile — one time the more like a careful 
 house-steward James Pritchard was trying all the 
 window cords and fastenings of the cottage down 
 the lane which led to Thorsby Old Quay. And 
 ere he had finished the lights of East Dene came out 
 across the estuary. He could see them reflected in 
 the upward flowing tide. It was a calm night. He 
 went and leaned his elbow on the sill. 
 
 " We used to watch them so ! " he murmured, as if 
 talking to some one else. 
 
 Then he started suddenly. 
 
 " James Pritchard, you're a fool !." he said aloud ; 
 " go home, fool ! " And carefully locking the door 
 he made his way up the lane to the station without 
 once looking behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 EDITH INTERVIEWS THEIR LANDLORD 
 
 THUS it came to pass that the next day, a little 
 after five, before the mighty evening exodus 
 began to pour from the gates of the yard, Hubert 
 and Edith turned sharply down the narrow station 
 lane which led to Old Quay Cottage. 
 
 There was a flush on the girl's cheek. Her lips 
 were very red. But in her heart she meant 
 cold business. They were going to meet their 
 future landlord, who would no doubt attempt to 
 take them in. All landlords did — except, of course, 
 her father. It was a commonplace in the family 
 that Jo Challoner treated the out-and-outer rather 
 as if he were landlord and Ned Dillingham the 
 tenant. But though her father was like that, and 
 though Hubert had no more idea than, say, the 
 average man, she, Edith Dillingham, was not going 
 to be taken in. She had been coached by her 
 mother, and had listened dutifully. Still, she 
 knew better than her mother, and for an excellent 
 reason. 
 
 But it was her pretty hands that had done the 
 washing and ironing. She had cooked and scrubbed 
 and swept and polished in the house numbered 
 109, Bourne Street, for many years. Had the range 
 a fault — did it boil the water too quickly, or heat 
 the oven too slowly — it was she who had to suffer 
 for the irregularity. Edith Dillingham knew a 
 room that would be easy to " do " from one which 
 could in nowise be kept clean. She did not want 
 one of those standing-on-end houses, all garrets 
 
 169
 
 170 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 with a sunk flat, now becoming too common owing 
 to the economy of ground space, where everything, 
 coal, water, grate-ashes— oh, lots of things — had 
 either to be carried up or downstairs. Oh, if only 
 the proprietors, architects, and builders had to do 
 the work— all the work— of such a house for six 
 months or so ! they would evolve something that 
 would not be so hard on a girl. 
 
 At first sight Edith was a little alarmed at the 
 aspect of the lane. 
 
 " Won't it be lonely ? " she said. " Suppose I 
 want something suddenly." 
 
 " You will have the morning for your marketing," 
 said Hubert, wise by a kind of rebound. " I will 
 get my dog, John Bull, down from the manor. . . . 
 Tim will fetch him. He will take care of you ; you 
 need have no fear with him, night or day. Besides, 
 it is only a little way after all ; there are quite good 
 shops as you turn into the Station Road ! " 
 
 " That house ! " cried Edith, clasping her hands. 
 " Oh, it's lovely; but, Hubert, they will never let us 
 have it for the rent we can afford ! " 
 
 "Ten-and-six a week, Edith," said Hubert 
 triumphantly. " It was I who arranged it with 
 the landlord ! " 
 
 "Then there's something wrong inside," cried the 
 practised and not-to-be-imposed-upon Edith ; " bad 
 drains or something ! " 
 
 And she could hardly contain herself as she 
 mounted the steps which led up from Old Quay 
 Lane. She wanted to run. Yet, instead, she 
 stopped. 
 
 " How are we to get a cart up to the door — coal, 
 furniture, all that, besides the ash-heap once a 
 week ? " 
 
 Hubert had not thought of that, but suggested 
 that, as the house had been that of the old Pier- 
 master, there would certainly be every such con- 
 venience. The sharp household-wise eyes of Edith
 
 EDITH INTERVIEWS LANDLORD 171 
 
 spied out a gate in the hedge a little way up the 
 lane, 
 
 ** Here we are," she said, and, turning the handle, 
 she found herself on a well-gravelled walk, which 
 led into a little courtyard and eventually to the 
 back door. 
 
 " Hubert," she cried, " we will never get this for 
 ten-and-six. But, oh, the laundry ; and a place to 
 dry if it's wet. And oh," she clasped her hands 
 ecstatically, " a coal-place which can be filled from 
 the outside ! And oh, Hubert, if we only could ! 
 But it is impossible. They will want a pound at 
 least for such a house ! " 
 
 " Perhaps it is the situation," suggested Hubert, 
 " between the yard and the docks ! " 
 
 Edith shook her head, and pouted her lips under 
 the pretty toque, which became her small head so 
 well. 
 
 " I shall see when we get in ! " 
 
 The back door stood invitingly open. So they 
 passed immediately into the kitchen, and there, in 
 paint-splashed overalls, was a little man in a square 
 paper cap. He stood on the top of a double ladder 
 and he was giving the last touches to a light and 
 pleasing stencilling of china-blue, which ran round 
 the whitewashed ceiling of the kitchen. 
 
 ** Our landlord ! " said Hubert, smiling, and he 
 watched Edith's face as Mr. Pritchard descended. 
 No, she did not know him. 
 
 " The young lady who is to be the mistress of 
 this little house o' mine ? " said the landlord genially. 
 " You'll excuse me shaking hands. I have been 
 doing the place up a bit, you see. Would you like 
 to take a step round, and if there is anything that 
 needs looking to — why, only just mention it ! " 
 
 " Thank you," said Edith, with her best not-to-be- 
 taken-in expression, " I will ! " 
 
 The sharp, grey eyes took her in, from the neat 
 plain toque to the hem of her well-fitting dark-
 
 1/2 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 green coat. Then something quivered about his 
 eyes, and he said hastily : " I am at your service, 
 Miss-ah?" 
 
 " Dilhngham," said Edith. " My father was a 
 foreman with the railway company till he got hurt. 
 Now he is going to be in the yard." 
 
 She did not wish any mistakes, and she under- 
 stood quite well the landlord's glance at her dress ; 
 or thought she did. 
 
 " He will think we have money," she argued, "or 
 that my people are rich. / can't tell him I made 
 this myself out of stuff father got from Jo 
 Challoner as part payment for back rent. But, 
 
 never mind " 
 
 She became severely practical. Hubert remained 
 mute, and the little grey man, with the paper cap, 
 stood with a piece of "waste" in his hands slowly 
 rubbing at the paint stains. 
 
 " We had only thought of giving ten shillings," 
 she began. " Hu— my— I mean Dr. Salveson has 
 not a large wage to begin with, and we are 
 determined not to run into debt." 
 
 " I hope that won't part us, miss," said the land- 
 lord of Old Quay Cottage, " but, being as you see 
 a stone house and with good accommodation, though 
 small, I could not conscientiously let it go under 
 ten-and-six — paid every Saturday. I couldn't, 
 really." 
 
 " Monday is the usual day," said Edith, strong in 
 her local knowledge. The sharp eyes twinkled, 
 with admiration maybe, or perhaps with some 
 secret thought. 
 
 " Yes," said the landlord, " I am aware of that. 
 But this being something particular, and having 
 nothing to do on that day, I should be glad to call 
 for the rent myself on Saturday, and see that all was 
 right — any little repairs, you know." 
 
 " Well," said Edith, a little astonished, " that is all 
 the same to us, of course. If we are not at home —
 
 EDITH INTERVIEWS LANDLORD 173 
 
 gone out for a walk when you call — we could leave 
 the rent with our next neighbours ; that is, if they 
 are honest people ! " 
 
 "They are honest enough — indeed, very good 
 people — as your — as the doctor knows ; retired sea- 
 captain and his wife. But, 1 would rather find 
 you in." 
 
 Edith stared at the landlord. She wondered what 
 was the matter with the man. Hubert touched her 
 arm to be silent. It was their first (almost married) 
 confidence of that kind. She understood, and said 
 no more, thinking that the poor man " had a want " 
 as they said in Thorsby. 
 
 From the kitchen they passed to the scullery— a 
 marvel of the patient application of thought to 
 making easy all domestic operations. 
 
 Edith stood entranced. She had no words to 
 express what she felt, but her purpose was gather- 
 ing force within her. The parlour, wainscoted with 
 oak, had little book-cases, like those she had seen in 
 Mr. Marchbank's manse, besides fixtures, gas, electric 
 bells. She smiled at this. For there would be no 
 servant. Hubert and she would have to ring for 
 one another. 
 
 The window was an oriel, and the view took in the 
 Old Quay, the wide glittering river, constantly fur- 
 rowed by ships, the crowded slopes and dark ridge of 
 East Dene opposite ; above all the evening sky, cut 
 across by the smoke of a passing tug-boat, purple 
 against the basking red-and-ochre of the opposite 
 city. 
 
 But it was the bedrooms which decided Edith, 
 and above all the wall-press accommodation. She 
 knew roughly what it cost to build a brick house, 
 and such a house as this could not be let for ten 
 shillings and sixpence a week if all were right. 
 Indeed, it would not be let by the week at all. 
 
 They came downstairs again, and stood together 
 in the parlour.
 
 174 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Well," said the landlord, " I hope that you are 
 satisfied, Miss Dillingham?" 
 
 Edith compressed her lips, and something of the 
 out-and-outer's downrightness of speech flashed to 
 the surface. 
 
 " Hubert ought to say it, Mr. Landlord," she 
 began ; " but he has not had my experience in 
 houses, having had other things to learn and to 
 attend to " 
 
 The landlord bowed to conceal the twitch at the 
 corner of his lips. 
 
 " But / must," she went on ; " and as you have 
 been so kind, I hope you will not be angry. Now, 
 you wouldn't let this house for ten-and-six a week if 
 there were not something wrong. What is it ?" 
 
 " Ask your — ask Dr. Salveson there, if there is 
 anything wrong," said the landlord. " He is a 
 doctor, he ought to know." 
 
 " He doesn't," said Edith decidedly ; " I prefer to 
 ask you. Why are you letting us the house far 
 below the proper rent ? I know by my father's two 
 in Bourne Street ! " 
 
 " The situation is perhaps a little out of the way ? " 
 suggested the landlord. 
 
 " Within five minutes of the yard, and within the 
 same distance of Old Quay station — in the centre of 
 the town." 
 
 " People don't like the noise and the smoke ! " 
 
 " Smoke is healthy enough with that river in front," 
 said Edith ; " and as for the noise, it is nothing ; even 
 now I begin not to hear it ! " 
 
 The landlord did not seem to be able to suggest 
 any further explanation, but stood regarding a spot 
 of China blue on his left thumb nail. 
 
 " Well," he answered after a while, ** even a land- 
 lord is allowed to have fancies." 
 
 " No," said Edith curtly ; " tell me ; I would rather 
 know. Is it unhealthy — sanitation bad ? " 
 
 " Passed this week by the Inspector. There is
 
 EDITH INTERVIEWS LANDLORD 175 
 
 the certificate," said the landlord, handing a paper to 
 Edith. 
 
 " Fever, then ? A death from something infectious 
 — small-pox, perhaps ? " 
 
 " There has only been a caretaker in the house for 
 twenty-five years, besides occasionally myself — and 
 she was only an old woman to keep fires in the 
 rooms." 
 
 Edith gazed at the little stubbly man. As she 
 said afterwards he seemed stubblier than ever at that 
 moment. 
 
 " Do you mean to say, sir," said Edith, the practical, 
 " that you have gone without rent for this house for 
 nearly thirty years ? " 
 
 " I do mean it," he said ; " I have a reason." 
 
 " I think you should tell it to us," said Edith, "if 
 we are to live in the house ? " 
 
 The stubbly landlord of Old Quay Cottage took 
 off his paper cap, and, instead of looking at Edith, 
 he gazed out of the window. 
 
 " It was an idea I had," he said ; " I could afford 
 it. 1 also began life in this cottage with the woman 
 I loved — who is dead ! " 
 
 " Oh, I am so sorry ! I ought not to have asked 
 you ; I did not know ! " cried Edith, her hands clasped, 
 and with tears already brimming in penitential 
 eyes. 
 
 The landlord's thoughtful gaze did not leave the 
 topmost spires of East Dene ridge, still touched by 
 the sun, and ruddy through the cloud-banks. 
 
 " So because of that, and because of my feeling for 
 your husband I wish you to live in the house where 
 I was once happy. For the same reason I should 
 like to make an errand here sometimes on Saturdays, 
 when your husband is at home, and see the house of 
 your happiness — which was also that of mine ! " 
 
 As the ^ grey landlord did not seem inclined to 
 say more Hubert took Edith's hand, and led her 
 away quietly. She looked back.
 
 176 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " I should — almost — have liked to— kiss him," she 
 said. " Oh, Hubert " (she began to sob), " if I were to 
 die, would you be sorry like that ? As long, I 
 mean ? " 
 
 Hubert reassured her with that prodigality as to 
 engaging the future, which is characteristic of very 
 young lovers. 
 
 Edith was silent till they turned into the busy 
 Station Road. Then, moved by some instinct, she 
 took his arm for the first time in open day on the 
 highways of Thorsby. Hubert was rejoicing at 
 this, when he looked down and caught her eyes. 
 They were far away. She was not thinking of him 
 at all. 
 
 "What is it?" he said, gently, without being 
 offended. 
 
 " I wonder — if he likes me ? " she murmured 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 "That poor, poor landlord," she said. "Oh, I 
 am so sorry for him, losing his wife so long ago ! " 
 
 She repeated this as they knocked at 109, Bourne 
 Street. It dwelt on her mind. " So long ago ! " 
 she murmured. It seemed to make it harder. 
 
 And at Oaklands Mount, that palatial residence of 
 the distinguished shipbuilder, the Lady Ethelreda 
 Pritchard, daughter of the Right Hon. Earl Conquest, 
 was informing her husband that when he honoured 
 her by his presence at her dinner table, he might at 
 least appear clean. 
 
 There was, it was evident to her ladyship, a spot 
 of China blue enamel on his left thumb nail.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 SECOND SITTING OF THE OLD CATS' CLUB 
 
 YES, my dear, it's neither ' he said ' nor ' she 
 said,' but the straight truth," said Mrs. 
 Skipton (otherwise Mother Shipton), "some 
 of it; indeed, I had it from Mrs. Waddleham— - — " 
 
 " I must beg of you, Mrs. Jane Skipton, if you 
 wish to retain m}^ respect and a place at my table, 
 never to speak again of that — person ! Enough that 
 your conduct in bringing such a person into this 
 house has been overlooked." 
 
 It was Aunt Kidson who spoke. The Old Cats' 
 Club was in session. They sipped their tea daintily, 
 mumbling little " shortbread biscuits," made by 
 the Scotch cook ; with much ill-will, be it said. 
 " Master Hubert used to like them ; but yon pack 
 o' back-bitin' auld besoms ! Certes me ! Set them 
 up ! " 
 
 Mother Shipton laid down the uncrumbled piece 
 of short-cake on the edge of her saucer, and 
 carefully poised the cup in the middle. Then she 
 rose and began to put on her veil. 
 
 " It appears that I am not welcome in this house, 
 Mrs. Kidson. I hope I know my pride, which is 
 also a pleasure, to go when I am shown I am not 
 wanted." 
 
 All present rose to appease her, save and except 
 Aunt Kidson, who only wrapped her hands the 
 tighter in her little lace apron, pursed her lips, and 
 looked prim as prisms— also prunes. 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Skipton, declining to be entreated 
 of them, " my husband what's in his grave, would 
 
 177 12
 
 178 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 never have permitted it. It's only since he's gone 
 that I've been treated like this ! " 
 
 She put her veil down so emphatically, that she 
 tore it away from its moorings on her many-towered 
 bonnet. 
 
 Miss Fly hastened to whisper in the ear of the 
 hostess : 
 
 " Tell her you did not mean what you said, quick," 
 she whispered. 
 
 " But 1 did," retorted Aunt Kidson, out loud. 
 
 "Hush!" said Miss Fly, "she has something to 
 tell. Think of that. About Master Hubert ; she has 
 better opportunities than any one else. Say that 
 you didn't mean it, even if you did ! " 
 
 The hostess weakened and covered her defeat 
 wnth a false bluffness of manner that deceived no- 
 body. 
 
 " You always were hot and hasty, Jane Skipton," 
 she said, " taking offence where none was meant. 
 Sit down and have a fresh cup. That's gone cold 
 by now. If I said anything, it was only on account 
 of that Mrs. Waddleham. And you know for your- 
 self, Jane Skipton, how she treated, not only the 
 members of this club, but also me, your hostess. 
 And, humble though I may be, I never forget that I 
 am a near relative of the proprietor of Thorsby 
 Manor." 
 
 The said proprietor spoke to his " near relative " 
 once a week, when she presented her household 
 accounts. 
 
 However, such as it was, the apology was 
 accepted, the presence of two new Scotch members 
 helping perhaps to modify the situation. The first 
 of these was a distinguished lady, Mrs. Gribton 
 McNab, who had once lived in Edinburgh. She 
 referred to this fact frequently, as if the mere former 
 domicile were a patent of nobility. 
 
 She was genteel of the genteel, and had a soul 
 above fancy work. She worked socks in circular
 
 SECOND SITTING OF OLD CATS' CLUB 179 
 
 stripes of red, pink, and royal blue, and she was a 
 boarder of St. Aldegonda's Rest House. 
 
 ** These are for the children of the poor," she 
 said, with a fine fresh New Town accent ; " the 
 colour juist shoots them, ye see!" 
 
 The combination was certainly enough to kill at 
 twenty paces, but Mrs. Gribton McNab meant to 
 say that bright colours were suitable to children of 
 poor (and apparently colour-blind) parents. 
 
 The other visitor was a maiden lady, who had no 
 continuity in conversation, or indeed desire to have 
 any. She sat far back in the corner of the room, 
 and at every tale of human weakness and revelation 
 of the depravity of her sex. Miss Lucinda Gall threw 
 up her eyes, sighed, and shook her head. It was 
 sad, certainly, but what better could 3^ou expect. 
 
 " Oh, this generation ! This generation ! " she 
 murmured, applying for her third cup of tea. Aunt 
 Kidson looked severely at her. Three cups of tea 
 for a new-comer was rather strong. Even Miss Fly 
 would have thought a little before taking this liberty. 
 But this mournful spinster merely ejaculated : " Oh, 
 this present generation ! " And added, " Tivo pieces, 
 if you please," without being asked if she would 
 have one. 
 
 Mrs. Skipton, whose mind was still seething after 
 storm, inwardly wondered how long that cross- 
 grained old woman, Mrs. Kidson, would stand it. 
 She had her own ideas that it would not be long. 
 She was glad now that she had stayed. 
 
 But cunning Miss Fly drew the best of all red 
 herrings across the trail. She introduced the name 
 of Edith Dillingham. 
 
 " If I mistake not, it was of the Dillingham girl 
 you were going to speak," she said, addressing her- 
 self directly to Mrs. Skipton. 
 
 The latter repressed a strong desire to say : " Yes, 
 when I was interrupted ! " But the vision of the 
 cupboard and the coming " little drop of somethink "
 
 i8o PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 caused her to suppress foolish pride, which indeed 
 is vanity. 
 
 " Yes," she sighed : " I am informed on the very 
 best authority that the foohsh young man, Mr. 
 Hubert Salveson, has been cast out of this, his 
 father's house, has been inveigled into that of the 
 atheist, and that he will probably marry that 
 dreadful man's daughter." 
 
 " Marry her — oh, the disgrace to this noble and 
 ancient house!" cried Aunt Kidson. "Oh, the 
 poor misguided boy ! What shall I find to say to 
 his poor afflicted father, even now grieving for him, 
 upstairs — two flights — to the left. Oh, my dear kins- 
 man ; my dear, dear kinsman ! " 
 
 This she said. But Miss Fly winked at Mother 
 Shipton, and Mother Shipton back at Miss Fly. 
 Miss Fly whispered behind the tea-cosy that if Mrs. 
 Kidson cared to say one word to the 'dear, dear 
 kinsman' upstairs, she would probably be ordered 
 to pack and go. Mother Shipton treasured these 
 last words to repeat to her hostess when she got a 
 chance. Thus do these particular Christians love 
 one another. 
 
 " Ah, I fear it is true — too true," said Miss Fly. 
 " I myself met him on Tuesday afternoon in the 
 Station Road, and she had his arm — monstrous ! 
 In open day ! A defiance of a good parent ! I 
 wonder some people are not afraid of a judg- 
 ment ! " 
 
 " It will surely overtake them," said Mother 
 Shipton severely; "but that is not the worst. I 
 heard that from Jo — I mean, from a gentleman who 
 lives in their neighbourhood, that the young man 
 is never out of the house, and that he and the 
 woman are even going out looking for a cottage ! 
 That looks like marriage." 
 
 " And what is more," said Mrs. Skipton, " it is a 
 known fact in the yard that Mr. Hubert has been 
 closeted for hours with that heathen man, James
 
 SECOND SITTING OF OLD CATS' CLUB i8i 
 
 Pritchard, and that his advice is now asked about 
 everythins: ! The men don't like it, Jo says." 
 
 ** Something underhand ! " said Aunt Kidson, 
 nodding. 
 
 " Oh, this generation ! " groaned the new-comer. 
 " I'll be obliged to you for another cup of that very 
 nice and agreeable beverage ! Tim lumps, if you 
 please ! " 
 
 And Miss Lucinda Gall pushed along her cup for 
 a_ fourth supply right under the nose of the in- 
 dignant Aunt Kidson, murmuring : " Oh, this 
 generation ! " 
 
 " In my young days," said Mrs. Gribton McNab, 
 beginning a yet more lurid arrangement in orange 
 and green wools, "when I lived in Edinbory, in 
 Torpheechan Street, there were no young lasses 
 that would have thought of carrying on like that. 
 Oh, no ; they waited till they were decently aged 
 and sober-like, and then they took up with the first 
 man that had a faceable income. But nowadays — 
 ah, ye may say so ! " 
 
 " Two lumps, I said ! " persisted Miss Lucinda 
 Gall patiently. She had watched while Mrs. Kid- 
 son, with a smile of grim triumph, filled the teapot 
 to the lid with hot water, and immediately poured 
 the brew into her cup. " I would just as soon drink 
 hot water, with a little milk as good tea," she said. 
 " It's better for the stomach. But sugar I must 
 have ! And two lumps, please ! " 
 
 " When I was in Edinbory, living in Torpheechan 
 
 Street in the West End " began Mrs. Gribton 
 
 McNab, all over again. 
 
 But the quick eye of Miss Fly saw that the storm 
 was going to break. She intervened on the eve of 
 battle, greatly to the disappointment of Mother 
 Shipton, who, having seen her own friend, Mrs. 
 Waddleham, opprobriously treated, was eager that 
 the same fate should overtake the two Scotch pen- 
 sionaries of St. Aldegonda's.
 
 i82 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " If James Pritchard is concerned in this affair," 
 said Miss Fly, witii asperity, " it is evident on tlie 
 face of it that there is something disgraceful going 
 on somewhere. I have not personally the acquaint- 
 ance of his noble wife, the Lady Ethelreda. But 
 she goes to the same church— Mr, Eaglesham's — 
 such an apostoHc young man, Mrs. Skipton. He 
 chants the Lord's Prayer in the true Gregorian style 
 authorised by the Pope." 
 
 " That man of sin ! " cried the scandalised Mrs. 
 Skipton. 
 
 " I was speaking of Mr. Pritchard," said Miss Fly, 
 swiftly recalling herself, " and so, I doubt not, are 
 you. It is my conviction, that, if, as we are assured . 
 there is something underhand, his dear and noble 
 wife ought to be the first to be informed of it. I 
 propose therefore, that we should, here and now, 
 prepare a letter — anonymous, of course — to put the 
 noble lady on her guard." 
 
 There was rather a mixed response. What would 
 they say? "Oh, they need not say anything 
 definite, you know," answered Miss Fly. Who 
 should write the letter? " * I,' said the Fly." 
 
 And so with Miss Lucinda Gall continuing to 
 murmur, " Oh, this wicked, wicked generation " — 
 and keeping her eye on the sugar-bowl, hoping to 
 be able to secrete some lumps in her pocket, the 
 momentous document began to be indited. 
 
 " When I was a young lass in Edinbory, afore I 
 went to bide in Torpheechan Street, I once wrote a 
 letter like that about anither young lass. And, ye'll 
 hardly believe me, but after a' she married a 
 meenister ! Aye, mony a time I hae passed her 
 manse, and lookit at the brass plate. I wondered if 
 she showed the letter to him, and he took peety on 
 her for greetin'. I wadna put it by him. Ministers 
 are saft ; at least, a heap o' them in Edinbory, when 
 I leeved in Torpheechan Street. There was a 
 meenister "
 
 SECOND SITTING OF OLD CATS' CLUB 183 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said Miss Fly, who was en- 
 during the torments of infrequent literary composi- 
 tion. Aunt Kidson had left the room in search of 
 the celebrated little sealed bottle. The eyes of all 
 the company followed Miss Fly's hand with admira- 
 tion as it formed the letters which were to arouse 
 the most ternpestuous passions in the breast of the 
 noble Lady Ethelreda. Miss Lucinda, who suffered 
 from the disease formerly called *'light-fingeredness," 
 but now more genteelly " kleptomania," cleverly 
 secreted up her sleeve and in her apron-pocket, six 
 lumps of sugar, a reel of sewing cotton, two hanks 
 of ** whity-brown," a paper of snuff, three pearl 
 buttons, and a small china dog from the mantel- 
 piece. 
 
 She was casting up her eyes and murmuring : 
 ** Oh, this generation ! whatever are we coming to ? " 
 when Aunt Kidson returned. 
 
 Miss Fly read aloud her composition, prefacing it 
 with the usual disparagement. 
 
 *' If only I had had more time," she said, simper- 
 ing ; " but this, I trust, will not be without its effect." 
 
 " To the noble Lady Ethelreda Conquest or Prit- 
 chard, Oaklands Castle, etc. Madam, It is with 
 pitying hearts that a few sincere well-wishers, 
 having taken friendly counsel together, and thinking 
 of your ladyship's sweet face as seen in church in 
 your family pew, desire to put you on your guard 
 against the lamentable effects of the intimacy which 
 your husband is forming with the disgraced son of 
 Surgeon-Major Salveson of the Manor House. Also 
 we desire to direct your attention to the encourage- 
 ment he is giving him in his shameful project of 
 marrying the daughter of an atheist, whom he has 
 recentl}^ taken into his employment. This man has 
 several daughters " 
 
 " There is only another, a little black-headed 
 school-girl," said Mrs. Skipton, who did not like 
 Miss Fly to have all the credit.
 
 i84 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " No matter," snapped Miss Fly, " several 
 daughters ; tivo is several, isn't it ? And that will do 
 James Pritchard's business, or I don't know the 
 meaning of that hooked beak in the middle of Lady 
 Ethelreda's face ! " And she continued her epistle 
 particular. 
 
 •'..., several daughters, and, however terribly 
 the friends who withhold their names from this 
 letter of warning feel to trouble you, we cannot 
 conceal from you that Mr. James Pritchard has been 
 seen more than once in company with the eldest in 
 the vicinity of Old Quay and Station Road. Like- 
 wise one of your sons stopped at the door of their 
 hovel in an automobile and remained some time 
 there " 
 
 " I would not put that, do you know, dear Fly," 
 said Aunt Kidson ; " she won't care what her sons 
 do. It's old Pritchard we have to think of." 
 
 " Very well," said Miss Fly, dutifully scratching 
 out the final sentence regarding Mr. Kgerton Prit- 
 chard, "we will confine ourselves, as you well 
 remark, to the old bird. Ah, 1 will teach him not 
 to answer my letters, or take the least notice of 
 them when I only asked him for a little biennial 
 subscription." 
 
 She looked at the letter with her eyes fairly 
 blistering the paper. 
 
 " How shall I finish ? " she said. 
 
 " Put something affectionate," said Aunt Kidson, 
 *' it may touch her ! " 
 
 " And full of Christian compassion," added Miss 
 Lucinda, eyeing the other china dog. " He looks so 
 lonely, poor fellow !" she murmured. 
 
 " Wha-a-a-at ! " cried Miss Fly, looking up sharply 
 from her letter. 
 
 " I mean she will — the poor lady you are writing 
 to," said Miss Lucinda. 
 
 " How will this do? "said Miss Fly: "'Trusting 
 that your plain words of reproof and admonition
 
 SECOND SITTING OF OLD CATS' CLUB 185 
 
 will be the means of breaking up this foul conspiracy 
 against your peace, against your husband's good 
 name, and also against a poor young man, honourably 
 connected with the well-known local families of 
 Kidson and Salveson.'" 
 
 " Very good ; but perhaps the order ought to be 
 reversed," said the hostess, much pleased. 
 
 And then Miss Fly added the inevitable feline 
 postscript. " The young woman's name is Edith 
 Dillingham, otherwise Dillam, presently residing at 
 109, Bourne Street, Cheviot Road, Thorsby." 
 
 This time the old cats of Thorsby had not parted 
 without, at least, trying to scratch !
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE DILLAMS RECEIVE QUALITY 
 
 MISS FLY'S pleasant letter procured for Edith 
 the immediate honour of a visit from Lady 
 Ethelreda de Conquest, mariee Pritchard. A landau 
 with two bays drove to the end of Bourne Street, 
 stopping at the corner of Cheviot Road. 
 
 A lady, such as Bourne Street had never seen, 
 descended. She was dressed severely in a tweed 
 skirt, cut plain, and the same length all round. 
 This was surmounted with a man's cutaway coat, 
 and a soft felt hat with a black-cock tail-feather in it. 
 She walked with a pronounced "heather step," and 
 the Bourne Street urchins remarked with joy the 
 round lumps made by her knees as she strode along 
 the pavement in her big, high-laced, thick-soled, 
 heelless boots. The general boy-opinion as to 
 these was expressed thus : 
 
 " Just like when they knocks our heads from the 
 inside, w'en we tries to look into a circus tent— 
 jimminy, I wish we could hers ! " 
 
 And they followed the Clumper, as she was 
 instantly baptised, to No. 109. 
 
 " Oh, Jinky-jims, she's goin' to the Dillams," said 
 the awe-stricken Tommy White, to his comrade 
 Jinkins, " that's 'cause they own two 'ouses ; mother 
 
 says so." 
 
 "There was one o' them there 'puffers' there the 
 other night, they calls * lot-o'-mo'-wheels ' or some- 
 thing, you know ; and Ede Dillingham walks out 
 with a chap in a topper— lah-^^6?-dah ! " 
 
 And Master White imitated what he considered 
 
 186
 
 THE DILLAMS RECEIVE QUALITY 187 
 
 to be the correct manner of squiring your sweet- 
 heart, when you are so fortunate as to be able to 
 wear a topper every day in the week, and carry 
 your gloves in one hand and an umbrella in the 
 other, 
 
 "Bah!" said Jinky-jims; "father says he's only 
 a kind o' doc' down at the works — and that he don't 
 get as much wages as he does. That's why he 
 wears a topper. He's no great catch, mother says 
 — she wouldn't let our Jinn Ann take up with 'im ! " 
 
 " Well, maybe not, Jinky-jims," said Tommy 
 White ; " but oh, say, just watch that old daisy. 
 It's just like's she was goin' upstairs all along the 
 pavement. Now she's at the door. Let's watch. 
 There ; she's in. That was Edith Dillingham, 
 Teddy, my big brother, sez that she's pretty, but 
 awful proud. Can't say I see anything partic'lar in 
 her myself." 
 
 It was indeed Edith who had opened the door. 
 She knew most knocks, but this was a new one ; 
 a sort of " open-in-the-name-of-the-law " knock. 
 It was not the Moon-Washington collector's, nor 
 the water-rates, nor the gas man — a wild fear came 
 over her — the fear of the unaccustomed for the buff 
 envelope handed in by the telegraph boy. 
 
 But what Edith expected was ver}^ far from what 
 Edith saw — a lady (she knew that at a glance) ; but 
 a lady who had amused herself to masquerade 
 like a gamekeeper. Could it be any of Hubert's 
 people ? 
 
 Her astonishment grew when she heard the 
 visitor announce her name and errand. 
 
 " I am Lady Ethelreda Pritchard of Oaklands 
 Hall, and I have come here to see Edith Dilling- 
 ham." 
 
 She was going to add " or Dillam," as in the 
 informatory letter ; but a glance at the girl's clear 
 resolute face, checked her. Edith bowed, and 
 showed the lady in. Lady Ethelreda mounted the
 
 i88 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 two steps from the garden walk at one stride. 
 Edith paused only to throw a word to her mother 
 in the kitchen : " Some one to see me, mother ! " 
 and the two were face to face in the little parlour. 
 
 " Will your ladyship take a seat ?" 
 
 Her ladyship had not thought of doing so, having 
 frequently found the advantage of height in her 
 disputes with her husband. But there was certainly 
 something quiet and, yes, ladylike about the_ girl. 
 Edith immediately took one opposite to her visitor 
 and w^aited to be enlightened. The Lady Ethelreda 
 was outspoken. She prided herself upon it ; perhaps 
 because it went with her costume and hob-nailed 
 boots. 
 
 " I am told that you are encouraging a young 
 fellow, one of the Salvesons of the manor ; good 
 family, if the father is an old fool " 
 
 Edith's amazement showed plainly on her face, 
 but she allowed her visitor to finish. 
 
 " He is coming to the house," continued her lady- 
 ship ; " does he lodge here ? Come, tell me, I have a 
 right to know. I have received a letter with regard 
 to it this morning ; an anonymous letter, I admit. 
 Ordinarily, of course, I do not pay any attention to 
 such things, but this concerns my husband ! " 
 
 " Your "husband?" said Edith, a curious agita- 
 tion, half-pity, half-fear, coming over her. The poor 
 lady must have gone crazy. ** I do not know your 
 husband." 
 
 " Do not prevaricate to me. I will have the 
 truth ! " cried the Lady Ethelreda, with a stamp of 
 her mailed heel, equal to that of any of her knightly 
 De Conquest ancestors. 
 
 Edith suddenly resolved that she should have it, 
 at least so far as she was concerned. 
 
 " I do not in the least understand what you 
 mean," she said, with one hand on the little cottage 
 piano her father had hired for her after she came 
 home from the High School for Girls at East Dene.
 
 THE DILLAMS RECEIVE QUALITY 189 
 
 " But I understand that, in some way, you refer to 
 Mr. Hubert Salveson, resident surgeon at the 
 yard. I am engaged to be married to him. We 
 are to be married on the first of June." 
 
 And her clear blue eyes looked directly into the 
 bold black ones of the Lady Ethelreda. 
 
 "Ah," said she, "so far good ! But what of my 
 husband?" 
 
 " I do not even know who is your husband ! " 
 said Edith. 
 
 " What ! " cried the lady ; " I am the wife of Mr. 
 James Pritchard of the Thorsby and East Dene 
 Shipbuilding Works." 
 
 " The yard ? " . 
 
 " I suppose that is the ordinary name for them. 
 But, tell me " (she had become considerably less 
 abrupt now) " have you or your sisters been in the 
 habit of meeting my husband ?" 
 
 Edith looked puzzled and then a little amused. 
 Clearly she must be gentle with the poor lady. 
 
 " I have never seen Mr. Pritchard," she said, 
 plainly and simply; "Hubert said that there was 
 a young Mr. Pritchard, who very kindly brought 
 his medical things here in his automobile the night 
 my father was hurt ; but I did not see him. I was 
 busy with my father ! " 
 
 "And your sisters?" said the astonished Lady 
 Ethelreda, beginning to regret her haste. 
 
 "I have only one; she is at school," said Edith, 
 glancing at the clock. " Why, there she is, I believe." 
 
 There came a rush without, the sound of wars 
 and rumours of wars. Deadly deeds were being 
 done with books swung in green baize bags — a 
 clatter, a bang, and the door of the parlour burst 
 open. " Oh, Ede," cried Sue, " d'you know, I hit 
 Agnes Anne Ja ! " 
 
 Here Miss Susan Dillingham stopped at the sight 
 of the curious-looking stranger installed in her 
 father's chair, with one leg crossed over the other
 
 190 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 like a man, presenting a high-laced boot with its 
 massive iron heel straight at her. 
 
 ** My sister," said Edith mischievously, " my only 
 sister!" Then the woman in the daughter of the 
 De Conquests came out. 
 
 " This will teach me," she said, taking a letter out 
 of her pocket and handing it to Edith, "what 
 attention to pay to these abominations ! Have you 
 any idea. Miss Dillingham, where this may have 
 come from ? " 
 
 Edith took Miss Fly's "private information " with 
 instinctive disgust. 
 
 " Yes, it's nasty, I know," said Lady Pritchard ; 
 " but look. That may help ! " 
 
 " Some one who wishes harm to come to Hubert," 
 Edith murmured, " that is evident enough. But 
 stupid ; oh, so stupid ! " 
 
 She hesitated a little, thinking of Jo Challoner 
 No, it was a woman's letter; of that she was 
 certain. The name of Kidson made her, as the 
 children say, " warm." 
 
 " There is, I believe, a kind of relative of Hubert's 
 named Kidson, who keeps house for his father, 
 Dr. Salveson at the manor. She has always hated 
 him I know, though he has never said it. It was 
 she who prevented his father from letting him 
 practise as a doctor " 
 
 " Not let him practise ? Why, I never heard of 
 
 such a thing," cried Lady Ethelreda. " The man was 
 a doctor himself ; dosed, and drugged and chopped 
 half India, my brother the Governor-General 
 included ! " 
 
 Sue had vanished. Edith could hear her mother 
 fidgeting in the kitchen. She was nowise ashamed 
 of her mother, nor had need to be. 
 
 " I will tell my mother," she said ; " she was busy 
 when you came." 
 
 Lady Ethelreda reached out her hand suddenly, 
 as a man does to a man. " Come, we will be
 
 THE DILLAMS RECEIVE QUALITY 191 
 
 friends. You must forgive me. It wasn't that I 
 cared about my husband, nor he about me. But I 
 did not want him to make a fool of himself; James 
 Pritchard is too old. Besides, he has his business 
 to attend to." 
 
 Edith found herself, without any clear idea why, 
 shaking hands heartily with the Lady Ethelreda 
 Pritchard. Then she brought her mother in. The 
 good woman was trembling, but a certain douce 
 Presbyterian dignity upheld her. After all, she had 
 only to act as if the minister were in the parlour on 
 his " stated visitation " ; with this difference, that the 
 Lady Ethelreda could not be asked to offer up 
 prayer. 
 
 The lady was gracious, had been in Mrs. Dilling- 
 ham's native parish when a girl ; such a pretty 
 place. But she soon turned again to Edith. She 
 glanced at the music on the piano. 
 
 " Greig," she murmured, " Tosti, Stephen Adams 
 — yes, I have seen these names about. Do you play, 
 Miss Dillingham ? " 
 
 " A very little," said Edith, flushing. She was 
 conscious that the piano had not been tuned. She 
 had not been able to spare much out of the house- 
 money, lately. 
 
 " Where were you taught ? " 
 
 " By Herr Von Baer, at the East Dene High 
 School for Girls." 
 
 The great lady stared and pursed her lips slightly. 
 V^hat she was thinking was : " The old story ; 
 educated out of her sphere ; such a mistake ! " 
 What she said was : " Then you are cleverer than 
 1 ; 1 never could learn. I did fencin' and worked in 
 the 'gym' instead. But I like shootin' and huntin' 
 best ! " 
 
 She pronounced these words without the " g," 
 which Edith thought curious, having had carefully 
 to cure herself of that local elision. 
 
 She was now on her feet to go. She shook
 
 192 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 hands with Edith and her mother, saying to the 
 former : " I hope you will let me know where you 
 take up house. I should like to continue the 
 acquaintance, now that you have forgiven me for 
 my quite intolerable rudeness. It was horrid! I 
 shouldn't, I'm sure, if I were you ! " 
 
 Edith smiled, but said nothing, and the great lady 
 tramped off in the midst of a patter of superior 
 sounding adieus, importing nothing in particular; 
 while on the landing above, her skimp school-dress 
 retired to her knee. Sue Dillingham practised the 
 '* Heather Step," for the future edification of Cheviot 
 Road Board School, A Division, Girls' Side. 
 
 And what is more astonishing, when she spoke of 
 continuing the acquaintance with Edith, the Lady 
 Ethelreda was quite serious ; entirely so, and it was 
 quite a week before she forgot all about it.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE GREEN LANE STATION-MASTER 
 
 IT was noticed in the yard that the out-and- 
 outer's declarations of iconoclasm were by no 
 means so frequent nor so lurid as they had been in 
 days before his accident and the advent of Hubert. 
 The fact is, that Mr. Marchbanks' predecessor in 
 the Scots' kirk, a very enthusiastic, dogmatic, and 
 intolerant man, had so pursued the out-and-outer, 
 that, to put an end to the pursuit, he had begun 
 to buy "Iconoclast's" paper, that he might find 
 powder-and-shot wherewith to answer him. It 
 was at that time also that Ned Dillingham had 
 dropped church-going, had taken to the fields of a 
 Sunday, all the while performing his duties to his 
 fellow-men, with a completeness and friendliness 
 which shamed many more active " professors." 
 
 In the main, Ned Dillingham succeeded well in 
 his new post. He had the art of commanding men, 
 though inclined to the side of strictness. He had 
 the heavy hand, and there was not a man who 
 dared not dance as the new superintendent piped. 
 Among those who had looked for a better time 
 under the new " boss," was Jo Challoner, a steady 
 " skipper," or shammer of sickness. He soon 
 found out that it was a different thing to approach 
 Owd Ned Dillam as a neighbour and landlord, and 
 Mr. Edward Dillingham, when on his beat as 
 Inspector of Deliveries. 
 
 Consequently Jo Challoner hated the out-and- 
 outer more than ever ; because of the past turns 
 he owed him ; because he would not allow him to 
 
 193 13
 
 194 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 shirk his dut}^ on the landing-bank ; but chiefly 
 because of his favour for Hubert Salveson, and 
 the marriage which had begun to be prepared for 
 on the first day of June ensuing. 
 
 This sallow, deceitful-eyed, old young man, with 
 the toadstool skin that always seemed on the point 
 of bursting into a chilly perspiration, had long 
 watched Edith's growing beauty with envious 
 eyes. 
 
 His own wife he hated, because, though dying 
 on her feet, it was by inches, when he wanted her to 
 die by yards, and in her bed. She was, as said 
 Charles II., " a most unconscionable time a-dying." 
 
 When Edith was no more than fifteen or sixteen, 
 already Jo Challoner's mind had begun to work 
 about a possibility. About the same time, having 
 learned from the half-hearted diagnosis of Dr. 
 Budden that she was not likely " ever to be herself 
 again," he had watched with a greedy eye that too 
 slow declension. In the meantime, he always 
 stood and regarded with a keen sense of injustice 
 the passing funerals. One of his brothers, whom 
 he surprised by his tears on the occasion of his wife's 
 death, said to him in astonishment : " Your heart 
 is graidely kind, Jo — but I never thowt as what 
 ye were so fond o' Marie in her lifetime? It would 
 have been a comfort could she but see you, Jo." 
 
 " It is not that," said the mourner fretfully ; " it's 
 that they are aw' gettin' a change but me." 
 
 Which in after times, being repeated by the 
 brother, became a sa^ang in Thorsby. 
 
 Many a time also, Jo Challoner remained half an 
 hour at a time on his way home, staring in at the 
 chemists' shops, deploring his ignorance of the more 
 delicate poisons, and the unfortunate necessity of 
 "hanging by the neck till you were dead," if found 
 out. 
 
 That stern form of words always sobered him. 
 There was no jesting with the hangman's drop.
 
 THE GREEN LANE STATION-MASTER 195 
 
 But he thought what he could have done with his 
 knowledge, if he had had young Hubert Salveson's 
 position and chances. 
 
 Then the news of the approaching wedding came 
 upon him with a shock. His wife might die the 
 day after, and what the better would he be ? He 
 threw himself down on the floor of his front room, 
 once after seeing Hubert and Edith pass, their eyes 
 upon each other's eyes. He bit the carpet, even 
 his own hands. He suffered agonies of jealousy, 
 merely in thinking where they were by this time, 
 what doing — what saying. Then on such occasions 
 he would fling hastily on overcoat, turn up the 
 collar, slouch his hat, and follow in their wake. 
 He need not have troubled. Hubert and Edith 
 were quite oblivious of all save themselves. 
 
 The warm, sleepy smell of brick-fields moved 
 them deliciously ; the very one they had played in 
 on the way to Green Lane. Then from the moor- 
 top the view of the blue tidal wave flashing farther 
 and farther out, till they saw, or rather Edith could 
 see, when Hubert pointed her out, a big collier 
 coming through the tumble of the bar, and before 
 her a little fussing tug, spouting black spume, and 
 lugging her bluff, red, upturned snout first this way 
 and then that towards the coal-slips of East Dene. 
 
 Jo kept a long way behind them. It was Saturday 
 afternoon, and they had all the da}^ to themselves. 
 It was their last Saturday but one as lovers, as 
 Hubert did not fail frequently to remind Edith. As 
 if she did not remember ! As if she ever thought of 
 anything else ! Men are so — but there, they are 
 all like that ; all the nice ones, that is. So Edith 
 took Hubert's arm a little tighter. She was an 
 easily understood, uncomplicated girl ; also, of 
 course, the nicest kind. 
 
 These two held their way towards Green Lane, 
 and they were going to tell the old station-master — 
 who, Hubert averred, would not care a farthing one
 
 196 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 way or the other. But they were going, because 
 Edith wished it and, of course, it was all the same 
 to Hubert. 
 
 Out on the open face of the moor they gave Mr. 
 Joseph Challoner something to do ; nice crawly 
 work among brambles and the burnt stalks of last 
 year's heather. He had to go bent double, making 
 quick rushes, and then dropping flat — an eager, 
 indomitable little black figure far across the tawny 
 waste. 
 
 There was Green Lane. How had they got there 
 so soon ? It used to be such a long way. They 
 actually passed Hutchin's farm without noticing. 
 Curious ! And they might not even have observed 
 Green Lane itself but that the little station erected 
 itself across their path, the double track of the 
 Clifton Railway running high on a piled embank- 
 ment because of the morasses. 
 
 " Yes, he was there — oh, Hubert ! " The same 
 old station-master ! They read his well-remembered 
 name on the little weather-beaten placard, not now 
 supplied to stations. 
 
 ROBERT COSSAR, STATION-AGENT, GREEN LANE 
 
 STn., T. & C. Ry. 
 
 He was another of Thorsby's transplanted Scots- 
 men, but of the elder type, and seeing the two 
 young people come hastily up the steps he met 
 them at the gate with a shake of the head, grimly 
 kind. He had seen so many pairs do the same 
 thing. Ah, young folk ! 
 
 " Ye've juist missed her ! " he said. 
 
 " No, on the contrary," said Hubert " I have just 
 found her." 
 
 " Eh, what's that ye say ? " cried the old man ; 
 " ow aye, ye'U be sv/eetheartin' nae doot — aweel — 
 aweel ! Little it maitters to you whether ye catch 
 the 4.30 or the 6.10. Na, na, Guid keep ye, bairns, 
 frae a' evil ! "
 
 THE GREEN LANE STATION-MASTER 197 
 
 " Oh, don't you remember us, Mr. Station- 
 master ? " said Edith, " we know you so well ! " 
 
 " Deed no, ma young leddy, I canna say that I do ; 
 but, doggit, I do kind o' mind too " 
 
 " The big boy and the little girl who used to come 
 every Saturday, with a baby " 
 
 " And anither wee-wee boy, that grat for ginger- 
 breads ! " 
 
 " Well," cried Edith triumphantly, " this is the 
 big boy that used to carry my baby sister. I am the 
 big girl you used to let punch the bits of cardboard 
 for tickets, and never sent us away, though we made 
 crumbs on your steps." 
 
 "Bless me! bless me! I'm mindin' noo ! " cried 
 the old Scot, pushing his big grey beard up with 
 one hand, as if to assist the operation. 
 
 " And we are going to be married," said Hubert, 
 "that little girl and I, next Tuesday week ! " 
 
 " Bless ye ! bless ye baith, and may ye hae — but 
 there, what am I claverin' aboot afore the lass ? 
 Come ben, come ben ; there will be the ' high level ' 
 express in half an hour. But till that ye will juist 
 tak' a dish of tea wi' me — that ye wuU ! " 
 
 The old station-master of Green Lane was a 
 bachelor, and Edith cried between laughter and pity 
 at his contrivances. But they made tea together. 
 They drank it, many cups. And so absorbed were 
 they, that only the creaking of the pull-wires of the 
 signals awoke them to the necessity of seeing the 
 biggest " fast one " of the day go by. 
 
 " Dearie lass," cried old Robert Cossar, " but 
 there maun be something no canny aboot ye. For 1 
 haena dune as muckle for a maid — it will be near on 
 to thirty year ! Ye nearly garred me miss the bye- 
 gaun o' the ' high level ' ! " 
 
 So they stood on the platform, Hubert and Edith, 
 just by the gate (but inside this time, for the first in 
 their lives), the old station-master at majestic atten- 
 tion, while the " high level " came on towards
 
 198 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 them, with a new and wonderful sound. The 
 Ca-ra-ta — ca-ra-ta, which they had been accustomed 
 to, was now accompanied with a jarring of the 
 earth, and a swing sideways like the giving of india- 
 rubber under the foot. Edith caught at Hubert's 
 arm nervously. 
 
 "That's the moss," said the old man, "they gang 
 on and on, cuttin' at the time sheet, to run the mile 
 in fewer seconds, till some day — pray the Aldmichty, 
 bairns, that it be na in my time — she will fair 
 cowp the crans and burrow in the moss like a 
 mowdiewort 1" 
 
 Then old Robert Cossar saw them to the white 
 gate. He even opened it and set a foot without, 
 which they had never seen him do before. He went 
 so far as to jest, 
 
 "See here, missie," he said, "ye are a fell fond 
 lassie, and you sae bonny ; what for tak' up wi' a 
 young speldron like him ? Here am I, and there's 
 my hoose. Mirover, I'll ha'e a pension next year. 
 Noo, what say ye ? I'll sweer it's the first offer I 
 ever made to a lass. Ye winna ? Aweel then, joy 
 be wi' ye. But if he rues his bargain afore next 
 Tuesday week, ye hae juist to step ower to the 
 Green Lane and tell auld Robert Cossar. We are 
 like hung mutton, ye ken ; the aulder the tenderer ! " 
 
 They went slowly home, parting at the door of 
 109. But as Hubert went to bed that night in his 
 room at the yard, he remarked with vexation that 
 he had lost his little pocket-case of medicines, 
 hypodermic and otherwise. 
 
 And in the early hours of the morning at 
 107, Bourne Street, Mrs. Joseph Challoner died sud- 
 denly, from the effects, as reported by her panic- 
 stricken husband, of an overdose of chloral. She 
 had not been sleeping well, and Dr. Budden would 
 remember he had spoken to her about chloral. Dr. 
 Budden did not at first recall the fact, but still it was 
 possible. Chloral, rightl}^ prescribed, was contra-
 
 THE GREEN LANE STATION-MASTER 199 
 
 indicated in such cases as those of Mrs. Challoner, 
 especially when the heart was affected. 
 
 " And you attended her up to the day of her 
 death," said Joseph, watching with the haggard eye 
 (of grief) the doctor's face. 
 
 " Yes, certainly," said Dr. Budden, " certainly, she 
 has been my patient for many years." 
 
 And he undertook to give the usual certificate. 
 It would certainly be very unfortunate and disturb- 
 ing to undergo all the trouble of a coroner's inquest. 
 Heartily Joseph Challoner agreed. It would be 
 better so. And had not the doctor spoken of going 
 away for his holidays the same day as he had pre- 
 scribed the chloral. 
 
 It was possible — yes, possible. His memory was 
 not so good as it was once. 
 
 And so one week before the marriage of Hubert 
 and Edith, exact to a day, Mrs. Jo Challoner lay in 
 a retired spot in the Thorsby cemetery, equally free 
 from pain of body and vexation of spirit. 
 
 But as for her husband, he went about "looking 
 like death." The neighbours did not think he had 
 so much heart. And in the back of his head certain 
 works clicked on like a big watch ticking, only 
 slower and more solemn. Always the same words ! 
 Always ! Always !
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 TRIAL TRIPS OF A CRIMINAL 
 
 MR. JOSEPH CHALLONER, widower, 107, 
 Bourne Street, off the Cheviot Road, 
 Thorsby, was a man of many resources and few 
 scruples. He regretted much that he could not 
 charge the original owner of the little pocket-case of 
 hypodermics with the murder of his wife. He even 
 began to grow indignant with Hubert. He was 
 certainly the true culprit. If he had not gone on in 
 that foolish way maundei;ing and spooning, spooning 
 and maundering, temptation would never have been 
 put in his poor, poor Molly's wrj. Clearly it was 
 Hubert's fault. Being guilty, Hubert ought to be 
 punished. And who so fit an instrument as poor 
 Molly's own bereaved husband. 
 
 Now, Thorsby draws down its blinds when 
 " there's a death in the house." And in the biting 
 anxious days between Mrs. Joseph Challoner's 
 death and the funeral, Jo sat by the window, his 
 hands clasping the smooth case he had picked up 
 on the moor. He could not quite make up his 
 mind what to do with it. The best thing, of course, 
 would be to replace it in or near the young doctor's 
 room at the yard. Only there were always people 
 about, and he got no chance. Besides, from what 
 he saw, the marriage was steadily going forward. 
 
 Edith and Hubert went out daily, or rather evenly. 
 The young man would wave a laughing goodbye to 
 the out-and-outer on the doorstep — whose fierce, 
 imperious eyes softened infinitely to see his Edith 
 move away at the side of the tall, erect young doctor, 
 
 200
 
 TRIAL TRIPS OF A CRIMINAL 201 
 
 walking so firmly, yet with an elastic swing of her 
 body. He liked also to see Edith grasp her skirts 
 with one hand at the corner of the street, and the 
 young fellow take her umbrella. The out-and-outer 
 "had been there" himself, and he knew that these 
 simple operations, performed with the regularity of 
 artiller}^ practice, were the preliminaries for his 
 Edith taking Hubert's arm as they turned sharp out 
 of Bourne Street towards Fame Height by the Old 
 Berwick Road. 
 
 Neither of them, nor even the out-and-outer, saw 
 that grey, drawn face behind the blind, the gimlet 
 eyes peering out after them, the pearly grey 
 moisture rubbed away from the colourless brow on 
 which it gathered and gathered, on the little leather 
 case, which Hubert had lost on the moor, turning 
 and turning, in the nervous fingers, implacably like 
 the stars in their course. 
 
 " It has got to be put back," muttered Jo, " got to 
 be." He was referring to the marriage of Hubert 
 and Edith. And being a man of " engine," which is 
 to say, ingenuity, quite a number of things came to 
 pass. It must be allowed that Joseph Challoner's 
 executive ability in the path of crime was by no 
 means equal to his facility in planning it. Still, 
 among so many, one would surely not miscarry. 
 
 Early on Monday morning, therefore, as Hubert 
 was walking hastily through the fitting-shops, a 
 piece of rivet, such as is used for the heaviest 
 armour of H.M.S. Horrescent, fell from the con- 
 trolling cabin of the travelling crane. It cut through 
 the brim of the doctor's hat, tore his coat at the 
 back, and embedded itself in the trampled grime of 
 iron scalings which formed the shop floor. 
 
 It was a failure. Jo Challoner had not allowed 
 for the speed of foot of the young doctor on his 
 way to the out-and-outer to get his morning's 
 message from Edith. The news took the shape of a 
 letter which the parental accomplice conveyed to
 
 200 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 the lover, wrapped in a spare railway delivery sheet 
 of a yellow colour. 
 
 Hubert wondered, but the out-and-outer, after 
 inquiry, proved that it must have been a stupid 
 accident. His neighbour and tenant, Jo Challoner, 
 was in the " cab " at the time. As for the rivet, 
 engineers often kept such things about to use as 
 levers. 
 
 The same evening a pencil of dynamite exploded 
 in the surgery doorway, over which Mr. Egerton 
 had ordered a large brass plate to be affixed, bearing 
 the name and style of " Dr. Hubert Salveson, Resi- 
 dent Surgeon." 
 
 Part of the yard wall opposite was blown down, 
 clean as a house of cards ; but, strangely enough, the 
 door of the surgery was not even lifted off its 
 hinges. On the other hand, a coal brig, lying far out 
 at the end of the slip, was heaved clean out of the 
 water, and sank with four hundred tons of best Upper 
 Dene coal in her hold, not only a great loss in itself, 
 but an obstruction to navigation for many weeks. 
 The dynamite seemed to have acted like a ball on a 
 billiard table knocked about by an inexperienced 
 player. For instance, the windows of St. Alde- 
 gonda's Rest House were blown in, and Miss Fly 
 sent flat on her back, just as she was about to pour 
 herself out an invigorating glass of the richest 
 boarder's port, thus spoiling the whole front breadth 
 of her best black satin dress. 
 
 And the weathercock on the Presbyterian kirk in 
 Kingdom Come Lane was a weathercock no more. 
 For, come Easter "haar" or Westland breeze, he 
 remained from that moment with his beak down 
 and his tail to the zenith, a fixed feature in the 
 landscape. 
 
 Hubert, two yards behind the surgery door, was 
 filling a test-tube carefully, when he heard a sound 
 like a muffled cough, followed the next moment by 
 rolling echoes, repeated and repeated across and
 
 TRIAL TRIPS OF A CRIMINAL 203 
 
 across the river, and as it seemed increasing as tiiey 
 went farther off. 
 
 " Thunder ! " he thought ; " I thought so this 
 morning ! " And he went on pouring, taking him- 
 self for a weather-prophet. 
 
 Jo escaped again, but he was not satisfied ; 
 especially when he heard that, owing to the sunk 
 brig in the fairway of his slip, there would be no 
 more work there in the meantime. Still more 
 discontented was he, when Hubert crossed him, in 
 wild chase, a camera under his arm, to secure good 
 plates of the damages (he had made sure that no 
 one was hurt). 
 
 " Hallo, Challoner," he cried, " it wasn't thunder 
 after all — an explosion, by jove ! I say, catch hold 
 of these camera legs, will you ? I can't run with 
 them and carry the body too. One of them 
 trails ! " 
 
 On the strength of his recent "affliction," Jo 
 Challoner got a job in the cook-house — the fore- 
 man's cook-house, where he chummed with Tom 
 Hedderidge, the cook, a pitiful man, with a taste for 
 beer. Stooping over a fire, and "doing" other 
 folk's meat is, at best, a thirsty occupation. Thirst 
 is quenched by beer. Beer tasted to Tom Hedderidge 
 best out of a cool cellar. As cook to the " chiefs," 
 he had a key for the small door in Old Quay Lane 
 in order to do his marketing. This, however, was 
 also useful for giving access to the " Hen and 
 Chickens " at the corner of the Station Road. 
 
 So in the cook-house, at certain (and also un- 
 certain) hours Jo Challoner found himself alone. 
 It was now but three days to the wedding day, and 
 things began to look desperate. Hubert had been 
 traced once to the Registrar. The notices were 
 out. Frequently also he had been to see Mr. 
 Marchbanks in his manse, and had come away 
 smiling. Jo knew this, and emptied carefully a 
 paper of finely triturated powder into the " hot-pot,"
 
 204 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 or Irish stew, which was humming in the saucepan 
 for " ta young docter's denner," 
 
 It chanced, however, that at that moment the 
 cook-house door was opened. Jo was stirring 
 vigorously with one hand, and reaching out the 
 paper to the flames with the other. Mr. James 
 Pntchard entered. He looked about him sus- 
 piciously, eyed Joseph Challoner at the range. 
 
 " What the devil are you doing there ? " he cried ; 
 " Where's Hedderidge?" Trembhngly Jo en- 
 lightened him on both subjects, but the fierce, 
 bristly autocrat eyed him with glinting suspicion. 
 
 " Gone out marketing for my dinner— a pretty 
 time for that— nearly six, and my dinner to be ready 
 in a quarter of an hour. At the * Hen and Chickens ' 
 more like. I'll run the fellow out. But what's 
 this— what's this? The doctor's dinner. Far too 
 much— far too much. A medical man ought to 
 know enough not to stuff. 
 
 " Here, where's that bowl-bread ? Thank you. 
 I'll pour it myself; stand out of my way. D'ye 
 think this is the first time " 
 
 It was the last. 
 
 At 8 p.m. the Tlwrsby North Times of the same 
 evening, published an extra special containing the 
 following brief notice : 
 
 Sudden Death of Mr. James Pritchard. 
 
 " Thorsby's greatest citizen died suddenly this 
 evening in his own yard, apparently from the effects 
 of poison. Mr. Pritchard, as is well known, was in 
 the habit of remaining late in his office, after the 
 men of the day-shift had retired. On these occa- 
 sions, retaining the habits of dignified simplicity 
 which distinguished his whole life, he had his meals 
 brought from the cook-house. Mr. Pritchard had 
 gone there, it is presumed, to order his dinner, and 
 on coming out again it was observed that he ap- 
 peared to be walking more slowly than usual. At
 
 TRIAL TRIPS OF A CRIMINAL 205 
 
 the foot of the ladder which led to his famous 
 observatory bureau he attempted in vain to raise his 
 foot to the first step. A shudder seemed to run 
 through him, and he fell with his face to the ground, 
 his temple striking the sharp iron corner of the 
 ladder and inflicting a severe wound. 
 
 " Dr. Hubert Salveson, resident surgeon, together 
 with the well-known local physician, Dr. Budden, 
 were prodigal of their attentions, and did all that 
 could be done ; but the stricken gentleman gradually 
 sank, never indeed regaining consciousness. He 
 died at 7.19 p.m., without any of his family having 
 had time to arrive upon the scene. The causes of 
 death are yet unknown." 
 
 Neither Hubert nor Dr. Budden being able to 
 certify the cause of death, it was necessary, in spite 
 of some opposition from the family, that a post- 
 mortem examination should take place. It was 
 arranged that the local men should act as assistants 
 to the world-famous talent of Professor Sir Clifford 
 Maxwellton, of the Victoria University, and Mr, 
 L3^saght Witherspoon, chief house-surgeon at St. 
 Peter's Hospital, lecturer at King's. 
 
 At the inquest the fact of death by poisoning with 
 the little-known drug " atromorphine," hitherto 
 chiefly known as a hypodermic, was clearly estab- 
 lished. But as no evidence could be obtained as to 
 how the poison came to be where it was, and as the 
 policewere understood to be primed with all the facts, 
 the jury returned an open verdict, " That the de- 
 ceased, Mr. James Pritchard, had come to his death 
 by poison, either self-administered, taken by acci- 
 dent, at the hands of a person (or persons) unknown, 
 or by the visitation of God." 
 
 An open verdict indeed !
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE FETTERS OF MARRIAGE 
 
 THE little marriage group emerged from the 
 severe portal of the Presbyterian kirk of 
 Thorsby. Hubert, very proud, with a still look of 
 satisfaction in his eyes, had Edith on his arm. She 
 wore white and a bridal veil. Hubert and she had 
 arranged quite otherwise. In this, as in other 
 things, they desired to be simple ; but quite unex- 
 pectedly the out-and-outer had proved intractable. 
 This was his affair. Hubert had no right to inter- 
 fere. If he paid for her clothing afterwards, that 
 was all that would be expected of him — all he had a 
 right to say a word upon. 
 
 So Edith had her bridal dress and bridal veil, and 
 was secretly glad. Will Dillingham even went all 
 the way to East Dene, to Aldbridge & Peabody's, 
 to get a wreath of orangle-blossoms — not a very big 
 wreath, but still one for which he paid himself, and 
 of which he was as proud as of a new sweetheart. 
 They drove back quietly, and Bourne Street, at its 
 several doors, received Edith with mingled joy and 
 jealousy. The dinner was the ordinary Sunday's 
 one, but threatened to be less well cooked ; for on 
 this occasion both Edith and her mother had been 
 at church. Edith, however, soon doffed her robe, 
 threw her blue flannel gown upon her, and made 
 the omelette. She also set the table and arranged 
 the flowers, the orange-blossom in the centre. 
 Hubert talked quietly with the out-and-outer in the 
 front parlour. Through the window they could hear 
 the hum of a summer afternoon in Bourne Street, 
 
 206
 
 THE FETTERS OF MARRIAGE 207 
 
 children playing-, the ring of a hoop on the kerb, the 
 footfall of a quite distant passer-by. It was almost 
 like the country, save for the murky, sultry air. 
 
 Then at Edith's summons they went into the 
 kitchen, and the gladness of Edith's eyes received 
 him. Hubert has never been sure whether he ate 
 anything that day or not. But that he drank of the 
 out-and-outer's favourite stone ale he is certain. 
 They pledged the new household in that, and after- 
 wards also the old. 
 
 In the afternoon they walked out upon Fame 
 Height, and Hubert and Edith looked with strange 
 eyes at the little farmhouse of Cheasely in the 
 hollow, at the wriggling white pathway where she 
 had taken him to task for his idleness, and where 
 she had bidden him never to see her again. 
 
 Yet somehow, spite of all, over the day there 
 hung a cloud. A heaviness was in the air and on 
 their hearts. Perhaps (thought Edith) because they 
 were so happy, and all that they had wished for 
 had come to pass. The death of the little hard, 
 grey, kindly master of the Pritchard's yard, thought 
 the men. There might be changes now, when the 
 rough autocratic tongue was stilled ; and from the 
 Crow's Nest the telescope searched no more from 
 one end of the yard to the other to discover well- 
 doing and ill-doing. 
 
 Yet the yard must go on, and it could not be quite 
 that. If there was not work in one place, there 
 would be in another. Thus counselled the out-and- 
 outer. Mrs. Dillingham did not know whatever she 
 was going to do without Edith — her Edith. And so 
 she knew it was that and nothing else. Will wished 
 he had not asked for a whole holiday. It was 
 stupid messing up there with all one's famil}^, and 
 these two spooning to make you sick ! Sue was the 
 only one perfectly happy. She chased the sparrows 
 and tried to catch the stray rabbits with her hands. 
 Then, with tired limbs and mind at peace, she lay
 
 208 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 down and stared at the sky. She was Miss Dilling- 
 ham now, and she had worn a "long" dress before 
 Agnes Anne Jacox. Ha! ha ! ha ! She had been a 
 bridesmaid ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! There's for you ! 
 
 In the meanwhile there was to be no wedding- 
 trip. Edith and Hubert had arranged that. To the 
 little house, so beautifully fitted, down at Thorsby 
 Old Quay — that would be trip enough, and they 
 would take it together. All was ready for them 
 there ; and in the afternoon, as soon as she could, 
 Mrs. Dillingham took the tram at the foot of the 
 street, and departed with Sue to make the final 
 preparations for the great home-coming. 
 
 Will slipped out by the back door, and was seen 
 no more. He was not going to let a fine new rig 
 like that — shirt, collar, cuffs, half-guinea bowler, and 
 patent leather shoes, black coat and waistcoat, and 
 grey trousers : all the latest things from Windy- 
 gate's — rust for want of showing off. And he had 
 as many as a dozen calls to make upon his " gals," 
 past, present, and to come. Poor things ; it would 
 be a treat to them ! 
 
 «' Will— Will! Confound that boy. Will!" It 
 was the voice of the out-and-outer. But Master 
 Will was safe through the back door. He cowered 
 close to the brick wall of the lane till he was going 
 almost on all fours. Then he scooted. In short, 
 Mr. Will Dillingham was not. He had had enough 
 of weddings. Girls were all very well, and Edith 
 was a good sort. But to be expected to waste a 
 day at your sister's marriage. Ugh ! he preferred 
 a funeral — bands and Oddfellows walking. 
 
 So it came to pass that in the eventide the re- 
 maining three walked down together, skirting the 
 glue-factory, and passing under the long wall of 
 the yard as quietly as if they were coming back to 
 Bourne Street in an hour. The sunset was redden- 
 ing with smoky ruby the long trough of the Tor 
 estuary as it narrowed inward to the hills. The
 
 THE FETTERS OF MARRIAGE 209 
 
 blue Cheviots glimmered purple. Topaz and 
 chrysolite glinted up from the smoky amber of the 
 outgoing tide. 
 
 There were many who reached a hand to Edith, 
 to wish her God-speed as she took her way for the 
 first time, as Mrs. Hubert Salveson, down the street 
 in which she had dwelt since she was a child. She 
 had not much to say in return, not trusting her 
 voice. But her eyes answered for her, and she 
 promised to come back and see them all. It was 
 not as if she was going far away. Oh, no, she was 
 just as much one of them as ever. 
 
 Only one of her acquaintance in Bourne Street 
 had not been seen that day — Mr. Joseph Challoner. 
 Doubtless he was occupied with affairs, or per- 
 chance hiding his sallow angers behind his own 
 wrinkled, white window-curtain. 
 
 Moreover, Tim Salveson would have come to the 
 wedding, and indeed proposed it. But Hubert wrote 
 to his brother that, for the sake of the peace of all 
 at the Manor House, he was to be content with 
 wishing him luck. And lazy Tim, easily rallying 
 to this advice, looked out a new volume of poetry 
 and settled himself in green entrancing grottos, 
 his body stretched in a long cane chair, his feet 
 mounted on a summer-house table, and his soul in 
 Arcady. 
 
 At the corner of the Station Road, before turning 
 down toward the Old Quay House of Thorsby, a 
 figure flitted across from the " Hen and Chickens " 
 and dived into the lane. 
 
 " If that ain't Jo Challoner ! " cried the out-and- 
 outer. " I'll But what in the world could make 
 
 him run like that?" 
 
 " Oh, it couldn't be— at his age," said Edith—" that 
 is, unless his wife's death had put him out of his 
 mind ! " 
 
 Hubert said nothing. He was occupied in trying 
 to look at Edith, to take her arm, and to carry a 
 
 14
 
 210 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 cage of canary birds and two flower-pots all at the 
 same time. 
 
 " Oh, there's the house ! " cried Edith, stopping 
 suddenly and catching her breath. " I wonder if 
 we have done right; if we will be happy! Oh, 
 Hubert, what do you think ?" 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ? " The girl was crying. 
 Now Hubert was hampered in the matter of com- 
 forting- owing to his packages. 
 
 " Your father " she said ; *' it does not seem 
 
 right." 
 
 The out-a-nd-outer laughed, but not joyously. 
 
 " Your mother's own daughter," he said. " Never 
 was there anything done, though of your own doing 
 and choosing, but that, when done, you could rake 
 up something to find fault with ! But it's late in 
 the day now, my little lass ! What tha' hast tied 
 with thy tongue, thy teeth shall not untie." 
 
 They climbed the little twisting path laid with 
 white gravel, with white-painted stone posts at the 
 corners, up to the front door. The flagstaff glim- 
 mered above, and in front the river spread away. 
 With his latch-key Hubert opened the door of his 
 own house — he had stipulated for this with Sue — 
 and stood aside to let his wife pass in. 
 
 But out of the dark of the porch arose crouching 
 figures. A hand was laid on Hubert's shoulder, 
 and a voice said distinctly : " Dr. Salveson, I arrest 
 you in the name of the law for the wilful murder of 
 Mr. James Pritchard. It is my duty to warn you 
 that anything you may say will be used against 
 you ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE CASE FOR THE CROWN 
 
 " A ND they do say, my dear," said Miss Fly, 
 
 /^ making their tea in the bare parlour of 
 St. Aldegonda's (in whose windows the fresh putty 
 was not 3'-et hard after the explosion in the yard) ; 
 "they do say that it's a wonderfully clear case." 
 
 " Rubbige ! " quoth Mrs. Waddleham, who, on 
 principle, took the role of official opposition. " As I 
 sez to my brother Jo, wot is cracked on this affair — 
 he never were very right, him with his troubles and 
 a complexion like Castile soap—' Wot would the 
 young man do sic a thing for? Answer me that,' 
 sez I ! An' he couldn't. Not he. ' Wasn't James 
 Pritchard his master?' I asks Jo. 'Didn't he make 
 a good berth for him, where place there was none ? 
 Didn't he take a pride in going about with him — 
 aye, more, to my knowledge, than even with Master 
 Egerton or Master Clarence, as is gay, fine young 
 men. An' the house as he had let to the young 
 couple — and all, and all ! What had he to gain ? 
 He had everything to lose. More like,' sez I to Jo, 
 ' that there's some one has a grudge at him, along o' 
 the stopping the playin' o' the "kip" in the yard. 
 Aye, a deal more like ! ' 
 
 "And Jo, he didn't like it a bit— not a bit. But 
 then, he hasn't no talent for argification, hasn't Jo. 
 He never had, and so he just sniffled and hemmed 
 and hawed, and had nowt to say." 
 
 " Ah, but," said Miss Fly, administering an extra 
 lump of sugar to Mrs. Waddleham's cup (" The old 
 wretch would not think twice about taking it, if 1 
 
 211
 
 212 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 didn't!"), "there has been more things found out. 
 Masella, a wonderful clever detective, has come 
 from Cottonopolis to help, and they've proved 
 things " 
 
 "What things?" demanded Mrs. Waddleham, 
 bristling. 
 
 " It's a perfectly clear case," said Miss Fly, repeat- 
 ing herself ; " a wonderfully clear case." 
 
 " Sayin' so don't make it so," interrupted Mrs. 
 Waddleham ; " but let's hear it— all of it ! " 
 
 "Well, for one thing," said Miss Fly, "they've 
 found out that James Pritchard was poisoned — 
 poisoned with some stuff that only doctors know 
 about, and only the newest of them. * Altro-some- 
 thing ' is its name. And nobody in Thorsby had any 
 except Hubert Salveson. He had brought it from 
 the East Dene Hospital." 
 
 " What, a stuff that all them chemists don't have ; 
 with all them coloured bottles, green, blue, red, 
 
 every colour in their windows — garr'on ! Don't 
 
 tell me!" 
 
 " I am telling you," said Miss Fly, with dignity ; 
 " you asked me. And, what's more, they have found 
 out that the case of those sort of poisons that 
 Hubert Salveson carried in his pocket, wants a 
 bottle of this very stuff. Dr. Budden can prove it 
 was there a week ago. He saw it. So did the head 
 surgeon over at East Dene Hospital. And Hubert 
 can't say how he has used a grain of it. They say 
 that enough has gone to poison a whole parish." 
 
 " Goodness gracious — it does give me the creeps ! " 
 said Mother Shipton ; " and to think o' the number 
 o' times that we have sat in that parlour at the 
 manor, and a murderer up to his pranks right over 
 our heads. I'll never drink another cup o' tea there 
 again, if I live to be a hundred ! " 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham was eyeing Miss Fly. 
 
 "Well," she said, critically, "but what does he 
 say ? "
 
 THE CASE FOR THE CROWN 213 
 
 " He says that he lost it on Green Lane Common, 
 when he walked out there one Saturday with that 
 girl he's married. A likely story ! As if he wouldn't 
 have gone back and looked for a thing like that! 
 And, after all, it was found in his own room at the 
 works, with the ' altro-something ' — it means sudden 
 death — bottle nearly empty. Now, what do you 
 make of that, Mrs. Waddleham ? " 
 
 *' Wot do 1 make of it ? " cried that lady, uncon- 
 vinced ; " well, I've not heard all yet. Why did he 
 do it ? Tell me that." 
 
 " Oh, it's all in the papers," cried Miss Fly 
 triumphantly, snatching at a folded sheet, lined and 
 thumbed under the heading of " The Great Thorsby 
 Mystery." " Listen— I'll read it to you ! " 
 
 " Don't ! " commanded Mrs. Waddleham. " Spit it 
 out cheerful. I'll believe you — this time." 
 
 "Well," said Miss Fly, swallowing the insult 
 (Mrs. Waddleham was, in her sphere, rich and 
 influential, though "horribly vulgar, my dear"), 
 "it's like this: James Pritchard, so it appears, had 
 gone quite cracked about this young man " 
 
 "Or about the young 'ooman — 'ow are ive to 
 know'}'" put in Mrs. Skipton, heaving her eyes to 
 the ceiling in a rapt prophetic manner. 
 
 "He had made over all the Old Quay property 
 to them," continued Miss Fly; "the three houses 
 and the quay rights — not that these are worth 
 much just now. It appears that he did it to 
 spite his family ; and that my Lady Ethelreda went 
 specially to the girl's house to tell her what she 
 thought of her " 
 
 " To make her give up the papers, more likely," put 
 in Mrs. Skipton, with her most Christian martyr air. 
 
 "Ho!" said Miss Fly, "I tell this story as this 
 story was told to me ; and I give the devil his 
 due " 
 
 "He's about the only one, then!" muttered 
 Mrs. Waddleham between her teeth.
 
 214 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " And I will say that the papers about the 
 house, the will and all that, are in the hands 
 of Mr. Pritchard's own lawyer — all proper and 
 correct." 
 
 " They say that they'll break the will, on account 
 
 o' the murder. The girl must have known " said 
 
 Mother Shipton. 
 
 " Indeed, I wouldn't put her past it," continued 
 Miss Fly. " Many's the times I have met her and 
 turned away " 
 
 "Surely you didn't owe her anything!" said 
 Mrs. Waddleham nastily. 
 
 "And," cried Miss Fly, heedless of taunts, and 
 dominating the assembly with her peroration (she 
 had kept her climax for its proper place), " the Old 
 Quay may be worth mints any da}^ And the whole 
 thing was to go to Edith Dillingham on condition 
 that she married Hubert Salveson — she to become 
 possessor on the death of Mr. Pritchard ! " 
 
 It was certainly strong circumstantial evidence, 
 taken as a whole. But the incredulous Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham, though staggered, rallied sufficiently to retort : 
 "Upon whose death else? D'ye think it would be 
 yours ? " 
 
 But even she herself knew this to be weak. 
 
 "At any rate," said Miss Fly, "he was arrested 
 on his marriage night — nobody can deny that — with 
 his hand on his wife's arm, at the door of the very 
 house which Mr. Pritchard left to them in his will, 
 as was afterwards found out." 
 
 "And the girl too?" inquired Mrs. Skipton 
 anxiously ; " they never let her go, sure-e-//^ ! " 
 
 "Ah! but they did," said Miss Fly. " They took 
 him, being a man ; against her they couldn't prove 
 anything." 
 
 "Notj/f/!" prophesied Mother Shipton. 
 
 " Well, perhaps," said Miss Fly, unwilling to give 
 anybody the benefit of the doubt ; " at any rate, sure 
 it is that he is in prison, and she at the Quay House
 
 THE CASE FOR THE CROWN 215 
 
 with her mother during the day, and her father to 
 look after her at night." 
 
 " Never— a house earned by mur-r-r-r-der ! " said 
 Mother Shipton, spectrally raising her hands with a 
 kind of waggle ; " the police ought to turn her out." 
 
 "Says her husband told her to wait for him 
 there," added Miss Fly. 
 
 "Her husband!" declaimed Mother Shipton ; 
 " and me, Maria Skipton, wife of a Hinspector 
 of Sanitary Tubes, to have drunk tea under his 
 father's " 
 
 " You mean drainpipes," interpreted Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham uns3^mpathetically ; " many's the time wot I've 
 seed your 'usband coming up through the manhole 
 in our lane, moock to the eyes ! " 
 
 At this ribaldry Mother Shipton only raised her 
 nose till it was horizontal, and disdained reply. 
 Such a woman as the Waddleham had no right to 
 an answer — though Mother Shipton couldn't quite 
 break with her, you see, on account of certain little 
 advances, renewed fortnightl}^, about rent days. 
 
 Great is mammon, and in this world doth prevail ! 
 
 And so the last word in the case of Hubert 
 Salveson was to the defence. Yet, on the whole, 
 the case for the Crown had been very fairly stated 
 by Miss Fly of St. Aldegonda's. The Waddleham 
 presented only an ex officio defence.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE NEW MASTER 
 
 IN the dead man's study, high in the Crow's Nest, 
 Clarence Pritchard sat alone. He was the 
 eldest son of his father, and especially of his mother. 
 He had been intended to continue the management 
 of the great business, which James Pritchard had 
 built up. He was in all things the opposite of his 
 brother Egerton — a cold, hard, straight-featured 
 young man of the period, clean-shaven, with thin 
 lips, and hair that parted in the middle, waving 
 lightly on either side his ears. 
 
 ** A De Conquest, if ever there was one." Such 
 w^as his mother's verdict. From this none dared to 
 dissent. She had kept him greatly under her own 
 wing at Oaklands, being determined that he should 
 fall into no early scrape, but in due time, and with 
 the Pritchard millions, marry into some great 
 county family, and in time become a peer him- 
 self. 
 
 " His father twice refused to be made a baronet," 
 she said to herself, " Clarence, with his education, 
 shall take a peerage in his own right — the grand- 
 son of an earl, he shall marry an earl's daughter, 
 and perhaps, if God is good, I may live to see him 
 an earl himself. Such is my hope ! " 
 
 She was not a pious woman, but respect for 
 ancestors is in itself a kind of religion. 
 
 Clarence, unlike his brother, had never caused 
 her any uneasiness. He was accounted "gay," but 
 it was with the reasoned wildness of a well-advised 
 young man, who knows how greatly a reputation 
 
 216
 
 THE NEW MASTER 217 
 
 of dash in the right quarter adds to a man's prestige. 
 But nothing embarrassing, you know, nothing 
 permanent, hampering, nothing unworthy of a De 
 Conquest. Oh, no! 
 
 In this Lady Ethelreda was right. Clarence was 
 cold, worldly-wise, determined, and he meant to 
 make Pritchard works only a stepping-stone to 
 the life he coveted — that of which his mother's 
 marriage with his father had somehow unjustly 
 robbed him. So he had kept in touch with the 
 work of the yard, and knew the man to control 
 it, one John Brand Blunt, who had been chief 
 designer for years, and now, if Clarence Pritchard 
 saw aright, was the very man to rule under him, 
 and draw the last sixpence from it, with blood 
 therewith. 
 
 Heavily built, square-jawed, shaven to the blue 
 about the gross chin, John Brand Blunt had the 
 light hind-quarters of a bull-dog. He leaped upon 
 his work, whatever it was, irresistibly. And when 
 his eye glinted at yours, stern and impenetrable, 
 level as the blade of a rapier, you felt that if you 
 stood in his way he might also fix himself upon 
 your throat even as the bull-dog might. 
 
 So with John Brand Blunt as grand vizier, 
 Clarence Pritchard prepared to enter into his 
 kingdom. There were to be no sudden or sweep- 
 ing changes. That was agreed. Undesirable or 
 useless men were to be got rid of quietly. Especi- 
 ally—and this was the first thought of Mr. Clarence 
 Pritchard — his brother Egerton. For he had^ been 
 left equal with his senior in all things, save in the 
 ultimate possession of Oaklands Hall. He must 
 therefore be set aside — got out of the way, you 
 understand. Blunt ? 
 
 Clarence thought it probable that his pleasures 
 would do this, as it were, automatically — they would 
 keep him supplied with money. But if not — some- 
 thing else must be found. For a start it seemed
 
 2i8 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 important that a prejudice should be created against 
 him in the neighbourhood. 
 
 This morning Clarence rang for the office 
 attendant, a newly appointed functionary— indeed 
 no other than Jo Challoner, whose ready civility 
 had been remarked since he had become general 
 handy man about the yard. 
 
 " Ask Mr. Blunt to come this way," said Clarence, 
 looking up calmly from a sheaf of papers. In a few 
 minutes footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, 
 and the massive form of Blunt filled the doorway. 
 
 " Sit down, Mr. Blunt," said the young man, with 
 his usual impassive manner, " I have sent for you 
 to talk over a few things— not quite as manager, 
 but such as have to do with the general direction 
 of affairs here. You are aware that my father 
 has left my brother an equal share of the profits 
 and of the responsibilities of the undertaking. I 
 do not complain, but it will be impossible for my 
 brother Egerton to be of the slightest use to us 
 here ; you know that yourself! " 
 
 " He is very popular with the men, sir," said John 
 Brand Blunt. 
 
 " So much the worse," said Clarence. " A popular 
 master makes idle men. That is the price of popu- 
 larity. Fear; fear, Mr. Blunt, and the sharp eye 
 are what are needed in a business such as ours. 
 Otherwise we should be cheated of our last farthing 
 of profit!" 
 
 " There is something in what you say "—John 
 Brand Blunt uttered the words slowly — "but that's 
 not quite all ; there is such a thing as justice— as 
 inflexible as you like, but justice. That's better 
 than cart-loads of fear ! The men feel it." 
 
 Mr. Clarence looked at him steadily as if inquiring 
 whether or not this heavy man were not afraid of 
 losing his three thousand pounds a year. But the 
 big man's long, upper lip, grimly stiff, and the 
 wrinkle of concentration between the eyes reminded
 
 THE NEW MASTER 219 
 
 him that there was no such designer in England, 
 no such critic of other men's designs, and that if 
 Pritchard's did not want him, the Admiralty would 
 snap him up at a week's notice. 
 
 •' About that young fellow Salveson," he said, 
 changing the subject as the result of the scrutiny ; 
 " what do you think ? His guilt seems certain ; that 
 is, if one listens to the police. But I confess I don't 
 see the motive. A few thousand pounds willed to 
 a man's wife ; what are they to one who might very 
 well have been confidential adviser to my father ? " 
 
 The manager shifted his position and coughed 
 slightly. 
 
 " The lad's innocent, I am sure," he pronounced, 
 " police or no police. But," here he paused a long 
 while, " there's something behind, which has got to 
 be made clear. Were you well acquainted with the 
 late Mr. James Pritchard, may I ask ? " 
 
 "Why, he was my father!" cried Clarence, 
 wondering if the new manager had suddenly gone 
 mad. 
 
 " That," said the border-man, " I know well. 
 What I am asking is if you were particularly 
 acquainted with him during his life ? " 
 
 " I — I — it is difficult for me to say " began 
 
 Clarence, " I don't know what you wish to infer." 
 
 " I infer nothing, sir," said John Brand Blunt, 
 " but to put a question : Were you aware, for 
 instance, that the late Mr. James Pritchard, my late 
 master, spent part of nearly every evening in the 
 house which he left to Mrs. Hubert Salveson ; that 
 he wrote up his day's diary there, and that he had 
 a special secret contrivance arranged there for the 
 purpose, as I presume, of concealing it ? " 
 
 Clarence started to his feet. 
 
 " If that be so, let us go at once and get posses- 
 sion of it," he cried. " My father's diaries, and very 
 likely much else. It is rank burglary." 
 
 " Cannily," said John Brand Blunt, " all in good
 
 220 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 time. The house is neither yours nor mine. It 
 has been searched ahxady by the poUce. Nothing 
 has been found. The words of the will are clear. 
 * Old Quay House, zvith all it contains ' " 
 
 " Surely that would not apply to a private 
 diary ? " cried Clarence fiercely. 
 
 " The words have a plain man's sense," said the 
 new manager grimly; "but as to their legal force, 
 ye can ask your lawyer." 
 
 " I must have those books, that is certain ! " cried 
 Clarence, dismissing him. " Good night ; thank 
 you, Mr. Blunt. Please send up the attendant." 
 
 In a moment more Jo Challoner entered. The 
 manager had encountered him on the ladder. He 
 was on the point of asking what he did there, but, 
 recollecting that after all it was not his business, 
 Blunt went off to the modelling-rooms to make 
 several suspected loafers " sit up."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 FATHER AND FATHER-IN-LAW 
 
 SURGEON-GENERAL CHARLES HEATH- 
 COTE SALVESON, CLE., had always ex- 
 pected his rebelHous son Hubert to come to a bad 
 end. Or at least that he should be compelled to 
 feed swine with husks, while his belly vainly cried 
 for nourishment. He had a grim pleasure in this 
 thought. He owned as much to himself. Still 
 at times, in the intervals of his absorption in the 
 literal and arithmetical interpretation oi Daniel and 
 the Revelation, the Surgeon-General was a Bible 
 reader; and, according to his lights, a Christian 
 man. 
 
 He contemplated the day when the prodigal 
 would come knocking at his chamber door. He 
 even made some provision for it. And though he 
 had no intention of seeing his son afar off or falling 
 on his neck, he would kill the fatted calf, in the 
 shape of buying him a passage to some distant 
 colony along with the woman he had chosen to 
 make his wife. Then he would give the portion of 
 the disobedient, sold for a mess of pottage, to the 
 elder brother, in good Old Testament style, and 
 again immerse himself in the problems concerning 
 the division of kingdoms and the last things. 
 
 But it was by no means the expected son who 
 came to his door. It was — a relative by marriage. 
 One day, like a visitor out of the Unseen ; somewhat 
 indeed as Death himself enters into a house, stern, 
 inevitable, the out-and-outer passed up the short 
 drive to the front door of the Manor House, stepped 
 
 221
 
 222 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 past the astonished maid, who demanded his name 
 "to take up." 
 
 " He would not know it if you did, my lass," said 
 the out-and-outer, " I will go up myself; " and so 
 forced the outer defences. Aunt Kidson came 
 fluttering out of her parlour, like a drowsy overfed 
 pullet. In vain ; the sturdy knuckles were already 
 falling on the sacred door. Hubert had told Edith, 
 Edith had told her father the way. The out-and- 
 outer was a practical man. There was no time to lose. 
 
 And so, still fluttering with the effort of saying, 
 " Come in," and exceedingly indignant at the inter- 
 ruption, Surgeon-General Salveson saw an immense 
 man, perfectly unknown to him, plumping down an 
 armful of books on the table before him with the 
 surprising remark : " Do you want your son to be 
 hung for murder ? " 
 
 As the household had been carefully keeping the 
 matter from Doctor Salveson for thirt3^-six hours, 
 and were even then in fear of the police coming to 
 make inquiries, they had let the out-and-outer 
 penetrate more easily than he might otherwise have 
 done, to the Chamber Defended. 
 
 " Who are you ? " asked the surgeon-general, half 
 rising, 
 
 " I ? " said the out-and-outer, wiping his heated 
 brow with a red-spotted cotton handkerchief, from 
 which even Edith could not wean him. " I ? — Why, 
 I am Mrs. Hubert Salveson's father. You, I think, 
 are her father-iJi-lazv ! " 
 
 And the two men, recognising through all veils 
 that each was a man, sat down face to face. 
 
 " My son accused of murder, do I understand 
 you to say ? Impossible ! " 
 
 The out-and-outer nodded sternly. 
 
 " They do not keep you w^ell informed," he said. 
 " Have you not seen the papers ? " 
 
 " I have not looked at one for ten years and more. 
 But what of my son ? "
 
 FATHER AND FATHER-IN-LAW 223 
 
 The out-and-outer explained, ending every para- 
 graph by slapping the big leather-bound books he 
 had deposited on the table as if nailing them 
 there. 
 
 " But these will save him — these will save him." 
 He ended by the words : "You see, I hadn't enough 
 head-learning to know what use to make of them ; 
 neither me nor my wife. So we decided to come 
 to the man that had. It was my daughter Edith's 
 thought. ' We have got to save Hubert,' I said ; 
 ' but how ? ' ' Go to Hubert's father,' sa3^s she. So 
 I started straight away ! " 
 
 Surgeon-General Salveson stretched out his hand. 
 He seemed once more the distinguished Indian 
 officer of many cholera camps. 
 
 " You did well," he said ; " call my son Timothy 
 to come in. He is on the garden seat. He has 
 sometimes a long head. And now, we will take 
 counsel together. But, mark you, this is without 
 prejudice. As soon as my son Hubert is righted, 
 we resume our former positions, relationships, 
 and " 
 
 "Right," interrupted the out-and-outer, bluffly; 
 " nothing would please me better." Then the out- 
 and-outer told the story in detail. A woman's 
 habits of restless curiosity, and his daughter's desire 
 to discover something that might help her to get her 
 Hubert back had been the first cause of this dis- 
 covery. 
 
 " She found a locked safe," said Ned Dillingham ; 
 " I forced it." 
 
 " But," cried Major-General Salveson, a defender 
 of vested rights, " surely that was a dangerous and 
 even unwarrantable proceeding." 
 
 " The house, with all that it contained, was left to 
 my daughter on condition that she should marry 
 your son She had married your son, as the books 
 of the register will attest — likewise Mr. Marchbanks 
 of the Presbyterian kirk. 1 had her instructions.
 
 224 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 So with levers and wedges I finally brought the 
 safe to reason — and found these." 
 
 ** What do they contain ? " asked Tim, who, 
 having been bred a lawyer, retained in his body 
 some tincture of the learning he had so unwillingly 
 imbibed and forgotten with such precipitation. 
 
 " The private diary of Mr. James Pritchard ! " 
 said the outer-and-outer with triumph. Then, 
 fearing that his hearers might not understand such 
 a roundabout way of expressing himself, he added, 
 " Owd Jamie of the Yard, ye know ! " 
 
 " But such a thing ought to be returned at once to 
 the family ! " 
 
 " Naw," snorted the out-and-outer, sitting up till 
 his prominent knotted eyebrows seemed to unite 
 with his truculent nose with the blown war-horse 
 nostrils ; " naw, they ha' been trying that already. 
 Comed with a right of search, young Clarence did. 
 But I had them books out by the back door afore 
 they came in by the front. So I brought them to 
 you. They will save the lad. I've my daughter to 
 think of; and the books were willed to my Ede! " 
 
 " Read, Tim," said his father, waiving the general 
 question. " You are a lawyer, and my eyes are not 
 so good at manuscript as they have been." 
 
 " Edith has looked out the pages," said the 
 out-and-outer, " She found out all about it, and 
 would have come herself; only they might not have 
 let her in. I did that for myself. So let none of 
 your folk downstairs be blamed ! " 
 
 " Read, Tim," said the surgeon-general, mounting 
 his big gold-rimmed prophetical spectacles on his 
 nose and drawing a pencil ready to take notes on a 
 blank sheet of paper. 
 
 Tim found the first marked passage and began. 
 James Pritchard's clear early trained hand had 
 never varied, even in his voluminous business 
 communications, and in these journals of his intimate 
 life, which he. had written as if for the eye of his
 
 FATHER AND FATHER-IN-LAW 225 
 
 vanished love, sitting in her chair, and looking out 
 on the river as they two had done, the calligraphy 
 was like print. 
 
 The marked passages were all in the last volume. 
 Some were, therefore, almost the last things James 
 Pritchard had set his hand to. The journal had 
 been kept from day to day. Jottings had been 
 made in the Crow's Nest on odd pieces of paper, 
 scraps of envelopes, the backs of sketch-plans, of 
 calculations and measurements of all sorts. These 
 were often left, especially in the last fifty pages of 
 the third volume, between the leaves of the tightly 
 bound book, which lay flat enough when opened 
 out, but shut as with a spring upon its contents. 
 
 The surgeon-general listened awhile with half- 
 closed eyes. *' Masella ought to hear this," he 
 rnurmured. " I used to know him in India. I nursed 
 him down in Indore once, when he was in the 
 Intelligence Department." 
 
 He rose to put his hands on the books which Tim 
 had laid on the table. But the huge paw of the 
 out-and-outer shot forth, and covered the pile. 
 
 " Bring your Masella here if you like," he said, 
 grimly ; " but these there, are my daughter's. They 
 were entrusted to Ned Dillingham to save his 
 daughter's husband's life, and he is going to do it. 
 They don't go out of his sight till that's put 
 through ! " 
 
 " Very well then," assented the surgeon-general, 
 •' then be good enough to wait here. I will go and 
 fetch him. Tim can keep you company." 
 
 And the moment after, the Manor House was in 
 an uproar ; subdued, but deep as the sea. Mrs. 
 Kidson fell in a faint. The old domestics leaned 
 against the nearest wall and gaped like new-landed 
 fish. A housemaid had hysterics. 
 
 The master was going out! The master had 
 passed down the stairs, put on a winter overcoat, 
 taken an umbrella, donned a tall hat, all three 
 
 15
 
 226 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 unused for years, and left all his precious pro- 
 phetical treasures to the mercy of that wild angry 
 man with the broad beaky nose, who had arrived 
 to disturb the quietest and most studious house in 
 the world. 
 
 True, Master Tim was there. But, after all, what 
 of him ? Very likely he would go to sleep over a 
 book of poetry, and who would protect them? 
 
 So outside the door of the closed study, struggling 
 for a glimpse through the altogether insufficient 
 keyhole, the Manor household swarmed like an 
 ant-hill. 
 
 Thus, in fact, their master found them, and, all 
 India rising insurgent within him at the sight, the 
 surgeon-general actually raised his foot in sharp 
 chastisement to the crouching listeners, not even 
 sparing his " near relative," the scarcely recovered 
 Mrs. Kidson. Afterwards, he referred to his anger 
 as "the triumph of the Old Adam within him," and 
 drew many touching lessons therefrom, when he 
 had occasion to preach humility and long-suffering 
 to others. At the time, however, he only grunted 
 and kicked with entire satisfaction to himself, 
 referring all the time to his intention of " clearing 
 the house once and for all of such a crew." 
 
 And behind him came a longish solemn person, 
 dressed like a Baptist minister in country parts, who 
 solemnly affirmed at -each assault: "Serve 'em 
 right ! Serve 'em right ! " 
 
 This was Masella, the famous detective from 
 Cottonopolis, and thus, Surgeon-General Salveson's 
 hasty action may be said to have had the sanction 
 of law,
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 THE LAST OF OLD QUAY PIER 
 
 THE out-and-outer had left Old Quay Cottage 
 at a fortunate time for the life of his son-in- 
 law. But so far as his daughter Edith was con- 
 cerned it was ill-chosen ; indeed, could not have 
 been worse. 
 
 The door opened ere she had time to shut the 
 despoiled safe, and Edith, looking round, found 
 herself face to face with Joseph Challoner ; but 
 another Jo Challoner from the man she had known 
 in Bourne Street. His eyes were glazed, the whites 
 injected with blood. An unhealthy purple flush 
 covered his toadstool complexion. 
 
 "Jo ! " said Edith, standing up, to hide if possible 
 the open safe and the tools with which the out-and- 
 outer had opened it. 
 
 But, though that was his excuse for being there, 
 Joseph Challoner had no care for James Pritchard's 
 safe, nor for its late contents (though well he might), 
 nor yet for the mission committed to him by his 
 new master, Mr. Clarence Pritchard. 
 
 He saw only before him the woman — the girl — 
 the child upon whom his eyes had dwelt with a 
 steadily increasing desire through the years. He 
 hated the father ; first, because he had been his 
 benefactor ; again, because he was all that he, 
 Joseph Challoner, was not, and could not be. But 
 he had always loved Edith, the daughter ; as much, 
 that is, as it was in his nature to love any one. At 
 any rate, he had long marked her for his own. 
 
 And now she stood before him, alone and 
 
 727
 
 228 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 frightened. lie promptly forgot the men waiting 
 for him at the gate. He forgot how, as a friend of 
 the family, he was to obtain possession of these 
 books, by an offer to save Hubert Salveson's life. 
 These diaries must not on any account fall into the 
 hands of the police. Mr. Clarence believed them to 
 be full of dealings with foreign and even hostile 
 powers, of details of vessels built for the enemies of 
 Britain, of escaped privateers and set to prey upon 
 the commerce of friendly nations ; facts which, if 
 known, might cause new Alabama Claims, and 
 bring about the ruin of the firm. Therewith, too, 
 which was important, the loss of the peerage which 
 he counted within sight. 
 
 " Edith Dillingham ! " said Joseph Challoner. It 
 was now hardly a human voice, and somehow made 
 Edith's flesh creep on her bones. 
 
 "What do you want, Jo? Is it my father?" 
 asked Edith, faintly keeping her back valiantly to 
 the hole in the wall, to give the out-and-outer time 
 to escape. 
 
 "I want you!" said Jo Challoner, still more 
 hoarsely, beginning a kind of stealthy approach 
 to the girl. She looked about for a weapon, but 
 found none. 
 
 "I want you, Edith Dillingham," he went on; 
 ** your husband, who shall never be your husband, 
 is certain to be hanged — for murder ; d'ye hear ? " 
 
 He was grasping the girl's wrists now. He could 
 now see into the yawning safe, empty save for a few 
 papers. But of that he took no heed. 
 
 " D'ye hear?" he repeated. 
 
 " I hear, Jo," said Edith, mastering her fear, and 
 speaking as if the whole were no more than a jest ; 
 " let my wrists go, Jo ; you hurt ! " 
 
 He let go mechanically ; the habit of obedience 
 strong within him, till mastered by madness. 
 
 " Hubert is not guilty," she said, "you know that, 
 Jo. Don't you?"
 
 THE LAST OF OLD QUAY PIER 229 
 
 It was the wrong chord. He flung himself 
 towards her. She escaped by a sudden rush to the 
 farther side of the table. She tried the door, 
 furtively keeping her eyes on Jo. It was locked. 
 He had taken the key out as he came in ! 
 
 " Edith," he cried, bending towards her over the 
 table, while she rested her finger-tips against the 
 opposite side of the round to be ready to dodge 
 either way according as he should come, "listen to 
 me. I have alway loved you, Edith Dillingham. I 
 hated my wife. I always did. Well, she is dead. 
 No neecf to speak of the dead, is there, Edith ? It 
 brings ill-luck ! " 
 
 She saw his madness plainly now. It glared 
 luridly from his dreadful eyes. She felt it blow in 
 the hot breath which came to her cheek across the 
 narrow table. 
 
 " Listen to me," he cried, so hoarsely she could 
 hardl}^ understand his words ; " I have done for you 
 all that a man may do for a woman. Yes, every- 
 thing. I have slain for you ; I have murdered for 
 you ; and now you shall be mine. I am not going 
 to lose my soul for nothing. 
 
 '* There are men at the front door," he continued ; 
 " come out with me by the back. I have money. 
 We shall escape. Your marriage is yet no marriage. 
 For me, I am free ; I will marry you in America, or 
 where you will. I swear it ! What else have I 
 lived for,' dreamed of, sinned for, all these years. 
 And now to escape me ! But you shall not escape 
 me!'; 
 
 Edith managed to get her hand upon the hasp of 
 the front window, the large oriel which looked upon 
 the river. There were men below there, she knew ; 
 policemen perhaps. At any rate they would not 
 let her be murdered by a madman. But Jo Challoner 
 was before her. Seeing she was about to escape he 
 took a long grey pencil-shaped object out of his 
 pocket. It was capped with a little brass detonator.
 
 230 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 "You see that," he cried, "that is dynamite; the 
 like of what blew down the wall opposite your 
 husband's surgery in the yard. He escaped, but 
 you will not. If you do not consent to come with 
 me quietly, this instant, I swear I will blow both 
 of us up together — you and I. I have lived without 
 you, for all my striving and loving. But I can at 
 least die with you clasped in my arms ! " 
 
 Edith had got the window open now. 
 
 " Help ! murder ! " The words leapt upon the 
 still air. " If you are men, help me ! " she cried. 
 
 Joseph Challoner bounded towards her, and 
 caught her in his arms. One hand was over her 
 mouth. The red eyes seemed to fill the whole 
 world. But she did not faint. Both hands were 
 clasped about the wrist of the hand which held the 
 dynamite cartridge. Edith fought for her life. 
 
 " Open there ! Open, or we will burst it open ! " 
 
 The closed door gave way at the word, and in the 
 wild whirl that followed she saw a big dark man 
 snatch something out of Jo Challoner's hand and 
 fling it far out of the open window. 
 
 Within, the fight continued round the madman, 
 who had other weapons. But Edith fainted quietly 
 away, her last impressions being that the whole sea 
 had risen in a great white heap, that it was flinging 
 itself against the sky, which was falling about her 
 ears with the noise of multitudinous thunderings. 
 Also that there was no Old Quay landing-stage any 
 more. 
 
 When she came to herself in the arms of Mrs, 
 Leaf}^, the captain's wife next door, Jo Challoner 
 was gone. The dark, stern man who had saved her 
 was gone. And so, too, when she looked through 
 the window, was Old Quay Pier and landing-stage. 
 
 "He was mad!" she whispered to the captain's 
 wife, " mad ; he tried to kill me ! Why ? " 
 
 The captain's wife nodded, and glanced over 
 her shoulder.
 
 THE LAST OF OLD QUAY PIER 231 
 
 " I was bid to give you this," she said. 
 
 It was a card of some one whose name was "John 
 Brand Blunt." Neither Mr. nor Esq. ; no titles or 
 degrees marred the net effect of that statement. 
 
 On the back some words were written in pencil. 
 
 "Joseph Challoner is in prison. The safety of 
 the house is assured during your husband's absence. 
 
 "J. B. B." 
 
 Yet somehow Edith felt that there was a danger 
 in the words. It was no friend w^ho had written 
 them. Being a woman she believed in presenti- 
 ments.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 SEEN THROUGH A GLASS CLEARLY 
 
 THESE were the passages from the diary of 
 the late James Pritchard, Esquire, J.P.,D.L., 
 etc., which, duly communciated to the authorities, 
 procured the immediate release of Dr. Hubert 
 Salveson, and in due course thereafter the detention 
 of Mr. Joseph Challoner during Her Majesty's 
 pleasure as a dangerous criminal lunatic. 
 
 " May 20. — Received my new binocular of power 
 magnifying twenty-five diameters. Have used it all 
 day. Quite satisfied. Doctor H. S. does his work 
 with vigour. Watched him going about preparing 
 report on the by-products. He observes for him- 
 self, takes nothing for granted, and will be a 
 valuable man in the yard. 
 
 " Afterwards he walked through the sheds with 
 J. B. Blunt. Passing the travelling crane, a large 
 piece of iron fell from the engineer's cab. Im- 
 mediately afterwards, ex-stevedore Joseph Challoner 
 came down hurriedly. Tomlin, Scotch engineer, 
 busy with his chain-connections at the time. No 
 fault — probably an accident. Dr. H. S. unhurt. 
 Speak with Tomlin. 
 
 *' May 21. — Accidental (?) discharge of a d3^namite 
 cartridge, stolen from Old Quay stores under the 
 charge of Captain Leaf}^ Explosion took place 
 near the surgery door. 1 saw Challoner again 
 loitering in that direction, had him privately 
 searched in the side-office as he passed to give his 
 time to the time-keeper of gate No. i. Nothing 
 
 2.12
 
 SEEN THROUGH A GLASS CLEARLY 233 
 
 suspicious found upon him ; but the man will bear 
 watching. He has no bad reputation, though not 
 
 Eopular. May only be a little mad. I have put 
 im among the odd job men, and Hedderidge, the 
 cook of the foreman's kitchen, has set him to scrape 
 pots. Same wage in meantime." 
 
 (23 and 24. — Nothing about Challoner on these 
 days ; Mr. Pritchard having a new contract on 
 hand, and afterwards spending some hours in 
 putting Old Quay House into a fit state for June i. 
 He gives details.) 
 
 ^^ May 25. — Hear that Challoner's wife is dead. 
 Have sent for a copy of the doctor's certificate. All 
 in order— overdose of chloral, permitted or advised 
 to be taken by Budden. Old fool, Budden. Mem. 
 Tell him so at the Board of Guardians on Tuesday. 
 
 ^^ May 26. — Dr. H. S. operated on a slight abscess 
 at the root of the front tooth which has been 
 annoying me these past three days. Tells me he 
 has lost his pocket case of medicines, and had not 
 had time to get another from Edinburgh. Sent out, 
 however, for some cocaine, which he injected, also 
 alvantunder. Operation quite successful. Asked 
 Dr. H. S. where he had lost case. If in the yard, 
 should be easy matter. Hesitated at first. At last 
 admitted that he had been for a walk on the moor 
 towards Green Lane with his sweetheart. Lost it 
 there. Very natural ; but less chance of recovering 
 it. Caused a notice and reward to be circulated, 
 on the chance. 
 
 '■^ May 28. — Came early to the yard this morning, 
 arriving at six ; found all at their duties. Egerton 
 helping Doctor S., with a bad burn case in the 
 auto-shed. Saw Joseph Challoner enter surgery, 
 and lay a black morocco case on mantelpiece, the 
 window being open at the time. I went down after- 
 wards, and found it was the missing article described 
 by Dr. S. Will go into the matter as soon as the 
 Government Inspector leaves, which will be about
 
 234 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 five. Shall be too busy till then. Made my own 
 breakfast here in Old Quay Cottage, for perhaps 
 the last time — before Hubert and his wife arrive. 
 Have also written this up to date. 1 intend these 
 journals ultimately for Mr. Salveson and his wife. 
 They may in some sort help me to live over again 
 my early days in this cottage." 
 
 These were the last words. The rest was blank 
 paper. 
 
 For when, at five o'clock, the Government expert 
 being gone, James Pritchard strolled across to the 
 cook-house, and there partook of the Black Dinner 
 prepared for another man, he was quite unaware 
 that, in his register of accurate observations upon 
 the doings of his pcrsoiiuelle, he had left more than 
 enough to hang the author of his death, had the 
 man's madness not been self-evident. 
 
 It was considered probable also, after the amount 
 of atromorphine used in the case of Mr. Pritchard 
 had been ascertained, that Jo Challoner might also, 
 with justice, have been indicted for the murder of 
 his wife. But being indubitably insane, he was 
 condemned for life to the prison for criminal 
 lunatics, and no good end would have been served 
 even in the case of his conviction. So poor Molly, 
 who had heard the clear Corwen bells ring down 
 the Welsh valle}^ was left now to sleep peacefully 
 under-sod, the steam whistles of the yard engines, 
 and the hooting syrens of the river boats sounding 
 her appropriate lullaby. 
 
 At Old Quay Cottage Edith stayed on, much 
 perplexed in mind. Her mother was with her 
 often. But Mrs. Dillingham took constitutionally a 
 sad view of things. Somehow she had been certain 
 that this could not turn out well from the first. At 
 the sight of Hubert (it now appeared) she^ had 
 " had a turn." She had always wished that Edith 
 had minded her mother, and married Alf Hazel.
 
 SEEN THROUGH A GLASS CLEARLY 235 
 
 But nowadays girls cared nothing for their mother's 
 advice. In her young days it was different. 
 
 All which was, of course, most timely and com- 
 forting. And but for the fact that, for many 3^ears, 
 Edith had been accustomed to do her work to the 
 steady dropping of similar discouraging observa- 
 tions, she might now have felt it more. 
 
 Sue looked in also at Old Quay, made the house 
 a turmoil for ten minutes, looked out of every 
 window, hailed the passing steamers, clattered up 
 and down all the stairs, and then vanished with a 
 final banging of doors. Upon which Edith put her 
 hands to her head, and at the gesture, her mother 
 reproached her with a lack of gaiety. Sue was 
 always light-hearted, always happy at home. Let 
 her be the same. Why should she, Edith Salveson, 
 sit there and mope ? Was the cottage not her own, 
 her very own ? Even if . . . things happened . . . 
 she could always take boarders. There was that 
 nice man, the manager of the yard, who was 
 always sending flowers. Mrs. Dillingham was sure, 
 from the look of him, that he would be quite glad 
 to come. Edith must really look on the bright 
 side of things." 
 
 " Oh, mother, don't ! " cried Edith at last, in a 
 kind of frenzy. And when Mrs. Dillingham ceased 
 monologuing from sheer astonishment at her 
 daughter's outbreak, Edith rose, and went out to 
 the little green seat by the flagstaflf. Mrs. Dilling- 
 ham, being left alone, continued to shake her head 
 at intervals, and to mutter to herself with ever- 
 increasing conviction. " The}' werena like that i' 
 my young days, the lasses ; no, not i' my 3^oung 
 days." 
 
 Setting herself out on the river front under a 
 deep-brimmed straw hat she had snatched up in 
 passing, Edith began by shedding a few quiet tears. 
 As indeed what right-minded girl would not. 
 
 There was her husband, who had never been a
 
 236 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 husband, in prison. There was the home she had 
 been so proud of, still not a home, because he was 
 not there. She knew, of course, that he was innocent. 
 But, like all in Thorsb}^, she had a great fear of the 
 law. In youth the law had meant to Edith a big, 
 fierce, blue-clad policeman, who would not let little 
 tired girls sit on the park grass, and chivied boys 
 from shy games of cricket at street corners. The 
 law ran inoffensive out-of-works or feeble tramps 
 along the street, in the direction of the police-station, 
 shaking them as they went. 
 
 And in the grasp of this great Policeman Law, 
 Edith pictured her Hubert. She shuddered, and 
 was turning away to reach her room unobserved, 
 when over the green hedge came a hearty voice : 
 "Mrs. Saiveson, Mrs. Salveson ; won't you come 
 into our little playground a bit ? I think the 
 missus would much like to show you her roses." 
 
 It was Captain Leafy who spoke, that old fighter 
 and runner of blockades in the dangerous touch- 
 and-go days of James Pritchard's ventures. 
 
 Captain Leafy was hardly of the popular buccaneer 
 type, being rather spare, undersized, with chiselled 
 features, a broad white brow, and tightly compressed 
 lips. His well-trimmed grey beard was pointed 
 a little forward, navy fashion, and he had a blue 
 eye so deep and clear that it seemed a bit stolen 
 from one of those tropic skies he had sailed under 
 so long. 
 
 Edith moved through the green sparred gate 
 which he held obligingly open for her. He took 
 his hat off to her as she passed with a certain air 
 which told the girl, inexperienced as she was, that 
 Captain Leaf}^ had in his day welcomed on board 
 his ship some very exalted passengers indeed. 
 
 Edith had made acquaintance with Mrs. Leafy 
 already, an apple-dumpling woman, who had waited 
 long for the captain, waited past her prime, " till so 
 be as he could be with her all the time, and not
 
 SEEN THROUGH A GLASS CLEARLY 237 
 
 leave her in peril of her life with a brood o' childer 
 to bring up by hand." But, as she added, " the 
 captain as he stood, was bairn eneuch for any one 
 able-bodied woman." 
 
 They were both kind people, and the tea they 
 gave Edith did her good. Also the conversation of 
 the captain and the chiming agreement of his wife. 
 There was never anything so absurd as Hubert's 
 arrest. Why should he kill poor old James 
 Pritchard, who had done him so much good, and 
 was ready, to all appearance, to do him so much 
 more ? The police were doing their duty, or they 
 thought so. But, lord, he (Captain Leafy) knew 
 policemen. All over the world they were the same. 
 They were mostly fairly honest men, only deadly 
 stupid. Never room for more than one idea at 
 a time under a policeman's helmet, and that one 
 was usually how to get as many convictions as 
 possible. 
 
 Prisons : he had been in them as often as there 
 were quills upon the fretful porcupine — Spanish 
 ones like Pilate's House at Tarragona, in the Red 
 Dungeon at Alicante, at La Beche on the French 
 shore, in China — a most evil place, China, to get 
 sent to prison in. He had seen them at Canton 
 picking out every tenth man, tried or untried, to be 
 taken out to the execution-ground ; and he the 
 ninth and not sure of the count. The mental 
 arithmetic he had learned at school, was, he averred, 
 of little service to him. He made himself number 
 ten every time, and when he didn't, he was afraid 
 the mandarin would ! 
 
 Thus he rattled on. And the conclusion of the 
 whole matter was always : " After all, here I am, 
 not very much the worse, a bit carved here and 
 there maybe, but sound in the main, taking tea in 
 Anchorage Cottage down by Thorsby Old Quay in 
 company with my good wife Sarah ! " 
 
 Then he had to rise to salute Mrs. Leafy on the
 
 238 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 cheek, reciting apropos of nothing save the villanous 
 rhyme and his own mad humour : 
 
 " I thought, as I looked on the wild Nia-gara, 
 If they only could see my tempestuous Sarah 1" 
 
 Mrs. Leafy ordered him not to make a donkey ot 
 himself generally, and in particular to sit down and 
 take his tea like a Christian "when it was hot." 
 But before he could obey they heard a crash behind 
 them. Some one, much pressed for time, vaulted 
 the privet hedge, strode towards them, and caught 
 Edith in two strong arms. 
 
 "Bless me, bless me, what's this?" cried the 
 captain, though he knew. 
 
 " I have come to take my wife home ! " cried 
 Hubert radiantly. 
 
 "Well, you needn't have come down like a 
 hippopotamus in the middle of my early strawberry 
 bed," said the captain ; " the next time you get out 
 of prison, please notice that there is a gate." 
 
 But Hubert and Edith cared just as little for his 
 grumbles as the excellent man meant them. 
 
 " It's all right ! " said he. 
 
 " Of course ! " she said ; " but— oh, Hubert ! " 
 
 And so they went out together, through the gate 
 this time. 
 
 " Bless them," repeated Captain Leafy, " I knew 
 all the time he was coming. Master Egerton told 
 me. That's why I got her over here away from her 
 mother, who would have spoilt it. As for the boy, 
 he's quite welcome (once in a way) to walk over 
 every strawberry bed I have in the garden." 
 
 " She looked frighted, poor thing," said his wife 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Did she ? " said the captain, crunching up all 
 that was left of the toast, with apparent enjoyment, 
 " she'll get over that bravely enough, never fear." 
 
 "Well, I'm sorry for the poor young things,
 
 SEEN THROUGH A GLASS CLEARLY 239 
 
 beginning so foolishly on nothing," said Mrs. Leafy, 
 who was a woman of pronounced views. 
 
 " Ne'er you fash your head about the foolish 
 young things, Sarah, my lass," said the captain, 
 with his mouth full ; " if you had been a wiser 
 woman, you would have been seeing some of your 
 own lasses carried off like that, without the young 
 man that took them ever stopping to say so much 
 as a thank'ee ! " 
 
 " Oh, for shame, Abe," cried his wife ; "you know 
 very well that I couldn't leave my father." 
 
 " Then, Sarah," said her husband, getting up (the 
 toast having disappeared), "you are the poorer 
 judge of those that can ! " 
 
 " Maybe," said his wife softly, her eyes on the 
 windows of the house that now was Hubert and 
 Edith's. Then, being left alone, she sighed again, 
 wistfully, pensively — the sigh of the childless wife.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIl 
 
 THE SACREDNESS OF L. S. D. 
 
 " T T was rather well arran^^ed — yes," said Egerton 
 
 1 Pritchard five minutes after Hubert had 
 brouo^ht in his wife. These two had lingered a 
 little by the way. 
 
 For to pass the time the out-and-outer had made 
 some improvements in the back garden. These 
 included a rockery and a pretty new trellis-work 
 summer-house, with a view of the river and of 
 nothing else. 
 
 But these improvement^ inspected to the satis- 
 faction of both they went indoors, to find, in 
 addition to the out-and-outer and her mother, 
 Mr. John Brand Blunt, and no less a person than 
 Mr. Egerton Pritchard himself. Naturally he was 
 doins: the talking. 
 
 "Oh, it was neat — neat — ra-ther. I arranged it. 
 As soon as Blunt there got the order for release, 
 ' immediate release, and be quick about it,' I had 
 my '■teuf — auto, you know — brought round, and I 
 tell yoii I made the pavement sizzle all the way 
 to the prison door. I saw Clarence, that's my 
 brother, on the way, and he hailed. I told him 
 where I was going, and he said that it would look 
 bad. I told him that if he knew anything that 
 would look better than going to help clear an 
 innocent man, I was on to it. But he cleared 
 without a word — sulky devil, Clarence ; death on 
 side; always was! Thinks he'll run the yard; 
 but he won't. I know more about it than he does 
 eh, Blunt ? But I'll let him think that he does 
 
 240
 
 THE SACREDNESS OF L. S. D. 241 
 
 for a while. Let him play Big Pot as much as he 
 wants. But we will run the little gadgets that 
 make the old lady steam ahead. Let him show 
 the customers round, but you'll put me up to 
 talking the cold business, eh, Blunt ? " 
 
 " That's it ! " said Blunt ; but without meeting the 
 young man's eye. 
 
 " Now I am talking nonsense — or going to do 
 it," continued Egerton ; " besides, you, Salveson, 
 don't want a pack of fellows in your house after 
 all you've been through. I know that. I suppose 
 you would like a few days off at the yard." 
 
 " I have been too long off," said Hubert, happily 
 conscious of the Day-of-Rest between. " I shall be 
 in my surgery on Monday as usual, I hope." 
 
 They took their leave, and as they went down 
 the walk Egerton said aloud : " Deuced pretty girl 
 that ! Lucky fellow, young Hu Salveson ! I say, 
 is that the girl you've been lugging flowers to, 
 all along the Cheviot Road, every day for a 
 week ? " 
 
 " It is," said Blunt, gnawing at his moustache. 
 
 Mr. Egerton laughed. " You had better look 
 out ! " he said ; " you'll be falling in love ! Now, 
 that's funny ; fancy old Blunt in love ! " 
 
 " Yes, fancy ! " growled John Brand Blunt, turning 
 a hostile shoulder and a face so lowering and fierce 
 as to be almost terrible; "fancy your taking me for 
 a sweep ! " 
 
 Then the creamy Mercedes went up the lane, like 
 the fast 'un passing Green Lane station under a 
 full head of steam, while the urchins loitering about 
 the station corner shouted : " Oo-roo ! Go it, 
 Edgie ! " 
 
 • • •   • 
 
 Soon after that the out-and-outer followed up the 
 lane with his wife on his arm, and in their own 
 house Hubert and his wife sat down to take their 
 first meal together, 
 
 16
 
 242 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Please, Hubert, don't tell me anything at all 
 about it just now. Let it be for to-night as if it 
 had never been. Do you understand ? " 
 
 He understood and, rising, kissed the little top- 
 most curl of her hair. 
 
 "Oh, don't," she said quickly; "don't pet me or 
 I shall cry ! And I don't want to cry — now ! " 
 
 Then she looked carefully at him and was all 
 maternal again, which was best for her. He was 
 whiter, thinner ; or, at least, so she imagined. 
 
 "Poor boy!" she said, reaching out a hand to 
 touch his ; " were they very cruel to you ? " 
 
 Daily floggings and the rack were the least of the 
 sufferings indicated by her tone. 
 
 "On the contrary, the}'- were excessively kind to 
 me," smiled Hubert, " oh, you lovely " 
 
 " Husssh ! " said Edith, regarding him from the 
 other side of the table with large, lustrous, humid 
 eyes, " sit still and eat your muffin ! " 
 
 And to show him just how to do it, she rose 
 and circled the table with a rush of a singularly 
 tumultuous character, which interrupted the muffin 
 on its way to Hubert's mouth, replaced it, and 
 thereafter disturbed the symmetry of the tea-table, 
 a thing upon which Edith prided herself. 
 
 Recovenng a little, though not yet taken with a 
 sense of shame for her misdeeds, she began cautiously 
 to feel his head and arms, to make sure that no 
 
 Eermanent injuries had been received by being 
 roken on the wheel, or the other tortures which 
 he had undergone. 
 
 Certainly she could not discover any, and no one 
 but herself would have suspected hidden injury, to 
 judge by the strength of the arms that encircled 
 her. Edith promptly forgot all about the tea, 
 muffins, hot cakes, short cakes, which she had laid 
 out with such care. 
 
 When she emerged it was only to jump up 
 suddenly, and cry : " Oh, Hubert, come and" see hoyv
 
 THE SACREDNESS OE L. S. D. 243 
 
 nice I have made the house. I have been just dying 
 to show it you." 
 
 This might have been true— doubtless was, be- 
 cause Edith said it. But it was certainly a slow 
 dissolution. Nevertheless, because Edith took him 
 by the hand and pulled him, Hubert rose with a 
 sigh. To his idea the house could very well have 
 waited. He let his napkin drop on the floor, an 
 offence observed by Edith, who, however, resolved 
 to say nothing that day, but to begin to train him 
 to-morrow. Oh, that would be sweet ! 
 
 During Hubert's absence his little wife had not 
 been idle. Dared he say so ? Everything was in 
 position. Order reigned in Warsaw. Look at this 
 deep cupboard ! She opened the double doors 
 wide. They were the work of vanished hands, but, 
 such is lovers' ingratitude, neither of them thought 
 of James Pritchard at that moment. Nor indeed 
 would James Pritchard have wished them to, could 
 he have used his telescope from some celestial 
 Crow's Nest. 
 
 " See," she cried, happily sinking her arms, which 
 the loose gown left bare to the elbow, in the piles 
 of cool, lavender-scented linen, " that's all ours — 
 ours — ours ! " 
 
 Hubert but vaguely understood the passion and 
 respect which some women (and they of the best) 
 cherish for household linen. But all the same he 
 had to feel and admire. 
 
 " That's not the way, silly ; this way, between 
 your finger and thumb ! And look at the fineness," 
 cried Edith. " This is old ; it was part of mother's 
 when she got married, was spun far away in 
 Scotland by her mother " 
 
 "It would make rare bandages for dressings " 
 
 '• Oh, Hubert, mother's old linen sheets — if ever 
 you dare ! " 
 
 But apparently the young man took fright at the 
 storm aroused by his words, for he apologised in
 
 244 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 a way exceedingly agreeable to him, which would 
 have added immensely to the knowledge of Mistress 
 Sue and the discomfiture of Agnes Anne Jacox, 
 had the first-named young person been there to 
 see. 
 
 Then the chairs, the tables, his own study left 
 for his surgical " things." She alone was to dust 
 that. No one else should touch it ! 
 
 " Well," said Hubert, " and pray how many 
 servants have you engaged to dust the other apart- 
 ments ? " 
 
 Upon which she asserted, falsely, that he was 
 teasing her, and threatened a second time to cry 
 if he went on ; indeed, showed symptoms of doing 
 so. Whereupon Hubert created a diversion by 
 demanding the prices of the various articles bought 
 since his incarceration, and where she had got them. 
 In a moment Edith was all herself again. She had 
 been reared on prices, and finding things too dear 
 or too cheap. Too cheap would not wear ; too dear 
 could not be bought. But she was an excellent 
 judge of the golden mean ; or rather of the silver 
 and copper mean. For till she paid the upholsterer, 
 with little awful flutterings and quakings of the 
 heart, she had never in her life parted with a gold 
 piece all at once without getting any change back 
 for it. She was shocked, indeed, when the cabinet- 
 maker clinked the pieces into his drawer one by 
 one, for all the world as if they had been nothing 
 better than sixpences. 
 
 So finger on lip, poised with her pretty shoulder 
 outlined against the window curtain — not of straight 
 folds of white muslin as at 109 — Edith resolved 
 herself straightway into a finance committee, and 
 explained how she had spent her money and his. 
 She ended with a race to the lately fractured but 
 now repaired safe, and from behind the ponderous 
 doors she produced the remainder of her store : 
 " Sixteen pounds, eleven shillings, no-pence, and
 
 THE SACREDNESS OF L. S. D. 245 
 
 the coal bill settled up to yesterday. All the trades- 
 men, of course, I pay cash, for the sake of the 
 discount." 
 
 Meanwhile the June twilight was coming slowly 
 on. The " brool" of the yard came faintly to their 
 ears, like the spinning of a big top. It was the hour 
 for sentiment. 
 
 Edith expressed how much of that was in her 
 mind by asking abruptly if Mr. Blunt had given 
 Hubert his wages for the two weeks he had been 
 away. 
 
 Hubert stood aghast. He had never thought 
 of that. He jested, which was an entirely wrong 
 line to take. Ever since Edith could remember 
 the Saturday's wage had been sacred. Ned Dil- 
 lingham brought it straight home, and with a 
 hearty, " There, Emm ! " he placed the whole in 
 his wife's hand. She never thanked him. It was 
 her right. She only slowly separated the coins, 
 picked out the traditional two shillings and six- 
 pence for his pocket money, and laid that in his 
 hand. 
 
 The out-and-outer said, "Thank ye," heartily, 
 because that was of his wife's goodness, and stumped 
 off to strip and wash himself to the waist, while 
 his wife locked away the precious running-grist 
 of the family mill in a drawer, of which she kept 
 the key in a place supposed to be known only to 
 herself. 
 
 For years Edith had looked forward secretly to 
 doing the same. Even as a girl at school she had 
 bought the account books she meant to keep when 
 she was married. She knew she was going to be 
 married ; why, of course. She had tried entries on 
 spare leaves of cash-ruled paper. This chiefly for 
 pride-of-state, of course ; for it was not likely that 
 she w^ould ever buy anything the price of which 
 she could not remember to all eternity. So, with 
 such a married wife, small wonder that Hubert
 
 246 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 made a mistake when he treated lightly the three 
 times sacred subject of the Weekly Pay. 
 
 Edith reproved him, and he was penitent. He 
 would see about it on Monday. 
 
 " The first thing ! " she pursued determinedly. 
 
 " But I didn't work for it ! " said Hubert weakly. 
 
 " That doesn't matter — you were in their em- 
 plo3^ment. They never dismissed 3^ou. You will 
 go the first thing, mind ! " 
 
 Hubert promised. Had she told him to go and 
 ask the Prime Minister for the vacant Garter he 
 would have promised equally. 
 
 This settled, Edith's sternness fell suddenly. She 
 found a shawl, and Hubert her hat, the one he had 
 surnamed the " Green Lane Toque,'' because he 
 had first learned the name of it on that famous and 
 memorable day. He considered it more suitable 
 for summer-house wear than the ordinary broad- 
 brimmed article. He was an authority, having 
 given his attention to the subject. 
 
 "See," said Edith, lifting the lid of a stained 
 white-wood hat-stand in the miniature lobby, " this 
 is for your caps, throat-kerchiefs, and brushes — one 
 for your tall hat (that's the soft one), and one for 
 your clothes brush. And you are not to keep 
 them anywhere else. Oh, and you mustn't let 
 your dress hat stay like that, getting all the dust 
 and smuts. And, oh, Hubert, don't you know any 
 better than to rest it on the rim? On the top 
 always ! That keeps it from ruffling. Now, you 
 understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear!" said Hubert, smiling, " I understand 
 — now. But you mustn't expect to get me perfect 
 all at once. You see, I've never been used to have 
 any one tell me to do anything, or to do it when 
 told." 
 
 " Oh," said Edith cheerfully, " I'll tell you fast 
 enough, and see that you do it, too. It will be a 
 pleasure to me ! "
 
 THE SACREDNESS OF L. S. D. 247 
 
 And in the enthusiasm of the moment Hubert 
 vowed that it would also be a pleasure to him. 
 
 As they reached the summer-house and ensconced 
 themselves already the twilight lay grey-mauve 
 across the wide Tor estuary. The incoming tide 
 lappered pleasantly about the stark posts in the 
 Old Qua}^, and in the distance the lights of East 
 Dene began to string themselves out. 
 
 Among the earliest was a big blur high up away 
 to the right, evidently not a mill. On Saturday all 
 the mills would be closed. Edith pointed it out, 
 and asked what it might be. 
 
 " The hospital on Spenny Dene Height," said 
 Hubert, "where once I was a house surgeon." 
 
 " Sure you never were in love with any of the 
 pretty nurses? They are pretty, aren't they? 
 Will says so. He was there once with his knee." 
 
 " Oh, so-so," said Hubert cautiously. 
 
 " You are sure ? " Edith demanded. She was not 
 to be put off. She had heard about young doctors. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sure," said Hubert, "one or two were 
 quite pretty." 
 
 "No, sure that you did not fall in love with 
 them ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, not as a body ! " he drolled. 
 
 " Oh, tell me," cried Edith, " don't laugh ; I am 
 in earnest. You don't love them better than me — 
 any of them ? Some of them are ladies. I know, 
 because I went to an ambulance class which one 
 of them taught. She was a lord's daughter." 
 
 Hubert did not love the East Dene nurses better 
 than his little Edith, collectively or individually, 
 lord's daughter or churl's daughter. He had never 
 loved anybody all his life, except the little girl he 
 had helped carry her baby sister to Green Lane 
 station. This was accepted as a satisfactory state- 
 ment of the case. 
 
 " Blessed Green Lane station ! " murmured Edith, 
 in a voice soft as the cooing of a dove.
 
 248 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Blessed Green Lane station indeed ! " repeated 
 Hubert, thankful for the diversion. 
 
 Presentl}^ Edith gave a little shiver. 
 
 " Dear, you are cold. The dew is coming down. 
 Let us go in." 
 
 And drawing her shawl about her, her eyes 
 vague and m3'stic in a dream of the years and 
 the years and yet again the years, Edith rose and 
 followed her husband into the house.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 THE WATERS OF SILOA THAT FLOW SOFTLY 
 
 NEVER day so perfect as that Sunday when, 
 breakfasting late, they two sat for the first 
 tniie under their own vine and fig-tree — or, at least, 
 hop-vine and white lilac tree. Hubert had brought 
 out a little table of wicker of his own, one of his few 
 domestic possessions, bought off a gipsy's travelling 
 van, stained with acids and reagents, concealed from 
 sight, however, when covered with what Edith called 
 a " square." This was a small table-cloth of unknown 
 provenance and material, but agreeable enough to 
 the eye, with its green and gold pattern and twisted 
 fringes ; agreeable also to Edith's house-wise heart, 
 because she had got it a bargain for three-and- 
 eleven. 
 
 Then Hubert fetched out journals, both medical 
 and general, magazines, books in stacks and piles. 
 Edith had some work of necessity and mercy which 
 concerned Hubert's outfit for the morrow ; this 
 ostensibly to comfort her Presbyterian conscience, 
 but really because she must, on that day of all days, 
 find her fingers something to do. 
 
 Thus they were to be fully occupied, douce and 
 sage, with the dignity of old married people. 
 
 But the day and the air took hold on them directly. 
 Along the river the breeze was always cool and 
 sweet, the Tor estuary being like a pair of lungs to 
 draw up the salt from the sea, and the heather 
 breaths down from the uplands, even from as far as 
 the blue Cheviots. 
 
 Yet to keep them aware of themselves, time and 
 
 249
 
 250 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 again wafts of the yard would come across their 
 faces, warm and close, blown whiffs of steam like 
 those about Green Lane as the fast 'un went by. 
 The travelling " smut," too, fell ; though but rarely, 
 because of the riverside air-currents, and in the 
 little summerhouse, never. Again, travelling by 
 some ** carr}^ " or over-current of wind, smells of the 
 tarry dock-wharves would reach them, from Nor- 
 wegian barques, cumbered with wind-mills and with 
 fragrant pine boards sticking out of dangerous- 
 looking trap-doors cut freely in their slab-sides. 
 Over the wall they could see the house-flags and 
 the ensigns. Hubert knew them all, and he began 
 to point each out to Edith — the orange-and-scarlet 
 of Spain, the various, very various tricolours, the 
 Norse and Swedish not yet "cleansed of the 
 Union." 
 
 How dreamy it all was ! Unconsciously Hubert's 
 voice sank. The explanation died out. A glance 
 had told him that Edith was not listening. The 
 drowsy forenoon, the quiet river, with only an 
 occasional arrival from Baltic ports drawing slowly 
 up to her berth, the hum of bees — yes, actual bees ; 
 humble-bees as well, even as on Cheviot top yonder 
 — there buzzing their best in Hubert's garden and 
 hers ! Wonderful ! Ah, wonderful ! Everything 
 was wonderful. And the most wonderful of all, 
 that Hubert was there. Hers too, wonderful for 
 always. And then, with one of the curious leaps, 
 common to the minds ol women, Edith became 
 suddenly unhappy — being so happy, and fearing that 
 it could not possibly last for always. 
 
 Always, always ! Women have not yet under- 
 stood that there is no such thing. Only the word 
 we keep as a child's toy to comfort ourselves withal. 
 Love me always ! Stay with me always ! For 
 always, always ! And the quick years smile as they 
 flit, knowing well that at a certain milestone on the 
 way, or betwixt this one and the next, he whose
 
 WATERS OF SILOA FLOW SOFTLY 251 
 
 name is Not-Always awaits — the " Shadow feared by 
 man," yet man's best friend for all that. 
 
 Yet, thanks be to God, that even then His name is 
 
 not NEVER. 
 
 There were many " alwayses " in Edith's catechism 
 that day. And Hubert subscribed to each one of 
 them. Edith sat with the neglected books before 
 her, neglected necessity and mercy in her lap, and 
 gazed with dreamy blue eyes full of tender tears 
 out on the river. It was, she said, believing the 
 thought to be original, like their lives running past. 
 And Hubert, whom Tim (let it be credited to him 
 for righteousness) had caused to read Arnold, for- 
 bore to quote him. 
 
 The young man had found a sure way of easing 
 any extreme tension in the way of sentiment. Or so 
 at least he thought. If he had been a man better 
 advised, or with that sixth sense (almost a special 
 organ like the antennae of some insects) which 
 follows the moods and tenses of women as on a 
 chart, he would have known that Edith had been 
 over-wrought. And that the wisest thing he could 
 do was to induce and make flow the reservoir of 
 tears that was maintaining itself with difficulty 
 behind the slight barrier of her quivering eyes. 
 
 But Hubert, being only a man and a doctor, saw 
 Edith in perfect health to the eye, and so he asked 
 what there was for dinner. 
 
 But he was astonished by what followed. He had 
 been so sure, so proud of his tact. He had con- 
 gratulated himself on his discovery. It had " worked 
 well " with the furniture last night ; why not with 
 dinner to-day ? 
 
 Instead of answering, Edith suddenly sank her 
 head upon her knee, sobbing into her bare hands — 
 sobbing steadily, not to be comforted. He rushed 
 to his medicine chest and returned with an armful — 
 eau-de-Cologne, smelling-salts, bromide of potassium, 
 antifibrin. But Edith swept them all aside, crying :
 
 252 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Oh, don't ever go away again. I want you to stay 
 here — here — by me ! Don't go away ! Promise me 
 you will never go away." 
 
 He hit it at last, by accident. He sat down 
 quietly, and with her head on his shoulder he gently 
 rubbed her temples, then the hair above the brow, 
 and let her cry, cry, till the tears ran down on his 
 hands, and the sobs began to stay themselves from 
 sheer weariness. 
 
 " Let her weep — let her weep ! " 
 
 The words of a woman came to him. And he 
 now knew their truth. Edith calmed gradually, the 
 sobs checking, then becoming no more than the 
 heaving of a wave, last of all only broken little sighs, 
 and ending with the broken words : " Oh, Hubert, 
 I am so ashamed; I never, never did the like 
 before." 
 
 And Hubert smiled knowing she never had had 
 cause. 
 
 " So ashamed," she whispered ; " and — there's a 
 b-b-beef-steak-pie ; such a nice one ! M-m-mother 
 brought it. And the p-p-potatoes are on to boil ! " 
 
 This necessary troubling of the waters being over- 
 past, a great calm ensued. The emotion which had 
 shaken the girl ebbed away like sea-water through 
 the scour of a land-locked bay, leaving all within 
 clean-washed, reposeful, and cool. 
 
 No one came near them all day. Captain and 
 Mrs. Leafy kept within doors, doubtless out of a 
 kind thoughtfulness. The curate's house stood 
 empty. 
 
 It was dinner-time after a while. The potatoes, 
 spite of the sobs on their account, turned out perfect. 
 Bread, salt, some pats of butter to go with the new 
 potatoes, and a claret-jug of cool water from the far 
 " hopes " of Cheviot. Then the pie — never was 
 seen such a pie— confected by Mrs. Dillingham in 
 secret, borne by Sue to the baker's, that it might 
 have the highest professional skill, revealed itself in
 
 WATERS OF SILOA FLOW SOFTLY 253 
 
 beef tender and sound, gravy cold and thick, trans- 
 parent "jell," and crust light as the flutter of the 
 summer breeze on the blue Tor waters out beyond 
 there, which they could see whenever they looked up. 
 Never — no, never had Hubert eaten such a dinner. 
 Edith also, who, though making less of the fleshpots 
 of No. 109, was too healthy to despise them. 
 
 With the relieving tears, and the after information 
 imparted by Hubert that she was " a little goose," 
 appetite had returned. Earthly life took on new 
 horizons, spread to ampler bournes, and the present 
 became good enough to shut out any sad thoughts 
 of the future. 
 
 Then they sat out on the green seat which stood 
 in front of the flagstaff, and Hubert smoked a 
 cigarette. They even talked a little. They could 
 see, down by the ruins of the Old Quay, a score of 
 boys paddling in the water, trying to find some 
 relics of the disaster. One was carrying a little 
 child on his back. 
 
 " I W(inder if he is doing that for a girl ? " said 
 Edith. 
 
 " Of course he is ! " agreed Hubert ; " if it was 
 for his mother he would have planted it down on 
 the gravel and let it cry as much as it wanted." 
 
 " Horrid wretch !" exclaimed Edith. And got up 
 to see if any poor little mite were so deserted by the 
 unfeeling brotherhood of splashers. 
 
 She saw instead a tall, slim young man standing 
 a little way from the gate, steadfastly regarding the 
 house and surroundings. He caused a vague un- 
 easiness to come over her. After what she had come 
 through, that was not difficult. 
 
 "Oh, Hubert," she said, "some one is look- 
 ing ! " 
 
 " Well, they won't see you if you sit down," 
 laughed her husband, flicking the ash off his 
 cigarette. 
 
 " Quick, he is going away ! "
 
 254 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Hubert rose, and saw the tall lean figure of 
 Clarence Pritchard rapidly vanishing up the lane. 
 
 "I wonder what he can have been doing here!" 
 he muttered ; " has heard about the discovery of the 
 diary, no doubt." 
 
 But the event soon passed from his mind, as also 
 from Edith's. After all, it was only natural. Every- 
 body, themselves excepted, took a walk on Sunday 
 afternoons, and doubtless Clarence Pritchard had 
 his father's key for the private gate a few hundred 
 yards up the lane. Then they proceeded to make the 
 usual discoveries. First, that they had always loved 
 one another; with an eternal disagreement and 
 dispute as to who had begun first. (This will here- 
 after be taken for granted.) Secondly, that the time 
 seemed long, an eternity, since they had been 
 married. Several ages had passed since he over- 
 leaped the Leafys' privet-hedge yesterday afternoon ! 
 (Was it only yesterday ?) 
 
 Next, that Edith wanted a shawl and a footstool. 
 (Hubert's discovery.) The shawl was found and 
 brought, but there was not a footstool in the house ! 
 It did not matter ! (Edith's interpolation.) But 
 Hubert's old battered travelling bag did as well, 
 or better, for it was big enough to put all four 
 feet on. 
 
 It was a heavenly day. And oh, but the}^ were 
 very happy ; so much better than a wedding trip. 
 (Simultaneous discovery, like Adams and Leverrier !) 
 
 Edith dozed a little in the summer air, while 
 Hubert, with the hand of a medical expert, drew the 
 shawl about her throat and wrapped her hands in 
 the pointed ends. He fetched another to put over 
 her feet. 
 
 Then he went in, and, moving like a burglar in his 
 own house, boiled the kettle, carried out the tea- 
 table, prowled about for all manner of things he 
 could find, made tea, and when it was ready woke 
 Edith with what he meant to be a kiss. But kisses
 
 WATERS OF SILOA FLOW SOFTLY 255 
 
 cannot be adjusted with medical or even surgical 
 exactitude. So, as Edith was nodding slightly, the 
 green seat being short in the back, the caress 
 entangled itself somewhere between her hat-brim 
 and her nose. 
 
 It served its purpose well enough, however. For 
 the girl awakened, sat up in haste, to find her 
 husband tranquilly pouring out a cup of tea. 
 
 " Mustn't think I can't do anything, Ede," he said ; 
 " now tell me if you could have made any better ? " 
 
 "Oh, Hubert!" was all she could say. Such 
 kindness took her by the throat. She had not been 
 accustomed to it. Her father was kind, but his 
 tenderness was of a rougher strain, and he did not 
 believe in spoiling his children. Hubert, however, 
 had no scruples ; at least, at this period of his married 
 life. 
 
 Then over the tea, while Edith gazed at Hubert, 
 touching his coat sleeve occasionally just to make 
 sure that he was her own, hers in the flesh, hers 
 " for keeps," as Sue said, they suddenly found out 
 that they had been monstrously idle — " lazy little 
 pigs," Edith expressed it, though neither her inches 
 nor Hubert's strictly admitted of the ultimate 
 adjective. 
 
 " Let's go to church," proposed Edith, suddenly. 
 "Oh, let's! We have so much to be thankful for, 
 Hubert!" 
 
 So they walked out, locking the doors behind 
 them. And Hubert felt extremely important as he 
 assured himself that nothing would happen to the 
 kitchen range in their absence, and frequently 
 verifying the pocket he had put the door key into. 
 
 No sooner had they gone than Captain Leafy 
 rushed out with his cane chairs, tables, and little 
 stand-telescope. His wife followed him, smiling and 
 shaking her head-at his impatience. 
 
 "(9//7£^!" he cried, pretending to wipe his brow; 
 'glad that's over! I don't thii:|k I could have stood
 
 256 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 much more of it ! Shut up all day in the house, 
 and such a day! Besides, I missed the Aberdeen 
 packet ! Never again ; never ! " 
 
 " Because you were asleep, captain," said his wife. 
 " You know that you can see just as well from the 
 upper window. And besides, it would be a pity if 
 we couldn't give them their first day to themselves, 
 poor young things ! They will have happier days, 
 1 doubt not ; but never, never one quite the same!" 
 
 " It's a pity you didn't give somebody a chance of 
 being kind to us in that way a little sooner," com- 
 mented her husband, with his eye on the telescope. 
 " I declare," he cried, suddenly interested, " there's 
 the Electra, young Pritchard's steam yacht. What's 
 up now, I wonder ? " 
 
 " I saw him down at the Old Wharf this after- 
 noon," said his wife, "while you were asleep and 
 missing the Aberdeen boat. I suppose he was 
 waiting for her." 
 
 Her husband asked for particulars. 
 
 " Now, captain, I beg of you to know that I'm 
 reading the Pilgrim's Progress, and 1 shan't ever 
 get Christian to the Eternal City if you keep inter- 
 rupting me like that." 
 
 " Wise man, that Christian," grunted Captain 
 Leafy ; " left his wife at home." 
 
 "Abraham," said his wife Sarah severely, " after 
 all you've come through in your life, it ill becomes 
 you to mock. These young folk have gone to 
 church, and it would be telling you " 
 
 "She's anchoring off the yard!" cried Captain 
 Abraham Leafy, who only attended to his wife's 
 remarks in the intervals of more important business, 
 " and, I declare, it looks as if she were going on a 
 longish cruise. These are banked fires, as sure as 
 I'm Abe Leafy. She'll be waiting for a passenger, 
 I'll be bound, and if we see her to-morrow morning 
 when I draw up the blind — well, scarify me for a 
 broad-bearned Dutchy ! "
 
 WATERS OF SILOA FLOW SOFTLY 257 
 
 Meanwhile, Edith and her husband walked on 
 sedately towards the little kirk in Kingdom Come 
 Lane. It was an ancient structure, one of the 
 earliest of Scotch kirks in England. It conserved 
 its ancient barn-like simplicity of architecture, 
 having been built in a back street at a time when 
 the merest tolerance was extended to an alien sect. 
 But now the " kirkers," as they were called in 
 Thorsby, were a strong people, many of whom had 
 kept their pews from immemorial time, the ancient 
 oak hacked and carved by generations of pocket- 
 knives, and the very skirting-boards grooved by 
 the toes of restless boots through the long Sabbath 
 services of a " True-Blue " creed. 
 
 An increasing congregation, and the necessity ot 
 doing in Rome as the Romans do, were responsible 
 for spacious galleries round three sides of the kirk, 
 and there was even talk of an organ and an organ- 
 loft. 
 
 But the time was not yet. Mr. Marchbanks, the 
 minister for twenty-one years, had just missed 
 baptising Edith by arriving a month too late in 
 order to take over Dr. MacDonald's charge. But 
 he had seen the girl grow up from a child, and his 
 eyes had often rested on her with modest pride, at 
 Sunday-school or Bible-class, with the thought in 
 his heart : " There sits a lamb of my flock." 
 
 He was glad, therefore, to see her on this, the 
 second Sabbath evening after her marriage, and the 
 first after her husband had been cleared of a painful 
 suspicion, seated in the pew from which he had 
 hardly ever missed her mother or herself during all 
 the years of his ministry. 
 
 There was nothing bridal about their dress or 
 demeanour. These were sober as the Presbyterian 
 faith, well befitting to the grave walls which had 
 shrined the white-spread tables of so many com- 
 munion seasons. They had walked steadily through 
 the parkward-bearing crowds, pouring out of 4he 
 
 17
 
 258 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 city towards the Pritchard Park, the gift of 
 "Thorsby's late illustrious citizen," or up towards 
 Fame Height and Cheasely, or stretching away 
 towards the moor on which stood Green Lane, 
 
 " I wonder which way father has gone to-night ? " 
 said Edith, as they turned sharply down the narrow 
 elbow of Kingdom Come Lane, and came in sight of 
 the ancient kirk. 
 
 But when Edith raised herself from her knees 
 after her first " blessing" prayer, the unknown man, 
 of whom she was vaguely conscious at the end of 
 their pew, resolved himself into a very embarrassed 
 and blushful out-and-outer, who, ashamed of being 
 found there, reached a hand, and whispered: "I 
 never thought you two would be out this evenin' !" 
 
 And then, as the beadle bore the " books " 
 solemnly up the aisle, according to the old Scottish 
 wont, he seemed to feel the necessity of some other 
 explanation of his presence. 
 
 " He speaks well," he murmured, nodding in the 
 direction of the entering minister. " He's giving a 
 course of lectures. I dropped in just to hear what 
 he had got to say." 
 
 That being so, it is the more to be regretted that 
 the out-and-outer heard nothing extraordinary — not 
 a word to combat " Iconoclast," not a word upon 
 the mistakes of Moses, not a word concerning the 
 fulfilment of prophecy. Only a simple sermon, the 
 text merely, " Create in me a clean heart, O God," 
 the exposition nothing remarkable ; 3^et all spoken 
 with a sweet inevitable attraction, true heart-speech, 
 simple rather than profound, yearning and pensive 
 rather than rousing or dominating, hopeful for 
 every man and woman who could pray such a 
 prayer, and yet, still more so for those who refused 
 to pray, being consciously unworthy, but willing, 
 rather, to trust themselves upon the infinite mercies 
 of God. 
 
 'She three said little when they went out, simply
 
 WATERS OF SILOA FLOW SOFTLY 259 
 
 asked for "the mother" and let the out-and-outer 
 go. Edith, with keener sense, knew that her father 
 was better not spoken to just then. And Hubert, 
 with a new sense of happiness, took his cue from 
 the Httle wife who pressed his arm, A sweet thing 
 that, he thought. It was good to go to church . . . 
 with Edith. 
 
 And as for Edith Salveson, she walked home with 
 the blessing Aaron ic falling on her head from a 
 higher place than Mr. Marchbanks' pulpit. The 
 final words ran in her heart, and with a new 
 meaning now : 
 
 " The Lord bless thee and keep thee ; the Lord 
 make His face shine upon thee and be gracious unto 
 thee ; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee 
 and give thee peace." 
 
 And when she said " thee," she meant Hubert. 
 As for herself, she would take her chance alongside 
 of him— close, quite close, alongside ! 
 
 And she drew nearer to him as the stillness of 
 Old Quay Lane shut them in, the rare gas-lamps 
 growing rarer and the clatter of the water against 
 the solitary piles of Old Quay coming louder in 
 their ears. 
 
 It was their first time of truly "going home 
 together." 
 
 #- 
 
 #
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 DISMISSED ! 
 
 AND indeed it was an excellent thing that they 
 had that day of peace and love, under the 
 dusky heavens of Thorsby, clean-besomed by the 
 westerly moorland airs, and last of all, with the 
 benediction of the first high priest to carry home 
 with them in the twilight. 
 
 For, on Hubert presenting himself at the yard the 
 next morning, he found the surgery door locked, 
 the plate removed, and the manager, Mr. John Brand 
 Blunt, awaiting him with a very sombre counten- 
 ance. 
 
 " I am sorry. Dr. Salveson, more sorry than I can 
 say, to be the bearer of ill news," he said. " I have 
 done what I could, but in the circumstances, Mr. 
 Clarence Pritchard does not mean to continue your 
 appointment of resident surgeon here. Neither 
 does he mean to replace you. He was always op- 
 posed to the system, he bade me tell you. Further, 
 I am commissioned to offer you two thousand 
 pounds for the three cottages at Old Quay, and the 
 surrender of all your rights to that property, in- 
 cluding the private journals of Mr. Clarence's late 
 father. I am also to pay you a week's salary in lieu 
 of notice, and to allow you to take from Mr. 
 Egerton's rooms everything that belongs to 3^ou. I 
 need not tell you that I am ashamed of my message. 
 I have, however, no alternative but to put it plainly 
 before you ! " 
 
 Hubert stood in amaze. He had been thinking 
 happily over all the new plans for work and en- 
 
 260
 
 DISMISSED! 261 
 
 deavoiir, sanitary and hygienic, which he was 
 resolved to set on foot in the thronging, over- 
 populated hive of the 3^ard. And now he himself 
 had no right to set a foot within its walls. 
 
 " But — but — Mr. Egerton," he stammered, " I had 
 a talk with him and with you, you remember ; I 
 understood that he had equal powers with his 
 brother, and that you meant to support me in my 
 position and in the carrying out of my plans." 
 A curious dusky flush passed over Blunt's face. 
 " Ah," he said, "things have changed since that. 
 Also Mr. Egerton's mind. He went on board his 
 brother's yacht at nine o'clock last night at our 
 private landing-stage, and has started for a long 
 cruise — I believe among the Pacific Islands. He 
 had jovial company on board." 
 
 " But he had no intention of doing anything of the 
 kind when he was here," persisted Hubert. 
 
 " I suppose they came to some family arrange- 
 ment," said the manager, " perhaps that it was im- 
 possible for a business of this kind to have two 
 heads. And so Mr. Egerton took himself off. His 
 brother was always his mother's favourite, at any 
 rate, and would be sure of her support." 
 
 They went on gathering together all Hubert's in- 
 struments, cases, electric batteries, and appliances. 
 Yes, certainly, John Brand Blunt would charge him- 
 self with the task of sending these down to Old Quay 
 Cottage. 
 
 As Hubert stood in the doorway holding out his 
 hand, Blunt kept it a moment saying : " But what 
 am I to answer Mr. Pritchard about his proposition 
 with regard to your houses at Old Quay?" 
 
 "I must consult my wife ! " said Hubert, looking 
 him straight in the eye, not without a certain angry 
 pride. 
 
 As he went homeward he hardly recognised the 
 familiar hedges, not yet regrimed after the compara- 
 tive clearness of Sunday and the drenching of the
 
 262 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 night-dews. His head felt curiously light, his brow 
 constricted ; he breathed fast, and his pulse ran like 
 the light ticking of a lady's watch. Was it possible, 
 he asked himself, that he, Hubert Salveson, who had 
 never fainted in his life, should now be on the point 
 of it? 
 
 Voices cried aloud within him — fierce, angry, 
 desperate at being tricked. 
 
 "Oh, if it had only been myself, I should not 
 have cared ! But I am married, I have a wife ; 
 and now I am penniless, disgraced. Even now all 
 the world will know that I have been turned out of 
 Pritchard's! Edith! Edith!" 
 
 Wild ideas ran races through his brain. Could 
 he ask his father ? Never ? For Edith's sake ? 
 Well, even so, he would only be refused. If — if— 
 there was that little recovered case — other things — 
 the High Level Bridge ! Tush, he would not be a 
 coward — he, Hubert Salveson ! But how to tell 
 Edith ? Ah, that was hard— hard — hard ! What if 
 he accepted the two thousand ?" 
 
 Presently Hubert was opening the higher gate, 
 that which showed the neatly sanded road leading 
 to the back door. He could hear Edith singing 
 somewhere about her work — one of her mother's 
 old Scottish songs : 
 
 Better lo'ed ye canna be, 
 Will ye no come back again ? 
 
 Well he was back, but how? A disgraced man- 
 penniless. Oh Edith ! 
 
 " Why, Hubert, what are you doing here at this 
 hour?" 
 
 She looked at his face, and with the quick in- 
 tuition of a daughter of generations of working men, 
 she understood. 
 
 " You have lost your place ! " she cried. 
 
 And she opened her arms to him. Her face 
 shone up to his — yes, gloriously.
 
 DISMISSED! 263 
 
 " Now you will see how I love you," she cried, 
 taking him within a strong clasp. 
 
 And this time it was not Edith who wept. 
 
 Then Hubert had the surprise of his life. He 
 had been educated never to have money and never 
 to feel the need of it. His father, out of old Indian 
 habit, had devoted half-an-hour every Monda}' 
 morning to the expenses of the family, and the boys' 
 allowances were also occasionally paid. If not, 
 why, then, they went without. But Hubert had, as 
 a result of this, and perhaps also owing to tempera- 
 ment, the undeveloped money sense. Practical 
 enough concerning all the details of his work, and 
 comprehensive in planning on a large scale, he was 
 dazed by a monetary responsibility undertaken for 
 another, and that other his 3'oung wife. 
 
 Edith, with true feminine instinct, washed her 
 hands, passed her fingers through her hair, glanced 
 in the "dresser" glass, and then, taking Hubert's 
 hand, led him into the little parlour. There was a 
 dainty sheaf of Captain Leafy's flowers on the table, 
 and others about the new furniture. The sight of 
 the room, so pretty, so Edith-ish, took Hubert by 
 the throat at once. Nevertheless they sat down 
 side-by-side on the chintz-covered sofa which Edith 
 had picked up such a bargain second-hand. 
 
 "Now tell me all about it," she commanded, 
 keeping fast hold of his hand, " we can manage all 
 right, you and I. Never fear. Father was turned 
 off twice, and with two houses to go on paying for. 
 It would be a shame if, with what we have, we can't 
 rub along till something turns up. And I'll make it 
 turn up and you shall help me." 
 
 " Edith, you are braver than I ! " 
 
 " Not a bit," said the consoler, patting her husband 
 on the cheek ; " I know more, that is all." 
 
 Then Hubert told her how Mr. Clarence had 
 taken over complete control of the business, how 
 their friend Mr. Egerton had gone away a long trip
 
 264 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 on his brother's yacht, and how the new head of the 
 yard had resolved to have no resident doctor, had 
 indeed always been opposed to it. 
 
 " Umm," said Edith ironically, " he did not 
 mention it, I'll be bound, while his father was 
 alive." 
 
 Then Hubert told his wife of the offer of two 
 thousand pounds for their cottages, and all the 
 rights of Old Quay pier. 
 
 " Oh ! " gasped Edith. And Hubert thought she 
 was pleased. 
 
 " After all we could easil}^ get another house ! " 
 
 he said, " and with the two thousand pounds ! " 
 
 " Hush, let me think!" 
 
 And Edith's busy, practical little brain went over 
 the possibilities. 
 
 " He is willing to give two thousand pounds ; 
 that is, the yard is. They want to get this property 
 back. There is something behind that, something- 
 he knows, our young man with the narrow eyes and 
 no eyelashes. Two thousand pounds is about forty 
 to forty-five pounds a year. Supposing we let the 
 curate's house — and it is so near the yard that we 
 can easily — we will get about thirty pounds, less 
 our share of the taxes, say twenty-two pounds. 
 The Leafys sit rent free for their lifetime, but pay 
 their own taxes. That makes no difference to us. 
 Then there's this house. We would never get 
 such a house for double the money; not that that 
 matters. But there's a clause in the will that for- 
 bids us to let it. We can sell but not let. Now we 
 couldn't get any sort of a house fit for you to 
 commence in under a pound a week on a good 
 main road. But we could take a shop, put up a 
 partition, and so make a surgery. We could dis- 
 pense our own medicines, and have a boy to deliver 
 them. Yes, I see it ; I see it ! " 
 
 Edith was growing excited with her own arith- 
 metical visions.
 
 DISMISSED ! 26s 
 
 " But how are we to pay for all this ? " said 
 Hubert, whose intellect followed more slowly and 
 rested longer on the difficulties. 
 
 Edith did not reply directly. She only waved 
 her hand as a signal that her calculations were too 
 abstruse to be interrupted. 
 
 "Sixteen, eleven, what I had on Saturday; say 
 sixteen; and I know where to get perhaps fifteen 
 
 more — thirty-one. And your w^ages, two weeks 
 
 What, you never thought of asking for them ? And 
 the week's notice ; you have that. Three two's 
 six — thirty-seven ! " 
 
 She clapped her hands. 
 
 " We'll go and see about it at once, I always 
 notice shops and houses to let. And I know the 
 landlord of this one. He comes to Mr. Marchbanks' 
 church. Come on. We won't take their old two 
 thousand pounds, though it looks a lot. We can 
 live without it— the bull-dog (you must get your 
 brother to fetch him), and you, and I. Oh, be sure 
 there's something that they know and we don't ! If 
 there wasn't, they would never give all that for 
 those old cottages down at the end of a lane and no 
 thoroughfare ! " 
 
 By this time Edith, having taken command of the 
 financial situation was putting on her hat, and 
 extracting her wearing gloves out of a drawer. Her 
 usually calm eyes fairly sparkled. She was such a 
 radiant Edith, that Hubert, who never could under- 
 stand that there was a time for everything, would 
 have taken her in his arms ; but she repulsed him 
 with as much austere dignity as if he had attempted 
 to caress the chairman of a Chartered Company 
 about to annex a new province of Empire. 
 
 " Sit down and write a refusal of Mr. Pritchard's 
 offer," she commanded, "and say that your wife 
 will call to receive the wages due to you in terms 
 of your engagement, as noted in his diary by Mr. 
 James Pritchard. They are bound to pay you till
 
 266 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 they dismiss. Mind and say wages, for you are an 
 engaged servant. If you were only a doctor just, 
 you could not recover your fee. So mind, write as 
 I say ! " 
 
 Too much astonished to reflect on the strangeness 
 of Edith's small head being able to collect and 
 retain all these details, Hubert wrote to Messrs. 
 James Pritchard & Co., of the Thorsby and East 
 Dene Shipbuilding Works, a polite declinature of 
 their offer to purchase Thorsby Old Quay cottages 
 and pier rights, made to him that day by Mr. John 
 Brand Blunt, their acting manager, Dr. Salveson 
 having other views as to his property there. He 
 thanked the firm for the consideration they had 
 shown him during their brief connection, and asked 
 them to advise the cashier that Mrs. Hubert 
 Salveson would call to receive the amount of wages 
 due while he, Hubert Salveson, was their servant. 
 
 "Why not I?" asked Hubert, looking up when 
 commanded to add the last sentence. 
 
 " Because they would know that they could take 
 you in. Give me the key of the side gate. I will 
 leave it at the office, and ask Mr. McMath, the 
 cashier, to send some one to let me out by the front 
 gate." 
 
 " Why not Will, your brother ? " 
 
 Edith looked at him compassionately. " We are 
 in disgrace at the yard, you and I, Hubert," she said ; 
 " but there is no use bringing any one else into it ! " 
 
 Hubert blushed deeply. 
 
 " I never thought of that ! " he said ; " of course 
 not!" 
 
 " Of course you didn't think, dear old silly," said 
 his wife, and this time her austerity melted of itself. 
 Eor a moment only, though. The next she was back 
 again at her calculations as to ways and means. 
 
 " Mind you," she said, " if we find my Mr. 
 Gilmerton in— the landlord, you know — you are not 
 to say anything about price ; not to speak even. 1
 
 DISMISSED! 267 
 
 will do the talking. All you have to do is to tell 
 me if you think the place will do for your business — 
 doctor's things and so on ! " 
 
 " Running water ! " said Hubert, who had a fixed 
 idea. 
 
 "Very well," said Edith, "but don't find fault. 
 We can put up partitions ourselves. Father and I 
 can, and there are two or three troughs and slabs 
 here more than we want. We will make it do. It's 
 the situation that counts." 
 
 Some of his wife's enthusiasm began to com- 
 municate itself to Hubert. They went out, locking 
 the door, without a thought of anything to eat. 
 Perhaps, deep hidden in the little housewife's under- 
 soul there remained a knowledge of the better half 
 of a beef-steak pie. But certainly all her working- 
 mind was occupied with the things falsely called 
 sordid — ways and means of owing no man anything. 
 
 They found the landlord as Edith had expected to 
 find him, two doors off the vacant house, in his own 
 grocer's shop. He was a broad-faced, kindly eyed 
 man, with an affectionate manner, even when he cut 
 up the bacon. 
 
 " The reason that we sell such good hams is that 
 we rear our own pigs— and love them." 
 
 Mr. Gilmerton had the manner of loving them 
 even in the shop, and when exposed as streaky, or 
 lean, or marly, upon the counter. 
 
 " I want you to let my husband and myself see 
 your corner house, two doors from here, if you 
 please," said Edith briskly. " I notice it is still to 
 let." 
 
 *' But," said the grocer, pausing in his wrapping 
 up pounds of tea, " it is not meant for a dwelling 
 house, or fitted for one. Indeed, it can hardly be 
 said to be fitted at all. I had meant to fit it to the 
 convenience of the shop-tenant." 
 
 " All the better," said Edith. " Can we see it ? " 
 
 " What line might you be thinking of? " said Mr,
 
 268 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Gilmerton cautiously. " O' course, I could not let 
 for anything in the grocery way. That would be 
 taking the bread out of my own mouth. Nor 
 * licensed-to-sell-or-retail ' — such being my opinions 
 as President of the Star-of-Cheviot Rechabite Tent." 
 
 Edith reassured him that they had no idea of 
 competing in either of these businesses with the 
 present local talent. 
 
 " This is my husband, Dr. Hubert Salveson," said 
 Edith brightly. " He has left his position as resident 
 surgeon in the yard, and thinks of starting a little 
 practice of his own here, quite near to the yard. 
 Mr. Clarence Pritchard does not intend to have a 
 resident surgeon there any longer." 
 
 The grocer whistled a long smooth note like a 
 biggish blackbird in a white apron. 
 
 " Ah," he said, with a curious apparent lack of 
 connection, " I never did like that Budden. But I 
 suppose you will want a sight of fittin' for a doctor, 
 and that would come heavy on the rent " 
 
 "Oh," interrupted Edith, "we won't ask you to 
 spend a penny more than you would have had to do 
 for any other tenant. Only just do it in our way, 
 and we'll do the rest." 
 
 "Then there's security," suggested the canny 
 norther. 
 
 " My husband is the second son of Surgeon-General 
 Salveson of the Manor (Hussh, Hubert !) and though 
 you don't remember me, / know you very well, Mr. 
 Gilmerton. You used to teach me in Sunday 
 School. I am — I was— Edith Dillingham!" 
 
 " Bless me, little Edith, that used to sit on my 
 knee, and look on my book, she was so little ! 
 Where were my eyes ? I need stronger glasses now 
 to look at young ladies. Mine are only good for 
 slicing pork ! Well, well ; who'd 'a' thought it ? " 
 
 And without troubling to make any toilet or even 
 to put on his hat (if he possessed one besides his 
 broad-brimmed Sunday topper), Mr. Gilmerton led
 
 DISMISSED! 269 
 
 the way, with his hands as usual wrapped in his 
 spotless white apron. 
 
 The corner house was one to send Hubert into 
 ecstasies. But Edith's elbow sternly checked these. 
 In spite of the church connection they might add to 
 the rent. A great advantage was that there were 
 two doors, one very dignified and private in the side 
 street, the other, which must have " Surgery " in 
 large letters to the front. That door could stand 
 open. Then a second announcement, more modest, 
 on the inner glass-door (ground) might give Hubert's 
 degrees — " the letters after his name " as they said 
 in Thorsby. While by the discreet door in Dunham 
 Street Edith might pop in and out without disturb- 
 ing either the patients waiting in the ante-room, or 
 those with whom her husband was busy in the 
 surgery proper. Perfect ! 
 
 Edith saw herself, taught by Hubert, busily aiding 
 in the wrapping up and despatching of drugs — 
 perhaps even in the compounding of the more 
 simple. She felt a positive call to use the pestle 
 and pill-roller. There was plenty of running water, 
 and Hubert signalled his approbation to his wife. 
 
 Edith instantly made an offer, which, after much 
 haggling, unpleasant to Hubert but the breath of 
 life to his wife, she consented to raise by two pounds 
 on condition of a two years' lease, to be properly 
 drawn up by a lawyer, the landlord and tenant to 
 share that expense. 
 
 " We won't live here, of course," said Mrs. Hubert, 
 a little grandly — she was grand for strictly business 
 purposes — " we have two or three houses of our 
 own down at Old Quay, you know." 
 
 And so, having paid an instalment of the rent, the 
 young people went home lessees of an eligible 
 corner surgery. As they passed Ray's, the lamp- 
 and gas-fitting people, Edith dropped in, ordered a 
 doctor's red lamp, extra size, and selected the st3de 
 of lettering.
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 A SHILLING IN THE SLOT 
 
 HUBERT had never been happier in his Hfe — 
 certainly not on the day of his marriage — 
 than on this very Monday, when it seemed 
 that he had received his death warrant. He could 
 even endure the coming and going of the message 
 boys without the persistent thought common to 
 young householders : " How in the world am I 
 ever to pay their masters ? " It was not his affair 
 any more. // zvas Edith's. He felt that up till now 
 he had not half known his wife. Which thing, 
 indeed, was true. He might even have said 
 " quarter," and been well within the mark. 
 
 Hubert was one of those not rare spirits who do 
 not flinch at any amount of labour, but who are 
 affrighted, cowed, harassed, by the financial details 
 of a household. With another sort of wife, Hubert 
 might have gone through the world, haunted by the 
 perpetual fear of the sheriff's officer. But, with 
 the wife he had found, there was small fear of 
 that. 
 
 Presently Edith sat down with her money-bag 
 and note-book. She had a sort of religious air — 
 Saint Theresa kneeling on the brick floor of her 
 Siennese barn-church was not more devout. She 
 had the air of one who has a hard task to perform, 
 but a task whose very difficulty is a pleasure. 
 
 Hubert laid the table, and had it not been for an 
 awkward jingle of knives and forks, he might have 
 finished before Edith turned towards him. She 
 started up. 
 
 270
 
 A SHILLING IN THE SLOT 271 
 
 " Oil, Hubert," she said, " how dare you ? " 
 
 "Well," he said humbly, "we cannot all be 
 chancellors of the exchequer, you know, and I was 
 doing all I could." 
 
 " You've laid the knives and forks on the wrong 
 sides," criticised Edith, " and you've put down soup 
 plates for the steak pie ! " 
 
 "Oh," said Hubert, "we never thought anything 
 of a little thing like that up at Spenny Dene 
 Hospital. And at the yard I generally ate off the 
 operating table ! " 
 
 " You horrid thing ; you don't deserve nice eaties ! 
 You will be taught different in this house — yes, my 
 word ! " 
 
 In the afternoon Hubert was sent out for a walk. 
 Edith was busy, it appeared, and when he came 
 back he missed something that had been there 
 before. After a while he located the blank space in 
 the parlour, and after infinite consideration he dis- 
 covered that the piano was gone ! 
 
 Edith had not yet returned, but she came back 
 radiant and clapped fourteen pounds on the table in 
 gold, together with one five-pound note. 
 
 " Nineteen pounds ! " she cried, " clear ! " 
 
 "What?" said Hubert, bewildered and somehow 
 ashamed. 
 
 " I've sold the piano to Martha Priest, whose 
 father promised her one three years ago, when I had 
 mine. I had it sent off by their van-man before you 
 should come in. It was my very own, you see. I 
 got fourteen pounds down, and anyway, I don't 
 believe you care for music much. When we get 
 rich we can buy another. And — and — I hope you 
 won't be angry, Hubert, but I went across to East 
 Dene, where I wouldn't be known, and pawned my 
 gold watch for five pounds." 
 
 Edith's eyes were glorious — wet sapphires with 
 the sun looking through them. Her lips were full, 
 radiant, triumphant. She leaned on Hubert's
 
 272 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 shoulder, and shook his heart with the marvels of a 
 woman's love, and the strange new world into which 
 he had come. He knew that people sold things to 
 keep body and soul together. He had noted with a 
 smile (as if the place were a mint of humours in- 
 exhaustible) the three gilt balls over the pawn- 
 broker's shop. But that his wife, the daughter-in- 
 law of Surgeon-General Salveson of the Manor, 
 should do such things as a matter of course, fairly 
 staggered him. 
 
 But the love that had worked in her heart ! For 
 him! Was there ever any like it? And she — the 
 strange thing was that she seemed to think nothing 
 of all that ! What she cared about was the money. 
 She rejoiced over that ; she almost fondled that, 
 counting it over and over lovingly ere dropping it 
 finally into her purse. 
 
 " And I did more than that," she cried, between 
 times; "I went and got your six pounds from Mr. 
 McMath, the cashier, and offered to take over the 
 operating chairs and table at a valuation. Clarence 
 Pritchard had told McMath to get rid of them. I 
 offered him half invoice price, so I got the lot for 
 just six pounds ; and father is to send them along 
 to the Cheviot Road surgery to-night. They can 
 be stored in the one room that is finished. He is to 
 get the key at our landlord's ! " 
 
 " Edith," said Hubert in an awed voice, "you are 
 the most wonderful thing in the world. Why, I 
 always thought I was clever and could put a thing 
 through, but I am a baby to you — a petted, useless, 
 yawping baby ! " 
 
 For a few days husband and wife did not see 
 much of each other till the evening. They divided 
 up their work carefully in the morning, Edith 
 doing most of the outdoor ordering and hastening, 
 while Hubert, with his brass plate already up, and 
 the appointments of his yard surgery, occupied
 
 A SHILLING IN THE SLOT 273 
 
 himself in continuing his treatment ot those whom 
 he had ah-eady known among the men. 
 
 Cheviot Road and the new surgery with the big 
 red lamp at the corner of Dunham Street faced 
 directly down towards the main entrance of the 
 yard. The first day, at the hours of entrance 
 and egress, quite a crowd collected to watch the 
 putting up of the imposing lamp, and the appearance 
 of the big plate with its inscription : 
 
 DR. HUBERT SALVESON, M.B., CM. Edin. 
 
 LATE 
 
 RESIDENT-SURGEON AT MESSRS. PRITCHARD'S YARD. 
 In : 8 to 9 a.m. ; noon to 2 p.m. ; and 5 to 6.30 p.m. 
 
 Night Address : " Old Quay House," 
 First to right down the Lane. 
 
 Among other things, Hubert, having now decided 
 to take private practice, hastened to call upon his 
 senior neighbours in the profession. As a Thorsby 
 man he received a hearty welcome from all, except 
 Dr. Budden, who looked upon him as a pledge- 
 breaker. Had he not promised that he would not 
 take private practice ? Certainly, so long as he 
 remained in the employment of the firm, but now 
 that was different. He was a married man, and 
 must take his chance with the rest. If ever he 
 could be of any service to Dr. Budden; but at this 
 point the family physician snorted and turned on 
 his heel. Hubert made his way out alone. 
 
 Mr. Marchbanks arrived to see the installation 
 and so interrupted work that Edith had almost to 
 show him the door. Her father came every evening 
 
 i8
 
 274 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 and being a handy man, the surgery soon began to 
 take on a shipshape appearance. 
 
 Finally, Edith having found the curate to be a 
 young man belonging to Thorsby, living with his 
 parents, advertised the third cottage to let, and had 
 an offer of thirty pounds the very next morning, 
 through a firm of lawyers. She accepted, and in the 
 evening appeared a vanload of furniture, another of 
 books, a couple of armchairs of immense size 
 brandishing their legs in the air, and lastly the new 
 tenant of Quay End cottage — no other than Mr. 
 John Brand Blunt himself. 
 
 He explained that a deaf and dumb relative was 
 coming to keep house for him, and that, pending 
 her arrival from Seaton Delaval, he would " batch 
 it." 
 
 Both Hubert and Edith would have liked another 
 tenant ; but, after all, there was no fault to be 
 found with Mr. Blunt. He had certainly been very 
 kind when Hubert was in prison, and in the 
 matter of his dismissal he had done no more than 
 his dut3^ The cottage would be quite near his 
 work, and convenient for meals. He was tired of 
 the cookshop, he said. Altogether there was no 
 real reason against letting the house to him, and, 
 a great virtue in Edith's eyes, he paid down his first 
 half-year's rent like a man. 
 
 In a fortnight the surgery was going " full blast," 
 as the out-and-outer expressed it. Edith had 
 financed an entire installation of medicines, had paid 
 for most of them from the wholesale people, and 
 given a bill at three months for the rest. This last 
 was against her principles. But she counted on the 
 returns beginning to come in long before then. 
 Late and early she laboured, and had it not been for 
 good Mrs. Dillingham the young menage would 
 have fared rather poorly at times. They fell into a 
 bad habit of sending out for a few things, ready 
 cooked, in order to continue longer at work without
 
 A SHILLING IN THE SLOT 275 
 
 having to go home down the lane to Old Quay 
 House. 
 
 Edith learned with great rapidity, made no mis- 
 takes after once being shown how, and soon became 
 an efficient, though unregistered, laboratory assistant. 
 The " boy" had been introduced by Sue, who, being 
 an expert in boys, vouched for him. He had been 
 a pupil-teacher in the school she went to ; but, 
 finding that the need of earning immediate money 
 was urgent and the normal school course far to 
 seek, he decided to cast in his lot with Sue Dillam's 
 big sister and her husband, the doctor. He was a 
 smart boy, small of stature, it is true ; but, in revenge, 
 bore the noble name of Howard Stanley. So far 
 Howard was not allowed to enter by the glass 
 surgery door, but had to take the private side 
 entrance in Dunham Street, which grieved the 
 heart of Master Howard like a personal indignity. 
 For he had become convinced that, through the sur- 
 gery of Dr. Hubert Salveson, lay his own way to 
 the frock coat and tall hat of a learned profession. 
 But nevertheless, Edith soon curbed that haughty 
 soul, and Howard carried pill boxes and carried 2-oz. 
 bottles, with the directions written in the print-hand 
 which the dispenseress practised at nights with 
 such zeal, as if he had vowed his very life thereto. 
 
 But after the first fortnight, Edith, biting the butt 
 of her pen in the receipt of custom, perceived that 
 the outgoings more than balanced the receipts. 
 Yet she had faithfully rendered the significant 
 reminder at the close of each case of illness, but so 
 far had received little. The transients hardly ever 
 thought of pa3nng, even for medicines. And there 
 was that bill at three months which rode her spirits 
 during every waking hour. 
 
 Clearly something must be done, and that im- 
 mediately. 
 
 It happened that, as usual on the first coming of 
 a young doctor to a neighbourhood, quite a number
 
 2^6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 of marvellous cures were put down to him. He had 
 saved this man's arm, when the hospital surgeons 
 wished to amputate ; this other's right eye, blind 
 for months ; this child, whom all the rest had " given 
 up." Hubert was well known in the yard, and men 
 talked freely to him ; but, somehow, they appeared 
 shamefaced about paying the doctor. This would 
 not do. As usual practical Edith had a plan. 
 
 They talked it over at supper that night — a rabbit- 
 and-chicken pie sent down by Sue. They were 
 business partners now — Hubert and Edith. If it 
 had not been for Captain and Mrs. Leafy, who came 
 in each day to weed and water the flowers, their 
 garden at Old Quay would soon have been in a 
 sorry state. The kitchen furnace had not been 
 lighted for ten days and, though Edith did the daily 
 round of dut}^, she felt that she would be shamed 
 for ever if her mother's eye took in the result. 
 Why, it was dirtier, untidier than . . . than Sue's 
 room on Fridays ! But Hubert, with the true 
 masculine tolerance for dust, which sets most 
 women crazy, never even noticed the difference, 
 
 Edith put the matter to her husband plainly. 
 
 " Hubert, we have got to get in some money. 
 We can't send a debt collector, because it's not 
 legal. And, if it were, it would only frighten 
 people away. But there are lots who can pay and 
 won't. They do pay the big doctors — a guinea or 
 two guineas — yes, before they go in. We work 
 among poor people, but people who would pay if they 
 only knew they had to. tancy, Hubert, there are 
 men, hundreds of them, in the yard who make from 
 four to five pounds a week. Now, I know you will 
 cry out that it's lowering the dignity of the pro- 
 fession, and so on. But we have to live, you and I." 
 
 " I will do anything that is not forbidden by the 
 Medical Council," said Hubert. " God knows I have 
 no reason to be proud." 
 
 " Well," said Edith, " I know these Thorsby folk.
 
 A SHILLING IN THE SLOT 277 
 
 I ought to. I was born here. I have lived among 
 them all my life. If they can get anything for 
 nothing, they won't pay. If they can't, they will 
 think all the more of the thing because they have to 
 pay for it." 
 
 " Well — w^hat's coming out of that clever little 
 head now?" smiled Hubert. 
 
 " Come up and see, Hubert, if you have finished 
 your supper ! " 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Up to the surgery ; it should be fixed by now." 
 
 And Hubert, tangled somehow in an intrigue too 
 deep for him, took his hat and followed the little blue 
 toque with the feather pointing decidedly forward. 
 
 A gas-jet shone within. The fanlight was bril- 
 liantly illuminated. Edith knocked and the out-and- 
 outer opened. A strange man appeared, a huge 
 screwdriver with a two-foot crossbar handle in his 
 grasp. The ante-chamber was the same as Hubert 
 had left it, seated round and round, a stove in the 
 fireplace, white German tiles alternately with the 
 deep blue of the latest pseudo-Dutch. The table in 
 the middle was strewn professionally with the latest 
 penny papers, which at least were a change from 
 the Punch and the Graphic of ten weeks ago. 
 :: But what staggered Hubert was the curious 
 barrier in black-and-gold metal which surrounded 
 the door into the surgery. In it were two turn- 
 stiles, each fitted with a brass slot. Over that to 
 the right was the inscription : 
 
 CONSULTATIONS ONE SHILLING. 
 
 WITH OR WITHOUT MEDICINE. 
 
 yV.^. — Please put the Shilling in the Slot 
 and the Gate will Open.
 
 278 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Over the other, to the left, Hubert read the words 
 
 This Gate for Yardsmen and their Families only. 
 CONSULTATION SIXPENCE. 
 
 Hubert shrank back. 
 
 " Edith, I can't," he said, " what would the others 
 say ? What would my father ? " 
 
 Then it was the fate of Dr. Hubert Salveson 
 to learn yet a little more of the wife he had married. 
 He had never seen her temper. Lover-like he 
 fancied she had not got one. 
 
 "The others!" she said scornfully, "your 
 father ! What have the others, what has your 
 father done for you ? Only stood in your way, and 
 tried to prevent you working. Now / am helping 
 you to work. It's this, Hubert, or we can't pay our 
 way. It's common honesty, that's all ! " 
 
 It was on the question of money that Edith was 
 adamant ; not to be rich, mark you, but that others 
 should at least treat them with something of that 
 same " common honesty" she used herself 
 
 Hubert laughed. She was right, that wondrous 
 girl. She was always right. Had he not deliberately 
 chosen that life, why then should he hesitate ? Great 
 doctors made their footmen exact their guineas before 
 ushering their patients into the presence. Hubert 
 with his sixpenny and shilling turnstiles — well, that 
 made no matter. The principle was the same. 
 
 " We must have a Free Hour, however," he said ; 
 " there are many very poor people " 
 
 " I know — I know ," cried Edith, '* I have 
 
 thought of that." 
 
 And she exhibited another notice to hangover the 
 ante-room stove, throned about with royal-blue 
 Dutch tiles : 
 
 FREE CONSULTATIONS EVERY DAY 
 From 2.30 to 3.30 p.m.
 
 A SHILLING IN THE SLOT 279 
 
 " That is after the men are all back in the yard," 
 she explained ; " and here, 3^ou see, is the lever at the 
 back, which throws the gates out of gear. Then," 
 she hurried on breathlessly, fearful lest he should 
 stop her, " as they come in, each patient must take a 
 ticket out of this box at the outer door and come 
 through the gates in order of arrival." 
 
 " Do you think they will understand all that on 
 the Cheviot Road?" asked the out-and-outer. "1 
 have my doubts." 
 
 " Well," said Edith, "we have got to teach them, 
 that's all. I will, and Howard Stanley, when there's 
 nobody else. Most of them can read, and there will 
 always be somebody willing to explain. And you, 
 father, will drop in of an evening on your way 
 home, and Sue too. Oh, we'll teach them. It's 
 only getting started." 
 
 " They'll call me a quack," said Hubert, a little 
 uncertainly. 
 
 "Nonsense! blame me," said Edith; "besides 
 everybody in Thorsby knows that you are not a 
 quack. You are your father's son " 
 
 " He'll kill me when he hears of it," groaned 
 Hubert ; " or, no, he'll think it's a fulfilment of one 
 of the worst vials." 
 
 " And besides," said Edith, determined to have 
 all over at once, " I've got * Formerly House Surgeon 
 at East Dene Hospital,' added to the plate; and oh, 
 Hubert, I do wish you would let me have your 
 diplomas framed, especiall}^ the one ' with honours ! ' 
 They would look splendid." 
 
 " 1 won't ! I shan't ! " cried Hubert, stamping his 
 first married stamp on the floor. 
 
 The out-and-outer laughed, 
 
 " It strikes me," he said, " that this business is 
 going to be run as a business." 
 
 And the turnstile fitter, busy with his big screw- 
 driver and much amused, was of the same opinion. 
 He resolved on the spot to have no more doctor'sbills.
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 WORK AND OVERWORK 
 
 THE innovation succeeded. It was much talked 
 about. In general the elder practitioners 
 only laughed, and kept the news as a choice thorn 
 to prick the surgeon-general withal. They would 
 congratulate him on his son's success. Only Dr. 
 Budden was really angry. He went about breathing 
 threatenings and slaughter. He would bring the 
 subject up at the next British Medical Council as 
 " derogatory to the dignity of the profession." 
 Hubert's former comrades came over from East 
 Dene to scoff at Salveson. They remained, how- 
 ever, to lend a hand. The steady stream of con- 
 sultants astonished as much as Edith attracted 
 them. They liked seeing her busy with her cash- 
 box (which she took to be locked up in Mr. 
 Gilmerton's safe every night), busy with her dis- 
 pensing, and the overseeing of the crowd in the 
 waiting-room, so that she had neither eyes nor ears 
 for the smart young men from East Dene. Yet 
 they liked even that and took off their coats to be 
 allowed to stay. 
 
 But after the first fiv^e months were over, Edith 
 began to look a little pale. Her eyes were big 
 and radiant ; perhaps too radiant. And old Dr. 
 Growling, who looked in often in passing (he had 
 a rich family practice in the West End and this did 
 not at all concern him), said to Hubert : 
 
 " You had better look to your wife, my bo}^ You 
 are making her work too hard ! " 
 
 " I " exclaimed Hubert. " I do all I can to 
 
 2SC
 
 WORK AND OVERWORK 281 
 
 keep her at home, but she is never out of the 
 place ! " 
 
 " That's it," said Dr. Growhng ; " you must get an 
 assistant. Pull down your barns and build greater. 
 Let your wife have an easier time, or — well, you 
 know as well as / do ! " 
 
 Hubert started. He had seen Edith so con- 
 tinuously that he had noticed nothing. But certainly 
 she seemed pale, far too pale. She was, however, 
 in the highest spirits. The business was paying. 
 They had made over sixty pounds clear, and as for 
 the wholesale drug people, their bill was in the 
 back of the fire long ago. "And please God," said 
 Edith devoutly, " they would never have to grant 
 another." 
 
 About this time, curiously enough, there was 
 a burglar scare in Thorsby. One dark November 
 afternoon the safe at Old Quay Cottage was opened, 
 and a window in the gable left up. Edith rejoiced. 
 She had had the forethought to put their money in 
 their landlord's strong-box, from which she took it 
 herself twice a week. There was nothing in James 
 Pritchard's old safe except certain papers of no 
 particular value. These had been looked at and 
 left behind. The police found no clue. Still Hubert 
 did not like to leave his wife too much alone after 
 :ihat. He had a connection made through the brick 
 wall at the back, as well as in front, to the cottage 
 occupied by Captain and Mrs. Leafy. 
 
 Still all would not serve. Edith had been too 
 completely shocked by her adventure with Jo 
 Challoner ever to be thoroughly comfortable alone 
 in Old Quay Cottage ; and indeed the place was 
 over-lonely for a young wife. 
 
 They talked the matter over in the dark hours, 
 and agreed that at the New Year the out-and-outer 
 and his wife, with Sue and Will, should come to 
 Old Quay Cottage, dwelling rent free ; and that 
 they themselves should take the vacant house next
 
 282 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 door to, and above the surgery with entrance at 
 No. 3, Dunham Street. 
 
 "And you will let me arrange it with Mr. Gil- 
 merton," said Edith imperiously. " You know I 
 can make a better bargain than 3^ou." 
 
 Hubert knew, and so it was arranged. The 
 persuasion which was needed to induce the " old 
 people " to accept, proved quite another matter. 
 And at last it was only the production of the copy 
 of the will (which allowed sale but forbade letting) 
 and her daughter's picture of the " place going to 
 wrack and ruin " which moved Mrs. Dillingham to 
 pity. Also the thought of being near her Edith, 
 who " would be out and in all day." 
 
 But after it was arranged. Master Will announced 
 his intention of " going into lodgings." He was 
 getting " fifteen bob a week " and could make a bit 
 more by overtime. He was not going to vegetate 
 in a hole, nor yet "live on our Ede's coat-tails." 
 
 Sue, however, had no such scruples. Old Quay 
 Cottage was a house built of stone, and Agnes 
 Anne Jacox lived in a brick cottage. It had a proper 
 drawing-room, also a dining-room, whereas Agnes 
 Anne Jacox had to take her meals in the kitchen. 
 So would they at " the house " down Old Quay 
 Lane. But then they didn't need to, and nobody 
 saw them ; least of all Miss Jacox ! 
 
 " It will be splendid for father," said Edith to 
 Hubert ; " and on, it was so good of you to think of 
 it. He has let 109 already — it is a picked house 
 you see, and there are ever so many people waiting 
 for it, on account of the fixed wash-tubs Then 
 with only the half of the taxes to meet, the rents 
 will soon pay out the Moon-Washington Building 
 Society people, and my father will have something 
 for his old age." 
 
 " He deserves it," said Hubert, " he was very kind 
 to me ! " 
 
 During all the time that they remained at Old
 
 WORK AND OVERWORK 283 
 
 Quay Cottage they saw much of the Leafys, but 
 Mr. John Brand Blunt hardly at all. Yet each after- 
 noon, on returning from the surger}^, Edith would 
 find in a green glazed vase of Dunmore pottery, a 
 little sheaf of the rarest flowers, the cost of which 
 moved her housekeeper's heart infinitel}^ more than 
 their beauty. But the blank-faced man kept away, 
 bowing only when he passed them, with a kind oi 
 sorrowful gravity. 
 
 " I wonder if it is because he thinks we are angry 
 about your being sent away from the yard," sug- 
 gested Edith, who began to be sorry for her first 
 impressions. 
 
 ** Best thing that ever happened to us in the 
 world," asserted Hubert. 
 
 " Let's ask him to tea," suggested Edith ; " he looks 
 so sad." 
 
 But John Brand Blunt refused the invitation, 
 alleging work for the yard. He had to meet Mr. 
 Clarence, he said, and spend the night over plans. 
 
 As to Mr. Blunt himself there were various 
 opinions. He was harsh with the men, not in 
 James Pritchard's way, but with a cold severity 
 which nothing could move. Still he was not unjust, 
 and it was universally agreed that he was making 
 the place pay. Business " hummed," and most of 
 his evil deeds were set down to Clarence Pritchard, 
 who pervaded the yard like a malignant spirit, his 
 pale tace set, his chilly, light-grey eyes glinting — 
 saluting no one, nor yet returning the salute of any. 
 With one voice the yard declared its preference for 
 *' Owd Jamie's roughest tongue-thrashings and 
 
 worst dressings-down " In the vernacular, 
 
 "these made t'a fur fly, but brak' no bones, after he 
 had done gollyin' at ye ! " 
 
 It was about this time that Dr. Horace Growling 
 began to call in at the surgery of his own accord. 
 He was an old friend of Hubert's father, and one 
 of the few who still dared to speak his mind to that
 
 284 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 busy student of numerical prophecy. The subject 
 of the assistant had been put off. They were doin.e: 
 very well, and Hubert, engrossed from morning till 
 night, failed to observe the pale face and slower 
 step of Edith as she came up the brae which led 
 from Old Quay House to their new home next the 
 surgery. 
 
 Horace Growling noted it, however, with the eye 
 of an old family doctor of thirty years' standing. 
 
 " You're killing your wife," he said abruptly one 
 day in the surgery, during a temporary lull. " One 
 would think that you had become a mere'splint binder 
 and prescription writer.' You are breaking God's 
 law, by making your little wife work like that ! Man, 
 have you got no eyes in your head ? " 
 
 Hubert stared, paled, shut his mouth sharp, and 
 swallowed something immensely big and immensely 
 dry. 
 
 "" No ! " he faltered. 
 
 " Yes ! " said Dr. Horace Growling grimly, " and 
 the sooner you get her out of this the better for her, 
 and vou, and all ! " 
 
 " She won't go ! " 
 
 " She must go. Give me your authority and I will 
 speak to her, or, indeed, whether or not. I'm not 
 going to stand by and see murder done ! " 
 
 He carried out his intention, and encountered 
 a far more determined opposition than he had 
 counted on. 
 
 " I've worked all my life," said Edith ; " I am quite 
 well. Being pale — that's nothing." 
 
 " Yes, worked," said Dr. Growling, " but without 
 anxiety. It's the two together, work and worry, that 
 kill. Moreover, you've not been frank with your 
 husband." 
 
 " Ah, Hubert," murmured Edith, paling even 
 more, "it would trouble him in his work if he 
 thought that anything was wrong with me ! " 
 
 " Let him be troubled," cried the doctor angrily,
 
 WORK AND OVERWORK 285 
 
 " it's what he's there for. You must get out of here 
 — no, 7iot to your mother's down the lane. That's 
 much too near ! You would be trotting up that hill 
 all the time to see if imp Howard, Earl of Derby, 
 there, were rolling out the pills properly. You 
 must go to the country ! Can't afford it ? Fiddle- 
 sticks ! I've got a house. I'll drive you out this 
 very night. Come and brighten me up. Your 
 husband can leave the assistant in charge after six, 
 and ride out, or come by train ! " 
 
 Edith shook her head. The doctor turned away 
 to the window of the little upstairs parlour in 
 disgust. 
 
 " Talk about the pride of the rich ! " he said ; 
 " you're a working-man's daughter. And that's why 
 I am taking trouble with you, 3^ou ungrateful girl. 
 I won't see you running ^^ourself to death when 
 there is no need. I would make that man of yours 
 my assistant to-morrow ; aye, and leave him the 
 business, on equitable terms, of course, after a year 
 or two. Oh, for his father's sake, madam, not for 
 his, the rascal ; nor yet for 3^ours, you disobedient, 
 stiff-necked minx ! Only you wouldn't take it for 
 pride's sake. Very well then, an assistant he has 
 to get, or by the blessed shade of Galen, I will 
 report him to the officers of the law, for employing 
 an unqualified dispenser in his pharmacy ! " 
 
 Edith laughed at the indignant old gentleman. 
 But after he had flounced out she did some more 
 figuring. The figures decided that, as the spring 
 was advancing, she, Edith Salveson, was not seeing 
 enough of her husband. He was certainly over- 
 working, and would end by killing himself. 
 
 So the next time the junior surgeon from Spenny 
 Dene came over to get points about Hubert's 
 dispensary, Edith asked him if he knew of a decent 
 assistant who would be willing to sleep in the 
 house, and take the night work, so as to let them go 
 somewhere in the country. Howard Stanley's
 
 286 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 mother had been a cook in her time, and even now 
 was getting a foot into the Dunham Street menage 
 as charwoman, housemaid, general domestic, and 
 chief butler. Howard himself slept on a scissors bed 
 — Hubert's old one out of the yard — in the little 
 bottle-room at the back of the surgery, which smelt 
 for ever of violent spices and the grey dust they roll 
 pills in. 
 
 The junior house-surgeon grunted, considered, 
 and, of course, knew just the man for them. His 
 name was Theophilus Oglethorpe Larkins, and he 
 was a good all-round man. Also he was on the out- 
 look for experience, /(///s a small remuneration. 
 
 " Which, ' said the Spenn}^ Dene house surgeon, 
 speaking of the experience, " he is in every sense 
 likely to get here. Whether he gets his full dose of 
 sleep is another matter." 
 
 It was about this time, and before Hubert took his 
 wife out of town (or Edith took her husband to the 
 country, or Dr. Growling ordered the pair of them 
 out — whichever way you look at it), that the 
 Salvesons made a cautious attempt to dispense with 
 the shilling-in-the-slot turnstiles, which were so 
 offensive to the more mediocre and humourless 
 members of the learned profession of medicine 
 
 Through the intervention of a neighbouring tailor, 
 and the precise and personal direction of Edith, 
 Howard Stanley found himself attired in a smart 
 suit of dark blue serge, with the faintest braiding of 
 a lighter shade — oh, very slight, Hubert had stuck 
 out for black, but had been immediately overruled, 
 on the ground that the suggestion of mourning 
 might have a bad effect on business. 
 
 Thus attired, Howard Stanley waited one da}'' at 
 the receipt of custom, to take over the regulation 
 shillings and sixpences. But only for one day ! It 
 was the mid-day hour of the yardsmen when he 
 began operations ; that is, in which they are falsely 
 supposed to eat their dinners. The turnstiles had
 
 WORK AND OVERWORK 287 
 
 been removed, and Howard installed in a high office 
 chair. 
 
 But the yardsmen, rough fellows and full of their 
 games, who had been accustomed to be treated 
 officially for their sixpence down and let go their 
 way, resented the new arrangement. They made 
 Howard Stanley's life a burden to him. 
 
 " Look'ee here, young 'un," cried a riveter, " how 
 do I know but what ye won't pocket all that cash ? 
 An' then a rare long account there will be comin' in 
 to my missus one o' them days, the day you are 
 hanged, maybe, young gallows' bird ! " 
 
 " How d'ye tell a sixpenny 'un from a bob-er?" 
 cried another. " Speak up, ye hamstrung mule. 
 Get down out o' that there chair and run round 
 with the bottles." 
 
 The young man of the honourable names, after 
 trying abuse, fell back on tears, and went behind to 
 find his master, who was busy reducing a crushed 
 finger to some sort of shape. Howard Stanley 
 resigned his position on the spot. 
 
 Hubert went into the ante-room and told the men 
 that he had enough to do patching them up, without 
 having them come there to behave like babies on 
 his premises. But this done, he commanded them 
 to put their sixpences and shillings into the slots 
 themselves, even as aforetime. 
 
 The tumult hushed as by magic — and Hubert was 
 going out, leaving the men infinitely crestfallen, 
 when the gruff voice of a Clydeside engmeman broke 
 the silence. 
 
 " If ye please, doaktor, sneck doon the brake," he 
 said. " We like to hear the tirlies gang click as we 
 push through. It's a kind o' receipt that we hae 
 payed our siller, ye see, doaktor. For a' the ithers 
 hear it as weel ! " 
 
 Followed the round of Thorsby applause. " Aw, 
 he's richt ! " 
 
 "Cannily spoken, Scotty ! So 'tis!" And the
 
 288 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 local preacher of the Primitives, a new body in 
 Thorsby, quoted apropos-. "He that entereth not 
 in by the door, but climbeth in some other way . . . 
 the same is a thief and a robber ! " 
 
 And so the practice of Dunham Corner surgery 
 continued to be conducted on purely conservative 
 lines, whatever Dr. Budden might say to the con- 
 trary.
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 THE NEW ASSISTANT 
 
 IT was a great source of difficulty for Hubert and 
 Edith to discover where to go in the country. 
 Mr. T. O. Larkins arrived — a tall, lanky youth, dark 
 as a Spaniard, with a passion for work, and youthful 
 enthusiasm glowing in his deep-set, sloe-black eyes, 
 Hubert was pleased with him ; and the report which 
 followed him over from East Dene, that he was a 
 quite remarkable boxer, did him no harm among the 
 rough Thorsby lads. 
 
 " Better go easy ! He can mash ye an' he can 
 mend ye ! " said the secretary of the local " Hand-of- 
 Labour Gymnastic Club " to his committee. 
 
 " He don't gradely look it," said a boiler-maker. 
 " I would just be fond to get a swipe at him ! " 
 
 All the same, it was evident that Hubert had 
 found a capable assistant. Edith told Hubert how 
 much he could afford to give him in addition to bed 
 and board. She had previously inquired from her 
 friend, Dr. Growling, how much would be expected. 
 
 " We shall need to go easy this year, Hubert," she 
 said one night, with her eyes on her account-books. 
 
 " Why, 1 thought we were away ahead ! " cried 
 Hubert. " I'm sure the cash comes rolling in, and 
 no bad debts ! 1 hear it clink all day ! " 
 
 " I shall cost you such a lot — going out ot town 
 and that," she murmured, her face flushing. 
 
 " Well, dear," said Hubert, " we will go to some 
 cheap place." 
 
 But a cheap place with health thereto, near enough 
 to the corner surgery, was not easily found. Of all 
 
 289 19
 
 290 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 people in the world, it was Mrs. Waddleham, the 
 licensed opposition of the O.C.C., who put them on 
 the track. Now Mrs. Waddleham was the widow 
 of a champion boxer (who died suddenly owing to 
 running against something). She was accounted 
 rich. But she liked to buy medical advice in the 
 cheapest market as well as her neighbours. Besides, 
 she had heard so much against the new Salveson 
 establishment, that she determined to go and see 
 for herself. She had a whitlow, which Hubert 
 miraculously cured, and two shillings was the whole 
 cost, including dressing and unguents. 
 
 " Never a word," she boasted afterwards to the 
 very hostile cap-bows and tinkling jet ornaments of 
 Aunt Kidson ; " no nasty bills comin' in just when 
 you have to pay your taxes. If you want advice, 
 you pay your shillin' — I might 'a made it a ' tanner,' 
 all bein' left to your honour ; but I'm an honest 
 woman, Miss Fly — and I " (an immense I) " owe 
 neither man nor wumman anything. So in I popped 
 my shillin' — my poor 'usband never havin' worked in 
 the yard, though he lathered more nor half the men 
 in it, and so, in a way, I might ha' made out that 
 I belonged ! " 
 
 Having borne this testimony, Mrs. Waddleham 
 came often, bringing other lame dogs to the waiting- 
 room, and acting as a very successful tout, entirely 
 without salary. She liked being about, she said. 
 There was always company. 
 
 On one of these occasions she happened to see 
 Mrs. Hubert Salveson (" t' doctor's wife ; the out-and- 
 outer's daughter, ye knaw ") passing through. She 
 looked, and started. Then she rose hurriedly and 
 followed. She begged Mrs. Salveson's pardon at 
 the door of No. 3, Dunham Street; but would she 
 forgive her for speaking a word with her? She 
 was an old friend of the family, and indeed (here 
 followed a mysterious hushed confabulation). The 
 only words that reached any other ear than Edith's
 
 THE NEW ASSISTANT 291 
 
 were: "That's the place, for sure. Yea, for 
 sure ! " 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham did not conceal the fact that she 
 was the " horned " sister of the late Jo Challoner, 
 dead in prison— not as ever he were fit to be called 
 by that honest name ; not that she would speak ill 
 o' the dead, but humbly, as to his face. Jo were 
 never nowt but a blagyard, a liar, a thief, and an 
 'ippocrite ! To which his own sister bore testimony 
 in all tenderness for them as is gone and will no 
 more return: an' a good job too! 
 
 The place Mrs. Waddleham /lad in her mind was 
 no other than Green Lane station. 
 
 " Ye see," she said, " me an' the station-master, 
 owd Bob Cossar, is related through my mother, as 
 were a Cossar. And now that he has begun to fail 
 a bit, I've gone out to take a kind o' care o' him. 
 They are building him a new station ; not afore it 
 were time. And so as he's comfortable, Bob Cossar 
 'ave bought the cottage a bit back ; you know, where 
 they used to sell toffee to the Sunday sweet- 
 hearters " 
 
 Edith smiled and nodded. 
 _ " We know the place," she said. " Yes, I should 
 like to go there." 
 
 Then with becks and wreathed smiles, with many 
 quiverings of an exuberant bust, Mrs. Waddleham 
 expressed her intention of taking care of Edith " like 
 a mother." 
 
 To which followed another pause of nodding and 
 whispering, ending with the words : " And then, 
 you know, owd Doctor Growling lives just down 
 by Plympton, the very next station ; an' if there 
 were need, why, Bob Cossar 'ud wire on that tick- 
 tack machine o' his, and the boys at Plympton 'ud 
 trolly down owd Doc. Growling on the new line, at 
 any hour, night or day ! " 
 
 So, then, the thing was arranged. Hubert got 
 Tim to send down his cycle from the manor, and
 
 292 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 announced his intention of riding out to Green Lane 
 to inspect. But by some interference of Providence 
 (or Mrs. Waddleham) Dr. Growling's carriage hap- 
 pened to come to the surgery door ; and so Edith 
 was compelled to bundle up hastily and go along 
 too. Her last words to Howard Stanley were with 
 regard to the mixing of the podophyllin pills. He 
 always made them lumpy, it appeared, and Mr. Lar- 
 kins was empowered to keep an eye on him. Also 
 the house accounts, carefully made out by Howard's 
 mother, and checked by Hubert, were to be brought 
 out every week in order to be finally audited and 
 approved. 
 
 But it was many a long day before Edith saw the 
 black and gold turnstiles of her heart, or heard the 
 merry sound of the clicking gear and the tripping 
 silver coins, which made better music to her ears 
 than the singing of all birds ; because she had always 
 been poor, and because, if Hubert had not her to 
 look after him — well, the awful Unthinkable would 
 certainly happen. He was no more fit to look 
 after money, either to take it in or to pay it out, 
 than a week-old kitten. Even now he was directed 
 to take the receipts every day to Mr. Gilmerton, 
 who good-naturedly had offered to count and give 
 a receipt for the bag. Then all was to be carried 
 in state to the bank on Saturdays, the pass-book 
 made up, and everything submitted to Hubert's 
 chief accountant at Green Lane. On these condi- 
 tions, and no others, would she resign herself to 
 stay away. 
 
 It was the earliest days of the bleak northerly 
 spring — April long begun, yet no sign of it else- 
 where than in the calendar. But at Green Lane 
 every one tried to make Edith feel at home. Even 
 Dr. Growling made out that to drive by Green Lane 
 was not at all an uncommon way to his home at 
 Plympton ; but the muttered " language," cold- 
 drawn between his clenched teeth, which his coach-
 
 THE NEW ASSISTANT 293 
 
 man addressed to the "buttons" by his side, was 
 proof to the contrary. 
 
 The station-master came in beaming, more rubi- 
 cund than ever with the buffeting of the rude 
 moorland breezes, and the efforts he had been 
 making to keep the surfacemen and platelayers to 
 their tasks in the interests of the company. 
 
 "Ye hae comed in the nick o' time, mistress," he 
 said. " They are layin' doon anither line frae 
 Plympton, and the mess and fuss thae Englishers 
 baud aboot it is juist past tellin'. They are makkin' 
 me an auld man afore my time, I do declare. Guid- 
 wife, I wadna' be the waur o' a drap o' tea, if oor 
 bonny wee leddy there will join us in a cup o' 
 comfort ! " 
 
 Dr. Growling had given his last directions to 
 Mrs. Waddleham, with whom he seemed somehow 
 strangely familiar, and had been whirled off by the 
 Compton road to his home at Plympton. He told 
 Edith that he would sometimes drop down by train, 
 to see if all was as it ought to be, and to taste a drop 
 of Mrs. Waddleham's excellent tea and oat cakes. 
 Certainly his housekeeper could make him nothing 
 nearly so tasty. They minded him of his student 
 days. 
 
 Hubert and Edith occupied one end of a moorland 
 cottage — a little sitting-room in front, with a good 
 firm table and a couple of easy chairs, both uncom- 
 fortable enough, which Hubert promised himself to 
 replace on the morrow. Little green mats sustained 
 pottery jars, with " A Present from Portobello," and 
 suchlike, upon them. There were also rows ot 
 strange whorled shells from distant shores, in which 
 Edith pleased herself by imagining, during the hours 
 when she lay listlessly with her head on the sofa 
 pillows, that she heard the sough of the South 
 Pacific surges, or the strange oily soothings of the 
 China seas.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 HOME ON THE MOORLAND 
 
 NOW began a time in the existence of Hubert 
 Salveson wholly new to him. He alone, of 
 all who were about Edith, refused to believe that she 
 was dangerously ill. He had known her so long, 
 always radiantly healthful, always doing the work of 
 a household, always bright, always unselfish, and — 
 well, just his Edith. 
 
 It is a good custom of the profession that the wife 
 of a medical man should have her own doctor. Her 
 husband dwells too near, sees without background 
 or perspective. The change from day to day is so 
 slight, that to him even a grievous malady may seem 
 nothing at all. So it was that Hubert, though per- 
 mitting Dr. Growling to have his own way in the 
 matter, while obeying the mandates (they were no 
 less) of Mrs. Waddleham, dubbed them to his 
 assistant Larkins " a couple of old wives." This he 
 said, forgetting that even " old wives " have their 
 uses. 
 
 At any rate it was good out there on the moor- 
 land. When the nights were dark and rainy, 
 Hubert took his overcoat and umbrella to the Old 
 Quay station, caught the 5.30 and was presently 
 running along the top of the long line of newly 
 scarred railroad, on which the navvies were ceasing 
 work, to Green Lane station. He was often the only 
 passenger, so unfrequented was the moorland about. 
 Then, like the boy he was, Hubert would lean out 
 of the window, and under the back-rushing ruddy 
 skarrow of the mounting smoke, reddened by the 
 
 294
 
 HOME ON THE MOORLAND 295 
 
 stoker's open door, he would note the white dot of 
 the window in which his Edith would be sitting, 
 wrapped in her shawl, listening for the train, waiting 
 for him. 
 
 There — there — in that little quiet room was all his 
 world. And Hubert's heart mounted and sang. 
 He had no fear of death — none for her, none for him- 
 self. She was a little out of sorts — oh, so little, a 
 mere bronchial cough, with complications of course, 
 but such as he treated with success every day. 
 These old family doctors made mountains out of 
 every molehill. 
 
 And Edith, she had been waiting too, was waiting 
 now. He smiled, for he knew that long ago she 
 would have laid aside the book, of which the reading 
 did not progress much ; also certain private cypher- 
 ings of her own, to wait and listen. 
 
 Quite a quarter of an hour ago, Station-Master 
 Robert Cossar would have come to the small-paned 
 window of the cottage, skipping across the hundred 
 yards from the station-house " like a young 'un," all 
 to give Edith the thrilling intelligence: "She's left 
 Thorsby Central." A little after, watching the signal 
 box towards Plympton, Bob Cossar would see the 
 red change to green and the green to white. Then 
 the little bell of the railway telegraph would thrill 
 out its song : " T-trrrr-rr-rrrr T' 
 
 Then Station-Master Cossar, unable to leave his 
 platform, would lean over the wooden rails, just 
 by the place from which Hubert had drawn the 
 spikes myriads of years ago, and, making a trumpet 
 of his huge palms, proclaim in a voice of thunder to 
 the waiting Mrs. Waddleham, ** She's signalled ! 
 Gang ben an' tell her ! " 
 
 " As if I was wanting to keep it to mysen ! " said 
 Mrs. Waddleham, with just indignation ; " t'owd 
 fool ! " . 
 
 Then the bright red would mount swiftly to 
 Edith's face. She would look in the glass "to be
 
 296 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 pretty for him." Yes, her hair was nice in front — 
 the way he Hked it. 
 
 A shrill whistle ! The clack of the falling arma- 
 ture of the "near" signal which shut the 6.1 p.m. 
 within Green Lane station, not to be permitted to 
 disgorge till Hubert descended. Next, Edith would 
 hear the slow gush of steam from the exhausts, the 
 long, musical note of the train coming to a standstill, 
 the slamming of doors. Now Bob Cossar would be 
 lifting his hand. The guard's whistle blew shrill. 
 The engine snorted, driving the wheels round like 
 lightning to get a grip of the slippery rails, and then, 
 slow and forceful, the train moved out, masterfully 
 breasting what was left of Green Lane Common 
 before rattling down to Clinton with steam shut off 
 and brakes down. 
 
 A " click " — was it in her heart ? A rush of cold 
 air. 
 
 " Shut the door, quick. I never saw such a man ! " 
 from Mrs. Waddleham in the kitchen. And she had 
 risen to — to take him. She had to stand thus a 
 moment, waiting, lovely, breathing lightly, a red 
 petal burning (she could feel it) on either cheek, her 
 expectant hands a little forward. Mrs. Waddleham 
 was strict about letting him come in to the snug 
 parlour without taking off his damp overcoat and 
 putting on his slippers. 
 
 Then — there he was. At last ! It did not seem 
 an occasion for crying, even a little ! And perhaps 
 Edith did not ; but, she put dov/n her head and hid 
 her eyes for quite a while. 
 
 Sometimes, on the contrary, there was a rush of 
 business at the surgery, after the men came out of 
 the yard, and it was quite impossible to get away by 
 that train. Nor was there another on that little- 
 frequented local track till after ten. 
 
 On these occasions the boy in dark blue bound 
 with lighter blue was despatched to the station with 
 3 message to Robert Cossar at Green Lane — doctors'
 
 HOME ON THE MOORLAND 297 
 
 messages being passed (by managerial favour) over 
 the Thorsby and Compton Junction Railway. 
 
 It would sometimes be eight or nine before Hubert 
 could get clear, and then, with a heart glad and 
 proud, he would light his bicycle lamp, throw alight 
 green waterproof cape across his shoulders, and 
 bend to the handles. How the long winking streets 
 slipped behind him, the brilliant public, the washen 
 pavements shining after the rain, or hard with black 
 frost. Presently he was descending the long curves 
 by the shore. Mongrel dogs barked about the house 
 of the " fancier," that is to say dog-stealer, who 
 dwelt in Edith's old home, Waterside Cottage. 
 There beyond, dim beneath a drift of high naked 
 boughs plaited against the sky, and defended by 
 low-lying evergreens, he saw the Manor House. It 
 there were a cloudy moon, he could see the window 
 of the prodigal's chamber still white like a blind eye. 
 On the ground floor. Aunt Kidson would be enter- 
 taining a select circle. There was his father's range 
 of three windows, half the side of the house to 
 himself High above, niched against the sky, with 
 only the gables and the tiles above him was Tim's 
 den, two little low turtle backs of mellow light. 
 Good old Tim! Ignorant Tim! Miserable Tim! 
 Bachelor Tim ! 
 
 Ah well, how little they all got out of life— how 
 little they knew ! 
 
 Cheered with this thought, Hubert breasted the 
 long rise, the rain mostly in his face. In five minutes 
 the manor was drowned beneath him in the river 
 mists. 
 
 He had a pride in thus driving on and on, farther 
 and farther from the old life that was so elaborately 
 empty and naught, nearer and nearer to the bright 
 eyes — ah, too bright !— and loving lips which were 
 his Edith's. 
 
 Presently he went slower and slower as the slope 
 increased. He saw only the rutted road streaming
 
 • 
 
 298 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 back from the fierce jet of his " Ter-Lux " lantern 
 like the waves of a colourless river. He splashed 
 through a runnel, where the moor-water, ill-con- 
 tained by the culvert, spread across the road. A 
 long pull, but useful, for it let out his muscles after 
 the confinement of the day. Also it seemed as if he 
 were struggling to get to Edith — struggling and 
 overcoming. Besides, all this made the little Station 
 Cottage infinitely more comfortable, and he thought 
 of the change and rough-towel rub down before tea, 
 as something akin co heaven ; yet, distinctly, only so 
 because Edith was there. 
 
 He never knew exactly how long the uphill 
 struggle continued. It always seemed longer than 
 all the rest of the journey. Yet it was but a few 
 m-inutes at most. He had carried Baby Sue up 
 there on his back and never winced when they went 
 black-berrying, or merely to see the trains. 
 
 Suddenly as he rode Hubert seemed to heave 
 himself up like a giant. The whole world fell away 
 beneath him. He was the highest thing his e^^es 
 could see. He stood on top. The common spread 
 away and away. The sky, mantled with cloud or 
 merely monotonous with rain, was now obviously 
 the sky — a lighter vault under which he scudded 
 towards the broa,d white scar of Green Lane station. 
 After a while, just when the dogs of Hutchin's farm 
 barked, he could see the little full stop of the light 
 in Edith's bedroom. She always put a candle there 
 on nights when he was late, to tell him that she 
 understood and was watching. It was all very 
 childish and innocent. But I must record what this 
 other child, the grave and busy doctor, did in return. 
 For Edith's full stop, thus, (.), he gave her acolon(:). 
 It was the era of little electric toys, and one of them 
 served his purpose admirably. He had the tiny lamp 
 pinned to his cap, the cord travelled inside his coat 
 to the battery in his breast pocket. He twitched 
 a handle and there were the two lights, one on his
 
 HOME ON THE MOORLAND 299 
 
 cap and the other on his machine. Then Edith took 
 away her hght, as soon as she had seen the colon, 
 and, after counting twenty slowl}^, she replaced it. 
 Three times Hubert touched the little button, ex- 
 tinguishing and relighting in succession. This 
 meant "All Well— Good Day!" 
 
 Then he smiled to himself and put on speed for 
 the final burst. 
 
 . Bairns' play, say 3^ou ? Yes, but a little more than 
 that!
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 MR. MANSON SMELLS SCOUNDREL 
 
 ^/ES, a considerable deal more than that, as 
 [ Hubert found one night. It was the first of 
 ay. But May has no vested rights in the north 
 country and out on the open, east-looking moor- 
 lands. A little drift of Siberian or White Sea 
 weather, spiraling down, had struck our islands first 
 about the moors of Thorsby, and, as on the famous 
 May-day of 1824, threatened to cover them with 
 the drifted snow. 
 
 The night was not yet so very bad when Hubert 
 started to go home. It was a little later than usual, 
 because that day he had had a curious letter sent to 
 Old Quay cottage, which Sue had brought to the 
 surgery, and in the afternoon a yet more curious 
 interview. 
 
 The letter told him that a recently formed syndi- 
 cate was inclined to aid in the general well-being of 
 Thorsby, and the extension of the docks by acquir- 
 ing the right of landing at Old Quay, as well as by 
 taking over all the lands, cottages, satisfying all 
 existing rights and interests, with a view to building 
 a pier worthy of the city, together with a floating 
 landing-stage on the latest Mersey model. This 
 syndicate would send its authorised representative, 
 a law;yer in their confidence, to meet Dr. Salveson 
 and inspect his title-deeds that very evening. It 
 was most important that certain parties, whom it 
 was useless to name, holding rights on either side 
 of Old Quay should not be made aware of this 
 proposal till the arrangement had somewhat matured. 
 
 300
 
 MR. MANSON SMELLS SCOUNDREL 301 
 
 Their lawyer, Mr. Abel Adcock, would accordingly 
 call that evening on his way to London. It was 
 hoped that Dr. Salveson would have the documents, 
 in order that he and Mr. Adcock might study them 
 together. 
 
 Hubert despatched the necessary telegram to his 
 wife ; and after showing the letter to his assistant, 
 Mr. Larkins Theophilus Oglethorpe Larkins, 
 M.B., B.Sc.Lond., Dr. Salveson went across to his 
 father's lawyers, Messrs. Good, Manson and Manson, 
 in St. Anne's Square. The Mr. Good of the firm 
 slept with his fathers in St. Anne's churchyard, but 
 Manson, senior, was at the service of the son of his 
 old client. He thought no worse of him for the 
 start he had made, and the struggle he was making 
 to be and do something. He had even told the 
 surgeon-general that his last will was a disgrace, 
 and that only a sense of professional duty had made 
 him draw it. It was in his safe that Hubert's father 
 had deposited the three stout volumes, duly sealed 
 and receipted for, which contained the late James 
 Pritchard's private diary. With him also were the 
 deeds and documents concerning the property at 
 Old Quay willed to Hubert, his wife, and their heirs. 
 Among these was the notable charter under which 
 James Pritchard had so long waged successful war 
 with the East Dene and Thorsby Ferry Company- 
 being a deed of Crown property at Old Quay after 
 the removal of the Customs' and Coastguards' 
 station there. 
 
 Mr. Manson, a broad, bland, side-whiskered man, 
 received the young doctor with surprise. Hubert 
 had telephoned to know if it would be suitable, and 
 the head of the firm had waited over at some slight 
 inconvenience. 
 
 He perused the letter and looked grave. 
 
 " Yes, I think there is something behind that," he 
 said. " The syndicate may be a real syndicate or it 
 may not. There are several Adcocks on the Law
 
 302 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 List, but no local man of that name. What would 
 London people know about a place which most 
 Thorsby folk have never seen themselves ? Ah — 
 hum— yes — the trap is baited, doubtless. The 
 allusions to other interested parties point straight 
 to Pritchard's and the Dock Board. If this is a 
 third move, it is either the Ferry Company or — 
 something extremely shy ! I should very much like 
 to see this Mr. Adcock, but the documents remain 
 here. However, I can give you a precis if you wait 
 a few minutes." 
 
 Then, after making some business arrangements, 
 he asked Hubert to partake of the hasty dinner 
 which he sent out for. They would go along and 
 meet Mr. Adcock. 
 
 " It will be better that the interview should take 
 place in your surgery. Keep Larkins with you. 
 You can trust him, I suppose ? Oh, one of the 
 Oglethorpe lot — that's all right — Radicals, but good 
 family. I shall stay in the ante-room with a casual 
 patient or two. I have spoken to my head clerk. 
 Then Mr. Adcock will have a chance of being 
 recognised." 
 
 As Mr. Manson planned, so it was done. They 
 ate. They took their way through the thin, driving 
 sleety snow, the lawyer pronouncing ever deeper 
 anathema on the climate of Thorsby which made 
 May even as December. 
 
 They had not long to wait. The gentleman went 
 first to the Dunham Street door ; but Mrs. Stanley, 
 with Howard open-mouthed behind her, explained 
 that the doctor was still in his surgery, and Howard 
 was good enough to conduct and announce the 
 visitor. 
 
 "You see, sir," he said sagely, "you couldn't get 
 through them turnstiles without paying your tanner 
 at least ! What name, sir ? " 
 
 "Adcock," said a hoarse voice—" out of his boots," 
 as Howard described it afterwards. The man wore
 
 MR. MANSON SMELLS SCOUNDREL 303 
 
 a great-coat on account of the night, also a large 
 "comforter" like a small Paisley shawl wound about 
 his throat. He was a powerful, rather foreign- 
 looking man, and he scanned the waiters in the 
 ante-room carefully. 
 
 " Casuals ! " said Howard Stanley, with a wearied 
 air. " Now, why didn't you come earlier ? You 
 know very well that the doctor doesn't see people 
 after his hours except by happointment ! This way, 
 sir. I'll show you the trick ! " And with a clever 
 " up-and-over " vault. Master Howard got behind 
 the barrier, lifted the gearing lever, and swung the 
 shilling gate open for the visitor, on the strength of 
 his fur-lined overcoat and the sixpence he expected, 
 but failed to get. 
 
 " 'Ee says 'is name is Adcock ! " was the actual 
 announcement. Sixpence would have made it " Mr. 
 Hadcock, doctor !" which, considered merely as an 
 investment in self-respect, would certainly have been 
 cheap at the price. 
 
 Never in his life could Mr. Adcock have run the 
 gauntlet of such a keen array of eyes. Yet he 
 baffled them all. 
 
 " He looks a curious professional man," confided 
 Mr. Manson to his first clerk ; " but he may be a 
 colonial, or a German Jew who has qualified. These 
 Hamburg companies are looking up our local in- 
 vestments ! " 
 
 " Looks a regular bargee ! " murmured the head 
 clerk. The second clerk stretched his legs and 
 reserved his opinion. 
 
 Inside Hubert introduced his assistant, and in- 
 formed his visitor that he was prepared to listen. 
 
 "You have the title-deeds ?— all the papers?" 
 queried Mr. Adcock. 
 
 "I have just been looking them over," said Hubert, 
 putting his hand in his breast pocket. 
 
 " Ah," said the man, " that is what I should like 
 to do — what I am here for."
 
 304 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 "All in good time," said Hubert, ** In the mean- 
 time, what does your syndicate propose ?" 
 
 " To buy out and out," answered Mr. Adcock ; 
 " we will give you twenty thousand pounds ! " 
 
 Hubert was staggered, and looked it. 
 
 "Yes," continued Mr. Adcock; "but naturally 
 we want to be as sure of 3^our rights as 3^ou will be 
 of our money." 
 
 " And vice-vcrsci" put in Hubert, who had gone to 
 school to Edith. 
 
 *' Naturally," said the man. " You have got them 
 with you ? " 
 
 " I cannot do anything without consulting my 
 wife. She is out of town," said Hubert, " but I shall 
 be at your service to-morrow at three, with all the 
 papers." 
 
 " Well, good-night, then. It is no use taking up 
 your time. I shall call at three." Mr. Adcock was 
 all at once in a vast hurry. 
 
 And before Hubert had time to open out the roll 
 of legal documents, which contained the precis of 
 the various grants and deeds, Mr. Adcock had 
 shouldered his way past the astonished Howard 
 Stanley, strode before the patient waiters in the 
 ante-room, and was lost in the whirl of the storm. 
 
 " Well, what do you think, sir ? " Hubert asked 
 Mr. Manson, as he thrust the roll into his breast 
 pocket, and buttoned his coat up to the neck. 
 
 " I smell scoundrel ! " said the old lawyer. " I'll 
 be v/ith you at three, Hubert, and between us we 
 will track him ; perhaps even trap him ! "
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 THE WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 
 
 IN the house under the lee of the big railway 
 embankment Edith abode. She had been 
 unusually well that day. But after the arrival of 
 the train, and before the telegram arrived, she had 
 shown herself strangely unquiet. 
 
 Long before there was any chance of Hubert's 
 coming she had left the sitting-room, in spite of the 
 prayers of Mrs. Waddleham, and had camped with 
 her hand-lamp in the bedroom, in spite of the fact 
 that the night had fallen chill and frosty upon the 
 grey tinting of the snow, sifted sparsely over the 
 rough face of the moorland. 
 
 She could see the weird loom of Thorsby lights 
 in the dull sky. Sometimes when she looked at 
 them long, they used to pulse zenithwards like 
 northern lights. 
 
 " May-day," she murmured, " May-day and snow ! 
 Oh, I wish he were home to me ! " 
 
 A nervousness, the like of which she had never 
 experienced, shook her like a fever, yet so coldly 
 that her teeth chattered. Mrs. Waddleham be- 
 sought her to "come ben " to the fire. But Edith 
 pushed her away, shading her face from the glare 
 of the lamp in the window-nook, so that she might 
 catch the first glint of Hubert's arrival. 
 
 She had long to wait. The unwonted pepper- 
 and-salt aspect of the desolate moor made it more 
 difficult to make things out. Pieces of gashed peat- 
 brow, unnoticed by day, sunk in the general grey 
 and brown of the uneven surface, now appeared 
 
 30s 20
 
 3o6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 black, like horrible wounds. The road by which 
 Hubert must come was, however, somewhat plainer. 
 The slight snowdrift, earlier in the evening, had 
 not held there, and it was clean-swept, a black 
 undulating serpent flung like a whip-lash across 
 the desolation of the common. 
 
 It was wellnigh ten o'clock when at last, with 
 a glad cry that brought Mrs. Waddleham to her 
 side, she made out Hubert's light. He was riding 
 slowly, as if wearied, and her heart went out to him 
 in pitifulness. She had missed him somehow on 
 the brow of the common, deceived, perhaps, by the 
 pulsing glimmer in the sky and the unwonted snow 
 below. 
 
 But he was nearer. Edith looked forth eagerly, 
 stilling her heart with her hand. There — she took 
 away the light, hiding it behind the curtain, and 
 again put it back — there — he had lighted the 
 electric light in his cap. Once ! Twice ! He 
 was on the plain home-track now. She waited for 
 the third. It did not come ! Both stars, that of 
 his cap and the front light of his bicycle, vanished. 
 But not, to Edith's strained eyes, as if they had 
 extinguished. Rather it seemed to her that some 
 accident had happened. She had seen them fall 
 to the earth as the trail of a spent firework does. 
 
 Something had happened, she was sure! Hubert 
 was hurt ; oh, she must go to him ! 
 
 She rose, and drew her shawl about her. Mrs. 
 Waddleham sought in vain to comfort her. 
 
 " The lad's aw richt, hinny," she murmured, her 
 rough tongue for once modulated to a strange tender- 
 ness, " he'll hae comed on a bit o' broken bottle wi' 
 that daft fleein' wheel o' his ! There were some 
 Geordies gaed by this mornin' to the station, and 
 Geordies are just awesome for flingin' bottles aboot ! " 
 
 But Edith was not to be thus appeased. An 
 accident had happened to her Hubert. Mrs. 
 Waddleham must do something — quickly, oh, so
 
 THE WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 307 
 
 quickly — go for the station-master — tell the odd 
 signalman at the next cottage ! 
 
 " But Bob Cossar can none leave the station till 
 the ten-thirteen is through, and she's not so much 
 as signalled yet," objected Mrs. Waddleham, "and 
 as for the signalman, he will be in his first sleep, 
 and a wild man he would be to be awakened " 
 
 " Then if you will not, I will," cried Edith, staring 
 wildly about for some weapon wherewith to defend 
 her Hubert from deadly peril. 
 
 So strange was her look, that Mrs. Waddleham, 
 fearing a misfortune, hastened to draw a shawl 
 about her own gre}^ head. 
 
 " I'll gang ; I'll gang, hinny ; I'll do your biddin'. 
 Only bide ye there by the fire, and keep yoursel' 
 w\arm, like a denty wife ! " 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham betook herself first to the 
 signalman's cottage. The awakened victim, in his 
 rough fashion and from his bed, consigned her for 
 a troublesome old hag to various places mentioned 
 in Scripture. But at talk like that the Waddleham 
 had easily the top grip. And so grumblingly the 
 signalman rose and drev/ on his trousers, doing his 
 objecting between his teeth, and calling out : 
 " Waken Jimmy Gash, the surfaceman. He'll be 
 pleased, I'll wager ! " 
 
 The which Mrs. Waddleham did, and then, 
 leaving the surfaceman expressing the belief that it 
 was " a dorg's world," gave a cry up to Bob Cossar, 
 waiting for the ten-thirteen on the station platform. 
 
 " He is as likely as not to come by that," said the 
 station-master, firm in his faith that all things 
 arrive by train ; "and what the lassie saw on the 
 muir was verra like nocht but a stravagin' pitman 
 lichtin' his pipe ! " 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham hastened back to lead the party 
 in person, for rendezvous had been given at her 
 door. She looked within to reassure " the puir 
 lass " ; but neither in the little parlour, nor in the
 
 308 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 lesser back bedroom was Edith to be found. The 
 lamp was still shining out of the window across the 
 streaked stubble and snow ; but her charge had 
 vanished. Mrs. Waddleham rushed this way and 
 that. She climbed the little wooden staircase. She 
 set her head through the skyhght, and got the wind 
 of the frosty night chill on her brow. Edith was 
 gone. She called, but Edith did not reply. 
 
 It was evident that with the secretiveness common 
 to women at such times, sick, and waiting for the 
 thing that shall be, Edith had simply fled out at 
 the open door as soon as Mrs. Waddleham's back 
 was turned. 
 
 The tenderness of that good lady for a moment 
 turned to anger. 
 
 " Oh, if only she was a bairn — and weel ! " she 
 murmured, "I would learn her!" And with the 
 pitifulness of apprehension there mingled incongru- 
 ous thoughts of slippers with capable heels and 
 double soles. 
 
 Meantime the surfaceman was at the door, and 
 with a grand rooo-oooo-oop of grinding brakes, and 
 a pyrotechnic display of sparks, the ten-thirteen 
 drew up within the station. 
 
 They heard a noise of shouting, singing, and 
 good fellowship of the spirituous sort — Geordies 
 without a doubt ! 
 
 " Is he there ? " Mrs. Waddleham called to Bob 
 Cossar. 
 
 " Give up yer tikkutts ; give up yer tikkutts ! 
 Naw, 1 see you ; ye are no gaun to slip by ! Ye 
 hae lost it ? Aweel, then, pay your fare. Sax- 
 pence ! Got wi' it noo!" 
 
 '' Right, guard ! '' 
 
 Agam the shrill whistle, acknowledged shortly 
 by the engine. All clear! And the ten-thirteen, 
 become the ten-fifteen, steamed away to Clinton. 
 
 " Is he come, the doctor ; answer, ye stuped auld 
 man ? "
 
 THE WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 309 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham was on the warpath. 
 
 " I'm comin' to help," said the station-master, 
 " bide till I turn the keys, and get this deevil's lot 
 through the yett ! Naw, he's no come ! " 
 
 " Could ye no hae said that at first, Bob Cossar ? " 
 demanded the irate lady. " She's gane hersen — 
 aye, she's away to seek her man ! God kens 
 where ! " 
 
 The Geordies (or pitmen from the Long Loan 
 pit across the moor) being more noisy than drunk 
 eagerly agreed to assist. That was an excellent 
 thing, for, being used to the semi-darkness, they 
 beat the surface of the moor on either side the 
 track, while on the road itself the portly form of 
 the station-master, at last released from duty, 
 oscillated from side to side carrying the station 
 lantern. The surfaceman had a little lamp of his 
 own, which he had stopped to light. Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham shouted, and encouraged the searchers 
 generally. 
 
 They had reached a spot, from a quarter to half 
 a mile from Green Lane, a place where there is a 
 little dip in the level moorland, when suddenly Bob 
 Cossar's lantern was seen to pitch forward, and 
 that portly man's hoarse bellow came from the 
 ground : " Here, lads, haste ye ! There's something 
 unhandy here ! Mind where ye are comin', you 
 Geordies, wi' your big, clambersome feet ! " 
 
 For a moment all the world of Green Lane 
 Common believed in a grave accident. The first 
 of the pitmen went floundering — then another, and 
 another. And it was not till the surfaceman came 
 up with his relighted lantern that it became ap- 
 parent that a wire had been drawn tight across 
 the road about eighteen inches from the ground. 
 
 " The murderous lowns ! " cried Bob Cossar. 
 " Help me up, lads ! " Then it was seen that he 
 and the three pitmen were floundering amid the 
 ruins of a bicycle.
 
 3IO PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 ** That's the doctor's Beeston, wi' the high gear. 
 He was a deevil to ride ! " said the station-master, 
 as he picked a broken wheel-spoke tenderly out of 
 the calf of his leg. 
 
 Of Hubert, however, nothing could be seen 
 
 The pitmen straggled like so many fox-hounds 
 thrown out. But Bob Cossar and the surfaceman 
 uniting their forces and their lights circled the scene 
 of the attempt or accident. There was no fence 
 of any sort on either side, so they could not look 
 for a break in it, while with the sudden-falling frost 
 the surface was hard. But in a little depression 
 the drifted " scuff" of thin snow had been disturbed. 
 Something heavy had been dragged that way. 
 They followed like sleuth-hounds, while Mrs. 
 Waddleham moaned behind. 
 
 " Oh, the poor lass ; the poor, poor lass ! Never, 
 never did I happen on the like ! " 
 
 Finally station-master and surfaceman stood on 
 an eminence, and Bob Cossar taking both lamps 
 and holding them high above his head revolved 
 with them, while the younger man, having the 
 better eyes, shaded his face, and peered in every 
 direction. 
 
 He seemed to catch a glimmer of something white 
 in a deep " clough," or, more exactly, moss-bag. 
 
 "Yonder!" he cried. And they followed the 
 direction of his hand, taking heed to their going. 
 
 The searchers climbed the little hill of bent and 
 burned stubble of heath. They shed the light of 
 their lanterns over the verge. 
 
 A woman sat beneath, holding a man's head in 
 her lap — Edith and Hubert without a doubt. 
 
 " They have killed him, my Hubert, that never 
 did a wrong ! " she moaned. 
 
 And at the first sound of Edith's complaint Mrs. 
 Waddleham flung herself broadcast athwart the 
 moor, calling out at the pitch of her voice, " Oh, 
 Ede Dillam, ye traipsin' besom ; what think ye will
 
 THE WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 311 
 
 happen to ye ? Ye hae brak ma hert, that ye hev', 
 this weary nicht ! Wait till I come to ye, oh, ye 
 besom ! " 
 
 And that is the sole occasion when our Edith was 
 called " Dillam " in the course of this history. 
 
 But by the time that the briefly angry Waddle- 
 ham had reached her patient, Edith had quietly 
 fainted, and the good old lady, restraining her rough 
 tongue, bent over her with murmurs of maternal 
 tenderness. 
 
 Hubert received the cares of the men, expert in 
 wounds and bruises. He had a severe contusion 
 on his forehead, where he had struck the road. The 
 palms of his hands were scratched and bleeding, 
 riis coat had been ripped from the lining. All his 
 possessions were scattered about — his medical case 
 of knives, scissors, and forceps. The green water- 
 proof dressing had been unfolded. The lint torn, 
 while one of the pitmen picked up the doctor's 
 watch and chain, which had been flung to a dis- 
 tance as if in anger. It was still ticking away, no 
 whit the worse. But not a scrap of letter or paper 
 had been left — even his writing-pad for notes and 
 prescriptions had been taken. 
 
 They rubbed Hubert's face with snow, and 
 slapped the palms of his hands in their rude, 
 efficient way. After a while he sat up dully, not 
 seeing Edith, and muttering dreamily to himself 
 
 " It was for the deeds — aha, I ha(Jn't got them ! 
 And I'm sure I smelt chloroform ! " 
 
 The saying was Greek to his audience, who 
 merely thought that he had not quite come to 
 himself The station-master, called by Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham, left Hubert in the charge of the surfaceman, 
 whispering to the latter to stand between the 
 doctor and his wife. For Hubert was still dropping 
 off to sleep every other moment, and quite unable 
 to realise anything. 
 
 Then at a whisper from the Waddleham he com-
 
 312 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 manded the " Geordies," all now sober as judges, 
 and brave lads accustomed to danger, to range up. 
 
 " Let me have a look at ye ! " he said, " Ah, Lang 
 Loan men ; weel, then, you young ones, go and clear 
 awa' that wire across the road. Aff wi' ye ! And 
 you " (here he named the elder men of family), " to 
 wit, Dick Scratton, Tom Kemp, Jo Little, Billy Little, 
 Evan Williams from Cardiff, and the Scotty frae 
 Fife that I kenna the name o' — you six, plait your 
 hands and mak' a carryin' creel for the poor lass. 
 And mind 3^e, canny — canny, as if she was made o' 
 lamp-glass ! Or else I, auld Bob Cossar, will break 
 every bane in your worthless bodies ! " 
 
 ** Never fear, station-maister," said Dick Scratton, 
 " mony's the poor lad we hae carried oop ladders, 
 an' aw ; what will it be alang the plain road wi' a 
 licht weight ? The lass will be as good as in her 
 bed ! " 
 
 And so, squired and directed by Mrs. Waddleham 
 on one side, and with an odd pitman holding the 
 station-master's lantern on the other, Edith was 
 carried home, tenderly, daintily, without a jar or 
 movement, as only these rough fellows, trained to 
 hospital duty in the deeps and levels of a colliery, 
 know how. They did not heed the Waddleham, 
 who abused them steadil}^ as if they had been pick- 
 pockets, save for an occasional : " Cannily, goodwife, 
 cannily wi' thy tongue ; happen tha' wilt wake her ! 
 And 'tis better we should get her hoam first! " 
 
 Otherwise they talked in strange miner's speech, 
 pattering almost inaudibly to each other about how 
 this one was to " ease," and that other to ** howd 
 firm," the whole six moving of a piece, yet as elastic 
 as a surgical knee-bandage, till finally they laid her 
 on her white bed, above which the abandoned lamp 
 still burned. 
 
 Then they left her with the maternal Waddleham 
 — left promptly and without thanks, too — because 
 that lady ordered them out ! And they went like
 
 THE WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 313 
 
 whipped curs, although they had done what perhaps 
 no other men in the world could have done so well ; 
 such being the nature of a " Geordie." 
 
 They plodded back to help bring in " the doctor," 
 speaking little, offering no theories like other men 
 in their position. Trained pitmen every one, men 
 who had mastered the first elements of this world's 
 practical philosophy, which are, that misfortune is 
 bound to fall ; that, when it falls, it has to be reme- 
 died ; and that, if it cannot be remedied, it must be 
 borne. With the Geordie there is no use disputing 
 about causes so long as there is anything to be done. 
 
 Hubert had again gone to sleep. He was a little 
 sick, and seemed under the influence of some drug. 
 The station-master and the surfaceman discussed 
 the " robbery " ; the latter, a mouthy man, was in- 
 clined to call it an " attempted assassination." But 
 Dick Scratton, who was a gang foreman at Lang- 
 Loan, and understood head contusions, cut away 
 part of the doctor's hair with the doctor's own 
 scissors, melted a little snow over the lamp flame, 
 washed the wound, and with the medical stores 
 scattered about the moss-bags, achieved a very 
 decent wet dressing. 
 
 Then they took Hubert home, still muttering 
 vaguely and twitching in every limb. Even as they 
 had borne his wife, so they carried him, making no 
 more of the burden than of lighting their pipes. 
 Fine, brave lads, who knew that life and death 
 stand close together, and that they and every man 
 are elbow to elbow with both all their lives ! 
 
 " Now," said Dick Scratton, as they wiped their 
 brows outside the little cottage, " if we ha' done all 
 that we mainly can do, we 'ud better be trackin' 
 ower yond by to Lang Loan ; for there be some o' 
 us as have to be on the early shift the morn, and we 
 don't none o' us want to be docked o' our dues. No, 
 thank ye, station-maister ; yo're main kind, but the 
 drop o' drink will stand for another time. We've
 
 314 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 aw had our lawfu' skinful this nicht ! Tramp, lads, 
 and good-night to yo ! " 
 
 " Good-night ! " cried the station-master, " I maun 
 gang and licht up again. I hae a telegram to send ! " 
 
 Hubert had the dreary, strange, unhaltered night 
 of one who has taken an overdose of chloroform. 
 He wandered through vast spaces. He saw great 
 landscapes, thick with fortresses and loud with the 
 boom of bursting shells. Red fires burnt about 
 him, pulsating with the promise of the coming end 
 of all things, concerning which his father had in- 
 structed him in his boyhood. At times he could 
 hear himself laughing ; at others weeping like a 
 woman. He wondered why he did it. Then he 
 would laugh to himself again, and bury his head in 
 the pillow, moving his bandaged hands slightly, for 
 he was running on air, soaring higher than the 
 highest bird ; at home among strange creatures, 
 angels with stars on their heads, gods and demigods 
 taking tea together round golden boards ; while 
 Edith — his Edith — in a coster's coat and pale blue 
 skirt, with large crown-piece buttons arranged in 
 two rows down the front, sold to the feasting 
 presences winkles out of a barrow inscribed : 
 
 " H. E. Saivesott dr^ Co., Licensed Costermongers, OlynipusP 
 
 It was a green barrow, and Hubert remembered 
 resolving that the very next day he would have a 
 line of gold put along the shafts and all round the 
 panels. There was no donkey. You just spoke to 
 the barrow, and it went by itself! 
 
 But while he was going forward to help Edith, 
 something came with a soft hush, like sand sliding 
 in a pit. And lo ! he seemed to awake the very next 
 moment in a new world. The sun was shining. He 
 was lying on a soft bed. And somewhere near — 
 oh, very near ; thrilling his heart as it had never 
 been thrilled before — he heard a young child crying !
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 "l FOUND YOU " 
 
 HUBERT had a great leap of the blood, like to 
 none he had ever known. Also he was 
 afraid with a deadly fear. He strove to rise, but 
 big, soft, gentle hands held him down, and Dr. 
 Growling stooped over him with a " Keep quiet — all 
 right — a boy ! " 
 
 " I don't care about the boy. Edith ? — How's 
 Edith?" 
 
 " H-s-s-s-s-sh ! " Growling moved his hand with 
 the thumb towards the wall, murmuring, " Low, but 
 improving. We'll pull her through. Lie still, 
 you've had a bad accident, you know. Gibson from 
 East Dene is here. He was with me to dinner. 
 They trollied us down on a flat bogey ! Now, ask 
 no more questions. Go to sleep." 
 
 Hubert wanted to get up immediately and go to 
 Edith. Then he wanted to cry, because he was 
 weak and couldn't ; because they would not let him ; 
 but instead he went to. sleep, still with that fine, thin, 
 clear-cut bell-note ringing through the eternities, 
 the first-born's voice, which a man hears but once 
 in his life. And hearing it Hubert went to sleep. 
 
 When he awoke it was the afternoon. His head 
 buzzed. He was all one ache. Looking carefully 
 the Waddleham saw him stir. Then she approached 
 the sofa with a swathed bundle. He saw a pinched 
 red patch, something like frost-bitten knuckles, in 
 the middle of the white wrappings. And that was his 
 son ! Hubert felt none of the emotion of the first 
 " keening " cry which announced the old life past, 
 
 315
 
 3i6 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 and all become new for him. He wanted to see 
 Edith. But his medical experience saved him from 
 open disgrace. He admired the babe, which, 
 according to Mrs. Waddleham, was the finest, and 
 loveliest, and the heaviest her ample experience had 
 ever known. 
 
 Hubert was willing to take these statements on 
 trust ; but — could he see Edith ? Mrs. Waddleham, 
 less sympathetic, said that she would see what 
 
 Dr. Growling would say. But she did not think 
 
 he had had a shake, he must remember Mrs. 
 Salveson (that ever she should come to call Edith 
 Dillingham by such a name !) was doing well, but 
 weak — not to be disturbed at present. 
 
 The doctor came in, and insisted on "going 
 over" Hubert before he would even consider the 
 question of an interview. 
 
 " There's nothing I can see that won't mend of 
 itself," he said ; " but you will have a lot of questions 
 to answer. There are two police detectives down 
 there now, waiting till I give the word." 
 
 " Let them wait ; I want to see Edith ! " 
 
 " Fair and soft, young man," said Dr. Horace 
 Growling ; " pray be good enough to remember that 
 you are speaking to a man who has trollied down 
 here on a flat board last night five minutes after he 
 had got ready for bed. Gibson ? Oh, he's gone. 
 He had his work at East Dene. But I'm to wire 
 him how things go. The Company has put its 
 staff at my disposition ; that's what it is to have a 
 grandfather a director ! " 
 
 " A what ? director who ? " demanded Hubert. 
 
 " The surgeon-general, your father ! " chuckled 
 Dr. Growling. " He's a grandfather now, isn't he ? 
 I wonder if that will wean his tough old heart from 
 the tenth beast and the sixteenth flying dragon ? — 
 or whatever the thing is. I've sent him a note at 
 any rate, duly signed, Horace Growling, M.D.. to 
 certify to the fact."
 
 "I FOUND YOU" 317 
 
 " Written to my father ? " said Hubert " Why ? " 
 " Because he is my old comrade, and because I 
 believe there's a few sensible chinks left in his head 
 yet." 
 
 " You are very kind, doctor," said Hubert ; " but 
 I see you are trying to put me off. I want to see 
 Edith, If I can't, I shall know that she is much 
 worse than you are willing to tell me." 
 
 " As her medical adviser I ought to say no. As a 
 man — well, can you walk across that floor? Let's 
 see ! " 
 
 Hubert staggered up, drew his dressing-gown 
 about him and took a few tottery steps. 
 
 " I feel curiously light-headed — sick, too ! " He 
 sniffed. " I taste ether or chloroform. You've not 
 been giving me that, have you ? " 
 
 "No," said Dr. Horace Growling, emphatically; 
 " but some person or persons unknown, in search of 
 a certain article or articles unknown, dosed you with 
 as much as would have killed an ordinary man. I 
 suppose the breezes of Green Lane Common helped 
 to carry it off, or else you have a jolly strong head, 
 Salveson. Your father used to have. Gay dog, 
 your father ! " 
 
 " Should never have suspected it," said his son ; 
 " but, about Edith ; I want to see her, you know. 
 I'm going to — now ! " 
 
 " Let me see you draw on your trousers ; ah, 1 
 thought so!" He caught Hubert as he pitched 
 forward. " Now, perhaps, you'll take an old fellow's 
 word for it next time. Lie down. Take a drop ot 
 this. Now, let me help you. You won't ? Well, 
 then of course you don't want to see your wife ! So, 
 lad, so ! " 
 
 Hubert was left alone while the doctor temporarily 
 withdrew. The young man listened carefully, but 
 only a whistle from the railway and the distant 
 creaking of the wires and pulleys of the home-signals 
 reached his ear.
 
 3i8 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Dr. Growling came back. He tucked the bandag- 
 ing on Hubert's head under a rough wide cycHng 
 cap, and drew his own great bears' paws of Hned 
 gloves over his bandaged hands. 
 
 " Now be sensible — as you know how. Don't 
 talk much. No emotion ! Or, if any, keep it to 
 yourself. You two youngsters have a steep hill 
 before you. Don't handicap the little girl at the 
 bottom. She's a brick." 
 
 They went in, Hubert balancing himself behind 
 the doctor. His head was spinning, and the floor 
 and ceiling undulating and swaying like so much 
 sailcloth. 
 
 The little bed had been shifted into the parlour, 
 and on the far side of it stood Mrs. Waddleham, as 
 it seemed to Hubert, hard, determined and hostile. 
 She was downright opposed to it, so she was, as she 
 had let Doc. Growling know. But, o' course, them 
 family doctors always thought they knew best. 
 
 On the bed lay Edith — another Edith. 
 
 So pale, so frail, so young; her babe nestled in 
 the hollow of her arm ! She smiled wanly up at 
 him. She made the motherly little lip-pout which 
 meant " He is asleep ! " Then with the other arm 
 she gathered her husband close. Hubert bit his 
 lip to keep from groaning, as he knelt beside the 
 bed. 
 
 Edith drew his ear close to her lips. 
 
 " 1 found you ! " she whispered triumphantly. 
 Then she pushed him back to look at him. 
 
 " You are not hurt ? " she queried. Hubert shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Nothing to speak of," he said. " Oh, you brave 
 girl ! " 
 
 Warned by something in the eye of Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham, he rose painfully. 
 
 " Stay by me a little— only a little," she pleaded. 
 " Oh, let him ! " ^ 
 
 " Ye are to gae to sleep, hinny," murmured the
 
 **I FOUND YOU" 319 
 
 Waddleham, bending over. " Let him gang his 
 wa3^s ! " 
 
 Edith's eyes prayed. 
 
 " Let him sit a little while, only a little — by me— 
 here on the chair, that I may be sure ! Yott can 
 take baby ! " 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham flounced into the back room 
 with the despised first-born, to whom both Edith 
 and Hubert had now become mere auxiliaries. 
 
 Dr. Growling turned his back and looked out 
 of the window at the long line of the station 
 buildings, ending with the seldom-used goods 
 shed, in which Bob Cossar stored his "plants "in 
 a backward season, set out in empty cube sugar 
 boxes. He studied the empty trolly on which he 
 had been " run down " so expeditiously and un- 
 ceremoniously the night before. 
 
 He did not see and he tried not to listen. What 
 had a bachelor to do with such things ? 
 
 " You are to go to sleep, Edith," said Hubert. 
 
 " I would rather look at you." 
 
 " But you must !" 
 
 " Give me your hand then, not in those gloves ; 
 no, I want it. Ah, you are hurt " 
 
 Dr. Growling turned and spoke sharply. 
 
 " Mrs. Salveson," he said, "if you do not instantly 
 compose yourself to sleep, I will send your husband 
 away. His knuckles are a little scratched, that 
 is all." 
 
 Edith's eyes filled with tears. They became wells 
 of blueness. She put out both of hers and clasped 
 Hubert's bandaged fingers — like a couple of babies. 
 
 " Poor hand," she said, and again, "poor hand !" 
 
 A vague snort, half-gasp, half-sob escaped Hubert, 
 in spite of himself, and in spite also of the disap- 
 proving eye of Dr. Horace Growling. But it had 
 instantly the effect of changing Edith's mood. 
 
 " I will be good," she said, like a child. She 
 turned her face towards his upon the pillow,
 
 320 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 beckoning him nearer with her eyes. " Kiss me, 
 and say you love me, and I will go to sleep ! " 
 
 Hubert laid his lips a moment to hers — little cold 
 lips, still a little drawn — and murmured his love. 
 
 " Now I will sleep ! " she said, with the hurt hand 
 between both of hers, and in five minutes she was 
 breathing tranquilly.
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII 
 
 RECONCILIATION 
 
 LITTLE us would it serve to tell in detail all 
 that followed — the marches and traps of the 
 police to lay hands upon Hubert's assailants — the 
 utter disappearance of Mr, Adcock, and the failure 
 of the local firms to discover him among the gentle- 
 men of that name on the Law List. Nor yet how 
 Mrs. Dillingham strove with the Waddleham, and 
 the Waddleham had the mastery — possession 
 counting ten points as against blood and kindred. 
 Besides which, Mrs. Dillingham had to be back 
 every evening at Old Quay House to relieve Captain 
 Leafy's watch on deck. The history of the subse- 
 quent compromise need not be more than indicated : 
 how that the babe was to be jointly used, bathed 
 and dressed at least once during the three hours 
 that Mrs. Dillingham passed at Green Lane — tepid 
 water and terebine soap being the happy grand- 
 mother's specific, warm water and "yaller" soap 
 that of the Waddleham. 
 
 Neither can the historian relate in detail how the 
 out-and-outer came every evening by the six train 
 and tramped it home, a stout cudgel in hand. Or 
 how he was found by his son Will on his knees, 
 and how, on being charged with praying (it was 
 about the tenth day and Edith very feverish), he 
 affirmed first that he was looking for something he 
 had lost, and, secondly, that if he, Mr. William 
 Dillingham, desired to retain one inch of consecutive 
 hide on his body, he had better keep his head shut, 
 and refrain from saying anything about the matter 
 
 321 21
 
 322 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 in the yard. Which thing, in the true spirit of the 
 fifth commandment, that " with promise," Master 
 Will duly did. 
 
 Nor can Miss Sue's impressions of "our Ede's 
 baby" be more than adverted to. Agnes Anne 
 Jacox was informed that it was " the beautifuUest, 
 the darlingest, the sweetest thing in the world, that its 
 hair parted down the middle and curled naturally, 
 that it knew its only auntie, that when it smiled it 
 was like heaven, and that it was going to be 
 christened Lucien Augustus de Vere — all which 
 statements were more or less untrue. 
 
 In the secrecy of her own heart Sue considered 
 the babe more than usually " red and peely." She 
 even felt uncomfortable and " moppy " whenever 
 she was forced to go near it. It squalled, out ol 
 malice prepense, as often as she laid hold of it, but 
 quieted at once when they laid it besides its mother, 
 a flagrant piece of hypocrisy— as if it knew ! 
 
 These things we must leave, in order to record 
 the gradual convalescence of Edith, and the complete 
 recovery of Hubert, who was soon back again at the 
 surgery ; a little disappointed perhaps to find that 
 Larkins had increased the receipts, and that the whole 
 had not gone to rack and ruin during his absence. 
 
 Mr. Manson received him mysteriously, and asked 
 for any further information as to his assailant. He 
 thought that in time the authorities would be able 
 to trace the culprit. 
 
 " Not that you will be able to get at him even 
 then," he said. " But, as you don't want to be 
 bothered with business during the illness of your 
 wife, and as (to tell the truth) you are but ill-fitted for 
 transacting it, you had better give me such a power 
 of attorney as will enable me to deal with parties at 
 first hand." 
 
 "Parties? What parties?" Hubert asked inno- 
 cently, who had been brought up in the belief that 
 the word, so used, was bad English.
 
 RECONCILIATION 323 
 
 " There are offers from three parties for the rights 
 of the Old Quay Landing, including the right of 
 way," said the lawyer. " We must lay up some- 
 thing in the stocking-foot for the little man.' 
 
 When Hubert got home that night he was not at 
 all astonished to find Dr. Growling's carriage at the 
 door, but on entering the parlour, he tripped over 
 the bassinette in his alarm at finding his father 
 sitting calmly by Edith's side, and — holding her 
 hand. It might have been to feel her pulse. The 
 medical profession has its obvious advantages. But 
 the fact cannot be denied. 
 
 " Father! " said Hubert, with a gasp. 
 
 The surgeon-general rose slowly, carefully 
 keeping Edith's hand in his own left, and offered his 
 right to his son. They shook hands. And that 
 was all that there ever was about the matter. 
 
 " I want to know when the christening is ? " said 
 the grandfather. *' Horace brought me — Growling 
 you know. Oh, Saturday ! I will come out. And 
 pray, what do you think of calling the child ?" 
 
 " Edward Charles Heathcote, sir," said Hubert, 
 very quickly. 
 
 " And why Edward ? " asked the surgeon- 
 general. 
 
 " After my father-in-law," said Hubert with a 
 certain concision of accent. 
 
 And for another of the recorded times in this 
 history Salveson temper met Salveson temper as 
 Greek meets Greek. And the younger won the tug 
 of war. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the surgeon-general, " yes, of 
 course ! " 
 
 And Edith, looking at him, thought the old man 
 seemed rather bored in expression, and did not at 
 all realise that he had done one of the most Christian 
 actions of his life, in allowing his son to prefer the 
 out-and-outer to himself. 
 
 On Saturday he drove out with Mr. Marchbanks
 
 324 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 in the family chaise and a hired pair. He even 
 shook hands with Mr. Edward Dillingham, and 
 forbore to sneer at the simple Presbyterian rite. 
 He drew from under his overcoat, left in the 
 carriage, a solid silver mug, which might with 
 advantage have been used as a font. It had dints in 
 it, and was worn smooth in places. Generations of 
 Salvesons of the Manor had drunk from it their 
 daily milk. It had been bumped and thumped on 
 unnumbered nursery tables, tumbled and dinted and 
 abased. There were many names upon it, beginning 
 with the scarcely legible " Rupert Charles Salve- 
 son 1683," and ending with " Edward Charles 
 Heathcote Salveson," with the current day and date. 
 
 This was a great thing for the student of prophecy 
 to perform. " Better," saith the Wise Man, " is he 
 that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." 
 
 And so far, which was as far as dissonant spirits 
 can be at once, Hubert Salveson was reconciled to 
 his father. 
 
 Then began the sweetest time of their lives, as 
 Hubert now remembers it. The Waddleham refused 
 to allow any alien hand to touch the sacred person 
 of Edward Charles Heathcote, but had graciously 
 permitted a young Cossar, niece to Rob at the 
 station, to be sent for from Borgue parish to do 
 some good plain cooking under her supervision. 
 
 Their year had worked out handsomely, and 
 Hubert had much increased Mr. Larkins' honorarium, 
 so that, in the days of his own happiness he might 
 not have the surgery continually on his mind. The 
 young dispenser, too, proved an intelligent youth, 
 and could be trusted to prescribe for toothaches and 
 the results of Easter-Monday. 
 
 Edith had books from the library which Hubert 
 brought her, returning either by the 3.30 or by the 
 6.10 p.m. trains, generally by the former. But I am 
 not sure that at this time Edith read much. That
 
 RECONCILIATION 325 
 
 came later. She was content. She drowsed away 
 the morning, waking to watch the light wind sway 
 the fuchsias and calceolarias that her mother had 
 brought her, sometimes pressing a leal of the 
 scented verbena between her fingers and gratefully 
 taking in the expressed tenderness of the smell. 
 
 Bob Cossar had fixed a full sheet time-table of all 
 the trains above her couch, annotated with the 
 passages of the goods trains. He even added the 
 known "empties" and "construction" trains, on a 
 little daily codicil, which the old station-master re- 
 made with care every morning at breakfast time. 
 He was under the impression that Edith, having 
 time on her hands, would naturally occupy herself 
 with what was the most interesting thing in the 
 world to himself — the to's and fro's of the Green Lane 
 railway traffic. 
 
 But Edith, though she did not tell the old man, 
 liked rather to take things as they came. There 
 was baby. She was little favoured with his society 
 in the forenoon, the young gentleman having a 
 liking for heavy meals and infinite sleep. Also as 
 soon as he cried. Nurse Waddleham (death to the 
 man who so miscalled her !) would snatch him away 
 from the cosy niche into which he had been snuggled, 
 hang him like a limp rag over the crook of one 
 elbow, and smack him into peace with the other 
 hand locally applied. Edith could not do that. 
 She handled master baby like fine china, the Waddle- 
 ham like a bolster. But the victim himself obviously 
 preferred the rougher treatment. 
 
 Then Edith would dress slowly, reading snatches 
 of Hubert's books as she did her hair, and wishing 
 that she were clever. But nothing very connected. 
 After that Edv/ard Charles was in his "pram" and 
 being pushed to and fro in the sunshine, Edith 
 took the white parasol Hubert had given her and 
 went out. The high spacious airs of the moorland 
 fanned her cheeks. Rarely, almost never, did the
 
 326 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 smoke of the great riverside cities blow their way. 
 Edith made her way to Hubert's corner — their 
 corner, and watched dreamily the trains go clanking 
 by. She asked Bessy Cossar from Borgue to fetch 
 out her chair, and by-and-by the station-master came 
 along and installed her still more comfortably under 
 the little clump of firs. 
 
 Sometimes they brought her dinner out to her 
 there. For Hubert and she stuck to tea and supper 
 — very little supper so far as Edith was concerned. 
 
 Then, soon after, because the day went fast, came 
 the great question of the twenty-four hours. Edith 
 crossed the line by the new white wooden bridge, 
 which was her test of strength. She took a long 
 time to it ; sitting and resting on this step and that. 
 Finally she gained the top just before the 3.30 p.m. 
 was signalled. 
 
 Would Hubert come or would she have to wait ? 
 In either case she " would be good." She would do 
 her accounts on that heathery knoll on the far side, 
 where you looked not toward Thorsby, which was 
 hidden, but away to Dunham Mill and Dr. Horace's 
 house at Plympton. 
 
 Ah, yonder was the smoke plume ; then came the 
 long train shaking itself as it rushed up the hill 
 towards her, carrying Thorsby to clearer skies and 
 the wash of unmuddied waters— perchance also 
 bringing her world. He was there — no, he wasn't ! 
 He had been detained at the last moment. Larkins 
 had gone out and, of course, he could not leave 
 the 
 
 " Oh, there he was, just stepping upon the plat- 
 form ! " 
 
 " Oh, he has a parcel in his hand ! I wonder 
 what it is ! Oh, I hope not more books. With 
 baby and all I have not half-finished ' Cream- 
 cheese ! ' Oh, the dearest lad that ever the sun 
 shone on ! "
 
 CHAPTER XLIX 
 
 MISS MAY HEATHCOTE, CAPTAIN OF THE GAMES 
 
 HERE begins the sad tale of Edith's madness, 
 brief but inevitable, and of it all, Tim, bad, 
 bold, wicked, unconscious Tim was the cause. On 
 the day of the christening Hubert had come to an 
 understanding with his father. 
 
 " I am happier than I can say, father," he said, 
 " that you have done what you have done to-day. 
 But I wish to state that I do not desire for me or 
 mine any part of your estate. I chose my part. 
 Tim did your bidding; I did not. He is a good 
 fellow and ought not to be done out of his dues. 
 Let all, except maybe a keepsake or so, be for him. 
 And, father, he ought to marry." 
 
 " / think so too," said the surgeon-general, relieved 
 to have his own intentions placed before him as a 
 duty. " I will think. Let me see — I have not heard 
 of the Heathcotes, my first cousins, for a long time. 
 I remember before I came back from India, Heath- 
 cote was for ever announcing the arrival of more 
 olive-branches. I am sure some of them were girls." 
 
 When he came out to Green Lane and talked 
 to his son, the ex-Indian officer talked more in his 
 old man-of-the-world way, and did penance for it 
 afterwards, by cutting his " Trichy " in two before 
 smoking it the last thing at night. For, though he 
 abhorred the papacy, he practised penance. 
 
 So, with an invalid mother as a harmless chaperon, 
 Miss May Heathcote arrived at the Manor House, 
 Thorsby, upon a long visit. She was innocent of 
 all intentions upon the virgin heart of Tim, nourished 
 
 327
 
 328 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 on poetry and idleness. She was an active and to 
 the common male eye, a remarkably attractive young 
 person. Tim was afraid of her from the first. But 
 the parents had agreed on the subject, and hoped 
 much from these two overrated factors in the pro- 
 duction of the domestic affections — propinquity and 
 the long result of time. 
 
 Miss May Treherne Heathcote was the young 
 lady of the type Cultured-Enthusiastic. She had 
 been educated at a great new-model girls' school 
 near Oxford, where they utterly neglected arithmetic 
 and geography, were strong in book French and 
 hockey, and regarded the head of the games as a 
 little lower than the angels. Occasionally, as a set- 
 off, the professoresses of this establishment would 
 train up some extra clever girl for the Oxford Senior 
 Local, and if she took honours she was afterwards 
 referred to as "a perfect steam-engine for work," 
 and the school took a pride in her, second only to 
 that of the head of the games. 
 
 But May Heathcote had held both positions, and 
 she was a pretty girl withal — in manner perhaps a 
 trifle aggressive. It was the tone of the schools at 
 that time, and, to say the truth, also of a section of 
 society of high esteem in the fashionable-gossip 
 journals. Altogether May Heathcote, her spirit 
 dressed by circumstances, was a singularly up-to- 
 date, oft-hand, breezy maiden of twenty-one, who 
 was simple-minded without knowing it, and (like 
 many other critics) romantic while loathing the 
 word. 
 
 May was tall and walked with a swing. She did 
 not "clump" like the elder school of Lady Ethelreda; 
 but she held her head high " and looked the whole 
 world in the face, for she feared not any man." On 
 the contrary ! 
 
 She was fond of giving information, fonder still of 
 getting it, and to use her own words she " thought 
 small potatoes of Tim."
 
 MISS MAY HEATHCOTE 329 
 
 Tim, poor fellow, certainly did not shine. He 
 laboured under the disadvantage of knowing the 
 purpose of her coming there with her parlour- 
 keeping mother. The young lady did not, and 
 would not have cared if she had. She was the 
 favourite of a grand-parental Heathcote who had 
 bestowed upon her a handsome dowry. And this, 
 in the surgeon-general's estimation (as well as in 
 Tim's), was no barrier to the union. Again, quite 
 the contrary. 
 
 But Tim did not know how to set about the busi- 
 ness. He was like a golf-player who has crammed 
 up all the myriad books which tell you how to do it, 
 but who had never swung a club ! Naturally Miss 
 Heathcote was not at all in the same condition. 
 She knew — oh, well, there were those cadet fellows, 
 and that young assistant professor, and Mr. Bridges 
 of the Arsenal, and the cousins in Ireland — they 
 were so silly — oh yes, and funny old people who 
 had squired her here and there. So Tim, soft with 
 want of exercise, whom she could distance easily in 
 a race round the gardens, to which sport she invited 
 him the very morning of her arrival, whose feet got 
 sore after he had walked two miles. Cousin Tim 
 who had never played cricket, or golf, or hockey, who 
 did not fence, or ride, or shoot, who did not work — 
 crowning sin to an Iffleyite, where they had workshops 
 fitted with tools, and sticking-plaster when the girls 
 cut themselves, and arnica for bruises. Tim (summed 
 up Miss May Heathcote) was " oh, no end of fun," 
 R.I.P. 
 
 But the idea of marrying Tim never entered her 
 head. 
 
 On the other hand, she was immensely interested 
 by the Odyssey of Hubert. Sarah Jane, the under 
 housemaid, had been assigned to Miss Heathcote as 
 her maid. She did not want a maid, having been 
 accustomed not only to arouse herself, but to see 
 that a whole dormitory was on foot betimes as well.
 
 330 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 But May Heathcote did want some one to talk to in 
 that dreary old house, with only two musty elders 
 and a muff. (Arrange to suit.) Aunt Kidson she 
 was barely civil to, not liking the old lady. She 
 said she had false eyes. 
 
 But Sarah Jane Bertram she could talk to. Sarah 
 Jane called herself Lucille, and had come to the 
 manor under that name. She gave two-thirds of 
 her wages to her mother, on condition that she 
 would always refer to her as Lucille. She was a 
 pretty waiting-maid. She read the continuous story 
 in the Daily People^ and knew what was due to her. 
 They were all Lucilles, and being a good hard- 
 working girl, she felt she was well within her rights. 
 As indeed, considering all things, she was. It was 
 but little to ask, considering the life of self-sacrifice 
 and honest toil she led, only lighted by the under- 
 gardener (who called her Polly, and chucked her 
 under the chin), telling her that a pretty flower like 
 her ought to marry a gardener. Then Lucille 
 tossed her head and tried to pretend he was a gay 
 young callant, with ruffles on his sleeves and a 
 slashed doublet. But — she sewed his buttons on 
 for him all the same, and, on the whole, things went 
 very well. 
 
 Needless to say, Lucille admired Hubert im- 
 mensely. She informed Miss Heathcote of this the 
 very first night, as she was doing her hair, which 
 consisted in brushing it out over the back of a chair; 
 an operation which May would support for hours, 
 being made that way. Lucille further stated that 
 every servant in the house would die for Master 
 Hubert. She would, she knew. It was a burning 
 shame, it was. 
 
 May laughed, and said that such a holocaust 
 was wholly superfluous, as Mr. Hubert appeared to 
 be provided with a wife already. 
 
 Then Lucille unfolded. As she told it the story 
 did indeed bear some resemblance to her favourite
 
 MISS MAY HEATHCOTE 331 
 
 literature, and the undying hope of the Family 
 Rainbow's readers that similar luck might come their 
 way some brave day. 
 
 But Lucille was a narrator, a thing born, not bred. 
 And she interested Miss May Heathcote so much 
 that she ceased from jesting, as she heard of the 
 leaving of his father's house, of the ultimatum to 
 remain or be cut oft^ with a shilling, of the resident 
 surgeonship in the yard, the death of his benefactor, 
 the cruel charge of murder, and the setting up of 
 the " sixpence-in-the-slot " dispensary at the corner 
 of Dunham Street, "as you go along Cheviot Road, 
 miss ! " 
 
 The tears were in Lucille's voice before she had 
 finished, and if a few fell upon Miss Heathcote, 
 that young lady thought nothing the worse of her 
 for it. 
 
 May listened, soothed like a pussy cat by the slow, 
 soft action of the brush, tireless and regular (Lucille 
 had the gift), and then put the woman's question. 
 
 " And this cousin of mine, Hubert ; what is he 
 like ? Is he handsome ? " 
 
 " Oh, miss, he is as handsome as handsome ! " 
 
 And Lucille described a hero — Hubert seen through 
 the combined lenses of Wenda of the Daily People, 
 and the authoress of "A Pair of Kaiser Moustaches," 
 which had enraptured her in the Family Rainbow. 
 
 Certainly Hubert's right ear ought to have gone 
 off by spontaneous combustion. 
 
 "And, such a lot as he knows ! There was our 
 neighbour's — I mean mother's neighbour's, Mrs. 
 Edward Acton Jones's 'usband " 
 
 Lucille did not often drop an " h," but this was a 
 bit complicated. 
 
 " And he fell from his cart — connected with the 
 City Corporation sanitation, miss — fell and " 
 
 But we need not go further into the case of 
 Lucille's mother's neighbour's husband. Sufficient 
 to say that it was a marvellous cure, as all the town
 
 332 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 knew, and many there were about Cheetham Lane 
 that began to go nowhere else ever after. Oh, Dr. 
 Hubert, he would be just like a lord if he had 
 money ; not that he could be called poor — sixpence 
 or a shilling for five or ten minutes, not to speak of 
 the medicine if you liked ; that mounted up to 
 money. But he was so proud that he wouldn't take 
 a penny from his own father, not even now when they 
 had made it up. All was to be for Master Tim. 
 
 Oh yes, miss. It was quite easy to find the 
 surgery. Master Hubert was only there at certain 
 hours, but Mr. Larkins — he was a pleasant gentle- 
 man, though of course not so handsome as Master 
 Hubert. Oh, yes, she could find out the time, of 
 course. 
 
 And Miss May Heathcote went to bed, exceed- 
 ingly eager to make acquaintance with this marvel 
 of a cousin, this Bayard of the stethoscope, the 
 glass of Daily People fashion, and mould oi Family 
 Kainbozv form.
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THUNDER IN THE AIR 
 
 AT the surgery the increasing pressure of busi- 
 ness had caused Hubert to arrange with his 
 landlord to permit the opening of a door through to 
 the end house, No. 3, Dunham Street — so that the 
 entire ground floor of both properties might be used 
 for the purposes of surgery and dispensary. The 
 upper floors were quite sufficient, in the meantime, 
 for living rooms. Mr. Gilmerton, who admired his 
 tenant very much, assented, and even went the 
 length of providing a separate entrance hall, with a 
 stairway (and possible greenhouse), at the higher 
 corner of his property, " so that," as he said, " thae 
 sick folk need never come across Mistress Salveson's 
 leddy veesitors ! " 
 
 These arrangements were almost complete, and 
 now Dr. Theophilus Oglethorpe Larkins had his 
 own room and appliances behind the dispensary, 
 leaving the main surgery to Hubert. It was a 
 bright morning in late June. Hubert had ridden in 
 from Green Lane, happy in the knowledge that 
 Edith was mending quickly, and that for almost 
 the first time her foot took the ground with some- 
 thing of its old firmness. There was no rush of 
 patients when he arrived and entered by the door 
 round the corner, which is to say. No. i, Dunham 
 Street. 
 
 Hubert liked to do a little research work in his 
 leisure time, aware that some such pursuit is the 
 best freshener for the busy practitioner's daily 
 round. Besides, he was writing a thesis for his 
 
 333
 
 "^ 
 
 334 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 university on " The Influence of Great Industrial 
 Centres on the Spread of Disease." 
 
 So, in the briei slack water before the noon rush, 
 he was busily writing up his notes on the corner of 
 the operating table, when he heard the single 
 " ting " of the bell which he had connected with 
 the now historic turnstile. He paused a moment, 
 with the pen poised to his cheek, hoping that the 
 patient would take the left-hand entrance, which, 
 prominently labelled, led to Mr. Larkins' depart- 
 ment. 
 
 But a knock fell upon his door, in itself an 
 unusual circumstance. And, prompt upon his 
 answer, the door opened, and a tall, lissom 
 young lady entered, in a pleasant little whirl of 
 blowing hair, rustling skirts, and the June winds 
 that frisked along the Cheviot Road. 
 
 Hubert rose expectantly. The girl stood silently 
 before him as he bowed. She looked very little like 
 a patient, certainly not like any that working-class 
 district surgery had ever sheltered. Hubert noticed 
 the broad belt of untanned leather about her waist, 
 with the eyelet-holes worn with use. She stood 
 with a thumb thrust into it, and surveyed him from 
 head to foot, half-amused, half with something else 
 in her eyes, which clearly was not disdain. 
 
 " She must be waiting for me to speak," thought 
 Hubert. "You wish some advice, miss — ah?" he 
 
 Caused, unavailing. Then remembering his work, 
 e added : " Will you please tell me how I can be of 
 use to you? " 
 
 She smiled. The amused expression increased. 
 Hubert noticed that she had a pleasant face, hand- 
 some too and strongly marked, black eyes and hair, 
 with the free, easy manner of one who has never 
 yet met her dominator in the world. 
 
 " No," she said at last, laughing a clear, hardish 
 laugh, and speaking in high, distinct tones, " I am 
 not a patient. I am quite well. But, not being
 
 THUNDER IN THE AH^ 335 
 
 connected with the yard I have paid a silver shilHng 
 for the privilege of knowing my cousin ! " 
 
 "Your cousin?" said Hubert dully. "Pardon 
 me, but I fail to understand." 
 
 " Well, I am May Heathcote, your cousin, in the 
 second degree, I believe ; the daughter of Claudius 
 Heathcote of Heathcote, in the county of Surrey. 
 Is that exact enough ? And 1 have been original 
 enough to pay a shilling to shake you by the hand. 
 Now, please don't spoil it, by being stupid and 
 wanting to give it back ! " 
 
 They shook hands, and in five minutes Miss May 
 had been introduced to Dr. Theophilus Larkins, 
 had transformed herself into a nursing sister, had 
 assisted at a slight operation, had even penetrated 
 to the dispensary and caused the heart of the 
 qualified pharmaceutist to ache, and had eternally 
 attached to herself the young affections of Master 
 Howard Stanley. Mrs. Stanley, above stairs, re- 
 mained the sole implacable. 
 
 She said : " Yes, miss ! Certainly, miss ! " And 
 showed all that was connected with her own speck- 
 less kitchen department. But when May was about 
 to enter the parlour, she interposed. " These is 
 Mrs. Salveson's private happartments, miss. And 
 in 'er absence she don't like them being shown to 
 strangers ! " 
 
 This might have been said by the Queen's maid- 
 of-honour at Windsor ; save, that is, for the slight 
 difference in accent. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon ! " said May easily, and 
 thought no more about the matter. But Mrs. 
 Stanley, mother of Howard, and guardian of the 
 domestic happiness of her absent mistress, muttered 
 between her teeth : " An impudent hussy, that's 
 what she is ; she sha'n't put me down with her airs ! 
 His cousin, indeed ! Well, much all his cousins 
 have ever done for him — aye, and all his other kin 
 put together. There will be trouble come o' this,
 
 336 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 or I'm a Jump-an-see monkey with a curly 
 tail ! " 
 
 And as the Dunham Street housekeeper, mother 
 of Howard, was clearly no such animal, trouble was 
 sure to arrive ! 
 
 And it did, though by no fault of Miss May 
 Heathcote, or, indeed, of anybody else. Circum- 
 stances over which nobody had control ; and after 
 that, again spadeful after spadeful of more circum- 
 stances — these were alone to blame. That is, so far 
 as weak humans (and outsiders at that) can be 
 trusted to apportion praise and blame. 
 
 Miss May Heathcote was a young lady quite 
 accustomed to " run her own show," She had lived 
 much with a grandfather who spoilt her, if that 
 which is plain gold can be spoiled. At any rate he 
 had done his best. At twenty-one she knew that 
 she was perfectly able to take care of herself. So 
 she requisitioned the aid of Howard Stanley, com- 
 manded him to run to the manor to tell her mother 
 where she was, and that she would be back " some 
 time." Her cousin Hubert would see her home, if it 
 happened to be late, 
 
 Howard scudded, catching the tram that ran 
 along the Thorsby Leas to near the old Waterside 
 cottage. He succeeded in delivering his message 
 and getting back before the return trip of the old 
 wheezy car. He entered the cost on his account for 
 " Express " messages, but afterwards crossed it out, 
 and paid it himself, for the sheer pleasure of having 
 done something for " the young lady." And at the 
 week's end his mother, in vain requiring an explana- 
 tion, cuffed him soundly in lieu thereof 
 
 And ignorant scoffers affirm that there is no such 
 thing as silent suffering for love's sake in these 
 sordid days. These know little of one Howard 
 Stanley, and the worm-in-the-bud which preyed on 
 his (more or less) damask cheek. 
 
 They had a little lunch together after the noon
 
 THUNDER IN THE AUi 337 
 
 high-tide of business. Dr. Theophilus Oglethorpe 
 Larkins seemed at first a gloomy young man, \yho 
 spoke but little, save in the exercise of his profession. 
 If he was handsome, thought May, he was only aus- 
 terely so. Hishair was very black, blue-black, indeed, 
 andstiff— like— like — like— yes, M. Henri Rochfort's. 
 
 She giggled at the thought, and put her napkin to 
 her lips. The young man looked up, and Hubert 
 demanded why she laughed. Nothing loath. May 
 told. And as both had studied in Paris, that single 
 name evoked an entire new world. They were 
 chattering like magpies in three seconds, and the 
 austerity had quite vanished from the dark brows of 
 Mr. Oglethorpe Larkins. 
 
 May congratulated herself every moment of that 
 day. She w^as free of that hateful house, of the 
 eternal gardens, where there was nothing to do 
 except to get the stand telescope and look at the 
 ships, no books except dreary poets, and that big 
 fat boy with the smooth round face, like the comic 
 miller in a pantomime, to bore her with everlasting 
 screeds of them. As if she had not had years of 
 cramming such classics at school, with all the notes 
 in small type at the back. '' Aiiff !'' It was good 
 to be at the Dunham Street surgery ! She had 
 learned the names of nearly a hundred things, and 
 helped — yes, actually helped ; done something— 
 and talked, nice good-tasting talk with people who 
 had seen something and been somewhere. 
 
 Then she had met Hubert. He pleased her — yes, 
 he was fine and manly and all that. And he vvas 
 going to take her out to see his wife. Mr. Larkins 
 could easily find her a wheel. He knew a man. Of 
 course! Nothing easier. Hubert's wife would be 
 so pleased. This was something like life. Till she 
 had seen Edith — yes, she would call her Edith— she 
 could only know half of the only real-life idyll 
 she had ever come across. 
 
 22
 
 338 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 At Green Lane Edith had had a long and unusually 
 trying day. She had not slept overwell the night 
 before. Baby had been uneasy. " Oh, nothing very 
 much," her husband had said, with a curtness quite 
 unusual with him. But there was, Edith was sure, 
 a strange moist pinkness about his skin that alarmed 
 her. His mouth watered too at the corners. He 
 must be feverish ! Hubert had in vain asserted 
 that such things were common to all infants, and 
 that Master Edward Charles had looked just the 
 same yesterday and the day before. Edith had 
 never found him so unsympathetic. Baby was 
 feverish, she was sure — perhaps inflammation. Oh, 
 Hubert ! 
 
 So on the eve of departure, Hubert paused to 
 take the child's temperature (which was a little 
 below normal), and added a little lime water to his 
 feeding-bottle, for his wife's sake — kissed her, and 
 so took his way surgerywards. 
 
 Then it turned out a hot day, and Waddleham 
 was more than usually trying. She took him 
 walking in the heat of the day when he ought to 
 have been reposing, and laid him down to sleep 
 when it was cooler, just when he might have been 
 established in his little bassinette under the fir-trees 
 by the side of his mother. 
 
 Everybody seemed to have more rights over him 
 than his own, ownest mother ! Her little boy, after 
 all ! But Hubert said this, and Mrs. Waddleham 
 said the other thing ; and she was sure, yes, sure, 
 they were going to take him away from her ! That 
 old father who came out in the yellow chaise — even 
 he took Edward Charles up as if he belonged to 
 him. He wanted him, that was evident, to make 
 him dried and cold and cruel like himself. Hubert 
 — even Hubert. But oh, dear, what nonsense she 
 was talking ! Why, Hubert was always, altogether 
 hers, and it was nonsense ! She knew it was 
 nonsense. But oh, she did wish that he would
 
 THUNDER IN THE AIR 339 
 
 come home to her. For somehow things were all 
 at sixes and sevens that day. 
 
 Edith was sooner on the white bridge that after- 
 noon. She kneiv he would come. She never had 
 been so sure of it. But after watching the approach- 
 ing smoke-plume of the 3.5 build up as the train 
 breasted the rise, and then scour away over the 
 moor, no one came out except a railway inspector. 
 He shook hands casually with Robert Cossar, 
 clapped the old man on the back, and then went 
 into the office to look over books and papers, and 
 take the numbers of tickets. 
 
 Edith waited, with the tears rising, till they had 
 disappeared. Then she walked blindly to a hidden 
 corner, just beyond the bridge, and cried, and cried. 
 She had been so sure he would come. Silly, of 
 course, but she was. 
 
 Presently she rose and went to look for baby. 
 He was all she had nozv ! And, even so, she was 
 not sure but after all he preferred Waddleham. 
 Baby was in the distance, his " pram " flanked 
 by the massive figure of Waddleham who held 
 a green umbrella over them both. Up in the 
 station a nasty shunting train noisily detached 
 empty coal waggons for the Long Loan Colliery 
 sidnig. It did this in a thoughtless, aggravating 
 manner. 
 
 Edith was not herself at all. Even her accounts 
 and bank-book brought her none of the usual con- 
 solation. She went and sat in the little garden and 
 tried to read " Alton Locke," because she had heard 
 Dr. Larkins praise it to her husband. She did not 
 understand ; perhaps because (as she said herself) 
 she was stupid ; perhaps because the bees were 
 humming all about, and Edith was naturally afraid 
 of bees. But chiefly, there is no doubt, because 
 her eyes would keep watching that browny-white 
 slip of road, where the moorland consents to come 
 to a standstill, instead of tumbling over and burying
 
 340 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 the swarming thousands of Thorsby under millions 
 of tons of black peat. 
 
 Hubert would come that way. All that simple 
 soul was wrapped up in Hubert. He was late 
 to-day. Something serious must have hindered 
 him, as he had not telegraphed. She got up and 
 walked to and fro on the embankment, from which 
 she could see better. 
 
 It was hot and there was thunder in the air. The 
 electricity set her nerves a-jangle. She sat down 
 and failed to keep still. She took out the little ten- 
 shilling Waterbury which Hubert had given her, 
 and wondered if her own gold one (still at the East 
 Dene pawnshop) would have told a more agreeable 
 tale. The hours went leaden-footed. 
 
 At last — at long and last, on the far moor brink, 
 Edith saw an object, small and black as the dot of 
 an " i." Her heart leaped within her. All her cares 
 seemed to be over in a moment. Hubert, of course 
 — who else ? 
 
 But presently the only object resolved itself into 
 two, and the second shone white against the dusky 
 ledges of the bog. Presently Edith could make out 
 two riders, and then, not knowing what to think, 
 she went indoors. She hated visitors. Who could 
 it be — and with Hubert ? She wished she had not 
 cried. She wished she had had baby. She looked 
 in the glass. What a white, peaked face ! So plain ! 
 She wondered whatever Hubert saw in her. And 
 the tears lay so immediately under the sky-blue 
 clarity of her eyes, that the fountains of the great 
 deep might be broken up at any moment.
 
 CHAPTER LI 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE MADNESS 
 
 AND this is Edith ! " Hubert came in all out of 
 breath, blushing with speed (the Head of the 
 Games at IfHey College having forced the pace 
 a bit). He went directly up and took his wife's 
 hand proudly. 
 
 (" The first time he ever came home without 
 kissing me ! ") . 
 
 " Edith, this is my cousin, May Heathcote, who 
 has come to see you," he said. " She came to the 
 surgery to-day, and Mrs. Stanley gave us all some 
 
 lunch " 
 
 ("Oh, she did, did she ? ") 
 
 " So that May could ride out and see you. 
 
 She and her mother are staying with my father at 
 the manor." 
 
 (" Ought to have taken her mother with her, 
 then ! ") 
 
 The tall girl came forward, breathing steadily and 
 tranquilly, and put out a largish firm hand, cool 
 and strong like a man's. 
 
 " Oh, 1 did so want to come," she said. " I had 
 heard so much about you, you know, and I think it 
 is just splendid ; all Hubert and you have done — 
 making your own life and all that. And oh, I hope 
 you will like me ! " 
 
 Edith gave her hand, and murmured something 
 
 incoherent, which did not matter, as it was swept 
 
 away in the torrent of May Heathcote's enthusiasm. 
 
 " Yes, that is the kind of life I should like — to 
 
 make it for myself. To live on other people's 
 
 341
 
 342 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 money is not right. I was going to take up some- 
 thing ; either a games-mistress, or teach a "gym.," 
 or paint fans ; I was not sure which. But now I 
 think I should like to be a lady doctor — a specialist, 
 of course. I could not bear general practice." 
 
 Hubert laughed. 
 
 " Our practice is ot the generalest," he said. " Will 
 you take off your hat. Cousin May ? My little girl 
 here has not got very strong yet, and can't go far." 
 
 (" He needn't humiliate me ! ") 
 
 Then Hubert turned to his wife and patted her 
 on a secretly rebellious shoulder. Stupid man ; he 
 did not feel the nerves quivering underneath, nor 
 know of any reason why they should. 
 
 "And how has the Spoilt One got through this 
 day ? Thought it was a late night, eh, when I 
 didn't turn up by the three-thirty ? Cried, eh?" 
 
 (" Oh, how could he ? And that pet name of their 
 own ! It was a profanation ! ") 
 
 May took off her hat negligently, tossed her head 
 to throw the loose coils into place, laid her hat on 
 Hubert's papers upon the little bureau which Edith 
 was so proud of. 
 
 Edith, striving hard to recover herself for Hubert's 
 sake, beseeching her own heart not to be foolish, 
 tried to speak some kind words to the stranger. 
 But off-hand May, interested in an electric battery, 
 with attachments and pools of mercury, answered 
 cavalierly, as was her fashion with another of her 
 schoolmates, who in turn would have retorted as 
 brusquely. 
 
 But Edith, cultivating prejudice like a precious 
 plant, heard only rudeness in the tone of public- 
 school-girlism, and froze as only the loving and 
 tender can freeze. 
 
 Hubert went out to find the station-master's niece 
 with a view to tea. 
 
 "You play, don't you?" said May; "somebody 
 told me you did."
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE MADNESS 343 
 
 " I used to," Edith answered defiantly ; " but we 
 sold our piano to help pay for the surgery." 
 
 "Did you? How splendid of you!" said May, 
 meaning what she said. But Edith did not catch 
 the accent of sincerity. She thought she was being 
 laughed at. This carried her yet farther. 
 
 " Yes, and we pawned our watches — at least, I did 
 mine. Hubert's had to be kept for his work " 
 
 " I know, feeling people's pulses. Doctor Larkins 
 let me count one to-day — a boy's. But he did not 
 think it could have been right. I made it too 
 many ! " 
 
 (" Insolence ! " muttered Edith ; but whether she 
 referred to Larkins or Miss Heathcote it would be 
 difficult to decipher.) 
 
 " I think a doctor's life is a splendid one," said 
 May. " One is doing good right from the start." 
 
 "Yes," said Edith, "it is easy enough for those 
 who have friends and money; but it is very hard 
 without." 
 
 " I suppose some wise people would say that 
 young doctors ought not to marry so young," said 
 May thoughtfully. She had recovered her hat, and 
 now sat twirling it about on her fore-finger. 
 
 The words lighted the train. Edith went off with 
 a flash. 
 
 " Well, I did not ask him to marry me," she cried. 
 " I kept him away as much as I could. But oh, 1 
 know all his people hate me, all of them ! All of 
 them think 1 am not fit for him, not good enough 
 for him ! They wish 1 was dead — you wish I was 
 dead!" 
 
 She had risen to her feet, wringing her hands in 
 distress. The window was small and difficult to 
 open, or she would have escaped that way. 
 Hubert's back could be seen through the kitchen 
 door. He was in parley with Lizzie Cossar for 
 immediate tea. But he had not heard, and he came 
 back smiling complacently. " Thank yOu, Lizzie,"
 
 344 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 he was saying over his shoulder, "just when you 
 are ready." 
 
 He entered and stood appalled. 
 
 His wife was on her feet, pale and passionate, 
 repeating over and over that she knew something. 
 That her people were not like his, that if it were 
 not for baby she wished she were dead ! 
 
 But the off-hand May had not ruled, with a rod 
 of iron and sugar-candy, over three hundred school- 
 girls for nothing. She knew hysteria when she 
 saw it. She instantly took command, and laid 
 Edith down on the sofa. She was only fainting. 
 The silver cord did not snap, but it had twanged 
 warningly. 
 
 '* I don't think your wife is as strong as you think 
 she is," she said. " I have seen girls like that at 
 school among the swotters — hard workers, I mean. 
 Something has taken it out of her. But now I will 
 leave her to you. Give her my love, and tell her 
 it's all nonsense. We are all ready to love her. 
 I'm sure I love her already more than the whole 
 pack of my relatives. She sent her watch to be 
 pawned, and sold the piano for your sake. That's 
 what I call the right sort." 
 
 It is a pity that Edith did not hear this eulogium. 
 It did not have the same effect, nor even sound the 
 same, when Hubert shamefacedly repeated it. 
 
 May Heathcote scouted the idea of being escorted 
 to the manor. 
 
 " I've ridden ten times that distance many a time ; 
 and besides, perhaps " 
 
 But she did not condescend upon the " perhaps." 
 
 It may, however, have had to do with the fact that 
 Dr. Oglethorpe Larkins, riding out to ask his chief 
 an important question, met the young lady at the 
 bottom of the first descent by Hutchin's egg-farm, 
 and went home with the question still unanswered. 
 
 Edith came to herself, with a chill sensation of 
 infinite misery. The foundations of her world
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE MADNESS 345 
 
 seemed to have melted away. Hubert was there, 
 truly. But he said little ; made her take a draught, 
 which he had ready mixed by the side of her bed. 
 She was too proud to ask if he had ridden back with 
 his cousin to the Manor House. Of course he must. 
 Or perhaps he was only giving her this draught, so 
 as to send her to sleep. Then he would go. Never- 
 theless she took it, and hoped that she might never 
 wake. This was the beginning of the madness of 
 Edith.
 
 CHAPTER Lll 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF HISTORICAL STUDY 
 
 BUT not the end. The end was not yet. 
 On the morrow came Dr. Horace Growling 
 and sat by Edith's couch awhile. He had his 
 carriage, and had driven round by the south (Dun- 
 ham Massey way and Clinton), taking Green Lane 
 on the return trip. Edith was very pale, and the 
 keen eyes of the old family doctor, who had had 
 time during his long life to study his cases, detected 
 the evidences of mental trouble. 
 
 "What is it?" he said bluntly. "Something is 
 troubling you." 
 
 The girl lay a space, slowly tearing a leaf to 
 pieces and scattering the fragments on the light 
 wind that breathed up from the heated seaboard 
 and blew in puffs athwart the cooler tableland of 
 Green Lane. Edith could not make up her mind to 
 answer. It seemed as if she were preferring a 
 charge against her husband, when she well knew 
 that it was no fault of his. 
 
 " Tell me. I am an old man," said Dr. Horace 
 Growling. " I have listened to many secrets. I 
 have never told any." 
 
 "It is no secret," said Edith, her lips faltering; 
 " only I am a goose, I suppose ! " 
 
 " 'Tis comm.on to the race ! " said Dr. Growling, 
 smiling. 
 
 " And I can't help thinking, sometimes, that— 
 that I am a hindrance to Hubert, a clog on him. 
 He might have found some one who would have 
 helped him more, without angering his family." 
 
 346
 
 IMPORTANCE OF HISTORICAL STUDY 347 
 
 Edith was eager now to speak ; but Dr. Growling 
 laid his big, soft, much-experienced hand on her 
 little thin one, blanched to the colour of milk, with 
 the veins showing blue and faint lilac. 
 
 " I have known the Salvesons for fifty years — aye, 
 more," he said; "sons, father, and grandfathers, 
 with all their collaterals in their generations ; and 
 I pledge you my professional word of honour, 
 Mrs. Salveson, that never one of them was a man 
 like your husband, Hubert. And, what is more, it 
 was you, and you alone, who made him a man ! " 
 
 Edith smiled wanly. 
 
 " You are kind — very kind," she said, looking at 
 him. Then suddenly, " Did you ever know the 
 Heathcotes ? " 
 
 " The Heathcotes ? Why, of course " 
 
 And just at that moment the Waddleham appeared 
 in the doorway. 
 
 "A lady to see you, Mrs. Salveson," she said; 
 and lo ! smiling in the doorway, in piquant hat and 
 feather, short riding skirt, and tan cycling gloves, 
 appeared Miss May Heathcote. 
 
 The doctor shook hands with her, asked for her 
 father, hoped soon to have the pleasure of seeing 
 her mother, hoped that she would come to see him 
 at Plympton, and, making an excuse, went out to 
 look after his horses. 
 
 And, as he went, he whistled a long, low whistle — 
 very mellow. 
 
 " Master Hubert must look out. The little one is 
 jealous ! " 
 
 Then, after permitting some time to elapse, he 
 went back. May was chattering assiduously, and 
 Edith making short replies. He could see her 
 observing every turn of the girl's head, every move- 
 ment of her hands. 
 
 The name of Sir Thomas More dropped carelessly 
 from the lips of the IfQeyite Captain of the Games. 
 She was, it appeared, interested m the men who had
 
 348 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 opposed the English Reformation, and their reasons 
 for so doing. She had been reading Froude. 
 
 " Did you ever read him, Mrs. Salveson ? " she 
 said. " Oh, I think really that I must call you 
 Edith; but did you? Oh, you should. He is 
 splendid. You nearly always disagree with him, 
 and pedantic people say he is not accurate. But he 
 makes you think. He stirs you up, and makes you 
 so angry, that you want to find out all about it for 
 yourself. So I've been reading Sir Thomas More's 
 works— an old black-letter book they have got at 
 the manor. I mean to steal it. But don't tell. They 
 will never find out. Uncle only cares about ' Keith 
 on Prophecy ' and Tim about poetry. So they'll 
 never miss it." 
 
 The old gentleman's eyes twinkled. He looked 
 at Miss May Heathcote more kindly, and said : " I 
 read Sir Thomas More sometimes too. What do 
 you think of him ?" 
 
 May's face lighted up with the joy of finding a 
 hopeful antagonist. 
 
 " You are not going to laugh, are you ? " she cried. 
 " Father always laughs, and calls me a rebel ; says 
 I am specially anathematised in the prayer-book, and 
 that I should sit down during the Athanasian Creed, 
 as people do when their health is being drunk. 
 No ? Well then, it may be high treason, but I think 
 Sir Thomas More was the best man who ever lived; 
 so kindly, so loving, so wise, so witty." 
 
 The doctor shook his head, but tolerantly and 
 kindly. 
 
 " You Heathcotes are breaking out in fresh 
 places," he said. " I never knew one of you who 
 cared about anything but foxhunting and pheasants. 
 Where did they teach you such things ?" 
 
 " Oh, I got started with going in for honours in 
 history last year at Iffley. Naturally, I nearly 
 muffed it, because there were so many things I 
 wanted to know the reason of, and the things that
 
 IMPORTANCE OF HISTORICAL STUDY 349 
 
 win marks were never the things I was interested 
 in. But, about More?" 
 
 "A hard man, for all his merriment," decided the 
 doctor gravely. " How about the burnings, and 
 beatings, and prisonings ? " Dr. Growling watched 
 the girl's face. 
 
 " Oh, you have been reading Froude and Foxe — 
 / know ! " she cried. " I did too ; but that was of 
 the time. They all did it." 
 
 " The old argument — two blacks ! " rapped out 
 the doctor. *' What do you say, Mrs. Salveson ? " 
 
 Edith was looking very strange. This girl seemed 
 to take all her friends from her one by one. 
 
 " I don't know anything about these things," she 
 said ; " I have never had time to read. I had the 
 washing and housework to do before, and since I 
 was married there has been the business to 
 build up." 
 
 She was determined that she would sail under no 
 false colours. May put out her hand and patted 
 Edith's gently. 
 
 (" Oh, the snake in the grass !") 
 
 " Indeed, you have done far more and far better 
 than any girl I ever heard of," she said ; " but I wish 
 you would read some history. You have no idea 
 how interesting it is. You were at the East Dene 
 High School, weren't you ? You must have had 
 some there. But perhaps you did not care for it, 
 like me with my arithmetic. I made three out of 
 a possible hundred at the exam. ! But anyway, won't 
 you let me send you some of the books ? " 
 
 "No, thank you," said Edith; "thank you very 
 much. I have lazied too long. I must get back to 
 work soon." 
 
 Then Dr. Growling managed to convey to May 
 Heathcote that it was time to be going. He offered 
 to drive her back to town. That would be a chance 
 to call upon her mother, and to say " How do ?" to 
 the prophet.
 
 350 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " There's my bike ? " suggested the young lady 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " It will go up on the box with John — lean 
 against the splashboard. He will drive carefully." 
 
 " But will your coachman like that ? " 
 
 The old doctor laughed heartily. 
 
 "There spoke the true Heathcote aboriginal 
 stock. You m the country ride in your coachman's 
 carriage at your coachman's pleasure. My servant 
 obeys m}^ orders. John is broke to bicycles, cameras, 
 auto-wheels, everything. Why, he would even 
 permit you to get up beside him." 
 
 " I should like that very well," said Miss Heath- 
 cote, " if I didn't want to have it out with you about 
 Sir Thomas More." 
 
 She kissed Edith, tossed baby, and was gone. 
 
 Edith sat down to think. She thought long, and 
 the result was the following letter to the out-and- 
 outer : 
 
 " Dear Father, 
 
 " I am wearying to see you and mother. Will 
 you come and see me on Saturday? And please go 
 immediately to Gilson & Exeter's, the booksellers in 
 the Square, and ask for the best history of England, 
 also the price of a history called Frood's, or some 
 name like that. It has in it about Sir Thomas More 
 and Henry the Eighth, the one who killed his wives. 
 But don't buy that if it is very dear. I should also 
 like a notebook not ruled for cash. Please don't 
 say anything to Hubert, as I want to surprise him. 
 If you get the History of England at once, please 
 send Sue out with it by train. I want it very much. 
 
 " Your loving daughter, 
 
 " Edith Salveson." 
 
 So simple a letter, yet somehow steeped in possible 
 tragedy !
 
 IMPORTANCE OF HISTORICAL STUDY 351 
 
 Then Edith went out and took counsel with the 
 old station-master, with the result that the fateful 
 letter went to Thorsby by the forenoon up-train. 
 It could go as a parcel. Dods the guard would be 
 going straight to the " Hen-and-Chickens," and 
 would give it either to the out-and-outer, or to her 
 mother, at the cottage. No trouble at all. Could 
 she not give Dods a shilling ? 
 
 Bob Cossar scorned it in the name of Dods. 
 
 ** Lassie, ye are yin o' us," he said. " I tell ye 
 there's never a lad on the line, platelayer or driver, 
 guard or shunter, that wadna be prood to serve ye. 
 There will be wigs on the green when they ken that 
 Dods has had the luck. Na, na, nae siller ! Just 
 you stand by the bars yonder and gie Dods a bit 
 wave o' your hand as he gangs by. That will pay 
 him better than coined siller ! " 
 
 By the three o'clock train that same afternoon 
 arrived Sue with a package and a message. For 
 once Edith was excited by something else than the 
 advent of Hubert. She was glad he had not come. 
 Her fingers shook as she undid the brown paper 
 package. 
 
 The letter was from Messrs. Gilson & Exeter, 
 St. Anne's Square, informing Mrs. Hubert Salveson 
 that they sent three English histories for selection, 
 each good in its own way. She would be able to 
 make a selection. They were severally Green's, 
 Gardiner's, and Meiklejohn's. Froude's " History of 
 England," referring to Reformation and post-Refor- 
 mation times, was an expensive work in twelve 
 volumes. But they happened at that moment to 
 have a half-bound secondhand copy of the reprint, 
 which they could let Mrs. Salveson have for 
 £2 125. 6d. cash. And they were, dear madam, etc., 
 etc. 
 
 Edith sat stunned. All that money for a book ! 
 Nearly five weeks' rent of Old Quay Cottage! It 
 was wicked. What could people know of life who
 
 352 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 spent their money so ? And, after all, perhaps it 
 would be of no use. 
 
 Then she looked through the three books. 
 Meiklejohn's. Oh, she could understand that — so 
 clear, simple. Yes, that would help. It said, " For 
 Advanced Students." Perhaps, after all, that girl 
 did not know an}^ more than just that. She turned 
 up about More. Yes, she must certainly have that. 
 
 Gardiner. Oh, that looked more difficult. But 
 what a lot was in it. Perhaps, after all, these would 
 tell her all there was to know, and she could do 
 without Froude. She dipped into John Richard 
 Green, and at once tasted another stream. 
 
 " That was the way they talked. Oh, I must keep 
 them all ! " And she sought her purse with a feeling 
 of utter shame and disgrace that she was robbing 
 her husband. But a sudden thought ran like hot 
 molten metal through her veins. She had still 
 nearly eleven pounds of her own original sixty. 
 She could have the second-hand Froude after all. 
 And then Hubert would like to talk with her, just 
 as well as he liked to talk with that other girl ! 
 
 " Mrs. Salveson, will you take baby ?" 
 
 "In a moment, Mrs. Waddleham ! " cried Edith. 
 " I have a letter to write for Sue to take back by 
 the next train." 
 
 And she sat down and wrote feverishly. The 
 parcel was to be put on the six train for Green Lane 
 that night, '''' ivithout faiV — the last words under- 
 scored. Sue, disappointed and indignant at a spoilt 
 holiday, was packed back to Gilson & Exeter's. 
 
 And Edith, taking baby on one arm and all 
 trembling with eagerness, began to transcribe into 
 the notebook the names and dates of the Heptarchy 
 kings.
 
 CHAPTER LIII 
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE — AND OTHERS 
 
 FOR some days Edith worked feverishly, the 
 books under her pillow in bed, by her hand 
 on the sofa. She was strange and strained with 
 her husband when he came home, sent him out 
 with baby on the plea that he saw so little of his 
 own child. It would grow up not to love him, 
 and it might be all he would have ! Hubert thought 
 his wife a little feverish, but put it down to the heat, 
 and added something tasteless to the soda-water 
 and milk which she drank. 
 
 He went away, however, and staid out a full hour, 
 listening to the recital of the late Mr. Waddleham's 
 marital faults and failings. He heard also of his 
 martial prowess — how there was not a man in the 
 boiler sheds, no, nor in the yard, that could stand 
 up to him, 'cept maybe the out-and-outer, and he 
 only because, for all his lack of science, no matter 
 how you hit him, it don't hurt him, no more than 
 a blessed anvil ! 
 
 Mrs. Waddleham also confided to Hubert that 
 marriage was a dreadful risk. And for this reason. 
 Because the man never knew the girl he was 
 marrying till after — oh, years and years ! Likewise 
 the woman the man ; though that did not take quite 
 so long, men being wicked but transparent 
 creatures. To this she added various maxims, 
 applicable to special cases, which would be out of 
 place anywhere save in a highly scientific treatise. 
 
 Obedient to Edith's wish Hubert stayed out as 
 long as he could, and then re-entered, aching to 
 
 353 23
 
 354 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 see the little wife from whom he had been parted 
 the better part of a day. She received him with a 
 glow of excitement on her lips, in her eyes, about 
 her cheeks. She was sitting or rather reclining on 
 the sofa by the window, and the early volumes of 
 Froude's history made a hump under the shawl. 
 She rested her elbow upon them. Meiklejohn was 
 under her pillow. Green on the window-sill. 
 
 " What do you think of Sir Thomas More ?" she 
 began, eagerly opening fire as soon as he came 
 within range. 
 
 " Sir Thomas who ? " said Hubert, mystified. 
 He thought at first she was referring to one of 
 the titled doctors, his senior colleagues, whom she 
 might wish to consult. 
 
 " Sir Thomas More ! " she repeated with emphasis, 
 sure that was the way May and Dr. Grovv^ling had 
 pronounced the name, but colouring deeply all the 
 same. 
 
 " Darling," said Hubert, taking her hand, " I see 
 what it is ; you have got it in your head that 
 you are worse than you are. A little care, perfect 
 quiet, this lovely high air, sea and mountain to- 
 gether, and Dr. Growling and I will set you on your 
 feet again ! No matter about the old Sir Some- 
 thing Somebodies ! They know no more than we 
 do ; they only charge more ! " 
 
 Edith rose slowly from her reclining position to 
 her elbow, and searched his face. 
 
 " You are laughing at me," she said sadly, 
 " laughing at me. And it is not kind of you, 
 Hubert, just because I am ignorant! " 
 
 " You are the wisest little woman in the world ! " 
 said the enamoured Hubert, " and the prettiest ! " 
 
 He took her in his arms, but she repulsed him — 
 not but what she was absolutely aching for affec- 
 tion — only lest by chance he should uncover Froude 
 and Gardiner. The other two were comparatively 
 safe.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE— AND OTHERS 355 
 
 "No, no; don't baby me," she said, "I won't be 
 babified ! " 
 
 " Why, what's the matter with you now, little 
 one?" said Hubert, much astonished. 
 
 " Nothing is the matter with me," snapped Edith, 
 " anybody would be the same. You don't love me 
 any more — because I am . . . so . . . ignorant . . . 
 of history . . . ! " 
 
 " Of history ! ! ! " gasped Hubert, absolutely at 
 his wits' end. 
 
 " And I couldn't help it," Edith sobbed on, with- 
 out taking any notice; "I was never put into 
 the history class at school. They made me do ... " 
 (sob) " harmony and . . . freehand drawing in- 
 stead ! " 
 
 " But, Edith, I " 
 
 " Oh, pray don't think it necessary to excuse 
 yourself!" she cried; "I knoiv I am an ignorant 
 little beast — yes, beast — you won't love me any 
 more now, when — now, when" (she swallowed 
 
 down something here) " Why, even now, you 
 
 won't talk to me about Sir Thomas More ! " 
 
 "But I don't know who he was!" said Hubert. 
 " Tell me ! I thought he was a London doctor or 
 something." 
 
 " Oh, Hubert, I see it in your eye ; you are 
 mocking me. You were at school — at college 1 
 And I'm sure that — that — your cousin has been 
 
 talking to you all day about Sir Thomas More " 
 
 Hubert looked marks of interrogation larger than 
 would go on a twelve-sheet poster. 
 
 " My cousin — May .Heathcote, do you mean ? 
 Why, I suppose she is gallivanting with the brave 
 Tim, like an obedient daughter. I haven't seen 
 her to-day ! " 
 
 Edith's face cleared a little, but the clouds closed 
 immediately with the thought of, ''How cunning 
 of her. Tim, indeed ! Who would look at Tim 
 when "
 
 356 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Aloud she returned to the subject of Sir Thomas 
 More, 
 
 "What do you think of his persecution of the 
 Protestants ? " 
 
 A kind of rushhght was playing upon Hubert's 
 darkened mind this time. He managed to make 
 out something of his wife's meaning. 
 
 "Oh, you mean the old fellow in Henry VIII. 's 
 time, don't you ? Let's see. He was a friend of 
 Luther's, wasn't he ? Or John Knox's ? " 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Edith, searching his eyes, " of 
 Erasmus ! " 
 
 " Ah, of Erasmus. Well, what was he up to ; 
 wrote essays and took bribes, didn't he ? " 
 
 " He — he ! Oh, Hubert, now I know you are 
 making fun of me. That was Lord , Bacon. He 
 was too noble, and— he put — his beard out of the 
 way when they beheaded him, saying that ... it 
 . . . had" (sob— sob— sob) "never committed treason ! 
 But oh, I forget the date ! " 
 
 Hubert took his wife in his arms. 
 
 "Well, you know a jolly sight more than I do," 
 he laughed. " I never did know much about these 
 things. You see, my father took me pretty early 
 from school to send me to Edinburgh, and after 
 that I had ' exams.,' and hospitals, and more * exams.,' 
 mostly all the time. And if I ever did know any- 
 thing about old More and fellows of that sort I've 
 forgotten it long ago. But I'd love to hear you 
 tell me ! " 
 
 " Would you, indeed ? " A monentary joy gleamed 
 on the girl's pale face ; but then again she thought he 
 was only saying this to comfort her. She could 
 believe almost anything, but that there was some- 
 thing her Hubert did not know. 
 
 " Swear it — no, don't swear," she checked herself; 
 ** that brings bad luck. But say it, as you love me ! " 
 
 She stopped again. 
 
 " No, as you love baby ! "
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE— AND OTHERS 357 
 
 "As I love you and baby!" vouched Hubert 
 promptly. 
 
 " No, just baby ! " said Edith, insistent. 
 
 " Well, then, as I love baby ; you knozv I love 
 you ! " 
 
 Edith sighed a long sigh, and proceeded to draw 
 the ready cork of all she had been able to glean in 
 these feverish hours concerning the great, the wise, 
 the honourable, the catholic, the witty Sir Thomas 
 More, Lord High Chancellor of England. 
 
 Hubert listened, his hand in Edith's and his 
 finger occasionally on her pulse. He repressed his 
 yawns with care, but all the same Edith noted his 
 inattention. " It is because I do not tell it interest- 
 ingly enough," she thought. And she brought 
 the story abruptly to an end. " So they executed 
 him ! " 
 
 " Thank you ever so much, Ede dear," said 
 Hubert, pulling her ear. " I declare I never was so 
 wise before. 1 wish I had been court physician to 
 King Henry, that's all. And now, little girl, you take 
 this little draught, and get off to bye-bye like a good 
 baby's good mother ! " 
 
 But that night Edith, determined to find all for the 
 worst, and to imagine what she could not find, cried 
 herself silently to sleep, to the accompaniment of 
 Hubert's steady breathing. 
 
 " He wouldn't do that if he really cared ! " she said, 
 as she sat up and listened. " Oh, if only I had been 
 educated like — like that ! Oh ! — oh-h ! — oh-h-h ! — why 
 did I ever let him marry me ? He ought to have 
 married " (sob, sob), " yes, and if it were not for me 
 he would — oh, I'm sure he would. I should have 
 been so happy then — I should — ^I should — I know I 
 should!" 
 
 And after exhausting hersell in this agony of 
 possible happiness, she slept from very exhaustion.
 
 CHAPTER LIV 
 
 " MARRIED ABOVE HER " 
 
 BUT, instead of putting an end to Edith's plan 
 of self-education up to the standard of Miss 
 May Heathcote, Hubert's kind apparent ignorance 
 (which she still held suspect) only stimulated her. 
 Hubert came home at three or six, according to 
 occasion, artlessly recording some surprising inrush 
 of his impulsive young lady cousin, sometimes with 
 a very bored Tim, but more often alone. 
 
 Hubert w^as under the impression that it was a 
 good joke, and he retailed and embroidered every 
 incident he could remember in the hope of in- 
 teresting Edith and diverting her from her melan- 
 choly. In this he succeeded. She listened with 
 dilated eyes, and found that of a certainty his mind 
 was given up to his cousin May. And that he only 
 talked to her because he had to, and (yes, perhaps a 
 little) because he was sorry for her. 
 
 A phrase gleaned somewhere and altered, floated 
 up in her mind — most unfortunate wreckage. 
 
 " Married above her," it said ; " The girl who 
 married above her ! " 
 
 And Edith would lie for hours gazing at the 
 ceiling with the words running like machinery in 
 her head. Sometimes they went at full speed, just 
 like the " fast 'un," which made the cottage tremble 
 every afternoon. It brought no dear memories any 
 more. For now it said, instead of " Ca-ra-ta, Ca-ra-ta, 
 Ca-ra-ta ! " only " Married-a-bove her! Married 
 a-bove her ! Married-a-bove her!" as it went by. 
 
 But the slow, interminable trundling empties were 
 
 358
 
 "MARRIED ABOVE HER" 359 
 
 the worst. And Edith fairly buried her head in the 
 pillow to escape from the drawling condemnation, 
 " Mar-ri-ed-a-bove-her ! Mar-riiii-ed aa-bove-her !! 
 Maaaa-riiiiii-ed a-bove-her. Hoooooop -Chuck - 
 Clack! Wheeze! Mar-ri-ed-a-bove-her!" 
 
 That was what they said, the wicked semaphore 
 arms and the creaky wires of the signal box chuckling 
 an ugly laugh, like mischievous gnomes who knew 
 all about it. 
 
 Her father came to see her, astonished at the 
 expenditure, but wishful to contribute, if only in 
 less costly literature. 
 
 He brought with him ** The Converted Nothing- 
 arian," a work of which he was mortally tired, as it 
 had formed his wife's Sunday reading for his benefit 
 from time out of mind. He had also the following: 
 " Dullow on the Strengths of Timber," " Pinchbeck 
 on Strains," and a " History of Architecture," upon 
 which Edith seized at once, " that girl " having spoken 
 to Dr. Growling about Gothic art in Italy, and the 
 barbarism of the black and white cathedral of Pisa. 
 
 " There, little lass," said the out-and-outer, genially, 
 " what say you to that ? Bought 'em for next to 
 nothing — job lot at a sale along the Cheviot Road. 
 And there's more where they came from ! Sort of 
 inventor chap he was — builder, architect, so forth. 
 They was gom' cheap — dirt-cheap was no name for 
 them. I couldn't bring more to-day, else mother 
 would have spotted me. And I don't suppose as you 
 
 want her to No, I thought not. Of course, it's 
 
 an expense ; but better than those fellows at Gilson 
 & Exeter's, where they charge you full price for 
 each book. Buy 'em in job lots, I say — wholesale. 
 That's the ticket, eh, little girl ?" 
 
 He sat with his arm about the sofa pillow, cramping 
 his big person on a stool, and showing her such rude 
 tenderness as he knew how. Edith, angry with her- 
 self, but possessed with the sole idea — or disease 
 rather — remarked for the hrst time how different his
 
 36o PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 manner was from that of Dr.' Growling or her 
 father-in-law. 
 
 "Oh, Edith Dillingham," cried her heart, "you 
 wicked, ungrateful girl. He has asked for a whole 
 day off that he may come and bear you company. 
 He brought you up. Think of all the kindness, the 
 love, the help of years, of the time when the house- 
 hold lived on tinned food and soups for half-a-year 
 that they might save enough money to send you to 
 the East Dene High School. For shame ! Oh, for 
 shame ! " 
 
 And the out-and-outer continued clumsily to stroke 
 his daughter's hair, and read her extracts out of 
 Lloyd's^ which he had substituted for Iconoclast, when 
 the door opened, and with the usual breezy waft 
 May Heathcote came in, glowing from her ride, 
 Master Edward Charles in her arms. The babe lay 
 still, doubtless feeling the security and pleased with 
 the swift movement. 
 
 The out-and-outer rose hugely to his feet, almost 
 touching the low cottage ceiling with his head. 
 May ran to the sofa-side, and stooping kissed Edith, 
 unresisting. Then she placed the babe in his 
 mother's arms, where he instantly bent himself into 
 a hoop and showed symptoms of discontent. 
 
 May stood erect and held out her hand. 
 
 " Your father ? " she said, smiling. " I am so 
 glad to meet you. I have heard all about you. 
 Mr. Larkins says you are the strongest man in the 
 yard. I like strong men." 
 
 She said this quite frankly, yet somehow as if it 
 were the diploma of the Legion of Honour. Edith 
 resented the tone. Was it not enough that she 
 should take her husband ? Was there to be no 
 end ? 
 
 " Thank 'ee, miss," said the out-and-outer, shaking 
 hands heartily. " I'm sure I don't know how Doc. 
 Larkins knows. Except that I aways stop fightin' 
 where I am ! "
 
 "MARRIED ABOVE HER" 361 
 
 " Only a strong man, a very strong man can do 
 that! " said May admiringly. 
 
 ('* The minx ! And my father ! ") 
 
 " Oh, no ; it's persuasion that does it, in general," 
 said the out-and-outer modestly. Yet while May 
 Heathcote cooed to Master Baby, he took the 
 opportunity of passing his fingers through his well- 
 shaped grey beard and of bringing it to a proper 
 point. He also pulled up his shirt-collar, and 
 wished that he had thought of cuffs. 
 
 As soon as May ceased her " Does he, then ? " 
 and " Diddems, now"-ing to the babe, Edith re- 
 moved Master Edward Charles to the farther side 
 of the bed. But it chanced, by some unearned 
 increment of ill-fortune, that her son was in a mood 
 which, in another, would be called " fractious." In 
 his dim, vague, sleep-and-bottle-bounded mind, 
 Master Edward Charles resented these unmeaning 
 flittings. To be out in the open air, to be jumped 
 up and down, to be put to sleep ; these were in the 
 order of things. But to be used as a plaything, 
 a bundle of clothes to be handed here and put down 
 there, displeased the young gentleman. Accord- 
 ingly, he twisted himself into knots and howled. 
 
 He contorted his visage, clenched a pair of small 
 mottled fists, and said loudly that all was vanity 
 under the sun. 
 
 May leaned over, and took him up as easily as 
 she would have done a dumb-bell. And lo ! Edward 
 Charles gurgled on his way to the ceiling. Edward 
 Charles smiled as he came down. The fashion of 
 his countenance changed, and the world became no 
 longer vain. 
 
 Edith raised herself on her elbow and called for 
 Waddleham. 
 
 *' Take baby out ! " she said crisply. 
 
 Then she leaned back, adding tragically in her 
 heart : " Even my son does not love me ! " 
 
 After this Edith took little part in the conversation.
 
 362 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 Her father instructed May Heathcote on the manage- 
 ment of men, and the duties of "bank manager," 
 meaning, thereby, not the man who keeps an eye 
 on overdrafts, but a stormier and less poHshed 
 gentleman, who is responsible for good order 
 among shouting lorrymen and stamping dray- 
 horses. 
 
 May listened intently, an elbow on either knee, 
 her head bent far forward to catch every word, and 
 an intelligent chin poised on both palms. She 
 nodded occasionally at telling parts. 
 
 Edith, who could not understand that everybody 
 had not known all that from their youth up, lay 
 still, a little pulse in her throat checking off the 
 wiles of womankind and the foolishness of men. 
 
 " I should like to do that!" said May Heathcote; 
 " that is a man's work ; almost as good as being 
 a doctor, which is the best of all ! " 
 
 She smiled at Edith, thinking that she would be 
 pleased. Edith lay with closed eyes. 
 
 I* We are tiring her, I fear, with our chatter," 
 said Miss Heathcote, rising; "perhaps I have stayed 
 too long, and made you talk so much. She had 
 better sleep. I do hope that I have not done her 
 harm. See, we will leave her alone. If you like, I 
 will walk part of the way with you. I have to get 
 back to the manor for lunch to-day, worse luck ! " 
 
 The out-and-outer rose. 
 
 " Certainly, miss," he said, " I shall be proud." 
 
 And he thought to himself what nice friends his 
 daughter had. Ah, that was what it was to marry 
 into a good family. Perhaps after all, ' Reynold's ' 
 Iconoclast, and these people were wrong. 
 Certainly, he had seldom met a nicer or more 
 affable young lady. She seemed to pick up every- 
 thing almost before you said it. 
 
 They rose to go out. Edith was still apparently 
 asleep. They moved softly, so as not to awake 
 her.
 
 'MARRIED ABOVE HER" 363 
 
 " Such a pity," whispered Miss Heathcote, " that 
 your daughter is so dehcate ! But Hubert says — 
 htisssh ! Oh, 1 forgot, 1 brought something she will 
 like." 
 
 And she tripped off to her cycle, from the handle 
 of which dangled a little wicker basket. Here were 
 strawberries and peaches. May tiptoed to the 
 cupboard and secured a provision of powdered 
 sugar, a spoon, and a plate. Then she daintily 
 arranged these, and set the strawberries in the best 
 light on some green leaves under the admiring eyes 
 of the out-and-outer. 
 
 " There, that will do," she said, smiling at him ; 
 " that will be nice for her when she wakes. It will 
 be a surprise." 
 
 " Aye, miss," agreed the happy out-and-outer, " it 
 will be a surprise." 
 
 " I wish I had some cream," said May; " but one 
 can't get that here. And besides, perhaps she likes 
 them plain best. I do. There is plenty of juice ; I 
 chose them myself." 
 
 " I am sure she will," said the out-and-outer 
 confidently. 
 
 He would have been less confident as to the 
 enjoyment, if he had seen Edith ten minutes after 
 they had silently withdrawn, the out-and-outer 
 clumsily tripping over the mat, and being reproved 
 by having Miss May's finger shaken laughingly at 
 him. 
 
 (" The adder ! ") 
 
 Mrs. Hubert Salveson sat up, listened, rose, 
 glided into the little back room on whose window- 
 sill, on winter nights, she used to set the lamp for 
 Hubert. The view gave upon the road by which — 
 that — that — that would take. There she was, and 
 Edith's father, as thick as thieves — aye, thieves, a 
 good word ! She stole every one from her. 
 
 ("Ah, foul ! foul ! ") 
 
 Then Edith's eyes fell on the dainty service of
 
 364 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 fruit. She went to the little table at the sofa- 
 edge, and seizing the basket she threw it, with all 
 its contents of pretty peaches and juicy strawberries, 
 into the fire of Long Loan coal, which even in 
 summer was sometimes necessary to keep an equable 
 heat in the chamber. She cleared the plate. She 
 threw in also the sugar Jier fingers had touched. It 
 blazed up. She was only kept from adding the 
 plate, spoon, and crystal sugar-bowl, by the 
 remembrance that these did not belong to her. 
 Then Edith went, washed her hands, and lay down, 
 relieved and somewhat happier. 
 
 When her father re-entered after his escort duty, 
 she was still asleep. And so, bidding Mrs. Waddle- 
 ham say " Good-bye " for him, he went back to 
 Thorsb}^ by the next train.
 
 CHAPTER LV 
 
 THE INEVITABLE, MEDICALLY CONSIDERED 
 
 " T T was bound to come," said Dr. Horace Grow- 
 
 J^ ling philosophically, through an after-dinner 
 haze of cigarettes to his best friend and confidant, 
 Gibson, the Scotch house surgeon at the big East 
 Dene hospital; "bound to come from the first," 
 he repeated ; " though Hubert Salveson's wife is as 
 good and wise a little girl as ever I set eyes on." 
 
 *' Humph ! " said Gibson, with an air of remini- 
 scence, " that's saying a good deal, if you meant all 
 you were in the habit of confiding to me twenty-five 
 years ago." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks !" said Dr. Growling — " 3^oung men's 
 nonsense. You wouldn't like me to tell your wife 
 
 all that you No, I thought not. Well then, about 
 
 Edith Salveson. She is a nice girl — as women say, 
 the sweetest girl ; as we say, the right sort. But 
 she was a working-man's daughter, educated a little, 
 a very little above her class — just enough to put her 
 out of touch with the young fifth-standard fellows 
 who left school at fourteen to enter the boiler-shops. 
 Well, she marries a man of good family, a gentle- 
 man of old line and many relatives. These ' cast 
 him off",' as it is called. But the father is not half 
 bad, the old surgeon-general, only a very king of 
 cranks — mad as the absence of any hatter under 
 the Indian sun could make him. You listening, 
 Gibson ? " 
 
 " Every word," said Gibson, pouring himself out 
 another glass of the doctor's port. " Go on. This is 
 my kind of yarn — human interest, and a pretty girl ! " 
 
 365
 
 366 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " Two ; that's the trouble ! " said Dr. Horace 
 grimly. 
 
 "Always is," said Gibson, sipping; "but look 
 here. You don't mean that — that young Salveson 
 is a sweep ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, nothing of the kind," said Dr. Horace. 
 " The case is purely a mental one— fixed idea, that's 
 all. But he — there ! we are going too fast. I have 
 not come to that. I was only laying down the 
 general philosophy." 
 
 Gibson made no remark. He knew his Growling. 
 
 " Well, so long as Hubert was poor— two pounds 
 a week and find for two ; that's what old Pritchard 
 gave him at the yard — she was a perfect wife. 
 Happy ? No name for it, my boy ! When they 
 moved into their surgery — sixpence-in-the-slot ; a 
 very good idea for the poor. Oh, you needn't laugh ; 
 it is ! I've been there assisting. It works well. 
 Now that was all her idea. All ! She financed it, 
 sold her piano, watch, whatnot, to start the thing ; 
 went on tea and toast all day to give Hubert a good 
 meal when he came home." 
 
 "Well, I'm hanged!" said Gibson, without 
 apparent connection. 
 
 " Yes," said Dr. Horace, a quite unusual warmth 
 coming into his voice. "And see here, Gibson, she 
 learned to dispense as well as any chemist. She 
 did — oh, perfectly irregular, I know ; but all the 
 same, no mistakes ! She kept the books, and had 
 everything running as sweetly as your grandfather's 
 clock. Really, I trace her illness to worry over a 
 bill at three months given to a wholesale firm " 
 
 "And you knew and let that go on ?" 
 
 Dr. Horace Growling thrust forward a bull-dog 
 countenance, with the jaw unusually prognathous. 
 " You know nothing about the little lady, or even 
 about Salveson, if you think you can help them that 
 way. Just you try and see, that's all ! " 
 
 Gibson nodded.
 
 INEVITABLE, MEDICALLY CONSIDERED 367 
 
 " Umm," he said, " I have met the type ; it is rare 
 — rarissmia ! " 
 
 " Right," said the doctor ; " but Nemesis began to 
 hover so soon as she couldn't work all day, and, 
 when the Salveson-Heathcote lot began to get over 
 their megrims — when the father came out, and 
 especially this new cousin (a deuced pretty girl, I 
 tell you, Gibson, whom they have fetched to the 
 manor, all o' purpose for to marry her to that young 
 fool of a Timothy!), then this girl, romantic as a 
 new-fangled school and the circulating library can 
 make her, must needs take a fancy for running in 
 and out of the surgery, out and in of their cottage 
 at Green Lane. She comes to see me even ; wants 
 to be a lady doctor — all that rot. But talks through 
 it all bright as a button, wise as a professor, and 
 (what makes the trouble) easy and pretty as a peach. 
 The little wife, sick, nervous, and alone most of the 
 day, feels herself shelved. Thinks it is because 
 Hubert, who worships the ground she doesn't tread 
 on nearly enough, has found some one with more of 
 a — what is the silly expression ? — of a kindred soul ! 
 That's about how it stands, Gibson. Now, what do 
 you think ? How does it strike you ?" 
 
 '* Care about her baby ? " inquired Gibson, with a 
 lift of his vigilant eye from the wine-lees in his 
 glass, 
 
 "Used to adore it," said the doctor; "but now 
 seems all for learning and giving herself an educa- 
 tion. Wants to be well-read, so that she can 
 converse — like the other girl. Oh, she has her knife 
 in that other girl, I tell 3^ou ! " 
 
 " Rum thing ! " said Gibson. 
 
 "What is?" demanded Dr. Horace. 
 
 "Oh, everybody being so confoundedly innocent, 
 a perfect lamb-nursery, a dovecote, with just one 
 who pecks or butts because the weather is hot ! I 
 should prescribe a low diet and bleeding, though 
 that's out of fashion, I know."
 
 368 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " You wouldn't if you saw her. She's as frail as 
 a frosted blossom. It's quite pathetic. Last time I 
 was there, let me see, she asked me a lot about 
 Cromwell and Henry VIII. " 
 
 " Cromwell was after that old Mormon's time," 
 said Gibson, lighting another cigarette. 
 
 " You Goth ! " said Dr. Horace. " Why, I thought 
 you Scots were well educated. Oliver was not the 
 only one of that name ! " 
 
 " Go on," said Gibson, " I wish I had had the 
 treating of those warts on his old republican nose. / 
 believe they were tubercular ! Lord, what an article 
 that would have made for the British Medical ! " 
 
 " And then she wanted to know about the merits 
 of Froude as an historian, and about Carlyle and the 
 slave trade, and about Governor Eyre, and why the 
 Renaissance manifested itself in Italy and the Refor- 
 mation in Germany ? A deuced deep question that 
 for a girl — eh, Gibson ? " 
 
 " Must have ' howked ' it out of some book," said 
 Gibson. " Why don't you take them all away, and 
 give her something jolly to read, like the Pickwick 
 Papers or ? " 
 
 " Because she's so dreadfully in earnest— looks at 
 you with her lips apart, drinking in every word you 
 say. AH a-tremble too, with the effort to remember 
 — face pale ivory, dry skin, quick pulse " 
 
 " Blue pill, blue pill ! " cried Gibson ; " that's liver 
 and a temperament. Then get young * What's-his- 
 Name?' to take her right away. If they haven't 
 money, dash it ! he's got a colleague and a clever 
 fellow. Can't we arrange something ? A month 
 in Paris would be the making of her. Versailles, 
 St. Germain ?" 
 
 " She would hate the thought," said the old doctor. 
 " Hubert, Larkins, and the detrimental girl— as 
 good a girl as they make on the new model — got 
 talking about their Paris days t'other night, and 
 little madame rose and marched out ! "
 
 INEVITABLE, MEDICALLY CONSIDERED 369 
 
 " Awkward ! " said Gibson. *' I'd like to see her. 
 Well, to-morrow's Sunday " 
 
 " I have an operation early. Besides, my Number 
 Two's off, so I must stick it out all day over there." 
 
 " Well, then, say Monday." 
 
 " Monday be it ! " said Gibson ; and Dr. Horace 
 Growling rang for the evening " tray," the bringing 
 of which introduced less serious and, to the reader 
 of this history, less interesting topics. 
 
 Now the wise word of Dr. Gibson, of the East 
 Dene hospital, was correct. They were all so dan- 
 gerously innocent that the worst might be expected. 
 One ordinarily experienced worldling would have 
 cleared up the mess in five minutes. Dr. Gibson 
 was going to try. 
 
 24
 
 CHAPTER LVI 
 
 " BULLY LITTLE BILLY ! " 
 
 EVENING brought Edith little relief. Hubert 
 came home at 6.30. By this time Edith had 
 read herself dazed in the book called " Bannister's 
 Styles of Architecture." She had gathered several 
 general ideas. Things pointed were Gothic ; things 
 round were Roman. A steeple was, therefore, 
 Gothic; a bridge, Roman. But there were also 
 such things as Saxon and Norman arches which 
 were rounded too, and she found pictures of Roman 
 tombs which were pointed. Then there was Early 
 and Late, and Decorated, and Debased, and Flam- 
 boyant—all made for the vexation of one poor 
 little troubled head, that should have been concerned 
 solely as to when Master Edward Charles Heath- 
 cote was to have his next bottle, and when he ought 
 to be bathed and put to bed. 
 
 Hubert said nothing about his cousin. Indeed, 
 he had not seen her. But Edith thought his very 
 silence suspicious. Indeed, the poor fellow could 
 not go upstairs to change his coat without Edith 
 drawing disadvantageous conclusions therefrom. 
 But when Edith broached the subject of church 
 architecture, to her surprise Hubert betokened a 
 great delight that she knew anything about it. 
 
 " I thought Presbyterians never cared," he said, 
 very short-sightedly. " You would say so if you 
 could see the Edinburgh churches!" 
 
 And he went up to his box of note-books, sections, 
 drawings, and brought down a thick double fold of 
 brown paper filled with photographs. 
 
 370
 
 "BULLY LITTLE BILLY!" 37J 
 
 "I took these myself in Normandy some years 
 ago, after getting through my ' second professional," 
 he said. " I was used up, and so I set off with 
 thirty pounds and a half-plate camera. There are 
 some not bad things among them, if it would not 
 trouble you to look ! " 
 
 "Trouble — no!" cried Edith, the clouds rolling 
 back for the moment. And they were just settling 
 down to a pleasant talk, in which, for a little, at 
 least, Edith would have forgotten Miss May Heath- 
 cote, when the chief of the little evil pixies, who 
 are permitted to intromit with human affairs, for 
 some unknown but no doubt wise purpose, so 
 arranged it that Master Will Dillingham, with a 
 jovial rout of holidaying lads and lasses, should 
 come out to visit his sister and wish luck to the 
 new baby. 
 
 The ladies were " quite the lady, far above mere 
 mill-workers," according to Master Will himself. 
 Unfortunately they had started rather late for holi- 
 day-making. Some had hired donkeys from the 
 " giddy-go-round " field ; others had come attached 
 to the tails of the aforesaid donkeys ; a few had 
 cycles and bone-shakers ; one or two active spirits 
 had padded the hoof; but all were equally jovial. 
 
 Hubert, on edge at once at the interruption, folded 
 up his photographs and went upstairs to put them 
 away ; while Edith, with the bottom once more out 
 of her world, could not keep back her tears. 
 
 They were kind, of course — recklessly, roUickingly 
 kind. Some of the merrier slapped Hubert on the 
 back ; and, though he laughed, Edith's jealous eye 
 could see that he did not like it. 
 
 Then there was drink. Baby's health must be 
 toasted. Baby, being present, objected. Mrs. Wad- 
 dleham told Mr. Tony Arch that if he did not mind 
 and behave like a gentleman, she would teach him 
 how in a way that he would remember. 
 
 Miss Tilly Doe, Will Dillingham's culinary friend,
 
 372 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 also warned him to behave, or " she would fetch 'im 
 such-a-one right in a minit ! " Then a youth nick- 
 named " Bully Little Billy" sang a song recounting 
 the not especially delicate doings and misdoings of 
 that same Bully Little Billy, and the whole company 
 joined in the elevating refrain of the chorus : 
 
 Bully Little Billy, from the setting of the sun 
 
 'Ee's enough to knock yer silly ; 
 
 'Ee's no kid-glove Little Willy, 
 
 Bully Little, Billy Little, 
 
 Billy Little, Bully Little, 
 
 Billy-Bully-Billy till the clock strikes one ! 
 
 The riot carried far out over the moor, and up in 
 his ticket-office Bob Cossar listened with a troubled 
 heart. It seemed to cross him like a portent. He 
 had noticed " his little lady" looking anxious these 
 last days, and this would certainly upset her. He 
 wished people from Thorsby would let her alone. 
 She was better so. 
 
 Then Will and his jolly rioters, having proposed 
 and drunk the health of baby in their own liquors — 
 for Hubert had none, save a little in case of sickness 
 — called upon Hubert, as in his character of proud 
 father, to reply. 
 
 Hubert gravely thanked them as austerely as it 
 it had been a funeral occasion, instead of a festival 
 organised in honour of Master Edward Charles 
 Heathcote Salveson, at that moment attached to his 
 feeding-bottle. 
 
 It was nearly nine before the crew mounted their 
 steeds, some of which had first to be chased, sur- 
 rounded, and caught with infinite noise and jest — 
 such new, pointed, witty jests — connected with 
 "thistles" and "your brother," or a recommenda- 
 tion to "go and boil your head!" There was a 
 hurtle of brilliant nicknames: " Turnip -head," 
 " Done-brown-Jane," " Dumpling-chump," and others 
 which need not be set down. 
 
 At last they were off", and Hubert came in. Edith
 
 "BULLY LITTLE BILLY!" 373 
 
 was lying with eyes closed, but she had managed 
 to push the window half-way up, to freshen the 
 room. 
 
 She did not look up as he came in ; but he was 
 glad to see that she was not crying. He thought 
 all this fuss might have been too much for her. He 
 went and patted her gently on the cheek ; but she 
 rather drew away. 
 
 "Tired, little girl?" he said. "You don't want 
 to see any more photographs to-night, eh ? Well, 
 we'll have all to-morrow afternoon. 1 have to go 
 over to East Dene in the morning — such a worry! " 
 
 "To East Dene?" Eyes that had been dull, 
 blazed. 
 
 " Yes," he answered carelessly. " Gibson, my old 
 chief, wired to the surgery for me — an important 
 operation in the forenoon— rather an honour! " 
 
 She did not reply, and he went on : "I shall ride 
 to Spenny Ferry, I think. It's rather longer, but 
 sets you down almost at the hospital door. Then 
 I'll try to be back for lunch ; or, if I am a bit late — 
 you can never tell how these things will turn out — 
 you can keep a plateful hot for me. I shall be all 
 right. Crossing the water will make me ready for 
 cold horse. And, after that, we will have the whole 
 afternoon, you and I ! " 
 
 She repeated in a low tone after him, as a child 
 says his lesson, " You and I ... all the afternoon 
 -yes ! " 
 
 " Now I think you should go to bed, Edith," he 
 said gently, " the day has been a little too much 
 for you. I have some letters to write. Oh, and 1 
 forgot, there is good news, or what will likely be 
 good news, in Manson's hands. The Dock Board 
 has amalgamated the Ferry Company, and Manson 
 says that we may get a hundred thousand at least 
 for our property and rights if the thing is properly 
 worked." 
 
 Edith sat up suddenly.
 
 374 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " A hundred thousand pounds ? Then we shall 
 be rich ! You won't want the surgery any more ! " 
 
 " No," said Hubert, smiling, "not unless you like 
 it. We shall be able to go where we like, meet 
 whom we like, do what we like ! " 
 
 "Like that . . . like Miss Heathcote ?" 
 
 " Oh," said Hubert, " she is not so very rich, 
 nothing like that — not unless she and Tim decide 
 to hitch up and make one team of it ! But I see 
 no signs of that. She is all keen on being a lady 
 doctor — 1 pity her patients ! " 
 
 Edith sank back. She said nothing at all. It 
 was as if she had got her death-blow. It was, she 
 knew, the end. 
 
 She let herself be put quietly to bed without 
 making any fuss. She heard her husband in the 
 little kitchen meekly assisting Waddleham with the 
 toilet of baby. He filled the bath, tried it, poured 
 in and out, cold and hot alternately, till it was 
 exactly to Waddleham's thermometer— which was 
 her arm plunged in to the elbow. Then Hubert 
 came back and arranged his couch on the sofa as 
 he had been used to do in the yard surgery. He 
 came over to her bedside to say good-night. 
 
 " Darling, I shall be up and away early to-morrow, 
 you know. I shall try not to wake you. Waddle- 
 ham is going to give me my breakfast with Cossar. 
 I want to get over early." 
 
 "Ah!" said Edith. 
 
 " Back soon, you know ! " said Hubert, smiling 
 and stooping to kiss her. She was about to let 
 him go ; but at the last moment she snatched at 
 his hand. 
 
 " Hubert," she said, " mind don't let that man 
 Blunt come near you ever; I'm sure he wishes 
 you harm. I believe— I saw in a dream— I am 
 sure it was he and Clarence Pritchard who laid 
 the trap for you that night. They wanted your 
 papers. I am glad you kept them, safe, and that
 
 "BULLY LITTLE BILLY!" 375 
 
 you will have a great deal of money to be happy 
 with " 
 
 " Dearest — dearest — why, it is yours far more 
 than mine, we will enjoy it together ! " 
 
 " Yes ?" she murmured. 
 
 Hubert patted her shoulder. 
 
 " There, there," he said, " lie down. You are 
 overwrought. It will be right in a little while. 
 I'll take care of you. Don't be afraid, Ede— such 
 times as we shall have " 
 
 "Better than in the old surgery?" she queried, 
 suddenly turning upon him dry of eye, but he did 
 not see the grey-white look of the tears in hiding 
 beneath. 
 
 " Oh, far better ! " he cried hastily, with the easily 
 detected false assurance of a man. 
 
 Edith said no more, but turned her face to the 
 wall. He was in the midst of an important letter 
 to Mr. Manson reviewing the whole transaction 
 of the Old Quay property when Edith turned again 
 suddenly. He had thought her asleep. 
 
 " Hubert," she said, her blue eyes dark as the 
 sky at midnight with the spreading of the pupil, 
 "you will never, never forget that I loved you?" 
 
 " Why, no, of course not ! I know it ; 1 always 
 knew ! " said honest, simple Hubert. " Go to sleep, 
 darling." 
 
 And he wrote and wrote. Then he closed, 
 directed, and sealed. Lastly he went and looked 
 that all was right. He saw that baby was in his 
 cot asleep, Waddleham snoring. His wife lay 
 quiet, her face hidden in the shadow of the curtain. 
 Only past the corner of the window-blind he could 
 see, high on the great Plympton embankment above 
 the red glow of the lamp, the vane of the distant 
 signal standing stiffly at " Danger."
 
 CHAPTER LVII 
 
 TITHE RIDGE TUNNEL 
 
 SUNDAY dawned gloriously and Hubert rose 
 betimes. Edith was still quiet. He bent to 
 hear her breathe. She stirred slightly and he crept 
 out. The lark was singing everywhere about the 
 moors, and by the station a goods' train went 
 clucking by. Hubert set off on his wheel, with 
 some of that elation inseparable from a young man 
 making an excursion on such a morning. He would 
 in reality far rather have stayed. He thought it 
 was a bore of Gibson. He had not the least idea 
 that he was sent for to be sermonised by his old 
 chief. 
 
 His way lay directly across the moor to Spenny 
 Loan Ferry, and a side-wheel packet of retiring 
 habits which bunted and snorted across once every 
 two hours. Now Edith had not slept that night. 
 She had gone over and over all that was taking 
 Hubert away from her — or so, at least, it seemed. 
 But it was ripe and real enough to her. i he society 
 of his own people, the money, this girl ! They 
 were just made for each other ; doubtless they would 
 be together that day. And why blame them ? Tim 
 — oh, imagine any girl looking at Tim when her — 
 when Hubert Salveson was there ! 
 
 And then she kept forgetting. Her mind did not 
 seem to grasp things properly. She had begun too 
 late to learn those Anglo-Saxon Kings, the 
 Normans and Plantagenets even ; she could never 
 get them right. And that was only a little part of 
 the knowledge she ought to have been getti'ng up 
 
 376
 
 TITHE RIDGE TUNNEL 377 
 
 slowly all the time so as to be able to be a companion 
 to Hubert. 
 
 " Oh, no, she would be better out of it. It would 
 relieve Hubert of a burden that he ought never to 
 have taken on himself. Each must keep to his own 
 class — and oh, she loved him too much to regret. 
 
 " But that girl — no, she could not think kindly ol 
 her! And baby! Ah, that was a difficulty — that 
 was the dreadful difficulty ! If only it had not been 
 baby it would all have been so easy. But to leave 
 baby to that masterful minx, ^who tried to put her 
 down, who talked to Hubert and even to Dr. 
 Growling as if she were patting them on the head ; 
 no, she could not ! She would not ! " 
 
 The night had been a long one, terribly, terribly 
 long, of unmixed darkness of Egypt, the kind which 
 could be felt, which pressed like pain. But Edith 
 lay gripping herself, immovable ; and only at dawn 
 did she know that her pillow was wet on either 
 side of her head. Her tears had run down so 
 silently, so ceaselessly as that. Then sitting up, 
 she turned the pillow, a little before Hubert moved. 
 
 There was still a long time to wait. It had to be. 
 But she had arranged the time in her mind. Waddle- 
 ham always left her for an hour or so on Sunday 
 mornings alone with baby ; that later morning 
 which in Scotland they call by the more ancient 
 name of " forenoon." 
 
 Waddleham was a gossip with a great sense of 
 duty, and, so far as Green Lane was concerned, few 
 opportunities. But every Sunday forenoon she 
 walked across the moor to a little Methodist service 
 in a wooden shanty, and had a talk with the surface- 
 man's wife afterwards. 
 
 Bob Cossar had to wait for the few Sunday trains 
 which troubled the repose of Green Lane, and in 
 especial for the " fast extra " which, in the summer 
 season, conveyed the Midland trippers to the sands 
 and shrimps of Clinton.
 
 378 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 It passed close on the tick of noon. 
 
 Now Bob was a God-fearing man, and though he 
 could not often go to the kirk, he was an approved 
 " professor." He read his Bible, and the weekly 
 sermon of his great, far-off, unseen idol — one 
 Alexander Whyte. Very reverently he referred to 
 his oracle, even as one of the persecuted might have 
 done to Peden. " Sandy says this " ; " It was in 
 Sandy last week ! " Which, as next to holy writ, 
 clinched the matter for Robert Cossar. 
 
 Only to one or two in a generation does it fall 
 to be so canonised during their lifetime. The which, 
 indeed, is no mean reward, and comes only to those 
 who have not sought the praise of men, but solely 
 and with long consistence, through inward storms 
 and outward discouragements, the glory of God. 
 '■^ It was in Sandy!'' said this sober, Scotch, clear- 
 headed, judgmatical man. And I know no higher 
 praise, save, perhaps, the loving trust of little 
 children. 
 
 Though the sound brought her no peace Edith 
 heard Bob Cossar croon his psalm— the twenty- 
 third, the only one to which he could sing the same 
 tune twice. He knew it, though no one else had 
 ever been able to recognise it. Then he unfolded 
 the crackling sheets of his weekly religious paper, 
 and turned to the lesson for the day, " in Sandy." 
 
 He read aloud to get the flavour of the words, 
 but Edith could not hear. The time was long 
 though to Bob Cossar the sermon was far too short. 
 He folded the sheet and placed it in his pocket. 
 That was the reading of the First Lesson. He would 
 read it again after the "sinfu' express," as he called 
 the Sunday excursion, went by. 
 
 Bob was obliged to lend his countenance to the 
 performance, because the railway authorities had 
 omitted to consult him. But he sandwiched the sinful 
 one betwixt two readings of " Sandy," And so, in a 
 measure, relieved himself from responsibility.
 
 TITHE RIDGE TUNNEL 379 
 
 As he went up the bank by the steps, he thought 
 he caught a glint of something white behind him. 
 But he looked and saw nothing. Just his old eyes, 
 and the bright sun ! He would be mistaking the 
 signals next. Aye, aye, it would be time for him to 
 be thinking of retiring. 
 
 He had looked " ben " to see that all was well, but 
 the lass and the bairn seemed so peaceful that he 
 did not disturb them. 
 
 He did not know that so soon as his back was 
 turned, Edith snatched Baby Edward Charles out of 
 his cot, and, taking up her skirts, fled up the line, 
 careful to keep in the shelter of the embankment. 
 The waft of white Bob had seen, was baby's shawl 
 as she crossed the metals to get to the sheltered 
 moor-side, upon which she could not be seen from 
 anywhere. 
 
 In Edith's heart was a resolve. She would clear 
 the way for Hubert and— yes, for the girl who 
 knew all about More without sending for lots of 
 books. 
 
 But she would be cautious and wary. The rail- 
 way ? Yes. That was nearest, quickest. There 
 was the fast excursion. It would go past about 
 noon. But on the long, clean double line across 
 the common she would be seen for miles. There- 
 fore she must get to where was a short tunnel 
 through a whaleback reef of limestone rock, on 
 which the moss rested. Then as the train burst 
 out of the tunnel suddenly there would be no time. 
 She would hold baby. He would never know 
 How much better that would be— ah, for all ! Foi 
 her certainly ! For baby, too ! She could never 
 leave him behind. They would go (she did not use 
 the word "die") together. She grew almost light- 
 hearted. It was the full madness of Edith. 
 
 She was at the Tithe Ridge tunnel half an hour 
 before time. She sat down and waited. It was a 
 fine high-arched world. Of Roman design — that is,
 
 38o PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 rounded, she thought. Gay, too. For others— 
 not for her. What would death be like ? Would 
 God forgive her? Yes, she thought so— she was 
 sure so. He knew that it was to make Hubert 
 happier. She had married Hubert to make him 
 happy, and now she would clear the way for him — 
 just for the same reason— to make him happier! 
 
 Far away, very far away, she could hear some- 
 thing, the distant chorus of ordered machinery in 
 motion— death coming to her in this great, glad 
 morning, coming with a song. 
 
 " Ca-ra-ta ! Ca-ra-ta-ra ! Ca-ra-ta-ra ! " That 
 marked the pace. Her trained ear told her it was 
 not so swift by a good ten miles an hour as the 
 real High Level express, which said simply " Carata- 
 Carata," as fast as ever it could. But it would 
 suffice. It would serve. She laid her down on 
 the left line of rails, along which she knew it must 
 pass, and soothed baby ; soothed him, and said a 
 little prayer. 
 
 Ca-rd-ta-ra ! Ca-rd-ta-ra ! 
 There was a sharp cry, a hurrying of footsteps, 
 and down the slope ran the former Head of the 
 Iffley School Games. She snatched and swung 
 Edith and the baby as if they had been but a single 
 Indian club. The next moment breathing fire and 
 furious smoke the monster dashed out of the Tithe 
 Ridge tunnel, flashing green and white, grinding 
 the leagues in his mill and spurning and quaking 
 the bog as he dashed out upon it. 
 
 "Why," cried May Heathcote, "how is this? 
 Did you fall down ? Was the sun too hot ? Why 
 are you here without a hat ? " 
 
 " Such idiot questions as I am asking ! " she 
 thought. 
 
 For a long tirne Edith said nothing. She simply 
 gazed at her saviour in amazement. 
 
 " Come into the shadow ! " said May. She 
 opened a little case of leather she carried in her
 
 TITHE RIDGE TUNNEL 381 
 
 pocket, and poured out some sal volatile into the 
 silver head of the case. 
 
 " Take that," she said, " and then you will feel 
 better. It must have been the sun," 
 
 " No — no," cried Edith, striving wildly to rise 
 and get away, but always sinking back, " do not 
 touch me — it is all because of you ! " 
 
 "Because of me!" The astonishment in Miss 
 Heathcote's eyes was plain to be seen — save by 
 our poor Editli. 
 
 " Yes, because of you — of you ! " she cried, " I 
 came here to kill myself — to kill baby — because 
 of you ! I wanted to be out of the way — so that 
 you could marry Hubert ! " 
 
 " But I don't want to marry Hubert," cried the 
 astonished May; "why, I would never think of 
 Hubert, not if he had not been married — much 
 less !" 
 
 " Of course— of course," said Edith, pushing out 
 her hand, " I knew you would say that — let me 
 go ! What else are you doing here but waiting 
 for him ? " 
 
 "Doing here?" stammered Miss Heathcote, 
 suddenly crimson. " I came here to meet . . . 
 some one ! " 
 
 " Ah, of course," cried Edith indignantly, 
 " Hubert's brother, who was so good a cover for 
 the other ? Oh, let me go, I tell you — let me go ! " 
 
 " Poor Tim was a cover, I admit," said May, 
 " But, there, I will tell you, because you will have 
 to help me, and never mention to a soul that you 
 have met me. Yonder he is coming along the 
 embankment. He came to the station by the earlier 
 train. I came from Plympton, old Dr. Growling's 
 place, where they think I am spending the day. 
 He is here now. We are— oh — yes, I will tell you 
 . . . you are so unhappy , , . we are going to run 
 away together." 
 
 And Dr. Theophilus Oglethorpe Larkins walked
 
 382 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 calmly over the summit of Tithe Ridge, and came 
 forward, rather abashed for the moment to find 
 Edith there, but with his hand stretched out not- 
 withstanding. 
 
 " Give me baby," said Miss Heathcote, " and I 
 will tell you all about it. We are going to run 
 away together. Theo's aunt is going to chaperon 
 us. We shall get a special licence to-morrow 
 morning in London, and Theo will be back in the 
 surgery by Tuesday. We have left a letter telling 
 all about it — it is waiting for Hubert at the surgery. 
 We did not tell him before, lest they should blame 
 him." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Edith, suddenly finding her feet on 
 the earth, and a million-ton mountain taken off her 
 heart, " what a fool I have been ! What a fool ! " 
 
 " Yes, we all are at times ! " said May philo- 
 sophically ; "but you really should not go about 
 without a hat. I am going to learn such a lot and 
 help Theo. Will you come to the train with us ? 
 We are going down by the slow to Clinton, and 
 then we will get the express at four, and be in 
 London to-night. I won't marry Tim ; not for all 
 the family arrangements in Christendom. I don't 
 believe in cousins marrying, anyway. Do come 
 to the station and see us off. That's right — no, 
 not Waddleham — you ! Aunt will be in the train. 
 My Theo's aunt, you know — mine to-morrow ! 
 Awfully decent of her, isn't it ? "
 
 CHAPTER LVIII 
 Edith's psalm of life 
 
 THE "slow" to Clinton took up Dr. Larkins 
 and his prospective bride. There were no 
 other passengers from Green Lane. A comfortable, 
 smiling aunt, wrapped in a thick veil, reached a hand 
 to Edith. The whistle sounded, and they were off. 
 
 Edith gave baby to the station-master, and the two 
 walked soberly back to the cottage. 
 
 " 1 heard you at your singing this morning," said 
 Edith. 
 
 " Did ye noo, bairn ? " 
 
 " Yes, it was the twenty-third psalm, wasn't it ?" 
 
 •' What else, bairn?" 
 
 " I should like to sing it with you," said Edith. 
 
 She could not have pleased old Bob more. He 
 was of the truly devout. 
 
 " Aye, lassie, we'll sing it thegither, and then I'll 
 read ye a screed in ' Sandy.' " 
 
 They sang, to a real tune this time, steadily 
 through the whole psalm in the Scotch version. 
 Edith's voice never checked nor faltered, save when 
 she came to the stanza : 
 
 Yea, though I walk through Death's dark vale. 
 
 Yet will I fear none ill, 
 For Thou art with me, and Thy rod 
 
 And staff me comfort still. 
 
 Hubert was late. But what matter now ? Edith 
 went forth to meet him. She saw him afar off, and 
 went up to a high tufty hillock of the moor, on 
 which she stood and waved a handkerchief. Soon 
 he spied her, and waved back so vigorously as to 
 
 383
 
 384 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 bother his steering. Then he came up all breathless, 
 calling out : " You should not have come so far, Ede, 
 you will be tired ! " 
 
 *' I shall never be tired now," she said ; " I am 
 quite better." 
 
 " Quite better ! " he said, smiling gladly ; " why, I 
 never heard the like of that. There's that man 
 Gibson — old Growling has been cooking him up. 
 Such a talking to I never had in my life. Said I was 
 killing you ; wanted me to take you abroad — to Paris 
 — Vienna — I don't know where ! " 
 
 " Shall I tell you where I want to go ; and will 
 you take me if I do ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Hubert rashly, " if it be to New 
 Zealand or Timbuctoo." 
 
 " I want to go back to the surgery in Dunham 
 Street, and to our happy little home there ! Then I 
 shall be well ! " 
 
 " Oh, but Gibson says " 
 
 " Gibson does not know — I do ! " 
 
 " Very well then," Hubert agreed ; " but how about 
 all that money ? Are we to go on just the same ? " 
 
 "No," said Edith, "I've thought of that too. 
 Those houses and property and rights and things 
 don't really belong to us. They should be offered 
 to the Pritchards — not given, but offered fairly. 
 We can't let the Ferry Company make war on them 
 with what their father left us ! " 
 
 " But you warned me I was to take care of Blunt 
 and young Clarence !" 
 
 "Well," said Edith gently, "perhaps; but I have 
 thought other things since then. It wouldn't be 
 fair. Tell Mr. Manson so from me." 
 
 " Well, I don't know but what you are right," 
 said Hubert ; " Egerton is home now. I saw him as 
 the old Spenny Ferry hooker crossed the Pritchard's 
 yacht lying at anchor. They were waiting for the 
 tide. He is as brown as a berry. It will be easier 
 to arrange something with him."
 
 EDITH'S PSALM OF LIFE. 385 
 
 "Get value, of course," said Edith; "we shall 
 need a new assistant." 
 
 " Eh, what's that?" cried Hubert. 
 
 Edith gave him Dr. Larkins' message. 
 
 " Tell me more," he said; "I don't understand a 
 bit. I'm as stupid as a coot ! I never noticed a 
 thing ! " 
 
 Edith explained, partially, that to-morrow his 
 assistant would be wedded to his cousin, under the 
 supervision of the excellent Mrs. Oglethorpe of 
 Haystone. And that the young folk would, of 
 course, after the necessary time to enable him to 
 suit himself, be wanting to start for themselves. 
 
 " Both have a little money ! " she said, with some 
 ■of her old practicality. 
 
 "So had we," he said, putting his arm about her; 
 '" come now, let's be getting back. Of course we 
 will go back to Dunham Street, and if that Old 
 Quay business pans out fairly I shall, I mean we 
 shall, buy the property, and build a little bungalow 
 somewhere out in the country for old Bob Cossar to 
 look after during the week." 
 
 "Not out here!" said Edith, shuddering as she 
 glanced about her. 
 
 " What," cried Hubert, " don't you want poor old 
 Green Lane any more ? " 
 
 " Never any more ! " said Edith ; " when can we 
 ^o back home ? " 
 
 " Why, to-morrow if you like. You will have to 
 take Waddleham, though ! " 
 
 They walked back in the westering sun. " How 
 ■dear and peaceful!" said Hubert, who seldom en- 
 thused about scenery. " Oh, Edith, I don't think 
 there was ever a couple who loved — no I don't mean 
 that— who understood each other so well ! And all 
 this while married too — quite old family people, and 
 never the shadow of a shade of a difference ! No 
 clouds in our sky, eh, Ede ? " 
 
 25
 
 386 PRINCESS PENNILESS 
 
 " None ! " said Edith gallantly, conscious that,, 
 behind her, some ten quadrillions of foolish miles 
 behind, there lay Tithe Ridge tunnel, which she 
 hoped never to look upon again in the world. 
 
 " And how we love to talk to each other — no 
 learned stuff, that wearies the life out of a fellow 
 who has been hard at work all day ! But just simple 
 things — what you said and what I said, what we have 
 each been doing all day, and about baby ! Oh, isn't 
 it splendid to be so united ? " 
 
 " Splendid," said Edith, hugging his arm. 
 
 Then Hubert was taken with a compunction. 
 
 " Not but what I like you to read about those old 
 fellows. More and Cromwell and so on, and tell me 
 about them sometimes. It soothes me. I can doze 
 off in no time after an hour of that ! Fine thing, 
 history." 
 
 " And you are sure you will never regret ? " 
 demanded Edith, suddenly facing him, the new 
 happy life glowing in her eyes and face, breathing 
 from her lips. 
 
 " Regret what?" said Hubert blankly. 
 
 " Regret that you married beneath you ! " said 
 Edith firmly, fixing him with her hands one on each 
 arm above the wrist. 
 
 Hubert stooped and kissed her. 
 
 " Darling," he said very quietly, " God knows, 
 and I know, that if ever a poor, idle, worthless fellowr 
 married above him, I am that man ! " 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed by Hazell, Watson <S' Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury^
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
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 With Illustrations. 6/- 
 
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 lONE MARCH 
 
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