I 
 

 
 c
 
 appletons' 
 
 ZTown ant) Country 
 
 Xibrarg 
 
 No. 254 
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS
 
 BELINDA-AND 
 SOME OTHERS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 1898
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1898, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 SRL6 
 URC 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. HALF-A-DOZEN i 
 
 II. IN LONDON TOWN 27 
 
 III. WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS .... 44 
 
 IV. CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE ... 66 
 
 V. CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE . . 83 
 
 VI. UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT 102 
 
 VII. WE TAKE IN A BOARDER 122 
 
 VIII. A LETTER FROM BOHEMIA . . . . 143 
 
 IX. How JACK CAME OF AGE . . . .152 
 
 X. WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES . . . l8o 
 
 XI. WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR PROFESSIONALLY . 2O2 
 
 XII. THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER , 218
 
 BELINDA-AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 
 
 WE were half-a-dozen, four girls and two 
 boys. Our parents had a fancy for names 
 terminating in a, but after christening me 
 Maria, their memory proved unequal to the 
 strain of four daughters, and they had re- 
 course to novels for suggestions. Hence a 
 Belinda, an Olivia, and a Pamela. The boys 
 answered to the more every-day titles of Wil- 
 liam and Jack. 
 
 About our ages there were two points to 
 remember. First, that Pamela was barely 
 seventeen, and the youngest; secondly, that 
 we were said to be the only annuals on record 
 ever known to become perennials.
 
 2 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Olivia, next in age to Pamela, was quick 
 at assimilating modern notions. She tried 
 to persuade us that small families at large 
 distances are considered better form than the 
 old-fashioned yearly method, and pointed out 
 how by a little judicious rearrangement and 
 borrowing a few years from the future, we 
 could contrive to fall in with more recent 
 ideas on population. Thus, Pamela was to 
 remain seventeen at which she grumbled a 
 little; Olivia herself to move on to nineteen; 
 William to twenty-one; Belinda to twenty- 
 three; Jack to twenty-five; and I to twenty- 
 seven. 
 
 For once in our lives Belinda and I 
 agreed. We snubbed Olivia, telling her we 
 preferred to keep young and yet be out of 
 date, when, nothing daunted, she hazarded 
 that we should pair off in three lots of twins 
 or two triplets. We might take our choice 
 or decide by vote. But to this Jack objected. 
 He said if we were orphans that was no rea-
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 3 
 
 son why we should be ridiculous, and begged 
 Olivia to confine her theories on population 
 to the cat. 
 
 We lived at Riverside ; Court. The house 
 and gardens, large, old-fashioned and pic- 
 turesque, belonged to Uncle Joshua. We 
 seldom spoke of him except to strangers; 
 then " our Uncle in South Africa " came in 
 handy as a peg to hang small talk upon and 
 put us in touch with the outside world, for in 
 this last decade of the century we had gained 
 the notion that everything which was not 
 Japanese was South African, and vice versa. 
 
 When Uncle's letter came saying he was 
 returning to take possession of his own after 
 an absence of twenty-five years, we called a 
 family parliament to discuss the situation. 
 Having all been born and grown up in " The 
 Court," this sudden facing of the fact that 
 though ours by habitation, association, and 
 spoliation, legally it was Joshua Chilcott's 
 his and his alone rather overwhelmed us
 
 4 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 and checked that flow of high spirits, ever 
 our cheerful characteristic. Even Jinks was 
 subdued. 
 
 Jinks would have been a Yorkshire ter- 
 rier had not his intentions been frustrated. 
 When extreme youth prevented anyone de- 
 ciding his exact value save his first owner, 
 who turned out to be mistaken in assessing 
 it at twelve guineas, Jinks was bought by 
 a great friend of ours to be used as a muff- 
 warmer. Shortly, she sent him to Belinda, 
 saying he grew at such a rate she felt sure in 
 time he would be a Newfoundland. Belinda 
 hoped he would, but unfortunately his devel- 
 opment ceased when too large for any of 
 the smaller breed of dogs and too small for 
 any of the larger. He retained a few of the 
 Yorkshire points about the head, but his 
 body and legs no one was ever able to qualify. 
 His temper was above reproach, and we loved 
 him none the less that his appearance was 
 unique even for a mongrel.
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 5 
 
 We had always known that Riverside 
 Court belonged to uncle, that in fact we 
 were keeping it warm for him. But after 
 so many years some of the warmth of pos- 
 session had stolen unawares into our own 
 souls. We had, too, always fallen back on 
 the reflection that no South African million- 
 aire would care to live in such a tumble-down 
 old place. 
 
 We had no authority for believing our 
 relative a millionaire. It was just part of our 
 way to look on the bright side of things. 
 
 William said, now and again, we must not 
 forget that Americans and if Americans, 
 why not Africans? will go into ecstasies 
 over picturesque dilapidations and give fabu- 
 lous prices for an air of ancient discomfort, 
 combined with draughts, such as haunted 
 The Court. But then William's notions 
 were out of harmony with the rest of the 
 family's. He was so intensely practical from 
 his youth up, that we suspected him of being
 
 6 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 a changeling. His temperament belonged to 
 the era of wool mats and glass cases, and 
 he was entirely without the artistic tenden- 
 cies with which his sisters and brothers were 
 richly endowed. 
 
 But to return to Uncle. 
 
 His coming home at all was a surprise. 
 When we learned that he would put foot on 
 English soil as poor a man as when he left it, 
 we were grieved as well as surprised. His 
 personal appearance, however, proved the 
 greatest shock we had to encounter. We 
 expected what is termed " a burly man," 
 topped by a pleasant rosy face, and surround- 
 ed by a hearty even noisy manner. One 
 who might possibly wear side-whiskers, and 
 probably a thick gold watch-chain; who 
 would laugh immoderately at his own jokes 
 and never see his neighbour's. His alphabet 
 would be badly arranged. The letter h, for 
 instance, would constantly be detected in the 
 wrong place. At first, we should feel a trifle
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 7 
 
 ashamed of this rough diamond; later, his 
 sterling qualities, aided by a large fortune 
 brought over in the original nuggets would 
 oust this false pride and we should value him 
 accordingly. 
 
 Belinda, whose artistic tendencies were 
 balanced by some other qualities, was not 
 sure about the h. She said the abuse of this 
 letter is an hereditary failing, like insanity or 
 consumption; but being less interesting, it is 
 not so often mentioned by descendants. Now, 
 neither of our grandparents were known to 
 have been wanting in aspirates; why there- 
 fore should Joshua, their eldest son? At any 
 rate, she, for one, would hope for the best. 
 
 Uncle arrived, pale, small, and thin; 
 clean-shaven, save for a slight moustache, 
 and speaking with a pedantic nicety as to his 
 choice of words in a hesitating manner. 
 
 He knew more about current events than 
 \ve did; but of course one is obliged to read 
 up home news when abroad, or it would look
 
 8 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 as if you could not afford a paper. He wrote 
 again on landing at Liverpool, asking us to 
 get the house ready for him, but begging us 
 not to leave until he had made our acquaint- 
 ance; though he intimated, apologetically, 
 that we should have to find another home, 
 as he hardly felt justified in supporting half 
 a dozen. 
 
 Along with our artistic tendencies we had 
 inherited two hundred pounds a year, which 
 divided by six gave us each thirty-three 
 pounds annually. Some said there was a 
 lawyer's fee round as well. I took this state- 
 ment on trust, owning a dislike to figures. 
 We had lived rent free for so long, surround- 
 ed by a garden which throve upon neglect 
 and produced vegetables and weeds with the 
 same reckless impartiality, that we had never 
 realised what in an elastic sum our income 
 was. William too, though he slept openly 
 i. e. with his mouth open when we discussed 
 the wailings of the last minor poet, was intelli-
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 9 
 
 gent at keeping the hens up to their duty, 
 and understood the ways of pigs with a thor- 
 oughness that suggested a weakness for ba- 
 con and considerably reduced the household 
 expenses. 
 
 For the first time in our remembrance 
 finance assumed a really serious aspect. 
 
 " We must go to London," said Belinda, 
 who, though not the eldest, had, by long 
 usurpation, gained the right of speaking first 
 on every matter. " There is so much more 
 scope for talent in London. With what in- 
 come we have and what we shall make we 
 might manage very well. I have prepared a 
 little estimate of expenses." 
 
 She pulled a bit of paper out of her pocket 
 and read out: 
 
 Rent .... .40 
 Housekeeping . 75 
 Dress for four . 60 
 Servant ... 15 
 Five dogs' licenses i 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 o 
 17 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 o 
 6 
 
 Total . i()l 
 
 
 
 6'
 
 IO BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " There's eight pounds two-and-six-pence 
 over," she concluded modestly. " But of 
 course unexpected expenses are sure to crop 
 up. You see I haven't calculated anything 
 beyond food and lodging for the boys of 
 course they will make their own pocket 
 money." 
 
 :< You haven't calculated for the rates and 
 taxes either," replied William. " And one 
 pound seventeen-and-six for dogs' licenses 
 seems a large item compared with thirty bob 
 a week for housekeeping I don't think we 
 can take the puppies." 
 
 Belinda was silent. She had a theory 
 that people only argue when they mean to 
 give in. She had every intention of taking 
 the four collie puppies, whose mother had 
 died with brown eyes pleading humanly with 
 us to guard her children. 
 
 Jack looked glum. " I shall have to give 
 up Art, and take to Caricature," he sighed 
 despondently.
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 1 1 
 
 " You might begin with William," replied 
 Belinda, remembering his criticism on her es- 
 timate. 
 
 I hastened to throw oil upon the waters. 
 
 " 'Tis true that William is a plain boy, 
 Belinda, but then he is useful. It is not often 
 that people combine both use and ornament 
 like you and I. Take Jack for instance, 
 he is ornamental, very, but who could call 
 him useful? " 
 
 Belinda then went on to tell us how she 
 had made up her mind to become a fashion 
 artist. It was apparently the easiest thing 
 in the world. All you had to do was to keep 
 your eyes open; go about among well- 
 dressed people, come home, sketch the 
 dresses, add ideas of your own, send them 
 to some ladies' paper and there you were! 
 
 Belinda had had a passion for dress from 
 her earliest infancy. At six months, so tra- 
 dition ran, she wore her sash with an air of 
 distinction, and evinced a desire for a shoe
 
 12 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 to be put on one foot and a boot on the other, 
 under the impression that it added style to 
 her " tootsies." At twenty she had various 
 dodges known only to herself for making a 
 small allowance go a long way. She would 
 put real flowers in her hat, spreading a little 
 gum on the leaves to give them a false ap- 
 pearance. Even the insects were taken in. 
 There was frequently, to use an old and 
 homely expression, a bee in Belinda's bonnet. 
 Then by judiciously choosing a material that 
 knew its right side from its wrong, and a 
 great deal of sewing, she appeared to have 
 two dresses to her sisters' one. 
 
 Belinda's figure was all her own; among 
 us all she alone possessed a standing pose 
 that a soldier might have envied, and move- 
 ments which were the graceful outcome of 
 slim yet rounded proportions. Mine was 
 somewhat similar, but accentuated, very ac- 
 centuated; and Olivia's a trifle like it, but 
 elongated, decidedly elongated. But figure
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. . 13 
 
 apart, Pamela was the beauty of the family. 
 She had hair the colour of the copper beech's 
 leaves in the young, young days of Spring; 
 and her eyes were like the glimpses of blue sky 
 between its branches. When Pamela was 
 near, we racked our brains for some old dear- 
 loved joke to make her smile, for then we saw 
 the dimple in the upturned chin, and the small 
 white teeth. Pamela never laughed without 
 faintly blushing, and never blushed without 
 smiling as if amused at her own foolishness in 
 letting the swift colour dye her lovely face 
 from brow to chin. She was clever at ar- 
 ranging flowers, and once won a prize at the 
 local flower show, and was quite an adept at 
 making trifles that sell well at bazaars. We 
 hardly liked to ask her what occupation she 
 intended adopting, she looked too young to 
 have decided opinions. But this proved a 
 fallacy when she announced a firm intention 
 of teaching drawing only in a private family. 
 Jack feared it would be a difficult post to get.
 
 14 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " You will probably find," he said, " that 
 a thorough knowledge of English, conver- 
 sational French, German, Elementary Latin, 
 calisthenics and dancing must be thrown in 
 as well; and perhaps you'll have to undertake 
 the harmonium also." 
 
 Pamela and Jack did not always agree. 
 On this occasion she resented his superior 
 information. 
 
 " Of course you must put your spoke in," 
 she said flippantly. 
 
 We did not ask William his intentions. 
 They invariably tended toward dry subjects. 
 He had a great facility for figures, had learnt 
 shorthand as a pastime, and found double 
 entry a pleasure. His education, as a whole, 
 had been desultory, run on the lines of never 
 attempting to master any uncongenial sub- 
 ject. The result was somewhat curious: he 
 came out head of the school in mathematics, 
 could place any spot on the globe and give 
 its longitude from memory, and had an idea
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 15 
 
 that Edward III. and Charles II. were broth- 
 ers. Belinda said power of concentration 
 was a feature of great minds, and we felt 
 that William would get on. For some few 
 months he had earned a small salary, together 
 with experience, as a clerk to a solicitor in 
 our local town of D . 
 
 So Jack decided to spurn Art and em- 
 brace Caricature; Belinda also to spurn Art 
 and embrace Fashions: some have been 
 known to say these also come under the 
 heading of Caricature. Pamela's hopes, on 
 the other hand, were founded on a School of 
 Art Certificate for Freehand. William had 
 no ideals, and his career promised to be suc- 
 cessful but uninteresting. 
 
 There only remained Olivia and my- 
 self. 
 
 I was not as clever as Belinda; I did not 
 know as much as Olivia. They acknowl- 
 edged it themselves. Until we were more 
 settled, I decided to be the utility member of
 
 l6 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 the company, to which my relatives gracious- 
 ly agreed. 
 
 Around Olivia our hopes of fame centred. 
 She had written poems that had met with 
 encouragement from an author whose criti- 
 cism she requested, at the same time beseech- 
 ing his autograph, with many pretty adjec- 
 tives respecting its value, enclosing a 
 stamped envelope for reply. She did not 
 know where he lived, so she put his name and 
 " London " merely as the address. In after 
 years this circumstance led her to believe that 
 the letter fell into the hands of a mere tyro in 
 literature of the same name as the great man's 
 she had intended it to reach, which account- 
 ed for the ready sympathy and generous ap- 
 preciation of the reply. These same poems 
 were afterward published gratuitously in a 
 weekly paper. In the face of so much suc- 
 cess, she felt it wrong not to persevere. 
 
 In person Olivia was not as pretty as Pa- 
 mela; her hair was more red than gold, and
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 17 
 
 her eyes in some lights looked black and in 
 some green. Still she was handsome in her 
 own way. It was a way that included a 
 pocket frequently hanging out of her plac- 
 quet-hole, and a good many inkspots dis- 
 tributed about her person. William asserted 
 his height as five foot nine, Olivia put hers at 
 five foot seven; that they both looked exactly 
 the same length to the casual observer she 
 attributed to her hair, and her heels though 
 William was not bald, nor deficient in boot- 
 leather. 
 
 Olivia read much, and had ideas. She 
 also had a typewriter, bought second-hand 
 after much self-denial and saving of pocket 
 money, because her handwriting was so illegi- 
 ble that an irate editor once returned her a 
 manuscript simply accompanied by a huge 
 interrogation point which defaced the entire 
 front page. 
 
 To learn the typewriter thoroughly she 
 undertook to edit a private magazine and
 
 1 8 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 type the contributions herself. These latter 
 came in from the few friends who had prom- 
 ised to patronise the venture so irregularly 
 that more often than not the editress wrote 
 the whole magazine herself, signing each 
 article with a different pseudonym, rather 
 than be behindhand with her literary effort. 
 Those who read the magazine noticed the 
 similarity of style, and concluded that it came 
 from all the articles passing through the same 
 machine. 
 
 Olivia had a longing to enter Bohemia 
 and mingle with the great in Literature, 
 Art, and the Drama, so we were not surprised 
 when she said she had no intention of leaving 
 the " Barlock " behind for Uncle Joshua to 
 " play the fool with." For a person who 
 could compose poetry, Olivia's conversa- 
 tional prose often struck me as being a little 
 hard. 
 
 William, who was very fond of Olivia, 
 offered to teach her shorthand (in the fort-
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. ig 
 
 night that was left to us before leaving The 
 Court) as a set-off to type-writing. 
 
 " And you must practise hard at typing, 
 too; forty or fifty words a minute is generally 
 required, and you never got beyond twenty." 
 
 But Olivia hoped to obtain a post as sec- 
 retary to a poet, for whom speed would be 
 less important. She knew from experience 
 that some words such as obnoxious or galaxy 
 are slow to rhyme. 
 
 By the time we had discussed our plans 
 well we grew quite excited at the thought of 
 what lay before us. After all, life would be 
 life in London, whereas in the country it 
 was only existence. I decided to go up to 
 town early one morning, returning the 
 same day, and take rooms from which we 
 could more leisurely seek an unfurnished resi- 
 dence. 
 
 It came upon us with quite a shock to re- 
 member that we had no furniture. With the 
 exception of the Barlock, Pamela's guitar,
 
 20 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Jack's easel and lay figure, William's bicycle, 
 
 4 
 
 Belinda's dress stand, my sewing machine, 
 our golf clubs, tennis racquets, cricket bats, 
 and a few trifles, everything in the house was 
 Uncle Joshua's. 
 
 Pamela could make pincushions and tea- 
 cosies, whilst Jack had a set of dessert doy- 
 leys he had etched for a wedding present. 
 The wedding never came off, and he put them 
 carefully by. Belinda considered these arti- 
 cles when we enumerated them insuffi- 
 cient. 
 
 " We don't want our new house to look 
 as if had been furnished with things left over 
 from a bazaar! " she cried. 
 
 " We must take a furnished house," said 
 Olivia, " to begin with." 
 
 Had Uncle Joshua been returning a 
 wealthy man, we might have found it incum- 
 bent to make some show of appearances; but 
 as he was, if not an actual pauper, at least a 
 person of straitened means, we felt that our
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 21 
 
 usual mode of life would best fall in with his 
 
 k 
 
 mood. 
 
 The night he arrived, therefore, there was 
 cold ham, scrambled eggs, salad, baked po- 
 tatoes, and a Dutch cheese for supper. 
 
 Uncle Joshua had no appetite. 
 
 Together with Mary, our servant for 
 many and many a year, we had made some 
 attempt at tidying the house. Pamela filled 
 every corner with fresh spring flowers, and 
 made a new pincushion for Uncle's room; 
 and Belinda contrived to arrange the fur- 
 niture so that the hole in the dining- 
 room carpet did not show on first acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 Olivia cried so much at the prospect of 
 leaving The Court that she was obliged to 
 excuse herself from the supper-table, and 
 only came into the drawing-room when sure 
 that the lamp-shade was arranged to ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 After supper, Uncle asked if there was
 
 22 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 a train into D again that evening. On 
 
 hearing there was, he hurriedly determined 
 to catch it, begging us not to sit up for 
 him. 
 
 William, too, vanished. 
 
 A couple of hours passed. We had dis- 
 cussed our relative with much breadth of 
 criticism from every point of view, when Wil- 
 liam reappeared. Closing the door, he sat 
 down, a broad grin betokening some inward 
 amusement. He too had gone into town 
 unknown to Uncle Joshua, who on reaching 
 
 D Station had gone straight to the 
 
 nearest hotel and ordered himself a dinner 
 of several courses and a bottle of expensive 
 wine. 
 
 " For a poor man," concluded W T illiam, 
 with a sigh, " he has an uncommon relish for 
 delicacies." 
 
 Olivia, hearing the sigh, hurried out of 
 the room with that thoughtfulness she be- 
 stowed impartially upon William and herself
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 23 
 
 to fetch Dutch cheese and a glass of ale. 
 Meanwhile Belinda gave utterance to her dis- 
 approval of William's conduct. What right 
 had he to follow Uncle, and, worse still, be 
 seen hanging about the hotel windows? Of 
 course Uncle wouldn't get rid of expensive 
 habits all at once. 
 
 " They will drop off by degrees," she 
 said. 
 
 " Well, there's no sign of decay at pres- 
 ent," responded William. 
 
 We agreed to take our departure on the 
 Tuesday following Uncle's arrival. He 
 brought but a small amount of luggage with 
 him; but on the Monday prior to our going, 
 as we came in from paying a farewell call 
 upon some neighbours we found the hall full 
 to overflowing with boxes and cases of every 
 sort, shape, and size. 
 
 " It's the rest of your Uncle's luggage, 
 miss," whispered Mary importantly. 
 
 Uncle looked rather shamefacedly on.
 
 24 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " Skins and things," he murmured once, 
 catching Belinda's eye. 
 
 "I see," replied Belinda politely; "what 
 a good shot you must be! " 
 
 " Wouldn't you like one of the girls to 
 stay behind and help you to unpack? " asked 
 Jack. 
 
 But Uncle thought he could manage. 
 
 " I must get used to doing things for my- 
 self," he sighed. Poor Uncle! 
 
 Olivia and Pamela wept bitterly on the 
 day of departure. They went round the 
 house arm-in-arm, giving little farewell pats 
 to favourite window-seats, and kissed the 
 trees and shrubs in the garden, picking a leaf 
 off each as a keepsake, the result being a bou- 
 quet of unwieldy dimensions. 
 
 Uncle followed them, looking as if he had 
 something on his mind, but could not put it 
 into words. 
 
 Belinda, half resentful, half eager, 
 marched out of the gate with a puppy
 
 HALF-A-DOZEN. 2$ 
 
 under each arm and Jinks at her heels. 
 William came next, bearing miscellane- 
 ous articles so many and curious as would 
 have mortified anyone less devoid of the 
 sense of the ridiculous; I, guilty with the 
 knowledge of a few etceteras packed in the 
 family trunk that scarcely came under the 
 heading of our own possessions, brought up 
 the rear with Jack, looking ashamed of the 
 general exodus. 
 
 Uncle stood on the front door-step, small 
 and lonely; at least we were together. 
 
 " Uncle," I cried, running back, " mind 
 you send for us if you get ill. I've told Mary 
 to order you New Zealand meat, it will save 
 you a lot; and don't burn candles, oil is so 
 much cheaper." 
 
 Half-way to the station Pamela recollect- 
 ed leaving her umbrella in the schoolroom. 
 Would Jack run back for it? Jack did, and 
 only had time to fling himself into the car- 
 riage as the train was moving.
 
 26 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " Joshua was smoking a cigar that cost 
 something, I'd bet," he said savagely. Jack's 
 one weakness was tobacco. 
 
 For a poor man, Uncle certainly had ex- 
 pensive tastes.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 
 
 THE rooms I had selected on my previous 
 visit to London were in Gower Street. 
 When we arrived the landlady said I had for- 
 gotten to tell her beforehand I was bringing 
 five dogs as well as five sisters and brothers. 
 She stood dubiously casting about in her 
 mind whether the animals should be allowed 
 to remain, when Belinda stepped forward 
 and settled the question. 
 
 " We must find rooms elsewhere, if you 
 object to the dogs. I thought," she con- 
 tinued plaintively, " that everyone knew Miss 
 Belinda Chilcott never travelled without her 
 dogs." 
 
 The landlady glanced at the puppies. 
 3 27
 
 28 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 They could not as yet walk straight upon four 
 legs, much less two: the notion that we 
 earned a livelihood from canine performances 
 faded from her mind. 
 
 Belinda grew a little depressed upon find- 
 ing the muzzling order in full force in the 
 Metropolis. It entailed buying five muzzles 
 indeed, more than five; for the puppies not 
 having developed any features worth men- 
 tioning, the muzzles came off so frequently 
 in the street that we took sides on the ques- 
 tion whether it was less expensive to buy new 
 ones or pay the fine inflicted on unmuzzled 
 owners. 
 
 The first evening in London we talked a 
 great deal, more even than usual. Pamela 
 spoke feelingly of the Past, and Olivia dis- 
 cussed the Future; by the tone of her voice 
 she spelt it with a capital F. 
 
 Belinda observed that if one looked well 
 after the Present, the Future and the Past, 
 especially the Past, had a way of taking care
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 29 
 
 of themselves; and Jack asked if we had no- 
 ticed what a long way off Riverside Court al- 
 ready seemed to be. William put the dis- 
 tance at eighty-five miles; but Jack, it turned 
 out, was speaking of that curious sense of dis- 
 tance which falls upon one on leaving an old 
 familiar pasture for new scenes. 
 
 We all wondered at intervals what' 
 Uncle was doing; and we all looked forward 
 to going to bed, partly because we were tired, 
 partly because it would be such a good oppor- 
 tunity to shed a few quiet tears. 
 
 At eleven o'clock we recollected we had 
 not unpacked. William, knowing women 
 took a considerable time in undoing boxes, 
 excused himself and retired, saying if by good 
 chance we came across his pyjamas, would 
 we send them up to him, as it was stiff work 
 sleeping in a starched shirt. 
 
 The next morning Jack determined to 
 spend sitting by the window and take notes 
 with his pencil.
 
 30 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " You see, girls," he explained, " on first 
 coming to a big city like London, points 
 strike you which, after a few months' resi- 
 dence, you would pass over unnoticed. So 
 I'll sit here and do a couple of sketches and 
 send them to the Daily Graphic on the chance 
 of their being accepted." 
 
 " You might do a series and call them 
 ' First Impressions of a Country Bumpkin,' ' 
 suggested I, but Jack did not fall in readily 
 with this hint. 
 
 " I'm not a bumpkin," he said aggriev- 
 edly. 
 
 Belinda, Olivia, and I went out to look at 
 the shops. Belinda, without taking us into 
 her confidence, all at once entered a smart 
 milliner's, requesting to be shown some hats. 
 She selected three or four expensive models 
 and directed them to be sent immediately 
 round, giving our address. 
 
 " If I keep one, I shall of course, as I am 
 not yet a customer of yours, pay on delivery."
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. . 31 
 
 She laid great stress on the yet and was 
 bowed out with ceremony. She next went 
 to a draper's, where she purchased a straw 
 shape, some flowers and ribbons, and we then 
 returned to our temporary dwelling. 
 
 Jack, tempted by the April sunshine, had 
 gone out, leaving his sketch-book on the 
 table. 
 
 " Jack is right," observed Olivia critically. 
 " Uncle Joshua's nose is not a point which 
 would strike the resident Londoner in Gower 
 Street." 
 
 The hats came shortly after we had got 
 in. Belinda having kindly offered the er- 
 rand-boy who brought them a chair in the 
 hall and a Pick-Me-Up to pass the time, tried 
 them all on, and then selecting the one which 
 pleased her most, placed it in front of her on 
 the table, and with a liberal supply of pins in 
 a few minutes fashioned her own materials 
 on the shape she had bought in excellent 
 imitation of the Paris model. She then re-
 
 32 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 packed the hats carefully, and sallied out to 
 the boy. 
 
 " Tell Madame Pompon Miss Chilcott is 
 sorry none of them are exactly what she re- 
 quires. I will call again some day soon." 
 
 " Belinda is ," said Pamela, with em- 
 phasis. 
 
 This unfinished saying had become quite 
 a proverb in the family, and expressed much 
 which it would not have done to put in more 
 explicit form. 
 
 Belinda came back smiling, and sat down 
 to tot up the price of her new hat on the back 
 of an envelope. 
 
 " Seven-and-six, and quite as good " 
 here, seeing the difference between velvet and 
 velveteen in my eye, she repeated obstinate- 
 ly " quite as good as the two-guinea 
 model." 
 
 As a precaution against overstepping our 
 income, Olivia had divided a small account- 
 book into three divisions, wherein, when she
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 33 
 
 remembered, she entered the family expendi- 
 ture. The first division was headed: 
 
 " THE NECESSARIES OF LIFE," 
 
 the second 
 
 " THINGS POSSIBLE TO DO WITHOUT," 
 
 and the third 
 
 " SUPERFLUOUS EXTRAVAGANCES." 
 
 Olivia was fond of long words. 
 
 Producing this book from her pocket, she 
 turned severely to the third division, and 
 glanced interrogatively at Belinda. 
 
 " My hat! " exclaimed that person, cheer- 
 fully, trying it on again to see if it would 
 look more chic back foremost " Oh, of 
 course it must go under the necessaries of 
 life." 
 
 Olivia objected. " You could do without 
 a hat; witness the Bluecoat boys, for in- 
 stance."
 
 34 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 i 
 
 After some argument it was entered as a 
 thing difficult to do without. 
 
 Olivia wished we would remind her al- 
 ways to put down the items, and not take it 
 upon ourselves to interfere. 
 
 " Here's William," she complained, "has 
 entered the laundress as a superfluous ex- 
 travagance, and Jack has put down gamboge 
 as a necessity of life! " 
 
 Jack had also put down tobacco under 
 " Things Possible to do Without," the tail of 
 the O trailed away until it ran over the edge 
 of the book. Olivia said it reminded her 
 of a long-drawn sigh, which remark so 
 worked upon Pamela's feelings that she 
 seized the book and wrote " Vinolia " the 
 name of a soap to which she was much ad- 
 dicted in stern characters in the column de- 
 voted to chronicling extravagance. Belinda 
 told us how she always found small indul- 
 gences economical in the end, they saved her 
 wear and tear of temper.
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 35 
 
 After lunch we decided to go house-hunt- 
 ing. 
 
 " We shall cover a larger area and meet 
 with more results if we divide," said William. 
 
 So we settled to go in two parties Jack 
 to take Belinda and me, whilst William es- 
 corted Olivia and Pamela. 
 
 We asked the landlady to give us her 
 opinion on localities. 
 
 " London's a large place," she observed 
 in answer: after repeating this opinion sev- 
 eral times, she advised us to look in a map 
 of the Metropolis and offered to lend us 
 hers. 
 
 William's idea was to cross through all 
 districts we knew to be impossible. It was 
 not until the map was well scored with ink, 
 and Bloomsbury was obliterated by a huge 
 blot, that we remembered it was the land- 
 lady's. 
 
 " We shall have to buy a new one now," 
 grumbled Olivia: " I shall put it down as an
 
 36 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 extravagance caused by William's bump of 
 destruction." 
 
 After we had rejected Park Lane, and the 
 district round Hyde Park, Harley Street, 
 Eaton Square, and Pall Mall, there still re- 
 mained considerable choice. 
 
 " Westminster must also be scratched 
 through," said Pamela, " because it's sure to 
 be ruinous, the M.Ps. must live near the 
 House." 
 
 So Westminster was struck off, also Ham- 
 mersmith, we could not of course live in 
 Hammersmith. Olivia inclined to Bays- 
 water. She had a notion that it was another 
 name for Bohemia; afterward she discovered 
 that they both began with a B, but there 
 the similarity terminated somewhat abruptly. 
 Finally she, Pamela, and William started for 
 Bayswater. 
 
 Jack remained poring over the map. He 
 had heard Sloane Square was very central 
 and convenient.
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 37 
 
 " Here's a little unimportant-looking 
 street! " he exclaimed. 
 
 We looked where he pointed. It was 
 Cadogan Street. We decided to try it, 
 though I seemed to remember it in connec- 
 tion with Society paragraphs in which 
 case . . . 
 
 However, as the Irishman said, starting 
 saves time even if you go in the wrong direc- 
 tion; and we sallied forth to explore the 
 neighbourhood of Sloane Square. 
 
 We took an omnibus and were some time 
 on the road, exactly how long we did not 
 know. Jack had a gold watch and chain; 
 the watch did not go on account of the 
 mainspring being broken, but it looked 
 well. William had a Waterbury, which went 
 excellently but looked well, it looked 
 just a Waterbury. When he had quar- 
 ter of an hour to spare he wound it up, 
 if pressed for time one of the girls did 
 it for him. Jack's watch kept up the
 
 38 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 family appearances and William's kept the 
 time. 
 
 We changed 'buses three times between 
 Gower Street and Sloane Square. The last 
 one put us down at Cadogan Place. We had 
 sat on the outside, the driver genially point- 
 ing out places of interest with his whip as we 
 went by. 
 
 " The minit Oi clapt heyes hon yer, I 
 sez, 'Ere's some 'Mericans. 'Mericans they 
 hallus wears them soft 'ats." 
 
 Belinda trod on Jack's toe to prevent his 
 patriotism denying this false charge. 
 
 " It's better to be considered Americans 
 than country cousins," she whispered; but 
 Jack still looked sick at his artistic hat being 
 thought Yankee. 
 
 We wandered about various streets, ter- 
 races, and places labelled Cadogan. There 
 did not seem to be any houses to let, so at 
 length we asked a policeman to direct us to 
 an estate agency.
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 39 
 
 Belinda insisted on going in alone. She 
 had on her new hat, and her brown hair be- 
 neath it was arranged in the extreme of fash- 
 ion. We waited outside. 
 
 " I'm not sure, Maria," said Jack, mood- 
 ily, " that if you go to work in Belinda's way, 
 a new hat doesn't rightly come under the ne- 
 cessities of life." 
 
 When Belinda reappeared she related 
 how she had first asked if there were any flats 
 to let in the neighbourhood, from flats she 
 got on to houses. One of the latter had been 
 let, the agent said, that morning, at four 
 hundred pounds per annum. Belinda 
 found this vexatious, as it seemed, by de- 
 scription, to be just what she required. The 
 interview concluded by the agent promising 
 to send a list of any houses he thought 
 suitable. 
 
 " It's my opinion," said I, " that we shall 
 have to live in the suburbs." 
 
 " Of course," continued Belinda, " I knew
 
 40 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 from the look of these houses the rents would 
 be enormous." 
 
 " Then why did you go on making en- 
 quiries? " queried Jack morosely. 
 
 " I might be able to take one some day," 
 answered Belinda. 
 
 We received this information with silent 
 contempt. Who was Belinda that she 
 should and could imagine herself in Cado- 
 gan Place, whilst we meditated upon the ad- 
 vantages of the suburbs? 
 
 After some tea in an aerated bread shop, 
 we retraced our way slowly to Gower Street. 
 It was six o'clock before we got in, finding 
 the others had arrived before us. 
 
 At first they had wondered that Bays- 
 water was so little known, for the omnibus 
 conductor on being told to put them down 
 there kept on repeating " Where? " 
 
 " It subsequently transpired," said Olivia, 
 " that he meant where in Bayswater? " 
 
 William, whose survey of the map had left
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 41 
 
 a complete impression on his mind, men- 
 tioned the Queen's Road as their desired des- 
 tination. On passing a house agent's he had 
 entered, and, with that total contempt for 
 appearances which was ever his peculiarity, 
 asked for particulars of the cheapest house 
 on the books. 
 
 The clerk replied he had nothing under 
 fifty pounds a year, and that could only by 
 courtesy be termed Bayswater. 
 
 " You won't get what you want, sir, out- 
 side the suburbs." 
 
 "Then I should be. so glad," went on 
 William, " if you would give me a few 
 hints as to the suburbs most pleasant to 
 live in. I am " (here he glanced affection- 
 ately at Pamela) " soon going to be mar- 
 ried." 
 
 The clerk was young; he grew sympa- 
 thetic and confidential, telling them how he, 
 too, soon hoped to be married and set up 
 his domestic tent in some suburban Arcadia.
 
 42 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 The amount of information he delivered in a 
 short space of time was amazing. 
 
 Feeling that William had a real talent for 
 house-hunting, we accepted his offer to be 
 the pioneer in this affair. 
 
 " And I will go alone, too," he went on, 
 " it will be cheaper: why, just we three going 
 about to-day made such a hole in two bob, 
 that what change there was dropped through 
 and got lost for ever." 
 
 " Oh! go alone, by all means," we cried, 
 " and when you find anything suitable we'll 
 go in a body and criticise it." 
 
 Then somebody suggested it was a pity 
 to waste the evening, could we not manage a 
 theatre? So we hurried over supper and 
 started. Some inclined to the Lyceum, but 
 William said that the agent's clerk when 
 discussing the merits of no basements com- 
 pared to areas had mentioned what an ex- 
 ceedingly enjoyable play was " Charley's 
 Aunt."
 
 IN LONDON TOWN. 43 
 
 " It will do Pamela good to have a laugh," 
 finished our considerate brother. 
 
 Although it was past midnight when we 
 returned, Olivia hunted up the account-book 
 of expenditure. She ruled the inside of the 
 cover and entered, " Charley's Aunt," six 
 seats thirty shillings. 
 
 " It seemed to require a new heading," 
 she said, closing the book, " so I have put it 
 under EDUCATIONAL."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 
 
 So it was owing to William that we be- 
 came the tenants of Number 3 Triangle 
 Lawn, Brick Park, S.W. 
 
 After he had explored some eight suburbs 
 and inspected between fifty and sixty houses, 
 he grew quite opinionated on the subject 
 of suburban dwellings, and declared that we 
 never could, never should, get a house to suit 
 us better than the one at Brick Park. On 
 condition that we did all the necessary repairs 
 at our own expense, the landlord took five 
 pounds off the rent, which brought it down to 
 thirty-five. It was not a bad little house. Its 
 exterior was neat and quasi-rural, with creep- 
 ers covering red brick and wooden windows. 
 
 44
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 45 
 
 The rooms, if small, were numerous and airy; 
 the details of rates, taxes, soil, and drains 
 appeared satisfactory only, well, we were a 
 little vexed with William in that he had for- 
 gotten to keep in mind those points for which 
 we had especially stipulated. 
 
 Jack had begged him to remember that a 
 north light is as essential to an artist as his 
 india-rubber. No. 3 faced due east and west. 
 William, in excuse, said he had always under- 
 stood that dawn and sunset were favourite 
 effects with artists. Jack said: "William's 
 all right, but he's so silly! " 
 
 Belinda, too, was irritated, which with her 
 meant irritable as well. The ends of two bor- 
 oughs met on the triangular green lawn 
 which gave our road its name; the muzzling 
 order was in force in one borough, and not in 
 the other. It was obvious to everyone ex- 
 cept William that we should have taken 
 No. 33 instead of No. 3, where the puppies 
 could have played about the road unmuzzled.
 
 46 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Belinda did not take into account that No. 33 
 was so near the railway line that its last oc- 
 cupants had left, saying they had rented a 
 railway-station unawares. 
 
 Pamela, too, cried when she discovered 
 there were no bow-windows, but cheered up a 
 little when Olivia pointed out the possibilities 
 of four cosy corners in the drawing-room. 
 
 I was content; a box-room large enough 
 for three boxes, and two cupboards on the 
 stairs, so far surpassed my expectations. So 
 too was Olivia, who openly acknowledged 
 her liking for the house, at which the dis- 
 contented ones hinted at the immediate 
 neighbourhood of a Free Library as a motive 
 for this partiality. 
 
 We had at first entertained some idea of 
 furnishing on the hire system; but on inter- 
 viewing the furniture to be paid for by instal- 
 ments, we decided that though the system 
 might be the hire, our spirits would certainly 
 be the lower for having those artistic tend-
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 47 
 
 encies before mentioned brought in daily 
 contact with such jarring ugliness. 
 
 " We must pick up things at sales," said 
 Olivia, vaguely; "and at curio-shops, I be- 
 lieve, bric-a-brac and old oak can be got for a 
 mere song." 
 
 William objected to picking up his bed at 
 a sale. 
 
 " I might," he said, " get more than I 
 bargained for." 
 
 William was not over-refined. 
 
 Ultimately we sold out a small sum of 
 capital, determining to make it sufficient to 
 cover the adornment of our new house. 
 
 Pamela wrote to the editress of a column 
 devoted to hints on house-furnishing in a 
 lady's paper. After we had spent all we had 
 to spend and a few sixpences beside in buy- 
 ing the paper each week, the answer ap- 
 peared. It declared that Pamela had forgot- 
 ten to comply with most of the rules for cor- 
 respondents, and hinted that she would not
 
 48 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 be replied to again unless she conformed to 
 the etiquette of the column. She had also 
 omitted to state how many rooms her house 
 contained, and what sum she contemplated 
 lavishing on its decoration. If she would 
 write these details, clearly and fully, stating 
 her favourite colours and styles of furnishing, 
 she should be answered at length. Mean- 
 while she was not to purchase anything in a 
 hurry. 
 
 We left Gower Street early on the morn- 
 ing of the day we were to take possession of 
 the house. A charwoman, who had been 
 sent by the landlord to clean the house, ad- 
 mitted us. We engaged her to come every 
 day until we were more settled, when we 
 should write for Mary, who had promised to 
 follow us. 
 
 The porters when they brought our lug- 
 gage seemed a little surprised to leave it in a 
 totally empty house. Belinda, as she gave 
 them a liberal tip, asked them if they had no-
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 49 
 
 ticed a large Whiteley's van on the road. 
 When they replied in the negative, her atten- 
 tion had wandered and she forgot to look sur- 
 prised. 
 
 The greater part of that morning we 
 spent in criticising the house and apportion- 
 ing the rooms. The furniture that small 
 amount we had bought as a start-off whilst 
 we looked round to choose more at leisure 
 arrived in driblets. The beds came first; 
 they were all alike, with mattresses and bol- 
 sters and one blanket each. When purchas- 
 ing these it had struck me forcibly how even 
 a little figure like one when multiplied by six 
 has a way of mounting up into unexpected 
 totals. 
 
 The dining-room suite followed. W r e 
 had bought it at a bureau often advertised, 
 where people send their superfluous house- 
 hold goods to be sold for a charity. After 
 some experience of the chairs we unanimous- 
 ly agreed that whatever cause the charity was
 
 50 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 to benefit, no advantage was supposed to ac- 
 crue to the purchasers. 
 
 It was afternoon before the crockery ap- 
 peared. It came at last, and our spirits rose 
 on perceiving what a finishing touch a jug 
 and basin give to a bedroom, especially when 
 placed on the floor. The boys went out with 
 a list to buy provisions and insist upon coals 
 being delivered that evening, and we pro- 
 ceeded to unpack our trunks and discuss the 
 situation. 
 
 I was surprised at the thoughtfulness the 
 girls had displayed in recollecting to bring 
 trifles which would not be missed by Uncle 
 Joshua and which were endeared to us by 
 useful association. Thus, Belinda, after 
 much diving head-foremost in her dress- 
 basket, fished up half a dozen silver tea- 
 spoons swathed in an old glove and inserted 
 in a shoe. 
 
 " You see, Maria," she said, apologetic- 
 ally, " it looks so bad not to have any silver,
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 51 
 
 and I left Uncle Joshua the other half-dozen. 
 Even if he had a tea-party which isn't 
 likely he wouldn't use more than half a 
 dozen." 
 
 On going into Olivia's room I found her 
 seated on the floor diligently polishing some- 
 thing in her hand. By some curious coin- 
 cidence it appeared that the idea of tea- 
 spoons had also occurred to her. 
 
 " I should have brought seven, as one is 
 sure to get lost; but I could not find the 
 other six. You recollect, Maria, we only 
 had a dozen." 
 
 I explained how it had come about that 
 the seventh was missing and went back to Be- 
 linda, who on hearing how perversely things 
 had fallen out complained resentfully of Oliv- 
 ia's want of confidence. 
 
 " Six forks now would have come in so 
 very conveniently." 
 
 Compared with this matter of the tea- 
 spoons, the dozen sheets and few tablecloths
 
 52 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 I had stowed in my box sank into insignifi- 
 cance. 
 
 Pamela's one idea had been not to part 
 with a certain old blue Delft jar to which she 
 was much attached and which now beamed 
 familiarly upon us from an uncarpeted floor. 
 To prevent its breaking, Mary, who had 
 helped us to pack, had filled it with a few lit- 
 tle odds and ends that came handy, a small 
 carriage-clock, two inkstands, and a pen-tray, 
 wrapped up in dusters. When William's eye 
 fell on these familiar objects arranged to 
 much advantage on a mantel-shelf, he ob- 
 served that it was rough on Joshua, and ap- 
 plied such unpleasant adjectives to the mat- 
 ter of the tea-spoons that Olivia, conscience- 
 stricken, packed up the half-dozen she had 
 brought, and posted them to Mary with strict 
 instructions that they all six were to be placed 
 in the most conspicuous positions on the 
 breakfast-table directly they arrived. 
 
 The next morning Belinda asked Olivia,
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 53 
 
 who still controlled the expenditure, if she 
 thought the purchase of an eider-down quilt 
 could be fairly called a superfluous extrava- 
 gance. Olivia, in reply, pointed out that we 
 were in April, and as the summer was com- 
 ing on she was afraid it would come under 
 that heading; to which Belinda made answer 
 that unless something unusual occurred 
 the summer would inevitably be followed by 
 the winter. This Olivia could not deny. 
 She was sitting meditating upon the question, 
 when Jack came down looking cross. He 
 did not say " good-morning," but com- 
 menced the day by telling us he hardly felt as 
 if he had been to bed at all; there was so little 
 difference to his mind between sleeping under 
 his clothes and in them. Finally Belinda 
 took the law into her own hands and wrote 
 to Mary, telling her to bring some blankets 
 from The Court and join us at the end of the 
 week. If Uncle Joshua so her letter ran 
 happened to pass as she was packing the
 
 54 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 blankets, Mary might say he could see for 
 himself how necessary it was for them to go 
 to the cleaners to have the moth extermi- 
 nated; if, however, he happened to be out or 
 otherwise engaged, she was not on any ac- 
 count to bother him about them. 
 
 A day or two afterward the blankets ar- 
 rived alone, with a note pinned on the top- 
 most: 
 
 " My dear young ladies and Marster Wil- 
 liam You may be s'prised to see blankets 
 come without Mary. Marster Uncle Joshua 
 came into the kitchen as I was cording the 
 box. I told him as how I were sending a few 
 boots and things by the young ladies direc- 
 tion as Marster William had some idee of 
 going suspectin a diamond mine in Canady. 
 Marster Joshua made no coment. He says 
 as Im not to leave here on no account. I re- 
 plide I shood keep to my original promise of 
 taking service with the first of the young la-
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 55 
 
 dies as got married. And which will that be 
 Mary says he, I said as how it woodn't be 
 becoming in me to mention no names but I 
 didn't suppose as how it wood be Miss Maria, 
 Miss Blinda, nor Miss Livia. Marster Uncle 
 Joshua has rased my wages and pays me reg- 
 lar, things is much changed from what they 
 was, and I'm on no account to menshun rise. 
 " Now dear young ladies hoping this will 
 find you better than it leves me having the 
 neuralgic cruel from washing in the open, 
 " I am your obed. 
 
 " MARY JAMES. 
 
 " P.S. I have put a cake for Miss Pa- 
 mela among the blankets." 
 
 We felt indignant with Mary. She had 
 been basely bought over by " Marster Uncle 
 Joshua." Only Pamela smiled dreamily as 
 she read the letter a second time, and then 
 went upstairs to do her hair in a new fashion. 
 
 William declared it was as well that Mary
 
 56 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 hadn't come, for the neighbourhood had a 
 reputation for propriety and might have ob- 
 jected to her " washing in the open." Be- 
 linda held that this washing referred to the 
 cleansing of dusters, tea-cloths, etc., and 
 there was a good deal of argument as to 
 whether our late handmaiden had deterio- 
 rated. 
 
 " Not in her cooking at any rate! " cried 
 Olivia between bites of a large piece of the 
 cake. 
 
 Belinda acknowledged the arrival of the 
 blankets coldly on a postcard: 
 
 " The Misses Chilcott have received blan- 
 kets sent by their direction by Mary James." 
 
 That was all. After the card was posted 
 we recollected all the letters went to The 
 Court in a locked bag, which would of course 
 be opened by Uncle Joshua. We consoled 
 ourselves by reflecting that he couldn't say 
 much about the matter, as that would be ad-
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 57 
 
 mitting he had read another person's post- 
 card. 
 
 Olivia's plan of picking up furniture at 
 sales answered very well. There was a large 
 sale-room within a stone's-throw of Triangle 
 Lawn, and one or other of us patronised all 
 the auctions that took place there at short 
 intervals. There was some bitterness as to 
 whose were the greatest bargains. On one 
 occasion William was much pleased with 
 himself that on bidding for a kitchen table it 
 was knocked down to him at a few shillings, 
 with a knife-grinder and a housemaid's box 
 thrown in. Belinda maintained that we re- 
 ally extracted more use from the sideboard 
 which had been her bargain, though William 
 pooh-poohed the sideboard on the score that 
 it had been accompanied by a dozen glass 
 globes which could not by any persuasion be 
 made to fit any burner in the house. 
 
 Jack, nervous of infection, bought a tin 
 of Sanitas powder and well peppered the bar-
 
 58 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 gains as they were brought into the house. 
 Jinks took this as personal, and sulked for 
 some days. It is not to be denied that to a 
 dog of fine feelings but limited comprehen- 
 sion, between Keating's Insect Powder and 
 Sanitas, a mere disinfectant, there may be a 
 distinction but no obvious difference. 
 
 When we bought anything which on 
 more mature consideration did not seem 
 worth its money, or refused to adjust itself to 
 the place where it was required to go, we 
 simply returned it to the sale-room, request- 
 ing the broker to put it in the next sale and 
 credit us with the amount fetched. 
 
 Belinda grew quite friendly with the auc- 
 tioneer. She explained to him that he did 
 not give her time to change her mind. After 
 this, when she made a bid, he paused before 
 bringing down the hammer, to see if she 
 would retract. 
 
 It was kind of him, and as she generally 
 did not wish to retract, the plan answered
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 59 
 
 admirably, till one day he paused too long, 
 and someone bid considerably higher than 
 Belinda, who thus lost an armchair she was 
 particularly desirous of possessing. 
 
 As a result of furnishing chiefly from 
 sales, we had nine coal-scuttles, five knife- 
 boards, and six butlers' trays. We did not 
 want them exactly they just happened to 
 be comprised in lots which contained some- 
 thing we really required. Sales are a cheap 
 way of getting a superfluity of one article. 
 
 At the curio shops we were not so fortu- 
 nate. The bric-a-brac and old oak which we 
 had heard were to be had for a mere song 
 were conspicuous by their absence. 
 
 " The song," sighed Belinda, " has evi- 
 dently been sung before our day." 
 
 The Barlock came in useful at this junc- 
 ture. 
 
 Olivia went daily to the Free Library 
 with pencil and note-book, and copied any 
 
 advertisements from the papers which prom- 
 5
 
 60 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 ised employment and replied to them on the 
 typewriter, signing the letters with the name 
 of the one she considered best fitted to fill 
 the needed requirements. 
 
 One day she came back full of hope for 
 Jack. In the Daily News she had met with 
 a request for a young gentleman of energy 
 and talent to develop an artistic undertak- 
 ing. The reply to her letter was not quite 
 what we expected. The artistic undertak- 
 ing that needed development was a com- 
 pany to float a new enamel on the market. 
 To prove how bond fide was this undertak- 
 ing, the Company sent a sample box of 
 twelve small pots of enamel and a dozen 
 brushes. 
 
 Jack on reading the paper sighed and 
 exclaimed, " Ars longa vita brevis" and 
 walked majestically from the room. 
 
 Pamela requested William to explain the 
 phrase Jack had quoted, but William, whose 
 educational plan had not embraced Latin,
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 6l 
 
 could only hazard that Art was long-suffer- 
 ing- 
 Olivia reproved this free translation. 
 
 " No, no, William," she said, " it means 
 ' Art is long, Vice is short.' ' 
 
 Pamela was still dissatisfied; she followed 
 Jack to his painting-room, and returned tri- 
 umphant. 
 
 " It means," she cried, " ' Art is long, but 
 not wide enough to take in enamel! ' 
 
 Then Olivia said: 
 
 "I told you so!" 
 
 Belinda, who was never satisfied, wished 
 the Company had sent more of one colour, 
 as she could then have enamelled each of 
 the drawing chairs the same shade. 
 
 After this, William took to writing his 
 own business letters, with the result that he 
 obtained a clerkship to a member of the 
 Stock Exchange, at a salary of twenty-five 
 shillings a week. 
 
 One morning the charwoman sent round
 
 62 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 to say she could not come for a few days, 
 owing to an outbreak of measles in her fam- 
 ily. Olivia, on her way to the Library, 
 promised to call in at a registry-office and 
 make inquiries after a " general." I did the 
 cooking. 
 
 That evening Olivia startled us all by sud- 
 denly declaring she was disappointed in Lon- 
 don. 
 
 " It gives me a vague yearning," she ex- 
 plained pathetically. " I feel as if I wanted 
 something, but don't quite know what." 
 
 William broke the awed silence which fol- 
 lowed this outburst: 
 
 " I've had that feeling myself, though it 
 was in the country, and if my memory serves 
 me, it was on a day when Maria had done the 
 cooking." 
 
 I felt glad that Jack had always been my 
 favourite brother, and mentioned the fact 
 aloud. 
 
 Pamela picked up her guitar and began
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 65 
 
 to sing, under the impression that it would 
 restore the general harmony of the evening, 
 but Jack begged her to desist. 
 
 " Your voice, my dear girl, trickles about 
 my back and runs out of the holes in my 
 socks." 
 
 " Brothers are " protested Pamela, 
 
 fretfully. 
 
 " Yes," rejoined William, " as you say, 
 ' brothers are ' is the plural to ' Belinda is.' ' 
 
 " I'm not ," began Pamela, when she 
 
 was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. 
 Olivia ran to open it. 
 
 "Why, it's Mary! " she cried. 
 
 Mary it was. She had been so exercised 
 in her feelings by Belinda's postcard, that 
 she had deluded " Master Uncle Joshua " 
 into believing in the sickness of an imaginary 
 mother. 
 
 " Though I be an orphan, as Master Wil- 
 liam knows," concluded Mary. 
 
 This did not infer that William had any
 
 64 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 complicity in the death of her parents; but 
 simply that he was acquainted with the fact 
 that they were no more. We explained to 
 Mary how the charwoman had left us strand- 
 ed, whereupon she remarked that, as far as 
 she was concerned, the charwoman could 
 stay with the measles and welcome; for, 
 judging by the appearance of things in gen- 
 eral, she wasn't much of a muchness. 
 
 Not a word would Mary say concerning 
 Uncle Joshua. To all our queries she an- 
 swered that things were much as they were 
 excepting where they had altered, that she 
 had been " so homesick for Miss Pamela " 
 she could not stay away from her any longer. 
 
 The box ottoman, which had been my 
 bargain, now came in useful as an additional 
 bed. Under Mary's hearty admiration of 
 our furnishing, our spirits, latterly a trifle de- 
 pressed, rose to their usual high level. But 
 we could not persuade her to give a definite 
 opinion as to whether William or Belinda
 
 WE BECOME HOUSEHOLDERS. 65 
 
 had most contributed to the utility of the 
 establishment. 
 
 To William she said: " Miss B'linda was 
 always fond of a little show, not but what a 
 sideboard comes in 'andy in a dining-room." 
 
 And to Belinda she said: " How should 
 a young gentleman of Master William's edu- 
 cation be 'spected to know as a 'ousemaid as 
 is a 'ousemaid can get along without a box! "
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 
 
 WHEN Belinda had several sheets of fash- 
 ion-drawings ready she intimated her inten- 
 tion of taking them round to show the editors 
 of some dozen papers. 
 
 We wondered whence she gathered her 
 ideas on dress, for the inhabitants of Brick 
 Park admirably fulfilled what some have laid 
 down as a test of a well-dressed woman that 
 on beholding her once, you do not feel con- 
 strained to look again. I had a notion that 
 the Smith's boy at the station bookstall 
 could have enlightened us, for Belinda spent 
 many half-hours conversing with him whilst 
 she turned over the fashion numbers in 
 search of ideas, and occasionally very oc- 
 casionally bought a copy of Woman. 
 
 66
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 67 
 
 The first week, in going the round of 
 Fleet Street and its environs, Belinda spent 
 ten shillings in 'bus and train fares, and sold 
 one drawing, for which she received five. 
 She wore her oldest garments, wishing to 
 keep a new cape she had contrived out of 
 the pink shot inside of an old mackintosh for 
 more pleasurable occasions, until one fine 
 June day, vanity overcoming economy, she 
 sallied forth arrayed in everything smart of 
 her own, with the addition of what she could 
 borrow. On returning from town, she hint- 
 ed casually that in future she should always 
 wear her best clothes when occupied with 
 the disposal of her sketches. Even so short 
 an experience had taught her that in Lon- 
 don if you look dowdy people treat you 
 with respect, but evince little or no interest 
 in your career; whereas a smart appearance 
 meets with a certain measure of success, 
 though, apparently, it also entails some 
 doubts as to respectability.
 
 68 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Having only thirty-three pounds six and 
 eightpence annually she could call her own, 
 and a promised share in William's future 
 prosperity, was it not absolutely necessary to 
 look over the fact that editors, and especially 
 sub-editors, fancied she called on them less 
 to dispose of her wares than to have a little 
 genial conversation? After some few re- 
 buffs, notwithstanding that she invariably 
 represented each office she entered as being 
 the one that edited the only paper for which 
 she would care to work the only paper, in 
 fact, that was all a paper should be she fell 
 in with a new organ, whose editor engaged 
 her to illustrate the column devoted to the 
 latest style in underclothing, which he deli- 
 cately termed lingerie. 
 
 It had not been exactly Belinda's ambi- 
 tion to sit up to late hours of the night re- 
 producing the newest things in camisoles, but 
 she was always one of those who find it easier 
 to cut according to their cloth than try to
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 69 
 
 obtain a wider material. Her method of 
 procedure was to go, by editorial direction, 
 to certain fashionable shops and sketch their 
 novelties. From that date Belinda never had 
 to buy any gloves, stockings, or fans. Pa- 
 mela openly wished she had taken up fashion- 
 drawing; but Jack was heard to murmur 
 something about bribery and corruption, un- 
 heeding our assurance that other arts beside 
 the culinary one had their " perquisites." 
 
 Jack's ideas did not adapt themselves so 
 readily to circumstances as Belinda's. For 
 some weeks he wore out boot-leather and his 
 temper in equal proportions carrying round 
 sketches of ancient cathedrals and ruined 
 castles, when one day by mistake he included 
 in his portfolio a little pen-and-ink drawing 
 he had made from life, on an evening when 
 Mary had come up suddenly to the painting- 
 room where we were sitting to say a " gentle- 
 man had called to see Miss Belinda." The 
 sketch represented Belinda grasping a pair
 
 70 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 of black satin cycling knickerbockers, of the 
 latest mode, and expostulating with the 
 " gentleman," who had come down from a 
 fashionable ladies' tailor to say that the sup- 
 ply could not keep pace with the demand, 
 and that the pair carried off by Miss Chilcott 
 for sketching purposes were urgently needed, 
 so greatly had they taken the popular taste. 
 
 An editor chanced upon this drawing and 
 was much struck with its humorous simplici- 
 ty; he had a joke pigeon-holed which would 
 suit it exactly, it was topical and had that 
 slight suspicion of vulgarity without which 
 the wit of the day is unpalatable to the mul- 
 titude and only fit for Punch. Would Jack 
 send him similar sketches? If so, there 
 should be a corner kept every week for his 
 work, or as often as he could send it. 
 
 Belinda urged Jack to take this opening. 
 
 " Beggars, deaf boy," she said, " must 
 never be choosers. I have watched the evo- 
 lution of that paper with interest it began,
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 71 
 
 you remember, with the gaiters of the 
 Church, it is now chiefly devoted to the legs 
 of the ballet." 
 
 William added his shred of information. 
 He had heard that the shares for the paper 
 was run by a company had gone up from 
 two and a half to five. Regarding legs from 
 a financial point of view, he had found it in- 
 teresting to note what a difference mere gen- 
 der made in their value as an investment. 
 Jack's dislike to using his pencil in the cause 
 of popular vulgarity being thus overruled, he 
 began to get on better. His editor was 
 somewhat erratic in the matter of payments: 
 when self-respect at intervals demanded dis- 
 continuance of contributions until a cheque 
 arrived, Jack turned the time thus gained to 
 account by studying Posters, which drew 
 from William the observation that Art re- 
 minded him of a certain place of entertain- 
 ment much advertised under the heading 
 
 " All roads lead to Earl's Court."
 
 72 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 It was unfortunate for Belinda that, just 
 as she was entering into the spirit of her 
 work, the puppies should all fall ill of the 
 mange. Her editor wrote reproachfully to 
 say her drawings had not arrived that week 
 until after the paper had gone to press. In 
 return she confided with a pretty apology the 
 distressing sickness of her canine friends, but 
 when the same tardiness occurred the follow- 
 ing week the editor wrote again more per- 
 emptorily. He was sorry the puppies had 
 the mange; but fashions changed so rapidly 
 that if the page devoted to lingerie was a week 
 behind, it gave the whole paper the air of be- 
 ing a back number. He inferred facetiously 
 that as long as Miss Chilcott's drawings were 
 up to time, the puppies might go to the dogs. 
 
 Belinda tore up this letter, much to the 
 chagrin of Olivia, who suspected an auto- 
 graph in every communication. 
 
 Only one of the puppies died. Its mis- 
 tress wished to have it buried in the garden,
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 73 
 
 but on this point I was firm. Had it only 
 been a flower garden I should not have mind- 
 ed; but tomatoes, onions, and the where- 
 withal to make salad grew beneath the shade 
 of hollyhocks and nasturtiums. We referred 
 the matter in dispute to William the night 
 the puppy died. He decided that a sixth 
 portion of the garden was rightly under the 
 tenancy of Belinda; if she chose to use it as a 
 cemetery, she of course could. For his own 
 part, he had been vexed when the landlord 
 mentioned that our predecessor in the house 
 had been very partial to animals and also un- 
 fortunate in losing several. 
 
 " To the loss of his live stock," comment- 
 ed William in conclusion, " I attribute wholly 
 and solely the fact that the vegetable-marrow 
 I planted in the farthest corner of the garden 
 shows unmistakable signs of growing into 
 the dining-room." 
 
 Before this discussion we had freely in- 
 dulged a forgivable weakness for marrows,
 
 74 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 but after it they would have gone to seed had 
 not Mary devised a plan for exchanging them 
 for potatoes with the owner of a vegetable 
 cart when he called for orders. 
 
 Olivia's good memory put an end to the 
 perplexity concerning the puppy's burial- 
 place. She recalled having read a descrip- 
 tion of a spot in London where dogs may be 
 decently buried and their bones let lie in 
 peace, and succeeded in getting the maga- 
 zine in which the article had appeared, for us 
 to read further particulars. The dogs' ceme- 
 tery turned out to be, of all places in the 
 world, in Hyde Park, a lodge-keeper's garden 
 being appropriated for this humane purpose. 
 Belinda herself went to choose the exact site 
 of the grave, and ascertained that the funeral 
 could take place on the morrow. We spent 
 the evening in considering a suitable epitaph 
 to be engraved on the puppy's tombstone. 
 William was anxious to know how we intend- 
 ed to get the body to the cemetery were we
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 
 
 75 
 
 going to send it by Carter Paterson & Co., 
 or how? He hoped he was not officious in 
 reminding us that the Post-Office regulations 
 relating to dead cats applied equally to dead 
 dogs. 
 
 Given time for consideration, it was al- 
 ways possible to forecast what William would 
 say on any subject; but though his remarks 
 were obvious to a degree, indeed he was a 
 sympathetic and unselfish lad. That even- 
 ing he stayed up late to construct a coffin out 
 of a Sunlight soap-box, in w r hich he laid the 
 puppy, nailing it down and covering it with a 
 bit of green baize, and addressing it neatly 
 to Belinda. Pamela grieved that no flowers 
 had been placed on the poor little puppy, and 
 would have opened the coffin to repair this 
 omission had we allowed her. 
 
 At ten in the morning we started for the 
 funeral, Mary coming as far as the station, 
 and handing the baize-covered box into the 
 
 carriage in respectful silence. The coffin be- 
 6
 
 76 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 ing rather heavy as well as noticeable, on 
 alighting at the Queen's Road station, Be- 
 linda as chief mourner stepped into a han- 
 som. Olivia, Pamela, and I followed in an 
 omnibus. At Victoria Gate we got out, to 
 find Belinda standing on the kerb beside the 
 remains, looking rather flustered. It ap- 
 peared the hansom driver had been annoyed 
 on discovering her destination, and had said, 
 in tones more loud than polite, had he 
 guessed she was making a " bloomin' 'earse 
 of 'is keb," he would have refused to drive 
 her. 
 
 " And I gave him an extra sixpence, too, 
 in case it was illegal to drive a dead dog," 
 concluded his fare wrathfully. 
 
 When the ceremony was over and the 
 puppy laid to sleep among the never-ceasing 
 rumble of London traffic, far, far from the 
 country home where his short days had been 
 mostly spent, we called at a monumental 
 mason to order the tombstone. Whilst Be-
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 77 
 
 linda discussed details of stone and shape 
 with the mason, Olivia somewhat spitefully 
 drew our attention to the fact that Belinda 
 could not forget herself even on a tomb- 
 stone: -^ 
 
 " She's getting in her own name on it as 
 well as the puppy's." 
 
 When we got back, Mary informed us 
 laconically that " The Church had called " 
 during our absence. A card, inscribed " The 
 Rev. Theophilus Kittiwake, The Vicarage, 
 Brick Park, S.W.," lay on the hall table, also 
 bearing testimony to our first visitor. 
 
 " I told the gentleman," continued Mary, 
 " that you young ladies wasn't in, that you 
 had gone to a funeral; and 'twasn't no use 
 my going upstairs to tell Master Jack, as he'd 
 be sure to say as he wasn't at home." 
 
 We regretted having been out. Olivia 
 was able to describe Mr. Kittiwake in appear- 
 ance, as she had noticed him going to and 
 fro in the parish.
 
 78 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " He is tall and dark, with brown curly 
 hair, rather handsome, but walks badly." 
 
 I looked at the card several times. Kitti- 
 
 , 
 
 wake was not a name one would choose to 
 carry one through life; still, I did not entire- 
 ly agree with the others, who declared it re- 
 minded them of a missing word competition. 
 
 About this time Pamela, having met with 
 no success in her endeavours to teach draw- 
 ing only in a private family, decided to go 
 on4he Stage. 
 
 She ordered the Era to come in with the 
 Church Times. It was the latter paper which 
 influenced Olivia's career. One week, sand- 
 wiched in between the details of twelve sur- 
 plices to be sold for the benefit of a new or- 
 gan fund, and the offer of a " warm, com- 
 fortable home, at reduced terms " to any 
 elderly gentleman whose accomplishments 
 included carving, she saw an advertisement 
 which promised to fling open the gates of 
 Bohemia.
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 79 
 
 It emanated from an author who required, 
 a young laciy secretary about twenty-two, 
 .knowledge of typing essential, her own type- 
 writer a recommendation. She must be of 
 good appearance, and able to correct proofs 
 
 carefully. ' Intending applicants were re- 
 t 
 
 quested in the first instance to write to ad- 
 dress given, when a personal interview might 
 be arranged. The fact that the author had 
 inserted the word " married " in brackets 
 after stating his profession, coupled with the 
 
 ? 
 
 announcement appearing in the Church 
 Times, made us doubt his atmosphere being 
 as purely Bohemian as one could have 
 wished. 
 
 Olivia, replying to this advertisement, en- 
 larged upon the fact that her typewriter was 
 her own. 
 
 " I need not say I got it second-hand," 
 
 she exclaimed, as with shining eyes she sat 
 
 
 
 nibbling her pen trying to recall points in her 
 own favour. "Neither shall I mention my 
 
 W : s
 
 8o BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 exact age. If I put I shall be twenty soon, 
 that will look better than saying I'm only 
 eighteen." 
 
 With regard to her personal appearance, 
 she modestly left the author to judge for him- 
 self from the photograph she enclosed, only 
 remarking she had altered considerably 
 a necessary statement, seeing that the photo 
 was not her own, which she had mislaid, but 
 Pamela's. 
 
 The author answered by return of post, 
 appointing a personal interview at his house, 
 but a few miles distant. When Pamela, 
 looking over her sister's shoulder, saw that 
 the letter was not signed " Walter Besant " 
 her interest died down suddenly. 
 
 The author had thoughtfully sent a print- 
 ed slip containing the names and publishers 
 of his books, to help in identifying him. 
 This enabled Olivia to obtain one or two 
 and read them; she also looked him tip in 
 Who's Who, which shed a light on his Univer-
 
 CONCERNING ART AND LITERATURE. 8l 
 
 sity and literary career. She deduced 
 chiefly from the titles of his works that he 
 was a poet as well as a prose writer, and her 
 interest redoubled, and we spoke of him from 
 that day, when we spent a whole afternoon 
 admiring his signature- a particularly bold 
 one as " The Poet." 
 
 When later on in the week Olivia re- 
 turned from the personal interview, we were 
 intensely interested to hear what had passed. 
 The Poet, we learnt, was not of the Byronic 
 type; he had a genial, even cheerful manner, 
 and was handsome in an erect, white-mous- 
 tachioed, soldierly way. Altogether he ap- 
 peared to be one of the exceeding few who 
 see their own surroundings through rose-col- 
 oured glasses. 
 
 " I'm not quite clear," continued Olivia, 
 "what the secretary's duties are; but they 
 seem to include generally enjoying Bohemia. 
 He showed much sympathy on hearing I 
 contributed to the Animal World, though it
 
 82 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 is not a paper he has himself worked for. I 
 was just going to ask him upon what book 
 he is now engaged, when the tea came in and 
 he pressed me to take some bread and butter. 
 I only blushed five times not bad, was it? " 
 
 Five blushes in a quarter of an hour was 
 moderate for Olivia. 
 
 The Poet had had about two hundred ap- 
 plications, but promised to think over Olivia 
 and let her know the result. 
 
 The result was a summons to take up her 
 residence in Bohemia, and not on any ac- 
 count to forget the typewriter. 
 
 " He seems to think it's of as much im- 
 portance as I am! " cried the owner of the 
 machine, vexedly. 
 
 With Belinda's help she made some pretty 
 additions to her wardrobe and bought her- 
 self a pair of spectacles not that she required 
 them, but considered them essential to a liter- 
 ary appearance and thus equipped set sail 
 for that happy land, Bohemia.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 SOME time after the events to be here re- 
 lated, I explained to the Rev. Theophilus Kit- 
 tiwake that if on the occasion of his first paro- 
 chial call he went away under the impression 
 that William was a member of the Stock Ex- 
 change, that Jack was painting a picture for 
 next year's Academy, and Olivia away on a 
 visit of pleasure, it was not due to my share 
 in the conversation. 
 
 And the Vicar, with that wide charity for 
 which he was remarkable, said: " Belinda is 
 just a trifle inaccurate." 
 
 The grin which accompanied these words 
 was nearly as wide as the charity. 
 
 We had just come in from seeing Olivia 
 
 83
 
 84 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 off by train to Bohemia. The realisation of 
 her dreams took off the keen edge of parting, 
 and if there was a tear in her eye it arose more 
 from having attracted a wandering particle 
 of coal-dust, than sorrowing affection. But 
 we were commenting a trifle dolefully on the 
 first break in our circle, when the Vicar was 
 shown in. I observed a tall man, with brown 
 crinkly hair, dark eyes, and a sympathetic 
 manner. Belinda noticed that he wore his 
 nose a trifle to one side and used his soft hat 
 to punctuate his conversation. 
 
 " I was unfortunate in finding you out on 
 my first call. Your servant said you had 
 gone to a funeral. I hope " (here his eye 
 roved from my pink blouse to the blue ribbon 
 of Belinda's hat) " that as you are not in 
 mourning you have not lost any near rela- 
 tive? " 
 
 " No no relation a friend only," mur- 
 mured Belinda, absently. " Died of the 
 mange."
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 85 
 
 "Well, hardly a friend," I hastened to 
 explain; "that is a puppy; we buried him 
 in Hyde Park." 
 
 " The dog is the friend of man," respond- 
 ed the Vicar genially. 
 
 After he had gone, Belinda said his con- 
 versation reminded her of last year's fash- 
 ions. 
 
 Belinda poured out tea, and beamed be- 
 hind the tea-cosy. She had a way of smiling 
 at the end of her sentences that made stran- 
 gers feel as if she had confided something to 
 them of first-class importance. 
 
 " Maria and I," she observed, passing him 
 a cup with the grace of a complete under- 
 standing, " never take milk or sugar in our 
 tea." 
 
 Then she smiled, and Mr. Kittiwake said 
 " Indeed! " and felt as if he had known her 
 for years, perhaps christened her. 
 
 Aware that my sister never did anything 
 without a motive, I meekly accepted my tea
 
 86 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 brown and bitter, though I liked sugar and 
 cream better than most people. Presently 
 the motive became apparent, when the Vicar 
 refusing a second cup, Belinda poured what 
 remained of the cream there had only been 
 a few spoonfuls, the milkman having unac- 
 countably forgotten us and added liberally 
 of sugar. Though so good at adapting her- 
 self to circumstances, Belinda invariably for- 
 got to carry them through consistently. 
 
 A little general and parochial discussion 
 followed, and then the Vicar mentioned there 
 was a pew in his church vacant; if we liked 
 to secure it, its rent was two guineas. It was 
 the only one likely to be available for some 
 time; he regretted it was situated somewhat 
 low down in the church, in a draughty posi- 
 tion. Belinda intimated that she took cold 
 easily, and the matter ended by our accepting 
 the loan of the Vicarage pew gratis until 
 one out of the way of draughts became 
 vacant. William, when we notified this ar-
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 8/ 
 
 rangement, found fault with the usual selfish- 
 ness of women. 
 
 " How," he demanded, " am I, right 
 under the pulpit, to get the forty winks to 
 which I am accustomed during the sermon? " 
 
 " Your doze, William," replied I, " when 
 weighed in the balance against two pounds 
 pew-rent, proves you a very light sleeper." 
 
 Having settled about the pew, the Vicar 
 went on to tell us there was to be a tea given 
 in the Parish school-room, a sort of anniver- 
 sary "ceremony to celebrate his having been 
 a year in the parish. He hoped we should 
 find time to come to it. The churchwardens 
 had insisted upon his taking the opportunity 
 thus afforded for mentioning a certain defi- 
 ciency in the offertory for Church expenses. 
 
 " Would you advise me," he asked, look- 
 ' ing much perplexed, " to mention this before 
 the tea or after? " 
 
 I suggested after. " It would be a pity 
 to spoil people's appetites."
 
 88 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Belinda considered parish appetites not 
 easily daunted, and that to mention it after- 
 ward might give them indigestion. 
 
 " I much prefer making these announce- 
 ments from the pulpit," sighed the Vicar. 
 
 " Where there's no likelihood of your 
 being contradicted," we agreed sympathetic- 
 ally. 
 
 Then the talk turned upon a " Jumble " 
 Sale to take place on the following Thursday. 
 Belinda was much interested in hearing how 
 it was managed, and begged to be allowed 
 to send a few contributions. 
 
 " Things do accumulate so don't they? " 
 she remarked, forgetting we had only been 
 in the house a month or so. 
 
 " For a first call," said I, looking at the 
 clock, " an hour and a half is not a bad allow- 
 ance." 
 
 Belinda stood near the window watching 
 the Vicar stride across the green to the Vic- 
 arage.
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 89 
 
 " He's weak about the knees, that's what 
 makes him walk so badly. I noticed that 
 though he talked most to me, he looked a 
 good deal at you, Maria." 
 
 We consulted Mary as to what we could 
 spare for the " Jumble " Sale. She hinted 
 that the gas globes which had accompanied 
 the sideboard were not needed. 
 
 " And a different butler's tray for every 
 day of the week being what Miss 'Livia calls 
 an extravagant possibility, you might send at 
 least three of them, Miss Maria." 
 
 So without giving away anything we 
 should have missed, we had more space and 
 convenience in the house after our donations 
 for the good of the parish. The Vicar told 
 me afterward when there was no longer any 
 need to live up to strained notions of polite- 
 ness that he concluded we had bought up 
 an entire " Jumble " Sale from somewhere to 
 furnish with. 
 
 My artistic tendencies, which had hitherto
 
 OO BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 found outlet in useful but plain sewing, sud- 
 denly developed in the direction of ecclesiasti- 
 cal embroidery. Belinda, not to be outdone 
 in her esteem for the Vicar, presented him 
 with two of the puppies and offered the third 
 to be raffled at a forthcoming bazaar. In- 
 deed, I sometimes considered that she took 
 too warm an interest in church matters. One 
 evening, for instance, when brushing her hair, 
 always a credit to the amount of attention 
 she paid it, she confided how she had 
 anonymously sent a P.O, for half-a-crown 
 toward the deficiency in the offertory for 
 church expenses. This deficiency, though it 
 fluctuated in amount, was chronic in sub- 
 stance. That week it must have reached its 
 high-water mark, for the day before, after 
 evening service, I had slipped a florin into 
 the box dedicated to contributions just inside 
 the church door. It was not necessary to 
 tell Belinda this, indeed I reproved her se- 
 verely.
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 91 
 
 " Charity should begin at home even in 
 these days of cheap travelling." 
 
 Belinda, combing her hair over her face 
 and peering through it until Jinks, allowed 
 to watch the operation, mistook her for his 
 first cousin, retorted that she had not under- 
 stood the violet stole I was working was for 
 home decoration. 
 
 " I suppose, Maria, you intend it for a 
 mantle-border." 
 
 There was no reasoning with Belinda. 
 
 As the summer grew on, Uncle Joshua 
 conceived the useful idea of sending us a 
 weekly hamper. It was kind of him. Some- 
 times we wrote and told him so, sometimes 
 we forgot even to acknowledge it. Once I 
 remember we had reason to point out that it 
 might have been better packed. 
 
 " We have not " so ran our letter 
 " yet been able to determine whether the 
 contents of last week's hamper were fruit
 
 92 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 or jam, it came in so mashed a condi- 
 tion." 
 
 Uncle wrote apologetically in reply, say- 
 ing he had packed it himself, the gardener 
 being busy. We interrogated Mary as to 
 whether a gardener had been installed at The 
 Court before her departure. 
 
 She said: " I believe, Miss, as there was 
 a person as called himself such, but I didn't 
 take no great heed to him." 
 
 Uncle's ideas on hampers, though mainly 
 composed of fruit and vegetables, included 
 filling the corners up with packets of tea, 
 sugar, and coffee, and at the bottom more 
 often than not we discovered a ham of ex- 
 cellent flavour. Once only he mentioned 
 Mary; as some weeks had elapsed since her 
 departure to nurse her mother, he supposed 
 there were some wages due to her: she had 
 left intending to return. He enclosed the 
 cheque, trusting that we knew her address 
 and would forward it. The cheque was for
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 93 
 
 five pounds, which put Mary's wages at about 
 twenty-five pounds a year. We asked her if 
 she honestly considered herself worth that 
 sum, and agreed to abide by her deci- 
 sion. After meditating silently upon her 
 own value, she suggested that as " Master 
 William " got up early to clean the win- 
 dows, and laid the supper on " her night 
 out," the sum should be divided between 
 them. 
 
 When we handed the half to William he 
 remarked that it was the very first time in his 
 life he had not found virtue to be its own 
 and only reward, and modestly questioned 
 whether he had a right to spend it entirely as 
 he desired. We assured him he had, and he 
 went out there and then and purchased a 
 lawn mower, explaining in extenuation of his 
 purchase that 
 
 " You would hardly believe the time it 
 takes getting round the lawn, small as it is, 
 with only Maria's scissors."
 
 94 BELIMDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Jack did not approve of Pamela's plan of 
 going on the Stage. He would put his foot 
 down on it. 
 
 " Seeing that you take a nine," said Be- 
 linda, " your method, Jack, should be effect- 
 ive." 
 
 Pamela did not care what Jack thought. 
 William was her favourite brother: every 
 night, when not too sleepy, did he not read 
 out Romeo, while she repeated Juliet from 
 memory? I had wondered somewhat at 
 William's quiet acceptance of Pamela's idea 
 of going on the Stage, knowing that broth- 
 ers' admiration of actresses does not as a rule 
 extend to histrionic talent in their own fami- 
 lies. He explained his attitude when Pamela 
 was absent from the room. 
 
 " Nothing in the world cools one's ardour 
 for an undertaking like encouragement: why, 
 I should have taken more prizes at school 
 if the masters had had the sense to oppose 
 me.
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 95 
 
 Then he went on diffidently to tell us 
 how he had latterly met a few actresses purely 
 in the course of business. At that moment 
 Pamela entered the room and inquired anx- 
 iously how actresses looked, off the Stage. 
 
 " Not as well as they look on," replied 
 William. " You see, Pamela, their complex- 
 ions, however good to start with, get so to- 
 tally ruined by the paint and powder they 
 have to use, you know." 
 
 Pamela grew pensive, and William con- 
 tinued smiling at his own diplomacy, until 
 Jack ruffled him by remarking that the ac- 
 tresses he was acquainted with if he did 
 know "any might perhaps exchange their 
 stockings; but he, Jack, doubted them hav- 
 ing much to do on the Stock Exchange. 
 The humour of this observation not striking 
 William, he replied rudely, and a short quar- 
 rel ensued. Belinda and I listened attentive- 
 ly. If it had not been for the boys now and 
 again falling out, there were lots of little mat-
 
 96 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 ters we should never have known anything 
 about. 
 
 Olivia came to see us the following Sun- 
 day afternoon. She arrived about three 
 o'clock, looking a little dejected, as one 
 might whose lot was made up of peculiarly 
 trying circumstances. 
 
 " Bohemia," remarked Belinda interrog- 
 atively, " does not seem to agree with 
 you? " 
 
 Olivia burst into tears. 
 
 Jack, whose experience of hysterics and 
 their treatment was derived entirely from 
 novels, ran for some water. He took what 
 came first. That it happened to be his tum- 
 bler of painting water did not warrant un- 
 charitable judgment. A long acquaintance 
 with Jack taught us always to put in his 
 motives as backgrounds to results, often 
 curious. 
 
 Olivia drank a little, and refrained from 
 mentioning the flavour of indigo.
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 97 
 
 " It's all so different," she sobbed, " from 
 what I expected." 
 
 " By-the-by, what did you expect? " in- 
 quired Belinda, who had found the day long, 
 and thought we might begin at the begin- 
 ning. 
 
 Olivia didn't know. 
 
 " Then," rejoined William, " how can you 
 be disappointed? " 
 
 " Silly! " exclaimed Pamela, presumably 
 addressing the last speaker. " If she knew 
 what to expect how could she be disap- 
 pointed? " 
 
 Olivia mopped her eyes and continued 
 vaguely: 
 
 " It's all so so too " 
 
 " Clean? " hazarded Belinda. 
 
 " The Poet's not a poet at all," sobbed the 
 disappointed one. " He writes for the news- 
 papers commonplace, everyday newspapers 
 and the work he's engaged upon is a Blue 
 Book."
 
 98 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " Well, if Art is long," observed William, 
 " Literature seems to be broad in propor- 
 tion." 
 
 " His wife is not a bit artistic," wept Oliv- 
 ia; " she gets her gowns straight from Paris, 
 and goes calling on a bicycle." 
 
 Belinda looked interested. 
 
 " There may be compensations," she re- 
 marked, soothingly. 
 
 But Olivia didn't think so. 
 
 " He has such peculiar ideas, he takes a 
 great interest in foreign politics, and says 
 Dickens is overrated. Then, he keeps a 
 notebook in his pocket, and puts down every 
 silly thing that's said at table." 
 
 " Why, you must be afraid to speak! " 
 cried Jack. 
 
 This speech, as we afterward pointed out 
 to him, was not calculated to soothe his sis- 
 ter's feelings. She began to cry again, and 
 Pamela wept for company. 
 
 Altogether it was a damp afternoon.
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. 99 
 
 " Oh, don't go on the Stage, Pamela dar- 
 ling! " exclaimed Olivia bitterly. " It won't 
 be a bit like what you think it! " 
 
 There was perhaps more truth in this 
 statement than the speaker was aware of. 
 
 The only point on which the Poet seemed 
 an orthodox Bohemian was his objection 
 to being spring-cleaned. This operation had 
 lately happened and left him irritable. 
 
 " Why, I knew there was something we 
 had forgotten," cried I; "of course, we never 
 had a .spring-cleaning." 
 
 " Regarding life from a Bohemian point 
 of view," said William, " it seems to me 
 there's no place like home." 
 
 Under the influence of a cup of tea and 
 some strawberries from Uncle's last ham- 
 per, Olivia admitted there were compensa- 
 tions. 
 
 " When I can't make out my own writing, 
 which as you know sometimes happens, he 
 (the Poet) doesn't mind me asking him if he
 
 IOO BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 knows what he meant, and he says I may use 
 his stamps." 
 
 "There, Jack!" cried Belinda, "didn't I 
 tell you all professions have their perqui- 
 sites? " 
 
 Jack wondered aloud, as his way was 
 if the Poet knew what he had let himself in 
 for when he gave Olivia permission to use 
 his stamps. But Olivia contemplated a col- 
 lapse of all her literary efforts. 
 
 " I sha'n't have any time to write for my- 
 self. He seems to think I'm only there to 
 be at his beck and call," she added bitterly. 
 
 " Which, seeing he pays you to be his 
 secretary, is of course absurd," commented 
 William sympathetically. 
 
 We considered Olivia had been deceived. 
 She had asked for the bread of poesy and re- 
 ceived the stone of journalism. What if the 
 Poet's political leaders were so worded that 
 they almost convinced the Opposition? They 
 only came out in papers everyday news-
 
 CONCERNING A FIRST ACQUAINTANCE. IO I 
 
 papers like the one that came in with the milk 
 every morning, and which we should never 
 have ordered had not Belinda argued that 
 the Smiths' boy would think it so funny if we 
 didn't take in a daily! 
 
 I wondered sometimes whether other 
 people noticed a peculiarity of Olivia's. She 
 would suddenly make a remark totally irrele- 
 vant to the subject in hand. That Sunday 
 evening, as she put on her hat to return to 
 what there was of Bohemia she said: 
 
 " I wish I had never read Trilby! " 
 
 William, too, would talk a jargon we did 
 not understand. He flung himself down in 
 a chair, remarking: 
 
 " Well, there's been a slump in Olivia's 
 ideals."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA invited himself to stay 
 with us. He had a few little business trifles 
 to attend to in town, could we put him up 
 for a few days? His letter reminded us that 
 we should have asked him to come before: 
 but it was too late to apologise, so we merely 
 said how delighted we should be to see him; 
 would he come as soon as he liked, and stay 
 a week, not a few days? 
 
 " If we each take the responsibility of him 
 for a day," remarked Belinda, " he will not 
 be such a very great nuisance." 
 
 We explained this arrangement to Uncle 
 on the Monday night of his arrival. 
 
 " To-morrow you're mine," I said;
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 103 
 
 "Wednesday, Belinda's; Thursday, Jack's; 
 Friday, Pamela's; and on Saturday William 
 will devote his half-holiday to your amuse- 
 ment, and on Sunday doubtless Olivia will 
 grumble for your benefit." 
 
 Uncle expressed himself delighted at our 
 thoughtfulness. 
 
 " In case I should forget," he observed, 
 " will you remind me each morning to whom 
 I belong?" 
 
 We put him in the room vacant by Oliv- 
 ia's departure. 
 
 " Don't get up till you're called, Uncle, 
 because William, having to catch the early 
 train, must have his bath first, and it takes 
 some time for the water to heat again." 
 
 " Oh, of course William must be consid- 
 ered first," agreed Uncle, and closed his door. 
 
 " He's not half a bad little sort," said Be- 
 linda meditatively, " but I quite understand 
 how he came to lose his money." 
 
 Uncle was easily pleased. As I was busy
 
 104 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 about the house, he spent the whole of the 
 next morning wandering from room to room 
 looking at the furniture, and asking how 
 much it cost. Belinda, who was drawing in 
 the dining-room, found his presence some- 
 what disturbing. 
 
 " Oh, don't fidget so! " she cried. " It's 
 Maria's day, and she seems to be neglecting 
 you." 
 
 In the afternoon I gave him a bicycle les- 
 son on William's machine. He fell off a 
 good many times, but I encouraged him to 
 persevere. 
 
 " Just think how useful it would be to 
 you in the country. 'Tis not as if you were 
 a rich man and could afford horses." 
 
 Toward evening William suggested that 
 Uncle should do some gardening. 
 
 " There's nothing like using your arms to 
 take the stiffness out of your legs and you 
 must be stiff after that bicycle lesson. The 
 garden wants weeding terribly. When you
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 105 
 
 come across a stone or a snail, chuck it into 
 the garden next door that's what I do." 
 
 " Your neighbours have not called upon 
 you, I understand," replied Uncle, preparing 
 to weed. 
 
 At breakfast on Wednesday Belinda re- 
 minded our visitor it was her turn to amuse 
 him. 
 
 " I have to take some drawings up to the 
 
 office in Fleet Street. You can come 
 
 with me. Then we'll go on, look at the 
 shops, and come home outside an omni- 
 bus." 
 
 Belinda begged Uncle to wait below 
 while she went upstairs to the editorial sanc- 
 tum. He sat on the stairs and had a doze, 
 for his night's rest had been much disturbed 
 by bicycle nightmare. Business finished, 
 they directed their steps toward Piccadilly 
 Circus, up Regent Street, and along Oxford 
 Street to Buzzard's. 
 
 " We sha'n't be home in time for lunch,"
 
 IO6 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 said Belinda, " so we'll have a glass of lemon- 
 ade and some cake." She insisted on pay- 
 ing for both. " If you want to spend your 
 money, Uncle, you can buy me some trifle 
 down Bond Street." 
 
 In Bond Street she remembered she want- 
 ed some buttons, and they went into a shop. 
 When the assistant . had turned to get the 
 buttons Belinda murmured: 
 
 " You must buy something; we can't go 
 out only having bought buttons." 
 
 Uncle couldn't remember what he wanted. 
 He looked round vacantly at exquisite etcet- 
 eras of feminine attire. 
 
 " You choose something," he whispered 
 at last, " and I'll pay for it." 
 
 Belinda inquired the way to the blouse 
 department, and spent ten minutes in decid- 
 ing whether blue chiffon or pink silk would 
 be most becoming. 
 
 " Blue's my colour but then, it's more 
 expensive," she sighed regretfully.
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 
 
 " A few shillings is not worth mention- 
 ing," returned Uncle, so Belinda decided on 
 the blue. She insisted on taking it with her, 
 and. when they got outside the shop handed 
 the box to Uncle, saying: 
 
 " People won't notice you carrying a par- 
 cel, they might stare at me." 
 
 So Joshua carried the parcel all down 
 Piccadilly till they got a 'bus at Hyde Park 
 Corner and started for home, Belinda chat- 
 ting delightfully all the way. 
 
 William didn't see where Uncle's fun had 
 come in on Belinda's day. 
 
 " He'll see me in the blouse," replied the 
 owner of it. 
 
 Uncle was easily pleased. 
 
 Thursday he appeared rather tired. Jack 
 kindly proposed spending a quiet morning 
 together in his painting-room. 
 
 " I once did a day's shopping with the 
 girls," he confided. " They spent five min- 
 utes at every window, and then said I had
 
 IO 8 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 hurried them so, that they couldn't remem- 
 ber what they wanted." 
 
 Then he made up a divan on the floor. 
 
 " I'm much in want of a model in a sleep- 
 ing attitude if you'd like to smoke a bit, I've 
 no objection." 
 
 Uncle placed himself in the required posi- 
 tion after handing his cigar-case to Jack, beg- 
 ging him to try one of its occupants. Then 
 he dozed off; the artist woke him up once 
 to explain that he couldn't draw him with 
 his mouth open, but with this exception 
 Uncle spent an entirely restful morning. 
 The afternoon we spent quietly in the gar 1 
 den. 
 
 On Friday, Uncle maintained it was im- 
 perative he should go into the city. Pamela 
 was not sure if she should let him go. 
 
 " It's my day to supply you with pleas- 
 ure, and I don't care about the city." 
 
 ' There's the Tower of London," ob- 
 served Uncle, " that's quite worth seeing,
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 
 
 and we could come back on a steamboat part 
 of the way." 
 
 Pamela agreed to this, only stipulating 
 he was not to be more than an hour over his 
 business. On her return, she said: 
 
 " After all, Uncle only had to go to the 
 Bank of England and he makes such a fuss 
 about trifles. We met a person he knew just 
 outside, who seemed surprised to see him." 
 
 " What did they talk about? " queried 
 Belinda. 
 
 " Oh, William's gibberish," replied Wil- 
 liam's sister. " Stocks and shares, and bears 
 and lions " 
 
 " It's Olivia who talks about lions, not 
 William," I corrected. 
 
 " Uncle was quite lively for him," con- 
 tinued Pamela. " This Mr. Dash said, 
 ' You're a warm man to-day, eh, Chilcott? ' 
 Uncle replied: ' Well, I am pretty warm; the 
 thermometer is about 80 in the shade, I 
 should say.' And they both laughed. Then
 
 HO BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Uncle introduced me. Mr. Dash said, 
 ' Lucky young lady to have you for an un- 
 cle ' ' Lucky Uncle, I think,' said 
 
 " That was nice of him," interrupted Be- 
 linda, " for of course any girls might have an 
 uncle like Joshua, but it isn't every man has 
 a niece like you, Pamela." 
 
 Pamela blushed with pleasure, and think- 
 ing it a propitious moment, mentioned that 
 she would so like to try on Belinda's new 
 blouse. 
 
 " Not to wear it, of course but just to 
 see how I look in it." 
 
 Belinda demurred. She would think 
 about it. 
 
 ' You see, I don't like other people put- 
 ting on my things," she explained; " if they 
 look nice in them it puts me out of conceit 
 with myself, and if they don't look nice 
 why, it puts me out of conceit with my 
 clothes." 
 
 The Vicar called early on Saturday morn-
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. m 
 
 ing, bringing some tickets for a local concert 
 to be held that evening in the parish school- 
 room. He hoped we would go and take 
 Uncle with us. 
 
 After he had hurried away \ve expressed 
 a wish to Uncle to have his photo. On 
 hearing that it was many years since he had 
 had one taken, we begged him to come, 
 there and then, into Richmond and have it 
 done. The notion pleased him and we all 
 started together. He looked so small and 
 lonely sitting up on the photographer's dais 
 by himself, that Belinda hinted he would 
 show to better advantage in a group; so we 
 arranged ourselves gracefully round him. 
 The photographer took the negative into 
 the dark room, which gave Belinda the op- 
 portunity to remark, without fear of contra- 
 diction, she knew she would come out badly, 
 as a strong desire to yawn had seized her just 
 at the critical moment. 
 
 " But anyway I should look a sight," she
 
 112 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 concluded, mournfully. " I never come out 
 well in a group." 
 
 " Then why not be taken alone? " said 
 Uncle, rather surprised, for she had suggest- 
 ed the group herself. 
 
 Belinda modestly consented and was done 
 in three attitudes. 
 
 When the photographer professed him- 
 self satisfied, she exclaimed: 
 
 " It hardly seems fair that I should be 
 taken alone and not Maria or Pamela you, 
 Maria, especially ought to be done. The 
 Church has asked several times for your 
 photo." 
 
 But Uncle Joshua didn't approve of his 
 nieces' photographs being sold for a charity, 
 which was what he understood Belinda to 
 mean. We might be taken separately if we 
 would promise him solemnly to keep them 
 strictly private, not otherwise. 
 
 It was a very successful morning. 
 
 " I don't think you've come out so very
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. u$ 
 
 badly, Uncle/' said Belinda on our way 
 home. 
 
 William spent his half-holiday taking 
 Uncle for a long pull up the river. 
 
 " Joshua paid for the boat, I suppose," 
 hazarded Belinda on their return. 
 
 "Joshua!" cried William. "No, I did, 
 of course; he's the visitor, not I." 
 
 William's way of managing circumstances 
 was less original than ours, still Uncle seemed 
 to have been much struck with his ideas 
 on hospitality. During supper he said sud- 
 denly: 
 
 " I should like you to invest a small sum 
 for me, William. I feel it will be safe in your 
 hands, my boy," and passed him a ten-pound 
 note. 
 
 " Rather," responded his nephew heartily. 
 " I'll put it in some safe concern, and keep it 
 warm for you. I'm not one of those fools 
 who play with large sums and run high risks, 
 and end by losing all they've got."
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 I, recollecting how Uncle had dropped a 
 fortune, meant only to give William a hint 
 not to hurt his feelings, but William had no 
 intuitive perceptions. 
 
 " That's twice you've kicked me under 
 the table, Maria! " he cried; " you might re- 
 member I've got a corn! " 
 
 The boys wouldn't come to the concert; 
 they preferred a smoke over a game of chess. 
 When we reached the door of the schoolroom 
 I drew out the tickets for the first time they 
 were only three, and we were four! 
 
 I knew Belinda expected me to offer to 
 return; but I maintained a dead silence, hav- 
 ing reasons of my own for thinking I should 
 enjoy the concert. 
 
 " Well, Uncle must go back," said she 
 at length. 
 
 Uncle, not understanding quite what the 
 discussion was about, intimated that . he 
 should be delighted. 
 
 " That's a nice way to speak," cried Be-
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. ^5 
 
 linda, " after all the sacrifices we've made to 
 amuse you! " 
 
 Uncle, seeing he had made some mistake, 
 got behind my sleeves. 
 
 Pamela had a gleam of intellect. 
 
 " If we sit close we might all four man- 
 age to sit on three chairs." 
 
 We carried this practical suggestion into 
 effect. The Vicar came up and remarked on 
 our looking a little warm. 
 
 " I'll see what I can do," he went on, 
 grasping the reason of our tight appearance. 
 In a few minutes he came back. " There's a 
 seat here, Miss Maria, next to mine, if you 
 will have it." 
 
 I took it. It was a very nice concert, and 
 I thoroughly enjoyed it. When we got 
 home and were going to bed, Belinda said: 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well," I responded, "what?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing," answered my enigmatic 
 sister, and got into bed.
 
 H6 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Olivia came home on Sunday afternoon, 
 and ran upstairs to take her hat off in her 
 own room. She knew of Uncle Joshua's 
 presence in the house, but was not aware of 
 his occupying her apartment. She opened 
 the door without knocking, and discovered 
 its inmate spreading patent varnish on his 
 boots with a guilty air, by the aid of his fore- 
 finger. Olivia had no manners. Instead of 
 apologising for her abrupt entrance, or say- 
 ing something pleasant by way of a greeting, 
 she sat down on a chair and observed crossly: 
 
 " In my room, too! " 
 
 " Maria put me here," stammered Uncle, 
 apologetically. 
 
 " Maria was always liberal with other peo- 
 ple's belongings," continued my sister gra- 
 ciously. " I should have thought William 
 might have blacked your boots, he has noth- 
 ing to do on a Sunday." 
 
 Olivia was suffering from irritability, 
 which we forgave when we understood she
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 
 
 had spent the entire week making an index 
 to the Poet's latest literary achievement. 
 
 " It's got regularly into my brain," she 
 sighed. " I go about thinking what letter 
 everything should be placed under. Every 
 insignificant trifle has to be indexed. Take 
 you, Uncle, for instance. You're Uncle, and 
 Joshua, and Chilcott. So you would go 
 down under U and J and C. In one place 
 you'd be Chilcott, comma, Uncle Joshua; in 
 the next Joshua Chilcott, comma, Uncle; 
 and in the third, Uncle Joshua Chilcott, no 
 comma. Oh, it's maddening! " 
 
 " I should think Chilcott, Joshua, would 
 be enough," said the owner of the name, wip- 
 ing a black forefinger meditatively on the 
 sole of his boot. " You see, it isn't really 
 necessary to mention the Uncle part of the 
 business." 
 
 " Oh, of course, if you're ashamed of us," 
 retorted Olivia, " there's no more to be said. 
 . . . My room will smell now of blacking
 
 H8 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 for ever so long, and I'm coming home for 
 holidays in six weeks." 
 
 Uncle expressed his intention of leaving 
 orders with the nearest decorators for the 
 room to be done up, whitewashed and re- 
 papered, on his departure, to remove any lin- 
 gering odour of varnish, and Olivia was mol- 
 lified. 
 
 " Let's have tea early and go for a walk," 
 she pleaded; "it will help to get the index 
 out of my brain." 
 
 v_ 
 
 So in an hour or so we left the house for 
 a lengthy stroll. Owing to the varnish not 
 having had time to dry, as we went along the 
 dusty roads, Uncle's boots took on a more 
 and more speckled appearance. 
 
 " He can't even clean his boots properly," 
 said Olivia loudly, as he stepped on in front 
 with Pamela. " I'm ashamed to be seen out 
 with him." 
 
 Olivia was not a consistent Bohemian. 
 Later, when she had left, Uncle remarked:
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 
 
 " I thought Olivia seemed a trifle put 
 out." 
 
 We discoursed on how she had met with 
 a disappointment. 
 
 " The cause is a lost illusion, and the effect 
 bad temper," said I. 
 
 " She found mere prose where she had 
 expected poetry," summoned up Jack in con- 
 clusion. 
 
 " Or at least blank verse," added William, 
 who could never be induced to believe any- 
 thing was poetry that did not rhyme. 
 
 Uncle was sorry to hear it; personally, he 
 had been ^fortunate in retaining many illu- 
 sions with which he had started in life. 
 
 Belinda said this remark strengthened 
 her in the belief that people who cherished 
 illusions had a silly habit of letting practical 
 advantages slip through their hands. 
 
 This seemed so personal, that to turn the 
 subject I begged Uncle to say what he 
 thought of our furniture.
 
 120 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " Why, it's very nice," he answered, 
 glancing round " very nice, what there is 
 of it." This, perhaps, sounding a little fee- 
 ble in his own ears, he added briskly " and 
 quite enough, such as it is." 
 
 " It's time you went to bed if you're go- 
 ing to get silly," said Belinda. 
 
 Uncle's visit had been such a pleasure that 
 we pressed him to stay another w r eek; but he 
 refused, so we spent the Monday morning in 
 helping him to pack. Pamela cried as he 
 bade us good-bye, and he, not knowing how 
 near the surface were her tears, was touched. 
 
 " You must come and stay with me, little 
 Pamela woman; and don't be in too great a 
 hurry to go on the Stage it's easy enough 
 to go on, the difficulty is to get on." 
 
 I have noticed that men resent being ex- 
 pected to know much about any profession 
 outside their own, with the exception of the 
 Stage; they all appear to be aware of some- 
 thing discreditable to the Drama.
 
 UNCLE JOSHUA'S VISIT. 121 
 
 Belinda was angry with Pamela for cry- 
 ing. 
 
 " He'll think now, because you pumped 
 up a few tears, that you care more for him 
 than we do," she said, as we stood by the 
 gate watching the hansom out of sight; 
 " and anyone can cry, at least I could if it 
 didn't make my nose so red. If we do go 
 down to The Court, of course we shall go in 
 order of age." 
 
 " Then Maria will go first and not you, 
 Belinda," retorted Pamela, putting a damp 
 handkerchief into her pocket. 
 
 " And if Maria," said the second of the 
 family complacently, " should happen not to 
 be anxious to leave Brick Park just at pres- 
 ent, remember in that case I should be the 
 eldest."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. 
 
 IT was entirely Belinda's notion to take 
 in a boarder. 
 
 " Nowadays," she said, " it is considered 
 quite the thing to have a stranger within the 
 gates for purely pecuniary reasons." 
 
 "What, a lodger!" cried Jack, in dis- 
 gust. 
 
 " No, not a lodger, Jack; a paying 
 guest." 
 
 Later she confessed that her idea was not 
 quite original, but adapted from a book: 
 Fiction was ever our guide, philosopher, and 
 friend. Was she to blame if things didn't 
 turn out in real life after the same fashion 
 they had in the novel? Anyone at all well 
 
 122
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. I2 3 
 
 read in the literature of the day must be aware 
 of the great gulf fixed between life in the sub- 
 urbs and Mudie's latest! 
 
 In Belinda's book the paying guest 
 boarded with a widow and her lovely daugh- 
 ter, in a dear little secluded cottage on the 
 borders of Devon. He spent his time inno- 
 cently, fishing for trout in the morning and 
 for compliments in the afternoon. The 
 widow cooked the fish and the daughter sup- 
 plied the compliments so lavishly, indeed, 
 that he came to feel he could not live without 
 her. So he proposed, and was accepted as a 
 captain on half-pay; and then he turned out 
 to be a lord, with a castle of his own not in 
 the air but on the ground supported by a 
 substantial income. They were happy ever 
 after, only his relations said among them- 
 selves there was evidently more than one sort 
 of fishing in Devonshire. 
 
 Our boarder gave us a surprise, but there 
 the parallel ended.
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 William thought we should do well to 
 have a girl. 
 
 " Some American, now," he suggested, 
 " who wants to see life in London." 
 
 But Belinda would not agree to this. 
 
 " Americans' ideas on life are limited. I 
 fear they don't stretch as far as Brick Park, 
 S.W. Besides, dear boy, a man is so much 
 less trouble in the house than a girl. He's out 
 more, and doesn't ask so many questions. If 
 we feed him well, he won't notice there isn't 
 a towel-rack in his bedroom, whilst a woman 
 would be telling us she couldn't sleep for fear 
 the chair would catch cold with a damp towel 
 upon it." 
 
 " Oh, all right, have it your own way," 
 quoth William; "but don't come down on 
 me when the paying guest don't pay." 
 
 Privately Belinda confided to me another 
 reason: 
 
 'You never know, Maria; suppose some 
 designing woman came along. Jack is so
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. I2 5 
 
 handsome, and even William is good-looking 
 in a plain way. We couldn't, for the sake of 
 appearances, begin by telling the boarder 
 they haven't a sixpence between them." 
 
 I recalled how Olivia, in a pet, once said 
 that the only thing Belinda was ever gener- 
 ous about was giving away her own sex. 
 
 Our first guest was a retired Colonel. 
 He only stayed a week, and gave no reason 
 for leaving, beyond that he felt sure the 
 neighbourhood didn't agree with him. But 
 to Mary he confided that his bed was so nar- 
 row, when he wanted to turn over he had to 
 get out, walk round, and get in at the other 
 side. We did not believe this story until we 
 found that the Colonel pitched his retired 
 tent at a longer established boarding-house 
 than ours, a few yards down the road. Then 
 Belinda pointed out how it was the essence of 
 courtesy to tell tarradiddles when the truth 
 would have hurt our feelings. 
 
 " There must be ups and downs to every
 
 126 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 undertaking," she concluded. " For my 
 part, I mean to talk to the Colonel as if I 
 knew No. 15 was surrounded by pure oxy- 
 gen." 
 
 She did, and the Colonel remained our 
 very good friend, and frequently took us to 
 Hurlingham. 
 
 Our second boarder was a pale, subdued 
 young man, good-looking in a melancholy 
 fashion, with an abstracted manner. He 
 grew confidential as we fell to treating him 
 as one of the family, and related how he was 
 a widower, his wife having died but recently. 
 We tried to cheer him up, encouraging him 
 to talk about his troubles a good talk will 
 talk the sting out of most misfortunes. The 
 result of our sympathy was for a while un- 
 certain. He was out most of the day, re- 
 turning each evening seemingly more weary 
 and dispirited than the last. One night the 
 clock had struck nine before he put in an ap- 
 pearance. We were sitting in the drawing-
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. 127 
 
 room variously occupied, when he strode in 
 carrying something in his arms which he de- 
 posited on the floor in our midst. 
 
 It was a baby boy about a year old! 
 
 We were silent from surprise; our boarder 
 offered no explanation at first, but sat gazing 
 at the child dejectedly. 
 
 " Where did you find it? " inquired Wil- 
 liam as the silence grew oppressive. 
 
 " Oh, it's mine," replied its parent, in the 
 tone of one who would say " A poor thing, 
 but mine own." " The truth is, the people I 
 left it with after my wife's death won't keep 
 it any longer. They say it cries when it is 
 left in the house alone." 
 
 " I should think so! " exclaimed Pamela 
 indignantly, going down on her hands and 
 knees to examine it closer. " Poor mite! " 
 
 The baby, attracted by her bright hair 
 and caressing voice, gave a little coo of pleas- 
 ure, ending abruptly in a great sigh, and then 
 began to wail in self-pity.
 
 128 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " If I might keep him here a day or two," 
 broke in the father, looking anxiously from 
 one to another, " just until I can find some- 
 one to look after him? " 
 
 " Of course! " we cried in a breath. 
 
 " Why didn't you bring it at first with 
 your other luggage? " asked Belinda coldly. 
 
 "What does it eat?" I interrupted. 
 
 He didn't know. We called in Mary, 
 whom nothing ever surprised. She rose to 
 the emergency, and said, " Mellin's Food"; 
 and might she take it in the kitchen? Pa- 
 mela went too, but curiosity kept Belinda and 
 I from following. 
 
 -The father looked so harassed and de- 
 pressed, that Jack begged him to come into 
 the next room and have some supper. 
 
 " Let the little beggar stay," urged Wil- 
 liam; " I will look after him he shall be my 
 little unpaying guest." 
 
 William, by judiciously giving notice at 
 the very time he was most required, had been
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. i 2 g 
 
 asked to remain at a higher salary, an offer he 
 accepted with an air of combined resignation 
 and self-sacrifice. 
 
 He became the baby's slave, having it to 
 early breakfast with him in the morning, and 
 keeping it up late at night. He bought au- 
 tomatic toys for its amusement, and alto- 
 gether showed himself " a born parent," as 
 Mary expressed it. The boy was a chubby, 
 happy little soul, who expanded like a flower 
 in the sunlight under judicious care and much 
 caressing. Now and again it would fall into 
 abstracted fits of thought like its father, 
 clasping one tiny foot with his hand, and 
 gazing with unseeing eyes into some dim fu- 
 turity we could not enter. On these occa- 
 sions. Jack, if near, invariably used it as a 
 model. In its ordinary moments it was 
 never still enough to be of use to our artist. 
 
 The father's gratitude was touching, espe- 
 cially to Belinda, when she made the boy a 
 pinafore. He never noticed the garment
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 was in two shades and three materials gath- 
 ered from the family piece-bag. He told 
 Pamela how Belinda reminded him of his 
 dead wife. 
 
 " She has the same sweet smile, and the 
 same simple, guileless manners." 
 
 " I decided," smiled Pamela, repeating 
 this conversation, " it was better not to tell 
 him that she got out of her turn to amuse 
 the boy by pretending she had a toothache." 
 
 A fortnight passed. One evening our 
 guest never came home at all; another day 
 went by, and still he appeared not. We were 
 growing anxious, when on the third morn- 
 ing Belinda received a letter postmarked 
 Liverpool. Our late inmate wrote that by 
 the time we received his epistle he would be 
 on the sea, bound for America; he had tried 
 in vain to obtain occupation in London with- 
 out success, and risked his last earnings in 
 setting forth for a new country. He apolo- 
 gised for leaving the boy on our hands, and
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. jji 
 
 would send for him directly he had got some 
 sort of home, however poor, together. Till 
 then he trusted we would not turn the child 
 adrift. The letter concluded by thanking us 
 for our kindness, which had kept the writer 
 from despair. 
 
 Pamela cried in sympathy with the pa- 
 thos. Jack laughed and tossed the baby, 
 who had not missed its father in the least, in 
 the air. 
 
 Belinda was mortified into admitting that 
 boarders were an utter failure. 
 
 " I did think he was a gentleman! " she 
 cried angrily. 
 
 Mr. Kittiwake, who had dropped into the 
 habit of discussing our family plans with the 
 freedom of a relation and the self-assurance 
 of a stranger, came in to see us nearly every 
 day. He took an increasing dislike to the 
 deserted orphan left in our charge, and sug- 
 gested, as I finished reading its father's letter 
 aloud, that we should hand the child over to
 
 132 
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 some nice motherly woman who would look 
 after it. 
 
 " There's Mrs. Davis now she " 
 
 " Never! " I interrupted. " How do you 
 know she would be good to the darling? Be- 
 sides, William would never part with him." 
 
 " Well, of course, you must take your 
 own way, Miss Chilcott," said the Vicar 
 stiffly. 
 
 " My name is Maria," I answered with 
 dignity, " and you seem to forget that it is 
 our duty our duty to look after the fa- 
 therless." 
 
 " Well, that's just the point I was coming 
 to. Mrs. Davis has had several children of 
 her own, and understands them thoroughly. 
 And you know I don't mention it to hurt 
 your feelings, but you told me yourself you 
 had missed a button the boy was playing 
 with." 
 
 " He may have swallowed the button, or 
 he may not. It may be on the floor still "
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. ^3 
 
 " Oh, of course, if the floor hasn't been 
 swept since, there's some hope," began the 
 Vicar cheerfully. 
 
 " This room is swept every day," I cried 
 indignantly, " I do it myself; but I might, it's 
 just possible I overlooked the button." 
 
 Mr. Kittiwake apologised for his insinua- 
 tion, and begged me to believe he considered 
 me the very latest edition of the last chapter 
 of Proverbs. 
 
 " But seriously, Miss Maria, when that 
 boy comes to grow up he will have to be 
 educated and put into some profession. Do 
 you really feel inclined to take the responsi- 
 bility? " 
 
 We had not looked so far ahead. 
 
 "His father says he will send for him di- 
 rectly he can," I maintained faintly. 
 
 The Vicar was silent save for a contemp- 
 tuous sniff, which made me angry. 
 
 "Only last Sunday," I cried, "you 
 preached about people drawing uncharitable
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 conclusions! You'd better go home and 
 read your own sermon." 
 
 My listener gasped. Perhaps he had 
 never been spoken to in that way before. 
 He seized his hat and rose offendedly. 
 
 " Oh, you can go! " I went on, picking 
 up a duster I had been using on his entrance 
 and flicking a chair vigorously. 
 
 He went without a word. 
 "Someone has said there is no noise as 
 effective as silence. When he had about 
 reached the front door I recollected how 
 wrong it was to be disrespectful to the Vicar 
 of one's parish. If I called " Theophilus " 
 instead of " Mr. Kittiwake," it was because 
 I had fallen into the habit of using his Chris- 
 tian name to myself when thinking of him. 
 He came back and stood in the doorway. 
 The bead fringe, an item in Pamela's 
 scheme of furnishing, parted and hung 
 round his head, rather detracting from his 
 dignity.
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. 135 
 
 " I may think over your plan of sending 
 the boy to Mrs. Davis." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 " That's all I'm afraid I've rather wasted 
 your time this morning." 
 
 But instead of going, the Vicar stepped 
 into the room and seated himself with an ob- 
 stinate expression. 
 
 " You do want dusting," I observed criti- 
 cally; " your coat looks as if it hadn't been 
 brushed for a twelvemonth." 
 
 " Maria! " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Say you are sorry." 
 
 " Sorry what for? " 
 
 " What for? For er for not taking 
 my advice, my pastoral advice, Miss Chil- 
 cott, in the spirit it was offered. For be- 
 ing rude, very rude in fact, Maria," he con- 
 cluded, dropping the clerical tone and as- 
 suming the expression of an injured school- 
 boy.
 
 136 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " But I'm not sorry you wouldn't like 
 me to tell an untruth to please you? " 
 
 The Vicar sighed and sat still. 
 
 " I will let you know send a note round 
 when I am," I said. 
 
 Still silence. Far in the distance I heard 
 the hum of a street piano; upstairs Pamela 
 was singing softly to its tune. 
 
 The fresh morning light fell on the Vicar's 
 face as he sat immovable. He looked tired 
 and depressed. After all 
 
 " Well, I suppose I was rude," I admitted 
 grudgingly. 
 
 " You were," he assented cheerfully. 
 Then he rose, taking the duster from my 
 hand. I prepared to listen to a homily, but 
 instead these words fell on my ear: 
 
 " I love you, Maria." 
 
 Surprise restored my self-assurance. 
 
 " Really! " I retorted, moving away. 
 " One would hardly have guessed it, judging 
 from our previous conversation."
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. 
 
 137 
 
 " I've loved you ever since I saw you, , 
 ever since I've known you, especially since 
 you sent me an anonymous Postal Order for 
 half-a-crown to show your sympathy with the , 
 deficiency in the offertory 
 
 " I never did never, never, never; some 
 horrid girl in love with you 
 
 " Oh, come," said the Vicar, smiling; 
 " why, it was folded in a sheet of paper 
 stamped with this address." 
 
 Then I recalled Belinda's confidence, how 
 she had sent a gift to the Church. She was 
 never consistent: it was like her to send it 
 anonymously in a sheet of paper which gave 
 away the donor. I debated mentally whether 
 I should explain this or not. 
 
 But no, he might go back and begin to 
 love Belinda. 
 
 " I've changed a good deal since then, 
 Mr. Kittiwake." 
 
 " You grow prettier every day," agreed 
 the Vicar comfortably.
 
 138 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Whose dignity could stand against a pro- 
 posal of this sort? Not mine. 
 
 Theophilus, as he desired me to call him, 
 helped to finish dusting the room. He broke 
 two ornaments, was very slow, and shook his 
 duster out of the window in such a way that 
 the dust all flew back in his face. 
 
 As twelve struck he remembered having 
 made an appointment for eleven, and com- 
 menced saying good-bye with reluctance. 
 
 He may have been, as was said, weak 
 about the knees, but his arms were strong 
 and tender. 
 
 -" I suppose," he hazarded presently, 
 " that I must come and have a talk with Wil- 
 liam he appears to be the head of the 
 family." 
 
 "Oh, William likes you!" 
 
 " That's kind of him. Do you think Be- 
 linda likes me? " 
 
 . "Well," I replied, dubiously, "Pamela 
 does."
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. 
 
 139 
 
 " I said Belinda! " 
 
 " The truth is to be open with you Be- 
 linda laughs at you a good deal. You would 
 rather know at once, wouldn't you? you 
 don't mind? " 
 
 " Oh, not at all," responded Theophilus; 
 but he bit the end of his moustache vexedly. 
 
 " After all, who's Belinda " 
 
 " Belinda's your sister," replied my future 
 husband, sententiously; " and of course I 
 wish all your relations to like me as I wish 
 to like them all." 
 
 " Shall I have to like all yours? " I que- 
 ried, blankly. 
 
 " I've only got one, an uncle " 
 
 " That's all I've got " 
 
 " Yes, and by-the-by, Maria, when Mr. 
 Chilcott was here I noticed that you all of 
 you didn't treat him er well, like an 
 uncle, in fact." 
 
 " If you have a copy of Hozv to Treat an 
 
 Uncle, you might lend it to me. But all the 
 10
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 same we cried when he went away; what 
 more could a man expect? " 
 
 " Would you cry if I went away, Maria, 
 little woman? " 
 
 I thought he would never go in the 
 hall, too! 
 
 When he at last left, a sudden idea struck 
 me. I ran out and caught him up at the end 
 of our secluded road. 
 
 " Theophilus, you really do mean to 
 marry me? " 
 
 " Of course," he answered, looking puz- 
 zled. 
 
 " You never mentioned the word ' mar- 
 riage ' when we were talking." 
 
 " I supposed you would understand my 
 intentions were honourable," remarked the 
 person addressed, loftily. He was so quickly 
 offended. 
 
 " I did, then I recollected that in books 
 the heroine always gets angry if the actual 
 word ' marriage ' isn't mentioned."
 
 WE TAKE IN A BOARDER. I4I 
 
 " When you're my wife you sha'n't read 
 so many rubbishy novels," replied the Vicar, 
 at the same moment producing a note from 
 his pocket. " In case you were out, I 
 brought this to leave you'd better read it. 
 It will, perhaps, dispel any doubts as to my 
 intentions." 
 
 " Oh, no, I don't really want well, per- 
 haps, just to satisfy Belinda; she might not 
 believe." 
 
 But Theophilus put it back in his pocket. 
 
 " I don't care about other people reading 
 my letters to you, especially Belinda. She 
 might make fun of it." 
 
 Which was exactly what she would have 
 done. 
 
 c 
 
 " But how can I answer," I asked meekly, 
 " if I don't read it? " 
 
 He wavered; finally, on my promising no 
 eyes but mine should ever see it, handed it 
 over. 
 
 I read it twice or more, and sent the an-
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 swer by Mary, in case it should get lost in the 
 post. Mary congratulated me, saying of 
 course she should keep her promise of living 
 with the first member of the family that got 
 married. 
 
 "And I wish you joy, Miss Maria; and 
 as it couldn't be Miss Pamela, I'd rather it 
 was you than Miss Belinda." 
 
 When Belinda came in from a long morn- 
 ing's sketching in town, I related what had 
 occurred in her absence. She promised never 
 to divulge that she sent the Postal Order. 
 
 " Though I shouldn't have wasted it had 
 I guessed he was going to be my brother- 
 in-law." 
 
 " He thinks you don't like him, Belinda." 
 
 " Well, he's hit the right nail on the head 
 for once in his life. Still, I'll try to be nice 
 to him for your sake; and, Maria, I think 
 you'd be more comfortable in your mind if 
 you paid me back that half-crown." 
 
 Which I did.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A LETTER FROM BOHEMIA. 
 
 WE had neither seen nor heard from Oliv- 
 ia for nearly a fortnight, when the early post 
 brought us a long, type-written epistle from 
 the one absent member of our circle. 
 
 Pamela, to whom it was addressed, volun- 
 teered to read it aloud at the breakfast-table. 
 
 " It's in Olivia's best literary style," she 
 announced, "and begins: 
 
 " My dear P. and the rest, including Jin- 
 kie- 
 
 " Do not, I pray you, picture me still 
 weeping among the ashes of disappointment, 
 clothed in the sackcloth of lost illusions. 
 
 " Illusions are never lost; they are merely 
 
 143
 
 144 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 exchanged. I have exchanged mine on Bo- 
 hemia. 
 
 " The ideas I cherished so fondly would 
 not have been in keeping with the end of this 
 century. As you know, I would rather have 
 chosen to live in the days when to write any- 
 thing longer than your own name and ad- 
 dress laid you open to the charge of eccentrici- 
 ty, than in these when one can write a novel 
 or wear a divided skirt without being other 
 than commonplace. Truly is it written, 
 ' Man knoweth not his latter end,' neither, 
 unfortunately, hath he any choice in the date 
 of his beginning. 
 
 " Bohemia improves vastly on acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " It's more than the toast does," inter- 
 rupted Jack, making an onslaught on the 
 butter. 
 
 " Its spirit is and ever will be the same, 
 but its landmarks alter with the tides of each 
 generation. It is no longer a country in-
 
 A LETTER FROM BOHEMIA. 145 
 
 habited by a few geniuses, and many ingen- 
 ious failures, for it now owns no genius at 
 least, none universally so admitted; neither 
 has it any failures, for all, apparently, have a 
 few believers. Its boundaries of late have 
 been greatly enlarged to admit of large 
 numbers of the Upper Ten Thousand. The 
 Upper Ten have developed brains; and Bo- 
 hemia in return has yoked itself with conven- 
 tions, and now leaves visiting cards where 
 formerly it left marks on the door-handle. 
 There is, too, some difficulty in deciding 
 whether it is better to be a Social Lion in 
 Bohemia, or a Bohemian in Society; both 
 have an excellent time, and a large circle of 
 imitators. 
 
 " By-the-by, ask Maria if she would look 
 out and do up my green silk skirt. Velve- 
 teen is one of the illusions I have exchanged 
 for chine." 
 
 Here Pamela paused to begin her coffee, 
 and Belinda went on with the letter:
 
 I 4 6 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " I have asked for a holiday a whole 
 holiday next Wednesday. ' My eldest 
 brother comes of age/ said I in extenuation 
 of my demand; 'if you can spare me, I 
 should like to be present.' The Poet seemed 
 surprised, but consented, remarking he never 
 knew before that people ever came of age in 
 the suburbs, but I might go by all means, and 
 he hoped I should enjoy it. So I shall come 
 early early early in the morning, and stay 
 late. 
 
 " I made my first celebrated acquaintance 
 under a cloud of misapprehension. If it had 
 not been for his inopportune arrival I should 
 have spent last Sunday afternoon with you as 
 usual. He came to call, found his intention 
 frustrated, there being no one at home; the 
 parlour-maid suggested the possibility of Mrs. 
 Poet returning shortly, whereupon he de- 
 cided to wait upon the chance. Mrs. Poet's 
 not at home resolved itself into a rest after 
 lunch in her boudoir. ' Pray go ' (this to
 
 A LETTER FROM BOHEMIA. ^7 
 
 me) ' and talk to him; it's only Brown say I 
 shall probably be in soon.' ' Only Brown ' 
 appeared a pleasant but in no way remarkable 
 personage. He opened the conversation 
 with the aid of the weather, after I had intro- 
 duced myself and begged him to await the 
 return of his hostess. He told me he had 
 been to church that morning, and I gath- 
 ered he had spent the time by reckoning how 
 many degrees the thermometer went up to 
 each additional worshipper. 
 
 " I adroitly used his opening to turn the 
 conversation into a more personal channel. 
 His name conveyed nothing to me, and I 
 did not want to spend more time than I could 
 help talking to a nobody. 
 
 " ' Whether one feels the heat or not de- 
 pends greatly on one's occupation. Now 
 what do you do? ' 
 
 " ' Oh, I er I paint a little, and draw 
 a little,' he said modestly, pulling his mous- 
 tache.
 
 I 4 8 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " It was as I had thought; here I had lost 
 my train having to stay and talk to a mere be- 
 ginner, with one foot, perhaps only a toe, 
 on the ladder of renown, and the other still 
 deep among the submerged Middle Classes. 
 
 " But it was my duty to be polite, so we 
 had a long chat about Art and artists, and I 
 advised him to stick steadily to one branch, 
 as he owned to having dabbled in oils, water- 
 colours, and even tried illustrating. Seeing 
 that he was still young enough to make a 
 career possible, I pointed out his best plan 
 would be to begin again at the beginning, 
 and begged him to go in for a thorough 
 course of School of Art training. 
 
 " Then Mrs. Poet came in with her bon- 
 net on, and murmured something about the 
 heat in the park being overpowering. We 
 had tea, and the visitor departed. 
 
 " ' Is his name really Brown? ' I said, 
 more for something to say than any other 
 reason.
 
 A LETTER FROM BOHEMIA. I49 
 
 "'Why, of course, dear, Brown, R.A.; 
 surely you've heard of him.' 
 
 " I tried to forget about the School of 
 Art, and nearly had when it was recalled to- 
 me next morning. I went into the City to 
 get some type-writing paper. The Poet said 
 I might go in an omnibus he's very good 
 at stretching my secretarial duties to include 
 something pleasant so I started. A 'bus 
 came along, full outside, but the conductor 
 was missing. It appeared a good opportu- 
 nity for practising getting on without stop- 
 ping the vehicle. I ran, gave a little jump, 
 and sank gracefully into a corner. The con- 
 ductor came down and clipped my ticket re- 
 proachfully. ' Hif there 'ad been a accident, 
 Miss, I should a been blamed.' ' You would,' 
 I agreed cheerfully, ' for talking to the driver 
 instead of looking out for passengers.' 
 
 " Then I noticed I had planted my para- 
 sol down on the toe of a passenger next to 
 me. I looked at its owner to apologise.
 
 150 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " It was Brown, R.A., grinning apprecia- 
 tively at my sally with the conductor. I 
 begged his pardon, and he complimented me 
 on the way I had got in. I confided my am- 
 bition was to get out when the 'bus was 
 moving. 
 
 " ' Pray don't,' he said, quite earnestly, 
 ' you might come on your nose, and that 
 would be a pity.' 
 
 " He then feared he had kept me in on 
 Sunday afternoon, as afterward he recalled 
 that I was dressed for walking, which gave 
 me the opportunity of delicately insinuating 
 I had not known at the time I was entertain- 
 ing an Academician unawares. But he as- 
 sured me he had never enjoyed a conversa- 
 tion so much in his life, and during the drive 
 for he, too, had to go in the City begged 
 permission to paint me. 
 
 " He says it isn't often that he got the 
 chance of painting the true Titian colouring. 
 
 " ' You shall have the first study when it's
 
 A LETTER FROM BOHEMIA. 151 
 
 done,' he added, for I had to demur a little 
 not to appear too anxious. 
 
 " Only two weeks to August, and then the 
 holidays. Ever yours, 
 
 " OLIVIA. 
 
 " P.S. Tell William my hair isn't red, it's 
 Titian." 
 
 " Fancy telling an R.A. to go to a School 
 of Art. Olivia's got no tact," said Belinda; 
 " and I've had no breakfast."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 
 
 OLIVIA arrived early on the morning of 
 Jack's birthday. So early, indeed, that the 
 hero of the occasion had not risen. After 
 well rattling the. handle of his locked door, 
 she seated herself beside his hot-water can in 
 the passage and commenced to remonstrate 
 loudly with him on his habits of late rising. 
 
 Jack mistook her for Belinda, who, the 
 soul of punctuality herself, generally called 
 each member of the household on her own 
 account. 
 
 Our voices were all much alike; so simi- 
 lar, indeed, that Belinda once obtained pos- 
 session of some facts I particularly desired to 
 
 withhold by speaking disparagingly of herself 
 152
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. ^3 
 
 in the third person from the bottom of the 
 stairs when I was engaged in a room above. 
 Olivia recalled this incident, and, thinking to 
 arouse Jack's sympathy and hasten his toilet, 
 acted on the recollection. 
 
 ' There's poor Olivia," she screamed, 
 " she'll be hurrying down early, and find no 
 breakfast ready! " 
 
 " Not she," responded Jack sleepily. 
 " Olivia's not the sort of old bird to be caught 
 with the chaff of early rising. She won't 
 start without her breakfast! " 
 
 " I wouldn't have got up at half-past six, 
 and walked all the way, if I'd known you were 
 going to come of age in bed," returned a 
 voice whose tone of martyrdom, streaked 
 with asperity, was peculiarly Olivia's own. 
 
 Jack, hearing his mistake, and not pos- 
 sessing any natural quickness for extricating 
 himself from unpleasant dilemmas, was silent. 
 
 Olivia descended to the kitchen to say she 
 would faint from sheer exhaustion if break-
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 fast was not on the table within five minutes. 
 Mary considered it a breach of birthday eti- 
 quette to commence without the person 
 whose appearance into the world was being 
 celebrated, so she compromised matters by 
 bringing Olivia a strong cup of tea from her 
 own teapot. 
 
 Jack was immensely pleased with his pres- 
 ents. Olivia had brought him a book, a nice 
 book, handsomely bound, called The Influence 
 of Politics on Greek Art. Jack thanked her 
 warmly. 
 
 " But what are all these pencil-marks? " 
 he inquired, turning the leaves. " ' One 
 one two two, quote 345.' It looks al- 
 most as if it had belonged to somebody? " 
 
 Olivia blushed. 
 
 " Oh, those? Those are particular bits 
 that seemed worthy of careful notice. I I 
 fancied you might like to learn them by 
 heart." 
 
 Jack said he would when three Sun-
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 155 
 
 days came in a week and turned to un- 
 wrap his next present. Olivia whispered 
 to me: 
 
 " I meant to rub them out they are the 
 Poet's marks. He had the book sent for re- 
 view and asked me if I'd accept it, as he found 
 he couldn't spare me more than four after- 
 noons a week to go out and look for a present 
 for Jack. He said," continued Olivia, relaps- 
 ing into a loud tone of indignation, " he'd 
 never heard of anyone taking so long to come 
 of age in his life." 
 
 Belinda gave a large bottle of lavender 
 water, with which Jack was delighted. 
 
 " It's a ripping idea of yours, Belinda, to 
 give what is even more useful to the donor 
 than the recipient. I shall give you a pipe on 
 your birthday." 
 
 My gift took the form of a pair of em- 
 broidered slippers. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Maria! just what I 
 
 wanted, they'll be so comfortable to put on of 
 ii
 
 156 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 an evening; but why did you choose such an 
 ecclesiastical-looking design? " 
 
 " It was one I had by me but try them 
 on, Jack." 
 
 They fitted very \vell a fortunate acci- 
 dent, seeing I had originally intended them 
 for Theophilus, who had distinctly declined 
 to allow that they fitted him, being in fact a 
 couple of sizes too small. There was no need 
 to tell Jack this, but it fell out that the Vicar 
 came in directly breakfast was over, bring- 
 ing with him a nice set of paint-bruslies. He 
 had evidently prepared a pleasant brotherly- 
 in-law little speech to accompany them, but 
 taken by surprise he forgot it and blurted 
 out: 
 
 "Why, you've got my shoes on, Jack!" 
 
 Jack was naturally indignant. 
 
 "Your shoes, I like that! Why, Maria 
 has just given them to me worked them 
 on purpose for my birthday; besides, you 
 couldn't get into them."
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. ^7 
 
 " That's so," replied the owner of the 
 clerical feet. " But I understood Maria to 
 say she was going to enlarge them." 
 
 I heard William, ever obvious, murmur- 
 ing behind me, " She's put her shoe in it 
 this time," when Pamela hastily drew Jack's 
 attention to the brushes, and Olivia drew the 
 Vicar's attention to herself. 
 
 " I have not seen you since," she be- 
 gan, vaguely gracious Olivia could be 
 very gracious " but I may congratulate 
 you, mayn't I, though I am Maria's sister? 
 I have known her every day for nineteen 
 years, nineteen long years, and I assure 
 you she would be a treasure to any house- 
 hold." 
 
 And then Belinda, whose mind was run- 
 ning on summer sales of haberdashery, 
 chimed in with: 
 
 " I consider Maria quite a bargain, my- 
 self." 
 
 Theophilus, touched by this display of
 
 !58 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 sisterly appreciation, forgot all about the 
 shoes. 
 
 William gave his brother a packet of some 
 tobacco they both held in high esteem, and 
 a cigar. The latter, he said, had a history. 
 
 " Uncle left it behind him in the agitation 
 of parting, so I can't take any credit for its 
 flavour 'twas not my choice but for not 
 smoking it, I deserve great praise. Why, 
 without even being lighted it burnt a hole in 
 my pocket! " 
 
 Jack quite understood this, and to save 
 William the pain of practising any further 
 self-denial, lit the cigar at that moment, only 
 pausing to press William to fill up his pipe 
 from the new tobacco. William had a whole 
 holiday. We had begged him to ask for it, 
 but to make sure of there being no refusal and 
 consequent ill-feeling between him and his 
 employer, he took the holiday first and asked 
 for it afterward. His plan, he explained, 
 was a sort of insurance against disappoint-
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 159 
 
 ment, the only drawback to the day's enjoy- 
 ment occurring on the following morning. 
 
 Pamela presented Jack with one of her 
 new photos, in which she looked quite lovely, 
 inserted in a home-made frame, together with 
 some toffee, also home-made. Of the two, 
 Jack, always critical, thought the toffee was 
 the better made. Mary begged him to ac- 
 cept a set of fine steel knitting-needles. 
 
 " My respectful compliments to Master 
 Jack, and I do 'ope, now 'e's come of age and 
 is a gentleman grown, so to speak, 'e'll leave 
 off borrowin' the kitchen skewers to clean his 
 pipes with." 
 
 The second post arriving at ten, brought 
 a small parcel from Uncle Joshua. It turned 
 out to be a box containing a set of studs. 
 Jack proudly pronounced them gold; but 
 Belinda, comparing the current value of that 
 precious metal with Uncle's income, which 
 she had assessed without authority at a 
 few hundreds a year, derided this notion.
 
 j6o BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 However, Jack stuck to his opinion, though 
 to convince Belinda he determined to find 
 out whether he was right. 
 
 " How? " queried Pamela, whose imagi- 
 nation had flown to some dangerous chemical 
 experiment and a possible explosion. 
 
 " Oh, there are ways and means," re- 
 turned Jack significantly. 
 
 " You might ask your Uncle," suggested 
 William. 
 
 Olivia snubbed him for his want of man- 
 ners. 
 
 '' You'll be inviting us to write and ask 
 how much they cost next! " 
 
 But William, unabashed, complained that 
 we had mistaken his meaning. He alluded 
 to another relative, not Joshua. 
 
 Olivia's absence from home may have ac- 
 counted for her forgetting how William 
 roasted this ancient chestnut on every oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 The boys said they had a surprise for
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 161 
 
 us, to take place at noon punctually, so we 
 separated to perform a few domestic duties 
 necessary to the comfort of even our casually 
 managed household. The Vicar too left, 
 promising to return in time to be surprised 
 at the appointed hour. 
 
 The first indication of anything unusual 
 was a sudden strange and uneven bumping 
 noise upon the stair. We hurriedly assem- 
 bled to inquire into the cause, and beheld 
 William. He had attired himself after the 
 manner of a sandwich-man, and the bumping 
 proceeded from the ironing-board which dec- 
 orated his back coming into frequent contact 
 with the stairs. A drawing-board hung from 
 his neck in front by a piece of string, and 
 both boards announced in bold letters a 
 trifle smudged from having been drawn with 
 charcoal that Jack would hold a Private 
 View in his painting-room that morning, 
 precisely at noon. With one 'hand William 
 gave us each a card of admission, illustrated
 
 162 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 with a portrait of the artist by himself, 
 and with the other he rang the dinner-bell. 
 To ring a bell is not dramatically correct 
 for a sandwich-man, it savours more of 
 a town-crier, but it was effective and 
 noisy. 
 
 The artis.t came out of his studio to wit- 
 ness the impression made by his advertise- 
 ment, and was so struck by what the sand- 
 wich-man called his total ensemble, that he 
 begged him to remain a moment upon the 
 stairs whilst he rapidly sketched a memento 
 of the scene. 
 
 It seemed a pity that no one outside the 
 family should enjoy the spectacle William 
 presented, so we suggested that he should 
 walk down the road and show himself to our 
 neighbours. He fell in readily with the idea, 
 and would have carried it out had he not met 
 Theophilus at the gate. 
 
 The Vicar surveyed the carmined nose, 
 battered hat, and ragged garments of his
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 163 
 
 future brother-in-law for some moments in 
 silence. 
 
 " Well, you are rather a surprise," he be- 
 gan at length, trying to enter into the spirit 
 of the joke rather a lame attempt, for The- 
 ophilus seemed ever to have grown up re- 
 membering he was an only child and an 
 orphan. 
 
 " You see, it's a pity to waste this get-up 
 on the desert air of the family," explained 
 the sandwich-man, " so I'm just going to 
 surprise the neighbourhood. What can I 
 cry out? they won't take any interest in 
 Jack's private view; hasn't anything been 
 lost in the parish lately, Kittiwake? " 
 
 Theophilus had gradually edged William 
 back into the hall. He then closed the front 
 door and set his back against it. 
 
 " The only thing I know, William, in 
 danger of getting lost is your reputation for 
 sanity, which, as Vicar of the parish, it's 
 plainly my duty to prevent happening."
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 After some demur the discussion ended 
 by the sandwish-man preceding the cleric up- 
 stairs, the latter holding up the ironing-board 
 as if it were a train. 
 
 Jack had divided his drawings into three 
 classes: (i) Reproductions of those which 
 had been published hung on one wall; they 
 were not so many as we could have wished, 
 but still they testified to a certain amount of 
 success and a decided improvement in his 
 work. (2) A few, arranged on the table, 
 upon which he was still engaged. (3) Cari- 
 catures, mostly grossly personal, covered 
 every available space vacant in the room. 
 Belinda, who liked a finger in whatever pie 
 was going, had added a few of her black-and- 
 white fashion illustrations. 
 
 " I'm surprised at Belinda making pub- 
 lic such articles of attire," observed Olivia, 
 casting a severe eye on the drawing 
 of a much frilled silk petticoat. " Of 
 course in the Academy one expects some-
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 165 
 
 thing not not quite but at a Private 
 View " 
 
 " Oh, we haven't asked Mrs. Grundy, 
 Olivia! " cried Jack lightly, but Belinda 
 maintained that we had. 
 
 " Theophilus is our Mrs. Grundy," she re- 
 marked loud enough for him to hear. In- 
 deed, between Belinda's sketches which he 
 did not like to look at on the one hand, and 
 the caricatures of himself which he pretended 
 not to see on the other, the Vicar, I feared, 
 passed an uncomfortable hour. 
 
 Then William rang the dinner-bell and 
 gave out that there would be a private auc- 
 tion of a few of Jack's sketches held that even- 
 ing in the garden, to be preceded by an enter- 
 tainment to begin at eight. 
 
 To occupy the afternoon we had arranged 
 some bicycle races. Racing was technically 
 illegal on the Queen's highway; but in the 
 quiet corner where we lived it was scarcely a 
 highway, for there was only one opening to
 
 !66 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Triangle Lawn, and the traffic therefore re- 
 stricted to a few vehicles having immediate 
 business in the neighbourhood. The boys 
 had their bicycles, and hired two ladies' ma- 
 chines as near alike in weight as possible. 
 
 Olivia decided not to race, getting up so 
 early had taken the necessary energy out of 
 her; and as Pamela invariably got off her 
 machine if she saw a dog or a cat in case she 
 should run over it, and also when any vehicle 
 came in view in case it should run over her, 
 she too concluded not to enter the lists. 
 
 The course was once round the triangle; 
 the road being narrow 7 , we decided not to ride 
 more than two abreast at a time; the start- 
 ing point and winning post were exactly op- 
 posite our own door, Olivia being umpire. 
 
 Jack hung back a little as the time to start 
 drew near, and wondered what people would 
 say; so to encourage him Belinda and I 
 opened the races. She insisted on having 
 the right-hand side of the road, to which
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. ^7 
 
 alone I attributed the fact that she won. 
 Then the boys, William with the air of a pro- 
 fessional scorcher, and Jack trying hard to 
 appear as if setting forth for an ordinary ride, 
 went round and were back before we consid- 
 ered them well started. The latter believed 
 he would have won, had he not been obliged 
 to ride uphill over his brother's hat, which 
 had blown off and fallen in his path. 
 
 " Then I'm sure I wish you hadn't," re- 
 torted William, looking ruefully at his head- 
 gear. " My hat goes down-hill now in the 
 wrong place." 
 
 Then Jack raced me, returning an easy 
 victor; but against Belinda he lost by a 
 couple of yards. I, a little dispirited by two 
 failures, suggested that William should be 
 handicapped for my last race. He gave me 
 half the course, hoping it would be enough 
 it wasn't, as was proved by my failing to win. 
 This sort of handicap doesn't really count: 
 the fear of breaking one's nose is a real useful
 
 l68 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 handicap, especially if it is a nice nose; 
 though with William's sort, even this 
 wouldn't prove an obstacle. 
 
 By the time the last race between Be- 
 linda and William was imminent, quite a 
 crowd had collected; the inhabitants gathered 
 at their windows, and betting ran high among 
 loitering errand-boys. Our baker's boy, in 
 a friendly spirit, stood near the one opening 
 to warn any approaching vehicle not to spoil 
 the fun. Belinda disdained the offer of a 
 handicap. Just as they were about to start 
 the Colonel appeared, carrying a lovely box 
 of French sweets. He had understood it was 
 Pamela's birthday; on finding it was Jack's, 
 he feared the sweets might not prove so ac- 
 ceptable. So we told him how we were 
 spending the afternoon and suggested the 
 sweets should be given as a prize, an item we 
 had entirely overlooked; though Pamela did 
 say later that she, personally, thought it 
 would have been in far better taste not to tell
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 169 
 
 the Colonel of his mistake, but let him con- 
 tinue to think it was her birthday. 
 
 Olivia gave the signal to start. Belinda 
 came in a smiling first, for William, so great 
 was his self-assurance, had stopped midway 
 and got off to speak to an acquaintance, 
 which self-conceit lost him the victory; but 
 then William had no taste for bonbons. Be- 
 linda received them graciously from the Col- 
 onel, who made quite a neat little speech 
 about the new woman riding a bicycle and 
 the pleasure of an old man giving the prize. 
 Then Jack took the Colonel, up to see the 
 Private View, and the old gentleman, being 
 a little short-sighted, picked up some carica- 
 tures of himself before we had time to hide 
 them, and mistook them for skits on a certain 
 military neighbour with whom he was not on 
 the best of terms, and enjoyed the joke im- 
 mensely. So did we. The Colonel stayed 
 to tea and went home in an excellent temper. 
 
 Directly after supper we went into the
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 garden, where the entertainment was to take 
 place, the conclusion of the day's pleasure. 
 Mary was accommodated with a chair, but 
 she preferred to stand near the scullery door 
 which opened on to the garden; at intervals 
 she dived into the kitchen, returning with a 
 damp plate, which she dried whilst watching 
 the performance. 
 
 Belinda led off with a skirt dance, draped 
 in a remnant of some light accordion-pleated 
 material she had purchased at a July sale. 
 Not having had time to fashion it into shape, 
 she pinned it gracefully over her ordinary cos- 
 tume. The exercise of dancing became the 
 undoing of the pins. William thought an 
 " Odds and Ends Dance " would have been 
 an appropriate title for this item of the pro- 
 gramme. Belinda had an encore, principally 
 because Olivia, who had sat indoors to play 
 the dance music, insisted upon coming out to 
 see whilst I played the piano. 
 
 Then Pamela sang a negro melody with
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 171 
 
 guitar accompaniment, and we all joined 
 heartily in the chorus. It takes all sorts to 
 make a world; but the people next door 
 struck us as a strange sort to sit in the house 
 on a hot evening with every window aggres- 
 sively shut fast. 
 
 Olivia next gave us a recitation. Find- 
 ing it impossible to recite on a level with the 
 audience, she begged William to erect a plat- 
 form out of the ironing-board supported on 
 two chairs. Mounting this, she announced: 
 
 " The title of the recitation I am about 
 to give you is, ' The Index-Haunted Man/ 
 by that well-known authoress, Miss Olivia 
 Chilcott." 
 
 " Hear, hear," cried Jack, feebly as a cock 
 who, waked in the night, crows mistaking the 
 moonlight for morning; but William was not 
 so encouraging. 
 
 " Haven't you got over that index yet? " 
 he groaned. But Olivia, unheeding, repeat- 
 ed her title and commenced: 
 
 12
 
 172 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " I am a private secretary, 
 
 My age is twenty-four ; 
 It only varies by a shade, 
 A little less than more " 
 
 " Why, you're only nineteen," I expostu- 
 lated; " nineteen from twenty-four leaves 
 five you can't call five a shade? " 
 
 " It's colouring the truth," explained the 
 recitress, " so it must be a shade. 
 
 " I always knew my alphabet, 
 
 But now I never can 
 Forget it for a moment, 
 
 I'm an index-haunted man." 
 
 Seeing the exigencies of rhyme demanded 
 change of sex for the time being, we let this 
 pass uncontradicted. 
 
 " I do not live by rule of thumb, 
 
 Nor yet by rule of three ; 
 ^ I Hve, oh, much against my will, 
 
 By rule of A B C. 
 
 "When, rising in the morning, 
 
 I hear the clock strike eight, 
 I know that eight comes under E, 
 And L is right for late."
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. iy$ 
 
 " You weren't late this morning for a 
 wonder," interrupted Belinda. 
 
 " Indeed, I came too early," agreed Oliv- 
 ia, looking meaningly at Jack, " but you 
 must not interrupt. 
 
 " And Jack of course goes under J, 
 
 Pamela under P, 
 
 Though how I'd like occasionally 
 To put her under D." 
 
 " Why," asked Pamela discontentedly, 
 " why should you wish to put me under D? " 
 
 " It's D with a dash after it," ex- 
 plained Olivia, " and it's generally when you 
 take my button-hook and forget to put it 
 back." 
 
 Pamela begged her not to enter into 
 details, but to proceed. I felt glad, 
 on the whole, that Theophilus had pleaded 
 want of time for not joining us that 
 evening. 
 
 But Olivia had not written any more, so 
 the recitation ended abruptly; at some future
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 time she promised to recite it again, with a 
 termination. 
 
 Then the auction of Jack's drawings took 
 place. William was the auctioneer, using 
 the coal-hammer with quite a professional 
 ability, and assuming a manner of jocularity 
 tempered with importance orthodox to the 
 occasion. 
 
 Jack consented to take payment in kind 
 for his sketches. Thus, a fine caricature of 
 the Colonel measuring the width of his bed 
 with a ruler and comparing it with his own 
 shoulders was handed over to Belinda in ex- 
 change for an old penknife. Jack, on receiv- 
 ing this token of barter, exclaimed -that he 
 had often wondered where that knife was, 
 and asked Belinda where she had found it. 
 
 " If you are all going to give me back 
 things you've borrowed and forgotten to re- 
 turn," said he, " I don't see where the fun 
 of this show comes in! " 
 
 William insisted that the knife was a fair
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 175 
 
 exchange for the Colonel, but the artist con- 
 sidered it simply throwing the British Army 
 away. 
 
 " To borrow one's knife and then return 
 it when it's too blunt to use is " 
 
 " Exchange is no robbery," broke in the 
 auctioneer rudely. " We now come to Lot 
 2. What may I say for them a nice little 
 lot? " 
 
 Olivia bid some postage-stamps which 
 had lain fallow in her purse ever since the 
 Poet had extended his hospitality to franking 
 her letters. The sketches were illustrations 
 of her last letter, which Jack had sketched on 
 reading the same: they represented the inci- 
 dent of Olivia jumping into the 'bus and fall- 
 ing short of her destination. 
 
 " Which I forgive on account of its being 
 so clever," said our Bohemian, handing over 
 the stamps as if they were waste paper. 
 
 I wanted Lot 3, a certain set of drawings 
 mainly devoted to showing off various char-
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 acteristics of the Vicar; but not wishing to 
 part with any of my own goods in exchange, 
 I volunteered a promise not to dust Jack's 
 painting-room for a fortnight. He was satis- 
 fied, but William demurred. 
 
 " Promises," he said, with his usual want 
 of originality, " have been known to be made 
 of pie-crust. I grant you Maria's crust is 
 substantial, still it is the rule at sales to place 
 some deposit with the auctioneer as a guar- 
 antee of good faith and security against leav- 
 ing the article on his hands." 
 
 So I fetched my best duster and laid it 
 on the platform. 
 
 " These sketches," then cried the auction- 
 eer, " are now the property of Maria. The 
 artist has exchanged them for an accumula- 
 tion of dust upon his private premises. The 
 lady has a personal interest in the subject of 
 the drawings, which makes them valuable 
 to her only. From the point of view of an 
 Art auctioneer, I should say they were not
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 177 
 
 only rough sketches of, but also rough 
 sketches on, the Rev. Mr. Kittivvake of this 
 parish." 
 
 Mary had no taste in caricature; she ex- 
 changed a promise to make a particular kind 
 of cake for a small pen-and-ink drawing of 
 Pamela she had long coveted. 
 
 Jack's studio was much reduced in card- 
 board and his collection of miscellaneous 
 odds and ends greatly increased by the auc- 
 tion. 
 
 About half-past ten Olivia asked William 
 if he was ready. 
 
 " What for? " queried he in reply. 
 " Haven't I done enough for one day? " 
 
 Jack assured him that he had. 
 
 " Indeed, one would think, from the way 
 you've been going on, it was your birthday, 
 and not mine." 
 
 Olivia had understood William to have 
 promised to see her back to Bohemia, but it 
 seemed a surprise, almost a shock, to William
 
 178 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 to find this was expected of him. He stipu- 
 lated that they should wait for refreshment, 
 and they delayed to partake of ginger-beer 
 and fruit, only catching the last train. Wil- 
 liam had to walk back the four miles which 
 intervened between the Poet's house and 
 ours. 
 
 Theophilus told us that, what with the 
 bicycle races, the entertainment in the gar- 
 den, and William being caught by the po- 
 liceman in the act of getting through the 
 drawing-room window at one o'clock in the 
 morning because we had bolted the door, 
 forgetting his absence, we had become the 
 talk of the parish. 
 
 William, in excuse, said if a man mayn't 
 be his own burglar, what may he be? But 
 the Vicar was really vexed, especially as he 
 had to delay announcing our engagement to 
 his parishioners for a fortnight to allow the 
 scandal to subside. He begged us to be a 
 trifle more ordinary a little less original in
 
 HOW JACK CAME OF AGE. 179 
 
 our behaviour which advice I impressed 
 upon my relatives. Especially did I urge 
 Belinda to take some flaunting scarlet pop- 
 pies out of her hat and replace them with 
 flowers of a more sober hue. She complied 
 with reluctance, substituting grey thistles, as 
 an outward and visible sign that her con- 
 science was pricking her within. Grey not 
 becoming her as well as scarlet added a bit- 
 terness to her criticisms on life in general, 
 and life in the suburbs in particular. 
 
 After Jack came of age we sat in the 
 drawing-room every afternoon from four to 
 six, and took in The Quiver, placing it in a 
 conspicuous position to catch the eye of pos- 
 sible callers.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 
 
 " YOU'LL be surprised to hear," began 
 Pamela, with a pretty deprecatory air as we 
 sat talking together the following Sunday 
 evening, " that after all I'm not going on the 
 Stage." 
 
 William winked himself a congratulatory 
 wink behind The Pelican, his favourite week- 
 ly, on the success of his non-opposition sys- 
 tem. Aloud he feigned disappointment. 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear that, Pamela, as I 
 hoped through your influence to be given a 
 free seat occasionally." 
 
 " Paper," corrected Olivia technically, 
 " not free, William. Unpaid places are al- 
 ways called paper in the profession." 
 1 80
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. l8l 
 
 " Oh, if the free seats are made of paper," 
 rejoined William, " I haven't lost much; for, 
 taking my weight into consideration, I should 
 have seen most of the play from the floor." 
 
 Olivia scorned further explanation. 
 
 " I'm sorry, William," sighed Pamela; 
 " but, you see, I want to do some good in the 
 world, and the Stage, you know, is is mere 
 play." 
 
 William assented. 
 
 " Sheer tomfoolery, I call it anyone 
 could do Irving's part at the Lyceum. I'm 
 sure I could with a little practice. So I'm 
 going to be a hospital nurse," continued 
 Pamela solemnly. 
 
 "What!" cried Belinda, laying down 
 the book she was reading. " Well, you 
 won't see much of me, I can tell you, if you're 
 going into that nasty profession. I'm not 
 going to catch a fever and be sacrificed to a 
 fashionable fad " 
 
 Here Pamela expressed some doubt as to
 
 I g2 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 whether she should be so anxious to see 
 much of Belinda. On the whole she thought 
 not. 
 
 " And if you do catch small-pox," said I 
 cheerfully, " why it'll be in a good cause, 
 won't it? " 
 
 " We should always take it on trust that 
 you were really our sister," added Jack, " for 
 of course if it were only chicken-pox you'd 
 look a bit different from what you do now." 
 
 Pamela rose from the hearthrug, where 
 she had been seated, with as much dignity as 
 a sharp attack of pins-and-needles in one foot 
 would allow. 
 
 " I've written to all the principal hospi- 
 tals in London, and asked them to send me 
 particulars. I hadn't posted the letters be- 
 cause I thought it right to tell you my plans 
 first; but I shall take them to the pillar-box 
 now, this minute! " 
 
 Which resolve she carried out immedi- 
 ately.
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 183 
 
 When the answers came Pamela found 
 that few if any of the hospitals would take 
 her as a probationer for several years to come. 
 
 " They seem to consider seventeen near- 
 ly eighteen quite young! " she cried indig- 
 nantly, " as if one didn't know one's own 
 mind." 
 
 " It's more a question of not knowing 
 one's own constitution," I interrupted sooth- 
 ingly. " However, you can ask them to put 
 your name down as an intending probationer, 
 and there are lots of ways to pass the time 
 between this and the date you enter. Nurses 
 should always be able to cook a little, make 
 beef-tea and jelly, and learn how to make a 
 poultice." 
 
 " But I can cook at least, I can make 
 curries and ginger-bread and trim hats, and 
 you can buy poultices ready-make now," re- 
 *plied Pamela, still in an injured voice; " I 
 saw them at the Stores the other day. But, 
 as you say, Maria, I can put my name down
 
 1 84 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 and wait. Don't tell the others it will be 
 four or five years before I get into a hospital. 
 You're the only one who has any sense in the 
 family." 
 
 The Vicar encouraged Pamela in her idea 
 of nursing. He gave his advice with more 
 assurance since we had taken it in the matter 
 of handing over our late boarder's baby to 
 the care of a motherly woman in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and assured us that having some 
 fixed plan for the future not immediately 
 practicable would prevent Pamela from 
 taking up some occupation hurriedly. 
 
 " She's far too young and too pretty to 
 go out into the world alone," concluded the 
 Vicar. 
 
 One morning he came in to tell us that 
 the chief doctor of the district, a great friend 
 of his, was starting some lectures on First Aid 
 to the injured in connection with the St. 
 John's Ambulance Society, and advised me 
 to attend them a clergyman's wife, it ap-
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 185 
 
 peared, should be educated on the plan of a 
 Jack-of-all-trades and Pamela by also at- 
 tending could lay a foundation for her future 
 career. 
 
 That was how we came to know Dr. An- 
 drew Macgregor. 
 
 Belinda refused to join the classes. She 
 had a great dislike to illness, not from per- 
 sonal experience, for hers was a pattern con- 
 stitution, but from some innate repulsion. 
 
 " I shall die," she often said, " easily 
 enough when the time comes, without con- 
 stantly rehearsing beforehand." 
 
 Olivia, always athirst for knowledge, 
 would doubtless have seized the opportunity 
 had she not accepted the invitation of the 
 Poet and his wife to go with them on an ex- 
 cursion to Cornwall, whence she wrote to 
 us, much about sea and sky, tenderly hop- 
 ing we did not feel the August heat in Lon- 
 don. Belinda after reading her letters re- 
 marked that Olivia seemed to have forgotten
 
 !86 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 that the Poet had included the typewriter 
 in the invitation; for her part, travelling 
 with a machine that weighed twenty-four 
 pounds and was liable to being smashed 
 when roughly handled, would have taken 
 the gilt off the gingerbread otherwise Corn- 
 wall. 
 
 So through the hot days of August, Pa- 
 mela and I studied Anatomy. We com- 
 menced by learning the names of our own 
 bones, of which we had hitherto been pro- 
 foundly ignorant. Pamela complained she 
 could never remember them all; she seemed 
 to have as many as a herring. William 
 feared I should find difficulty in locating 
 mine. " Maria," he observed, with brother- 
 ly candour, " is so very well upholstered." 
 
 One morning the Doctor called to tell us 
 that the hour of the Lecture was altered. 
 Belinda only was at home, and promised to 
 give us his message. 
 
 " I almost wish I had joined the Classes,"
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 
 
 she added; " I had no idea compound frac- 
 ture was so interesting." 
 
 " Weil, it's much too late to commence 
 now," interposed Pamela hastily. " You 
 wouldn't be allowed to go in for the examina- 
 tion but you might lend us your foot to 
 bandage." 
 
 " I can't draw with you tickling my foot," 
 replied Belinda; " but if you take the oppor- 
 tunity any time you see me reading, you're 
 welcome." 
 
 We took our opportunity that same 
 afternoon. Belinda was so engrossed 
 with her -novel, that she never looked up 
 until we had finished. She was proud of 
 her foot; it took a three, and owned an 
 arched instep. She also held the theory 
 that the truest economy is always to buy 
 the best, and patronised an excellent shoe- 
 maker. 
 
 We called upon her to admire the band- 
 aging. She gazed upon her supposititiously 
 13
 
 1 88 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 injured limb with increasing horror, and 
 grasped my arm nervously. 
 
 ''' You never heard of gout in the family, 
 did you, Maria? You're the eldest and 
 should study hereditary tendencies. Fancy, 
 if I ever had a foot like that take it off! oh, 
 take it off! It makes me feel sick to look 
 at it." 
 
 Not a word about our neat bandaging. 
 
 William had no vanity. He lent himself, 
 corporally, when at home with his usual large 
 generosity. When he was out we made shift 
 with Jack's lay figure, for in constant prac- 
 tice lay success. After the third Lecture our 
 knowledge of bandaging was extensive; to 
 keep it in mind whilst we turned our atten- 
 tion to fits, bites, burns, &c., which formed 
 the subjects of the succeeding Lectures, we 
 bandaged William's entire frame every even- 
 ing. It was a long and rather inelegant 
 frame, as we told its owner as he lay stretched 
 upon the ever useful ironing-board; but he
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 189 
 
 heard not the remark, having dropped into a 
 peaceful slumber. 
 
 " Here, wake up," cried Pamela rudely, 
 " and apologise for only having one head, 
 when we are both weak about the exact 
 method of doing dislocated jaw-bones!" 
 
 " You've got an arm each, and a leg," 
 grumbled the patient, resentful at being 
 awakened. 
 
 " You can have his head, Pamela; I dare- 
 say Theophilus will lend me his to-morrow 
 morning. You not being engaged to him, 
 might not care to ask for the loan." 
 
 "I shouldn't," retorted Pamela; "the 
 brilliantine Theophilus uses is most objec- 
 tionable." 
 
 I let this libel pass uncontradicted, being 
 much engaged upon a fracture of William's 
 forearm. Now and again we dropped a choc- 
 olate into his mouth to keep him contented. 
 When half an hour had gone by, there was 
 very little of the patient unbandaged. So in-
 
 190 
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 teresting did he look from a surgical point of 
 view, that we begged him to remain quiet 
 whilst we rested and admired our handi- 
 work. 
 
 As we sat silent, the Vicar walked in 
 through the open door; he had been away 
 on his holiday, and had not witnessed our 
 progress in applying aid to the injured. 
 
 His first glance was properly toward 
 me. It was a nice glance, and I wished the 
 room were not so full of my relations. Then 
 his eye fell upon William. The light of love 
 died out, and an expression of concern shad- 
 owed his countenance. Making a step for- 
 ward, he cried: 
 
 " William, my dear boy, an accident 
 your bicycle, alas! " 
 
 William had no histrionic ability. The 
 groan he gave was inartistic, testifying to a 
 healthy and uninjured constitution. No bat- 
 tered frame could have emitted a groan of 
 such strength and vigour. Jack burst into
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 191 
 
 a roar of laughter, heedless that the modern 
 house has no foundations. 
 
 Then William arose, stiffly, for our work 
 was well done, and started a hornpipe. Be- 
 linda caught him at the piano with a jig of 
 her own composing. The bandages became 
 unfastened, and flew round and round in wid- 
 ening circles, until he looked like a windmill 
 in a high gale decorated with ribbons. The 
 splints fell off one by one as their binding 
 loosened. Mary came in to ask the cause of 
 the disturbance. 
 
 " Lor, Master William, talk about an 
 odds-and-ends dance, it's better than Miss 
 B'linda's! " 
 
 The Vicar's face showed some trepidation 
 that our late proper and uninteresting con- 
 duct was not likely to endure. 
 
 Writing to Uncle Joshua early the next 
 morning, it occurred to me that he would 
 be interested to hear about the Ambulance
 
 192 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Lectures. I began by describing the Doc- 
 tor. 
 
 " He is " (I wrote) " a Scotchman very 
 tall with a short black beard and a sunburnt 
 complexion. His name is Macgregor." 
 
 On reading this over it sounded poor, and 
 conveyed nothing of the Doctor's personal- 
 ity. Perhaps Belinda could supply me with 
 a descriptive phrase or two. She had of late 
 developed a contempt for the jokes that had 
 served us so long through so many happy 
 years, and developed a wit of her own; she 
 might hit upon an epigram to describe the 
 Doctor. I went to find her. 
 
 " How," I began, " would you describe 
 the Doctor?" 
 
 " I shouldn't describe him," she answered 
 irritably. " I should say his name was Mac- 
 gregor; that in itself describes him." 
 
 " But if you wanted to mention his chief 
 characteristics, for instance? " 
 
 "You could walk on his accent without
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 193 
 
 falling through," replied the fashion artist, 
 pushing back her chaif and looking critically 
 at her drawing. 
 
 " I rather like the way the ends of his sen- 
 tences go uphill, myself," I hazarded. 
 
 But Belinda didn't. She pronounced it 
 Edinburgh. I gather from her further re- 
 marks that an accent is like a prophet it has 
 no honour in its own country. 
 
 Then I tried Jack, who said: 
 
 " The Doctor well, he smokes ripping 
 tobacco! " 
 
 Pamela I found gazing dreamily out of an 
 upstairs window. A garment that required 
 mending lay neglected near her. My query 
 was getting a little stereotyped. 
 
 " What do you think of the Doctor? " 
 
 Pamela started, and blushed a vivid crim- 
 son. 
 
 " Think? How did you know I was 
 thinking of the Doctor, Maria? " 
 
 I did not until she had herself informed me.
 
 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " I'm just writing to Uncle," I explained, 
 " and I can't find any suitable adjectives to 
 describe the Doctor. This sounds poor." 
 And I read out what I had written. 
 
 " I should think it does," she assented. 
 " Why, you haven't said half you've left out 
 his eyes! " 
 
 " What about them does he squint? " 
 
 " They're a lovely clear grey, and can see 
 through and through." 
 
 "Through what?" 
 
 " His patients, of course." 
 
 " Well, a good many invalids are hum- 
 bugs," I admitted; "but not all, surely." 
 
 " I meant their ailments, of course. How 
 silly you are this morning! He can diag- 
 nose at a glance," concluded Pamela, remem- 
 bering the correct phrase at last. 
 
 " I made a note faintly in pencil on my 
 letter: 
 
 " Doctor's eyes principle of new pho- 
 tography sees inside out."
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 195 
 
 " What else? " I inquired aloud. 
 
 " Oh, then there's his figure. Tell Uncle 
 how athletic he is he used to be in the 
 County Eleven. He's so strong, yet he's so 
 gentle. Have you noticed, Maria, how de- 
 termined he is in getting his own way yet so 
 quietly, one hardly knows one has given in? " 
 
 Pamela paused. I made more notes on 
 my letter, but I doubted whether Uncle 
 would be interested. I could imagine him 
 saying: 
 
 " I suppose the man gives lectures to fill 
 up the time between seeing his patients." 
 
 "Thanks! " I cried at last, when Pamela 
 had finished enumerating the Doctor's good 
 points, both personal and professional, " that 
 will do nicely; now I'll leave you to your 
 mending." 
 
 She picked up the garment in some con- 
 fusion, and I went to finish my letter. But it 
 never was finished. I wrote a postcard in- 
 stead, saying we were all alive, and hoped
 
 196 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Uncle was the same; it was too warm to 
 enter into details. Nevertheless I spent an 
 hour with the pen in my hand, idly drawing 
 on the blotting-paper; and sometimes I drew 
 the face of Pamela, and sometimes the face of 
 Andrew Macgregor. Pamela's face was of 
 the type that conveys the impression of a 
 heart that surrenders at once where it loves 
 at once, freely, and for ever. Not like Be- 
 linda, whose delight was to torture what at- 
 tracted her, and who before many years had 
 passed over her head had left more than one 
 man in doubt as to whether he hated or loved 
 her the most, and quite certain that it was 
 possible to do both at once. Then I drew 
 Theophilus and got a better likeness, until a 
 blot fell from the pen and totally obliterated 
 one eye, giving him a prize-fighting appear- 
 ance not at one with his clerical tie and collar. 
 I decided on a plan of action. 
 
 " Theophilus," I began that evening, for 
 he generally came for a short call after sup-
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 197 
 
 per, " would you could you would it be 
 very mean for you who know the Doctor so 
 well to find out what he thinks of Pamela? " 
 
 The Vicar was somewhat dense, I confess 
 it, though I frequently stood up for him when 
 he was not present when this failing was men- 
 tioned. He grew pale or perhaps it was 
 the moonlight, for we were seated in the 
 garden. 
 
 " She does look delicate," he replied 
 thoughtfully. " That pink and white com- 
 plexion. But has he seen her profession- 
 ally? " 
 
 I explained that it was love I feared, not 
 consumption, though, as someone of discrim- 
 ination has pointed out, they are frequently 
 one and the same thing. 
 
 " We have seen the Doctor several times 
 often, in fact, besides going to the Lec- 
 tures. Pamela is very young, and suppose 
 I don't know that she does but just sup- 
 pose she liked him, and he didn't return "
 
 198 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 "What then?" asked the Vicar. Men 
 always require a sentence to be finished, the 
 two first words convey the situation to a 
 woman. " Do you think she would fret her- 
 self ill, or what? " 
 
 "Oh," I cried, "it would hurt so! All 
 the world would be like a suburb, and every 
 day like like Sunday! " 
 
 I looked at my companion, expecting to 
 see that struggle between his duty to re- 
 prove and his desire to forgive so often 
 written on his countenance, but it was 
 adorned by a smile only a self-depreca- 
 tory smile, as one might wear who had 
 been given more than his measure of happi- 
 ness. 
 
 " Would you have felt like that, if I hadn't 
 hadn't Maria? " 
 
 After an interval, I remarked casually: 
 
 " Do you know, I've noticed, Theo, since 
 William pointed it out to me, that whatever 
 subject we start talking about, you invariably
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 199 
 
 contrive to bring the conversation round to 
 your own affairs? " 
 
 " Oh, William said that, did he? Well, 
 I must say there's nothing like getting en- 
 gaged to become acquainted with one's 
 own faults." 
 
 " Indeed, Belinda says she's sure I shall 
 discover something terrible about you when 
 we are married. She has an idea that people 
 with few faults have some dreadful vice in 
 the background." 
 
 " Belinda's a naughty little puss," said the 
 Vicar. 
 
 It appeared time to go in. 
 
 Theophilus delicately introduced Pamela 
 as a topic of conversation when, soon after, 
 he had a chat with Dr. Macgregor, and was 
 rewarded by his friend's full confidence. 
 
 " It's all right. There isn't a man more 
 in love in the whole of Brick Park than Mac- 
 gregor, except myself, of course." 
 
 " What did he say? "
 
 2QO BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 " Say! what didn't he say? I went for 
 ten minutes, and had to listen for a couple of 
 hours. He said she was lovely he loved her 
 he wasn't worthy of her love, but then what 
 man could be? Would I say a good word 
 for him to you and Belinda, especially Be- 
 linda? " 
 
 " Belinda again? " I ejaculated. 
 
 " Yes, it appears when dealing with your 
 family you can't reckon without Belinda. 
 Macgregor says she has a great deal of 
 character, and might perhaps influence Pa- 
 mela against him. I told him," added The- 
 ophilus gleefully, " that Belinda laughed at 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, you did, did you? And how did 
 you know, pray? " 
 
 " Oh, I guessed," responded the Vicar 
 lamely. " Belinda laughs at everybody." 
 
 " Including you," I reminded him, for 
 what right had he to give Belinda away? 
 My doing so was another matter. She was
 
 WE GO TO AMBULANCE CLASSES. 2 OI 
 
 my own sister, and if you can't give away 
 your own, what can you give? 
 
 The Vicar seemed to know what was pass- 
 ing in my mind, for he said: 
 
 " What's yours is mine, Maria."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR PROFESSIONALLY. 
 
 THEOPHILUS, though undeniably want- 
 ing in humour, proved himself the possessor 
 of much sympathy when Pamela fell ill to- 
 ward the beginning of September. 
 
 The examination on the Ambulance Lec- 
 tures and all its consequent excitement being 
 over left nothing behind it but to wait and 
 wonder when we should hear whether we 
 deserved a certificate or no. 
 
 I found much difficulty in recollecting the 
 directions for restoring the apparently 
 drowned. On confiding this lapse of mem- 
 ory to Belinda, she begged me to read the 
 subject up again: 
 
 " For it has rained so much of late," she 
 
 202
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 203 
 
 explained, " that I am beginning to get 
 quite nervous! " 
 
 This, of course, was an exaggerated ap- 
 prehension. Still, it had rained persistently, 
 and when the hot August sun shone out at 
 intervals, the steam rose in a sultry mist from 
 the ground, wrapping us in a continual va- 
 pour bath. Belinda openly envied Olivia's 
 visit to Cornwall, even accompanied by the 
 typewriter. Her editor thought she was out 
 of town, she herself having led him to this 
 supposition. 
 
 " He would presume if he knew I stayed 
 in the suburbs all August, and be asking me 
 to touch up the prize competition drawings, 
 or something equally undesirable." 
 
 So Belinda was away on the moors in 
 Yorkshire; having done three weeks' work 
 in advance, she went with a clear con- 
 science. When the proper time had elapsed 
 she was again seen haunting a certain of- 
 fice in Fleet Street. Her return was hailed 
 14
 
 2Q4 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 by a compliment on her invigorated appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " I wish I could get away," sighed the 
 editorial martyr to fashions. 
 
 " The sea is so cool after London," mur- 
 mured his contributor, forgetting the moors 
 had been her destination. 
 
 " He declared I brought a whiff of sea-air 
 into the room with me," said Belinda when 
 recounting this conversation, " which speaks 
 well for Tidman's, which I use every morn- 
 ing since I learnt that we have gout as well as 
 Art in the family." 
 
 The boys went on a bicycle tour, for Wil- 
 liam had a bond-fide holiday, and Jack, lucky 
 being, was now successful enough to arrange 
 his own leisure. We urged Pamela to write, 
 or let us write, reminding Uncle of his prom- 
 ise to invite her to stay with him, but she de- 
 clared it would break her heart to go alone to 
 Riverside, where she had once been so happy. 
 Considering her youth, and hitherto happy
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 205 
 
 existence, Pamela, at this juncture of her life, 
 was strangely partial to speaking and dwell- 
 ing upon the past. She did not seem to take 
 any interest in the present, and never spoke 
 at all of the future. Possessed by some in- 
 ability to settle down to any occupation, she 
 dragged poor Jinks for miles along the hot 
 suburban roads, until in pity for the animal 
 we clipped him close, when he looked, as 
 Mary expressed it, " for all the world like a 
 Skye poodle! " 
 
 One afternoon she started for a long drive 
 on the top of an omnibus, though it threat- 
 ened the usual rain, and returned wet and 
 shivering. Mary, who still treated her 
 youngest " young lady " much as a child, 
 helped her to bed. 
 
 " And there you'll stay, Miss, for a couple 
 of days, or my name isn't Mary." 
 
 But the next morning showed that it 
 would take more than a couple of days for 
 Pamela to recover. We grew anxious when
 
 206 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 she sat up in bed querulously persisting that 
 she must get up and arrange her room dif- 
 ferently. Why had we moved everything 
 from the place she liked it to be? Her mind 
 had wandered to her old room at The Court, 
 and all sense of her real surroundings had 
 faded. 
 
 " We must send for the Doctor," I said to 
 Belinda. 
 
 " It hardly seems correct," replied my sis- 
 ter, I thought at random until she continued: 
 " Even you, unobservant though you are, 
 must have noticed that Pamela is desperately 
 in love with Macgregor. Suppose she grew 
 delirious, and told him so, she would never 
 forgive us yet if we send for another it will 
 look strange " 
 
 " He's in love with her too," I inter- 
 rupted, and Belinda looked relieved. 
 
 " You might have told me before, Maria; 
 you don't know how it's worried me to see 
 the child so unhappy."
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 2O/ 
 
 Belinda, though so casual on the surface, 
 was really very affectionate. 
 
 " I might contrive to meet the Vicar after 
 matins, and ask his opinion." 
 
 " I think you might you've done it so 
 often on your own account, that you might 
 do it again on somebody else's." 
 
 The Vicar acted with decision. " Mac- 
 gregor's away on his holiday. Didn't you 
 know? But I'll go myself for his partner." 
 
 When the doctor arrived, he told us that 
 Pamela had congestion of both lungs, and 
 must have the most careful nursing. 
 
 " You must have a hospital nurse, Miss 
 Chilcott. It's a pity," he added kindly, 
 " that Macgregor's classes weren't on ' Sick 
 Nursing ' in stead of ' First Aid,' as then you 
 might have done without a professional." 
 
 The nurse, a model of calm, orderly, yet 
 sympathetic nursing, presented such a dainty 
 picture in her soft grey dress, and pretty 
 white cap and apron, that we feared she would
 
 208 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 encourage Pamela in her notion of taking up 
 nursing as a profession. We would not al- 
 low ourselves to think it possible for her 
 never to get better at first, though the day 
 came later when we had to admit there was a 
 chance of her not being with us to choose any 
 career at all. 
 
 We wrote to Olivia, telling her to return 
 at once. Olivia loved her sister with a pas- 
 sionate devotion, which did not prevent them 
 quarrelling frequently. The aim of her life 
 was to become known as a poetess for 
 choice and to make money, for which she 
 feared it necessary to descend into the arena 
 of fiction and then to have Pamela to live 
 with her, when every wish of that young per- 
 son's heart was to be gratified, and her beauty 
 to be the shrine at which many and here 
 she did not wish all to be Bohemian were 
 to worship. 
 
 And we wrote to Uncle, saying we would 
 telegraph bad news and send a postcard of
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 209 
 
 report every evening. We told him we 
 had a nurse, also qualms as to how we 
 were to meet expenses. He replied, ex- 
 pressing great anxiety, and saying he con- 
 sidered he had adopted our expenses for the 
 present. 
 
 The boys' address we knew not. They 
 had left so gaily, never anticipating anything 
 out-of-the-way would occur in their absence. 
 Jack had sent a few illustrations of incidents 
 that had occurred on the way, without a line; 
 even the postmark on the envelope being un- 
 intelligible. 
 
 " The drawings," remarked Belinda, " ex- 
 plain themselves; mostly, I notice, to Wil- 
 liam's disadvantage." 
 
 They were due in a few days, for William's 
 holiday leave would then expire. We dread- 
 ed to see his smile, as broad as it would be 
 welcome, fade when we told him his sister's 
 life was in danger. 
 
 For Pamela grew worse as each hot day
 
 2IQ BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 lingered and faded, giving place to the sultry 
 night. 
 
 " She'll be better or worse before the 
 evening," said the doctor at his early visit; 
 and we understood him to mean the crisis 
 was approaching. 
 
 " Andrew will be here by twelve," said the 
 Vicar, suddenly. " I wrote to him to come. 
 This is no time to think of propriety." 
 
 When he came, bringing with him an at- 
 mosphere of quiet self-reliance, he went 
 straight upstairs; only stopping to whisper 
 he would come down at intervals to give us 
 his opinion. 
 
 Olivia sat outside Pamela's door, which 
 was as near as she was allowed, her arms fold- 
 ed round her knees, leaning disconsolately 
 against the door-post and bitterly reproach- 
 ing herself that she had ever gone to Corn- 
 wall. Olivia had a feeling, shared by many, 
 that everything went wrong when she wasn't 
 present; though no one else could trace any
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 211 
 
 link between her absence and the catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 Belinda sat sketching in the conservatory, 
 where she did most of her work in the morn- 
 ings, not admitting there was any possible 
 cause for anxiety, and speaking, as was her 
 habit, as if she personally conducted circum- 
 stances. Nevertheless, her drawing consist- 
 ed mainly of rubbing out and sharpening 
 pencils. Presently she found the heat strik- 
 ing on the glass above her head overwhelm- 
 ing, and looking through the dining-room 
 and folding-doors, saw Theophilus and me 
 seated in cooler comfort in the drawing- 
 room. With one hand he held a newspaper, 
 which he appeared to be reading, but I think 
 he was praying; the other was clasped in 
 mine. Belinda came in and sat down wear- 
 ily, he dropped the paper and held out that 
 hand to her with a smile. She took it absent- 
 ly, after the method she kept for pulling Jin- 
 kie's ears, and we sat in silence.
 
 212 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Mary stood at the back door to warn any 
 tradesman's boy entering to come quietly. 
 In our small house every sound could be 
 heard upstairs distinctly. Now and again 
 she made a dive out into the road to silence 
 some barrel-organ. One immigrant from 
 the Italian shores, new to the ways of the 
 London maidservant, not understanding her 
 gesticulations, started playing; whereupon 
 she first shoo'd at him with her apron, as if 
 dispersing chickens, and then seized his piano 
 by both handles and wheeled it to the turning 
 of the road, pointing the way by which he 
 was to vanish. He went, obediently, fearful 
 of having done something illegal. 
 
 So we sat on through the interminable 
 morning; now and again the Doctor crept 
 down in stockinged feet to say there was no 
 change; and once Olivia, who had fallen 
 asleep, woke hastily, and overcome by anx- 
 iety, crept down to lay her head in my lap 
 and sob wearily. She always feared the
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 213 
 
 worst, having a temperament strangely com- 
 pounded of pessimism and humour. 
 
 A slight commotion, subdued yet excited, 
 roused us to find out its reason. Creeping 
 into the hall, we were confronted by Uncle 
 Joshua and a porter with his luggage. The 
 little man looked white and apprehensive; 
 we beckoned him into the dining-room, and 
 whispered our welcome and reports of the 
 invalid. Mary brought in some tea, but he 
 would not touch it. Looking the picture of 
 desolation, he kept wandering from end to 
 end of the room, muttering: 
 
 " All my fault, all my fault, too! " 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Uncle," said Be- 
 linda, " you've run down, and got morbid 
 and nervous. You've been living on weak 
 tea and radishes don't deny it, weak tea and 
 radishes! " 
 
 Uncle sat down by the table and gazed 
 at her in a helpless, irresponsible fashion for 
 a minute or so; then some funny side of the
 
 214 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 situation, unknown to us, appealed to him 
 suddenly. He fell forward with his head on 
 the table shaking with suppressed laughter, 
 the result of alighting on comedy where only 
 tragedy was expected. 
 
 Andrew strode silently into the room; he 
 frowned, who was this person overcome by 
 such untimely hilarity? He made a step for- 
 ward, and putting a strong hand on Uncle's 
 coat-collar, pushed rather than led him 
 through the conservatory into the garden. 
 Olivia followed, whispering: 
 
 " It's Uncle, and he's not really laugh- 
 ing." 
 
 It was two hours later, when we again 
 heard the creak that the Doctor's huge form 
 caused the stairs to utter as he crept down 
 them. We rose and moved toward the door, 
 feeling instinctively he had more to tell us. 
 
 The joy of victory showed in every line of 
 his face the triumph of life over death joy 
 for the life of the woman he loved, as well as
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 215 
 
 his professional joy over the patient that re- 
 covereth. 
 
 " She's asleep," he whispered, " and will 
 wake to know us." 
 
 Theophiltis opened his arms, and I fell 
 into them; Olivia, having considerable ad- 
 vantage in the matter of height, fell on Uncle; 
 and Belinda well, Belinda kissed the 
 Doctor. 
 
 " And if I did," she said afterward when 
 rallied on this action, " what then? You 
 might know, as you went to Ambulance Lec- 
 tures, that when a tension of mind breaks 
 if it breaks the wrong way, you faint, and if 
 it breaks the right you kiss what's nearest. 
 Besides, a kiss is like a quarrel, it takes two 
 to make it! " 
 
 Pamela lay very white and shadowy, but 
 very beautiful, when one by one we were al- 
 lowed to sit with her; the weather turned 
 cooler and drier, and she mended with every 
 morning. When the boys returned, they af-
 
 2i6 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 fected to believe that we had exaggerated 
 matters; but that was only to hide any dis- 
 play of feeling. 
 
 Belinda showed her thankfulness her own 
 way; she bought some pretty blue flannel 
 and fashioned into a smart little sitting-up 
 jacket. She sang like a lark as she cut it out, 
 sewed, and finished it all in one morning, and 
 then called upon the whole household to ad- 
 mire her in it. It was a mass of frills and, 
 edged with lace and ribbon, the stitches were 
 by no means invisible. 
 
 " Of course we could have bought one for 
 less than this cost in a shop, girls; but it 
 wouldn't have pleased the child like this 
 will." 
 
 Belinda's economy ever lay in getting 
 style for her money. 
 
 The Doctor so we heard reproved his 
 colleague sharply for not having sent for him 
 sooner. 
 
 " I'm na saying you haven't abeelity," he
 
 WE REQUIRE THE DOCTOR. 217 
 
 said, growing Scotch in his wrath, " but you 
 have also youth and inexpeerience." 
 
 " There were no complications," replied 
 the younger man, a little ruffled. 
 
 " None that you understood," retorted 
 his senior rudely.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 
 
 " I'M not going to be a hospital nurse, 
 after all not because I've changed my mind, 
 but because I'm going to marry the Doctor." 
 
 Pamela was too deeply absorbed in too 
 shyly elated at her news to observe that our 
 surprise was a little over-acted. 
 
 We kissed and congratulated her each 
 after our individual fashion. 
 
 " It seems," exclaimed Olivia, christen- 
 ing the new joy with a few excited tears, " al- 
 most like having another clergyman in the 
 family." 
 
 We pressed her to explain, when it turned 
 out that the Doctor was so Scotch, talking 
 to him was nearly as bad or as good as 
 
 reading a modern Scotch novel; and Scotch 
 218
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 219 
 
 novelists seemed always to be ministers 
 more or less. Olivia's reasoning was so lo- 
 cal, confined entirely to her own brain region. 
 
 When the excitement had subsided, Be- 
 linda, though on the whole greatly pleased, 
 could not refrain from fearing aloud that 
 both Pamela and I had been guilty of a social 
 indiscretion. 
 
 " It is considered bad form," said the ora- 
 cle, " to fall in love with people whom you 
 meet professionally like the Vicar, or the 
 Doctor. Yet perhaps, when the alternative 
 is to earn your living, a little error of taste 
 may be excused." 
 
 Olivia blushed hotly as the speaker en- 
 larged upon our lapse from the narrow way 
 of etiquette, and observed, sarcastically, that 
 if one waited to meet people without refer- 
 ence to their occupation there was a good 
 deal of danger of dying an old maid. 
 
 " Besides, in these days," she concluded, 
 
 " a man's profession is like his shadow, al- 
 15
 
 22O BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 ways with him. The only time he forgets it 
 is at luncheon, even shadows are off duty in 
 the middle of the day." 
 
 Pamela affected indifference to this bone 
 of contention; her pretty little air of superi- 
 ority toward them both exasperated the for- 
 mer exceedingly, and caused the latter to ap- 
 pear constantly on the brink of telling some- 
 thing, and then drawing back as if afraid to 
 part with her secret. 
 
 Mary, astonished at the turn events had 
 taken, cast about in her mind for some means 
 of breaking her promise to me without giving 
 offence, so that she could " take service " 
 with her dear Miss Pamela. She had a deep 
 respect for Olivia's cleverness, but turned to 
 Belinda for help in this difficulty. 
 
 " For how Miss Pamela will get along 
 without me when she becomes Mrs. Andrew 
 Macgregory is more than I can tell on. I've 
 promised Miss Maria, and a promise is a 
 promise. Do you think, Miss B'linda, that
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 2 2I 
 
 if I was to cook reglar awful for a few days, 
 Miss Maria would give me notice beforehand, 
 so to speak? " 
 
 Belinda thought not. 
 
 " You see, Mary, Miss Maria never seems 
 to know what she's eating lately, though she 
 used to be very particular even greedy. 
 And I don't care about being hungry, as I 
 should be if you cooked badly. No, you 
 must think of another plan." 
 
 Finally Mary remembered she was 
 " chapel," obviously it would be injurious 
 to her conscience to " take service " with the 
 Church. 
 
 I agreed that it would, and she left the 
 room beaming, to tell Pamela that she was 
 " given up by Miss Maria," merely on ac- 
 count of sectarian differences. 
 
 Uncle, who had left London when Pamela 
 was convalescent, wrote from the country 
 asking us all to spend a month with him. 
 But there were unfortunately obstacles in the
 
 222 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 way of this pleasant arrangement. William, 
 for one, could not go; his holiday was over. 
 Of late he had become irked by the narrow- 
 ness of his life and the impossibility of rising 
 unaided above a mere clerkship. He had 
 dreams a boy's rose-coloured dreams of the 
 ease with which a fortune is to be made on 
 other and alien shores; but to leave England 
 meant saving money for a start, and to save 
 meant unceasing application to his work in 
 hand. 
 
 And Belinda's holiday was over. She 
 wished she had sacrificed appearances and ad- 
 mitted being in town through August. 
 
 " I never thought of this happening! " 
 she exclaimed disgustedly. 
 
 Olivia too found duty imperative, which 
 was not surprising, seeing her holiday had 
 stretched over a couple of months. 
 
 " You might ask for one more week," 
 suggested Jack, who held a slight opinion of 
 his sister officially.
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 223 
 
 But Olivia was resolute. 
 
 " It would be unreasonable and and 
 there's my portrait, too, to be finished. The 
 light will be dark in November," she added, 
 confusedly. 
 
 Uncle replied to our objections by hoping 
 that we could all spare from a Saturday to 
 Monday; he ordered us to come in fact, hav- 
 ing a little surprise ready for us. 
 
 Jack, whose too sedentary occupation re- 
 flected upon his spirits, felt sure that Joshua 
 was intent upon marriage. 
 
 " Which will do away with any chance of 
 my coming into The Court," he sighed, " as 
 eldest nephew and heir presumptive." 
 
 " Yes, you may depend upon it," agreed 
 Belinda, " that he's going to be married. 
 Have you never noticed how events move in 
 threes first Maria, then Pamela; oh, there's 
 sure to be a third make a fool of themselves! " 
 
 Olivia rose suddenly from the table this 
 discussion took place during luncheon on
 
 224 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 pretence of wanting some Worcester sauce 
 with her custard. She often got up quickly 
 at meals instead of ringing the bell, much to 
 our discomfort; and would return after a 
 short sojourn in the kitchen, looking as if 
 she had helped herself to mustard in the pas- 
 sage and found it warmer than she had ex- 
 pected. 
 
 Belinda insisted on us wearing the best 
 our wardrobes would afford during our short 
 stay at Riverside Court. 
 
 " For then, if the surprise is of a pleasant 
 sort," she argued, " we shall at least look as 
 if we had a right to the pleasures of life; and 
 if it is of the unpleasant order, why we shall 
 derive moral support from our clothes and 
 appear indifferent to mere circumstances. I 
 have always held, myself, that half the vaunt- 
 ed repose of Vere de Vere was founded upon 
 a French dressmaker." 
 
 A few hours later we were treading the 
 platform of a familiar station. There was no
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 225 
 
 one to meet us so we thought, until after a 
 moment's hesitation a smart footman stand- 
 ing near Jack touched his hat with an inter- 
 rogative " Mr. Chilcott, sir? " and led the 
 way to a light wagonette drawn up outside 
 the station. 
 
 " Uncle's been deceiving us," scribbled 
 Belinda on her pocket notebook. " I 
 guessed so all along, but you must pretend to 
 be surprised, to please him." This she 
 passed round for each to read, talking loudly 
 the while of some changes in the road made 
 since our departure. 
 
 Uncle Joshua stood by the gate, a pleas- 
 ant smile of welcome on his face, shadowed 
 by a nervousness as to how we were taking 
 his " surprise." The house as we had known 
 it was there in all its picturesque familiarity; 
 but oh, the difference inside and in the gar- 
 den! The lawn, once so full of dips and 
 bumps that it served almost equally well for 
 golf-links or tennis-courts, now lay one great
 
 226 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 expanse of green, smooth, close-cut turf, and 
 the half-dozen little terraces which led from it 
 to the river were filled with trails of blossom- 
 ing creepers, making one great bank of col- 
 our. 
 
 We felt in a land of dreams as Uncle led 
 the way over the bridge across the river and 
 into the kitchen-garden, showing this and 
 that improvement and alteration proudly, yet 
 anxious withal to assure us that none of the 
 trees or shrubs the old familiar landmarks 
 of our youth had been touched, none of the 
 quaint irregularity of the paths interfered 
 with. 
 
 " I shall never forget how Olivia dropped 
 tears upon this laurel-bush the day you left," 
 he said. " I nearly let it all out that morn- 
 ing; but I wanted to see how you would get 
 on alone, and how you would treat me if I 
 were a poor man, though originally I only 
 meant you to be away while the house was 
 done up; but you were so sure that I meant
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 227 
 
 to turn you out, it amused me to let things 
 drift awhile. By-the-by," he continued po- 
 litely, " has the smell of varnish vacated your 
 room yet? " 
 
 " I'm having my portrait painted," an- 
 swered Olivia with irrelevant haste; perhaps 
 the word varnish recalled the Academician. 
 
 " Indeed; I hope I may be allowed the 
 first offer to purchase. It shall be the 
 foundation of a modest collection." 
 
 " Oh, but it's he's Brown, R.A., you 
 know," continued Olivia proudly. 
 
 "Oh, he's Brown, R.A., is he? Well, 
 perhaps even Brown, R.A., will sell it to the 
 South African pauper." 
 
 This nickname fell guiltily upon our ears; 
 how had he come to know of it? 
 
 The boys were very silent, for men are 
 constitutionally averse to having " coals of 
 fire " heaped upon their heads. Women, on 
 the other hand, feel they have the power to 
 equalise matters by being gracious.
 
 228 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 Uncle left us together by the dog kennels 
 a minute while he talked to a gardener. 
 
 The kennels where we had held debates 
 on many matters, discussed books, formed 
 plans, joked, quarrelled, made friends again, 
 and been sufficient unto ourselves and care- 
 less of everything else to an extent only 
 understood by those who have made one of 
 a large company of sisters and brothers. 
 The place was strangely silent, no friendly 
 yelp broke in upon an argument, or turned 
 a youthfully sententious speech to ridicule. 
 Jinks we had left against his will in London, 
 and the puppies, like ourselves, had gone out 
 into the world. 
 
 The first chillness of Autumn crisped the 
 September sunshine, almost the first leaf to 
 fall fluttered to our feet. We felt afraid to 
 look into each other's eyes lest we should 
 read regret. For young and old alike, Mel- 
 ancholy marks memory for her own. Of 
 course Uncle meant our visit kindly, and we
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 229 
 
 would be cheerful, even facetious, for his 
 sake, but we realised for the first time that 
 soon we should be separated: Pamela and I 
 would have new homes, new interests, new 
 cares maybe. William would be across the 
 seas. 
 
 Poor Jack, as he looked round upon 
 the improved and glorified edition of his old 
 home, felt his last hope of passing a peaceful 
 old age he had always looked forward to a 
 peaceful old age surrounded by a quantity of 
 tobacco slipping fast away from him. He 
 might just as well die as spend his declining 
 years anywhere else. 
 
 " Why do you look so glum, Jack? " 
 queried Belinda, herself the only entirely 
 cheerful one. 
 
 " Of course he'll marry," murmured Jack 
 in reply. 
 
 " And have ten children," asserted Olivia 
 sweepingly. 
 
 " Not if I can help it! " cried Belinda, re-
 
 230 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 plying to Jack, though it sounded as if she 
 meant to interfere to prevent the second 
 prophecy. 
 
 " He has a right to be happy," maintained 
 Pamela stoutly. 
 
 " Ah! you, of course, are a judge in such 
 matters," put in William. 
 
 " Well, it's the place I care for, not the 
 money," said Jack again, throwing pebbles 
 into the river. 
 
 If Uncle had criticised our suburban fur- 
 nishing with candour, we returned the com- 
 pliment freely, when on returning to the 
 house we found it redecorated as well as re- 
 furnished from the gabled attics to the cel- 
 lars underground. 
 
 " Excellent taste, Uncle," this from Be- 
 linda, " exquisite colouring. No makeshift 
 or imitation here: of course you didn't do it 
 yourself; but the arranging why, there's 
 none; it's simply thrown together. It wants 
 a woman to do that for you."
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 231 
 
 She stopped to pull a chair forward and 
 push another back, draw down a blind half- 
 way, and gather a curtain into graceful folds. 
 The room at once gained in grace and hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 " That's just it! " cried Joshua delighted- 
 ly; "just what I've been saying to myself 
 it wants a woman." And he looked round 
 for general assent. 
 
 So the blow had fallen. He had askaed us 
 down to make acquaintance with a prospec- 
 tive aunt. After all, the surprise partook 
 more of the unpleasant order. I tried to de- 
 rive the promised moral support from my 
 best parasol; it was an en tout cas, and guar- 
 anteed serviceable for all weathers. 
 
 " You will be getting married, Uncle? " 
 I hazarded. 
 
 A shadow fell on Joshua Chilcott's face. 
 
 " I should have married years ago," he 
 said simply; " but she she died. I shall 
 never marry now, children."
 
 232 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 That last word told us all we wanted to 
 know, but for the moment we forgot our own 
 hopes and fears. My eyes filled with tears, 
 and Pamela's too were full as she took Uncle's 
 hand between her own and held it very close. 
 Olivia's young face grew still and grave. 
 Why? She had not experienced Love, that 
 comes as a thief in the night, and makes or 
 mars a life's happiness! 
 
 Belinda murmured something sympa- 
 thetic, but it was Jack's arm she squeezed, not 
 Uncle's. 
 
 Christmas time saw us again visiting 
 The Court. We had returned to town 
 after that September day when we learned 
 that Uncle stood financially somewhere 
 half-way between a millionaire and a pauper. 
 Much had happened in the autumn. We 
 gave up our little house in Triangle Lawn, 
 and removed the furniture to a bright roomy 
 studio in a more fashionable locality, where
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 233 
 
 Jack decided to continue his artistic strug- 
 gles, after exchanging the pen of the illustra- 
 tor for the brush and palette of oil-colours. 
 
 Olivia, whom nothing would tempt from 
 London for long, offered Jack her services as 
 housekeeper, and Mary offered hers as do- 
 mestic until " Mrs. Andrew Macgregory " 
 should need her. He accepted both cheer- 
 fully. Uncle gave them each an allowance 
 larger than our whole united income had been 
 previously. The intellectual atmosphere of 
 literary and artistic Bohemia, combined with 
 lavish personal expenditure, suited Olivia ex- 
 actly, and acted as a stimulus to her own am- 
 bitions. She published a book of poems 
 under her own name in which pessimism and 
 humour struggled for supremacy, became a 
 prominent member of an aesthetic club, and 
 refurnished the studio at intervals of a few 
 weeks or so. 
 
 William, installed as Uncle's man of busi- 
 ness, with a trip to South Africa in prospect,
 
 234 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 lived for some time in a continual state of 
 feeling he would wake up suddenly, for, as he 
 expressed it, it was out of all reason to begin 
 life at the wrong end of the ladder. He Vas 
 seen frequently to measure himself round the 
 waist, and on finding it still of respectably 
 moderate dimensions, concluded he was the 
 first instance on record of prosperity having 
 come to anyone without bringing an increase 
 of flesh in proportion. 
 
 Belinda, on the contrary, took to riches as 
 a duckling to water; her one trial was \vhen 
 there were so many charming roles for the 
 young and modern woman of money to play, 
 that she could not decide which line to adopt, 
 when all were so fascinating. 
 
 " For of course I shall succeed in what- 
 ever I take up," she explained modestly. 
 
 " And we, knowing her so well, could not 
 deny it. 
 
 Andrew and Theophilus contrived to 
 spend the New Year with us. Uncle had in-
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 235 
 
 sisted upon a year elapsing before we were 
 to marry. 
 
 " To give us time to think about settle- 
 ments," was his way of putting it. 
 
 This delay did not prevent Pamela from 
 deciding every detail of the ceremony. She 
 declared the bridesmaids' dresses we were 
 both to be married on the same day should 
 be blue, a shade to which Olivia objected. 
 
 " What would you have then? " asked 
 Pamela, anxious to be conciliatory in her 
 happiness. 
 
 " Brown, R.A," replied Olivia dreamily, 
 and went on to tell us how she had promised 
 to take that colour for better or worse 
 through life. 
 
 " Well, it's a good wearing colour," said 
 the Vicar thoughtfully. 
 
 " And he's a good fellow," added Jack, 
 who had been let into the secret some time 
 back. 
 
 Andrew turned to Belinda, who stood be- 
 16
 
 236 BELINDA AND SOME OTHERS. 
 
 side Uncle, Jinks at her feet, all three looking 
 out of the window. 
 
 " When are you going to follow our ex- 
 ample? " he began teasingly. 
 
 " I mean to have a good time first with 
 Uncle." 
 
 And the Doctor looked as he was meant 
 to look foolish. 
 
 And Belinda is as yet, Belinda. 
 
 THE END.
 
 APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. 
 
 PUBLISHED SEMIMONTHLY. 
 
 1. The Steel Hammer. By L. ULBACH. 
 
 2. Eve. By S. BABING-GOULD. 
 
 3. For Fifteen Years. By L. ULBACH. 
 
 4. A Counsel of Perfection. By L. 
 
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 5. The Deemster. By H CAINK. 
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 Sketches of Maritime Life. By W. 
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 Aristocracy. 
 
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 JARVIS. 
 
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 59 Part of the Property. By B. WHITBY. 
 
 60. Bismarck in Private Life. By a 
 
 Fellow-Student. 
 
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 62. The Canadians of Old. By P. 
 
 GASPE. 
 
 63. A Squire of Low Degree. By L. A. 
 
 LONG. 
 
 64. A Fluttered Dovecote. By G. M. 
 
 FENN. 
 
 65. The Nugents of Carriconna. By T. 
 
 HOPKINS. 
 
 66. A Sensitive Plant. By E. and D. 
 
 GERARD. 
 
 67. Dona Luz. By J. VALERA. Trans- 
 
 lated by Mrs. M. J. SERRANO. 
 
 68. Pepita Ximenez. By J. VALERA. 
 
 Translated by Mrs. M. J. SER- 
 RANO. 
 
 69. The Primes and their Neighbor*. 
 
 By R. M. JOHNSTON. 
 
 70. The Iron Game. ByH. F. KEBNAN. 
 
 71. Stories of Old New Spain. By T. 
 
 A. JANVIER. 
 
 72. The Maid of Honor. By Hon. L. 
 
 WlNGFIELD. 
 
 78. In the Heart of the Storm. By M. 
 
 GRAY. 
 74. Consequences. By E. CASTX.B.
 
 APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. (Continued.) 
 
 75. The Three Miss Kings. By A. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 76. A Matter of Skill. By B. WHITBY. 
 
 77. Maid Marian, and Other Stories. 
 
 By M. E. SEAWELL. 
 
 78. One Woman's Way. By E. PEN- 
 
 DLETON. 
 
 7S. A Merciful Divorce. By F. W. 
 MAUDE. 
 
 80. Stephen EllicotCs Daughter. By 
 
 Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 
 
 81. One Reason Why. By B. WHITBY. 
 
 82. The Tragedy of Ida Noble. By 
 
 W. C. RUPSELL. 
 
 6ft. The Johnstown Stage, and Other 
 Stories. By R. H. FLETCHER. 
 
 84. A Widower Indeed. By R. BROUGH- 
 
 TON and E. BISLAND. 
 
 85. The Flight of a Shadow. By G. 
 
 MACDONALD. 
 
 86. Love or Money. By K. LEE. 
 
 87. Not AUinVain. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 88. It Happened Yesterday. By F. 
 
 MARSHALL. 
 
 89. My Guardian. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 90. The Story of Philip Methuen. By 
 
 Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 
 
 91. Amethyst. By C. R. COLERIDGE. 
 
 92. Don Braulio. By J. VALERA. 
 
 Translated by C. BELL. 
 
 93. The Chronicles of Mr. Bill Wil- 
 
 liams. By R. M. JOHNSTON. 
 
 94. A Queen of Curds and Cream. By 
 
 D. GERARD. 
 
 95. " La Bella " and Others. By E. 
 
 96. " December Roses." By Mrs. CAMP- 
 
 BELL-PRAED. 
 
 97. Jean de Kerdren. By J. SCHULTZ. 
 
 98. Etelka's Vmv. By D. GERARD. 
 
 99. dross Currents. By M. A. DICKENS. 
 
 100. His Life's Magmt. By T. ELMSLIE. 
 
 101. Passing the Love of Women. By 
 
 Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 
 
 102. In Old St. Stephen's. By J. DRAKE. 
 
 103. The Berkeleys and their Neighbors. 
 
 By M. E. SEAWELL. 
 
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 By G. TRAVHKS. 
 
 105. Mrs. Bligh. By R. BROUGHTON. 
 
 106. A Stumble on the Threshold. By 
 
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 108. A Comedy of Elopement. By C. 
 
 REID. 
 
 109. In the Suntime of her Youth. By 
 
 B. WHITBY. 
 
 110. Stories in Black and White. By T. 
 
 HARDY and Others. 
 110J. An Englishman in Paris. 
 
 111. Commander Me-ndoza. By J. VA- 
 
 112. Dr. Paull's Theory. By Mrs. A. M. 
 
 DIEHL. 
 
 113. Children of Destiny. By M. E. 
 
 SFAWELL. 
 
 114. A Little Minx. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 115. Capfn Davy's Honeymoon. By H. 
 
 CAINE. 
 
 116. The Voice of a Flower. By E. 
 
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 117. Singularly Deluded. By S. GRAND. 
 
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 119. Lucia, Hugh, and Another. By 
 
 Mrs. J. II. NEEDELL. 
 
 120. The Tutor's Secret. By V. CHER- 
 
 BULIEZ. 
 
 121. Irom the Five Rivers. By Mrs. F. 
 
 A. STEEL. 
 
 122. An Innocent Impostor, and Other 
 
 Stories. By M. GRAY. 
 
 123. Ideala. By S. GRAND. 
 
 124. A Comedy of Masks. By E. DOW- 
 
 SON and A. MOOBE. 
 
 125. Relics. By F. MACNAB. 
 
 126. Dodo; A Detail of the Day. By 
 
 E. F. BENSON. 
 
 127. AWoman of Forty. By E.STUART. 
 
 128. Diana Tempest. By M. CHOLMON- 
 
 DELEY. 
 
 129. The Recipt for Diamonds. By C. 
 
 J. C. HYNE. 
 
 130. Christina Chard. By Mrs. CAMP- 
 
 BELL-PRAED. 
 
 131. A Gray Eye or So. By F. F. 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 132. Earlscourt. By A. ALLAHDYCE. 
 
 133. A Marriage Ceremony. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 134. A Ward in Chancery. 
 
 ALEXANDER. 
 
 135. Lot 13. By D. GERARD. 
 
 136. Our Manifold Nature. 
 
 GRAND. 
 
 137. A Costly Freak. By M. GRAY. 
 
 138. A Beginner. By R. BROUGHTON. 
 
 139. A Yellow Aster. By Mrs. M. CAP- 
 
 FYN ("IOTA"). 
 
 140. The Rubicon. By E. F. BENSON. 
 
 141. The Trespasser. By G. PARKER. 
 
 142. The Rich Miss Riddett. By D. 
 
 GERARD. 
 
 143. Mary Fenwick's Daughter. By B. 
 
 WHITBY. 
 
 144. Red Diamonds. By J. MCCARTHY. 
 
 145. A Daughter of Music. By G. COL- 
 
 MORE. 
 
 146. Outlaw and Lawmaker. By Mrs. 
 
 CAMPBELL-PRAED. 
 
 147. Dr. Janet of Harley Street. By A. 
 
 KENEALY. 
 
 148. Georae Mandeville's Husband. By 
 
 C. E. RAIMOND. 
 
 149. Vashti and Esther. 
 
 150. Timar's Two Worlds. 
 
 JOKAI. 
 
 151. A Victim of Good Luck. By W. E. 
 
 NOERJS. 
 
 By A. 
 
 By Mrs. 
 
 By S. 
 
 17tW. JJJ 
 
 ,,
 
 APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. (Continued.) 
 
 152. The Treat of the Sword. By G. 
 
 PARKER. 
 
 153. A MUd Barbarian. By E. FAW- 
 
 CETT. 
 
 Io4. The God in the Gar. By A. 
 HOPE. 
 
 155. Children of Circumstance. By Mrs. 
 
 M. CAFPTN. 
 
 156. At the Gate of Samaria. By W. J. 
 
 LOCKE. 
 
 157. The Justification of Andrew Le- 
 
 brun. By F. BARRETT. 
 
 158. Dust and Laurels. By M. L. PEN- 
 
 159. The Good Ship Mohock. By W. C. 
 
 RUBSBLL. 
 
 160. Noemi. By S. BARING-GOULD. 
 
 161. The Honour of SaveUi. By 8. L. 
 
 YKATS. 
 
 162. Kitty's Engagement. By F. WAR- 
 
 DEN. 
 
 163. The Mermaid. By L. DOUOALL. 
 
 164. An Arranged Marriage. By D. 
 
 GERARD. 
 
 165. Eve's Hansom. By G. GISSING. 
 
 166. The Marriage of Esther. By G. 
 
 BOOTHBT. 
 
 167. Fidelis. By A. CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 168. Into the Highways and Hedges. By 
 
 F. F. MoNTRfisoR. 
 
 169. The Vengeance of James Vansittart. 
 
 By Mrs. J. H.'NEEDELL. 
 
 170. A Study in Prejudices. By G. 
 
 PASTON. 
 
 171. The Mistress of Quest. By A. SER- 
 
 GEANT. 
 
 172. In the Tear of Jubilee. By G. CIS- 
 
 SING. 
 
 173. In Old New England. By H. 
 
 BUTTER WORTH. 
 
 174. Mrs. Mwqrave and Her Husband. 
 
 By R. MABflB. 
 
 175. Not Counting the Cost. By TASMA. 
 
 176. Out of Due Season. By A. SBR- 
 
 OEANT. 
 
 177. ScyUa or Charybdis? 
 
 BKOUGHTON. 
 
 178. In Defiance of the King. 
 
 HOTCHKISS. 
 
 179. A Bid for Fortune. 
 
 BOOTHBT. 
 
 180. The King of Andaman. 
 
 COBBAN. 
 
 181. Mrs. Tregasldss. By Mrs. C AMP- 
 
 BE LL-PRAED. 
 
 182. The Desire of the Moth. By C. 
 
 VANE. 
 
 183. A Self-Denying Ordinance. By M. 
 
 HAMILTON. 
 
 184. Svccffsors to the Title. By Mrs. L. 
 
 B. WALFORD. 
 
 185. The Lost Stradivarius. By J. M. 
 
 FALKNER. 
 
 186. The \Yrong Man. By D. GEKARD. 
 
 K 
 
 By 
 By C. C. 
 
 By G. 
 By J. M. 
 
 187. In the Day of Adversity. By J. 
 
 BLOUNDELLE-BUKTON. 
 
 188. Mistress Dorothy Marvin. By J. C. 
 
 SNAITH. 
 
 189. A Flash of Summer. By Mrs. W. 
 
 K. CLIFFORD. 
 
 190. The Dancer in Yellow. By W. E. 
 
 NORRIS. 
 
 191. The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt. 
 
 By A. MORRISON. 
 
 192. A Winning Hazard. By Mrs. 
 
 ALEXANDER. 
 
 193. The I'icture of Las Cruces. By C. 
 
 REID. 
 
 194. The Madonna of a Day. By L. 
 
 DOUGALL. 
 
 195. The Riddle Ring. By J. McCAB- 
 
 THY. 
 
 136. A Humble Enterprise. By A. CAM- 
 BRIDGE. 
 
 197. Dr. Nikola. By G. BOOTHBT. 
 
 198. An Outcast of the Islands. By J. 
 
 CONRAD. 
 
 199. The King's Revenge. By C. BRAT. 
 
 200. Denounced. By J. BLOUNDELLE- 
 
 BURTON. 
 
 201. A Court Intrigue. By B. THOMP- 
 
 SON. 
 
 202. The Idol-Maker. By A. SERGEANT. 
 
 203. The Intriguers. By J. D. BARRT. 
 
 204. Master Ardick, Buccaneer. By F. 
 
 H. COSTELLO. 
 
 205. With Fortune Made. By V. CHKB- 
 
 BtTLlEZ. 
 
 206. Fellow Travellers. By G. TRAVERS. 
 
 207. McLeod of the Camerons. By M. 
 
 HAMILTON. 
 
 208. The Career of Candida. By G. 
 
 PASTON. 
 
 209. Arrested. By E. STUART. 
 
 210. Tatterley. By T. GALLON. 
 
 211. A Pire^beck Goddess. By Mrs. J. 
 
 M. FLEMING (A. M. Kipling). 
 
 212. Perfection City. By Mrs. ORPEN. 
 
 213. A Spotless Reputation. By D. 
 
 GERARD. 
 
 214. A Galahad of the Creeks. By 8. L. 
 
 YEATS. 
 
 215. The Beautiful White Devil. By G. 
 
 BOOTHBT. 
 
 216. The Sun of Saratoga. By J. A. 
 
 217. Fierceheart, the Soldier. By J. C. 
 
 SNAITU. 
 
 218. Marietta's Marriage. By W. E. 
 
 NORMS. 
 
 219. Dear Faustina. By R. BROUGHTON. 
 
 220. KiUma. By Mrs. CAMPBELL PRAED. 
 
 221. The Folly of Pen Harrington. By 
 
 J. STURGIS. 
 
 222. A Colonial Free-Lance. By C. C. 
 
 HOTCHKISS. 
 
 223. His Ma.}esty's Greatest Subject. By 
 
 8. S. TBOBBURN.
 
 APPLETONS 1 TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. (Continued.) 
 
 224. Mjfanwy : A Welsh Singer. By A. 
 
 RAINE. 
 
 225. A Soldier of Manhattan. By J. A. 
 
 ALTSHELER. 
 
 226. Fortune's Footballs. By G. B. 
 
 BURGIN. 
 
 227. The Clash of Arms. ByJ. BLOUN- 
 
 DELLE- BURTON. 
 
 228. God's Foundling. By A. J. DAW- 
 
 SON. 
 2529. Miss Providence. By D. GERARD. 
 
 230. The Freedom of Henry Meredyth. 
 
 By M. HAMILTON. 
 
 231. Siceethearts and Friends. By M. 
 
 GRAY. 
 
 232. Sunset. By B. WHITBT. 
 
 233. A Fiery Ordeal. By TASMA. 
 
 234. A Prince of Mischance. ByT. GAL- 
 
 LON. 
 
 235. A Passionate Pilgrim. By P. 
 
 WHITE. 
 
 236. This Little World. By D. C. MOB- 
 
 BAT. 
 
 237. A Forgotten Sin. By D. GERARD. 
 
 238. The Incidental Bishop. By G. 
 
 ALLEN. 
 
 239. The Lake of Wine. By B. CAPES. 
 
 240. A Trooper of the Empress. By C. 
 
 Ross. 
 
 241. Torn Sails. By A. RAINE. 
 
 242. MaterfamUias.' By A. CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 243. John of Strathbourne. By R. D. 
 
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 244. The Millionaires. ByF. F.MOORE. 
 
 245. The Looms of Time. By Mrs. H. 
 
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 246. The Queen's Chip. By G. A. HEMTT. 
 
 247. Dicky MonUith. By T. GALLON. 
 
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 249. The Gospel Writ in Steel. By AR- 
 
 THUR PATERSON. 
 
 250. The Widower. By W. E. NORRIS. 
 
 251. The Scourge of God. By J. 
 
 BLOUNDELLE -BURTON. 
 
 252. Concerning Isabel Carnaby. By 
 
 ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FOWLER. 
 
 253. The Impediment. By DOROTHEA 
 
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 "HE TERROR. A Romance of the French Revo- 
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 bined to make M Felix Gras's 'The Reds of the Midi ' a work of real literary value. 
 It is as far as possible removed from sensationalism ; it is, on the contrary, subdued, 
 simple, unassuming, profoundly sincere. Such artifice as the author, has found it 
 necessary to employ has been carefully concealed, and if we feel its presence, it is only 
 because experience has taught that the quality is indispensable to a work which affects 
 the imagination so promptly and with such force as does this quiet narrative of the 
 French Revolution." New York Tribune. 
 
 " It is doubtful whether in the English language we have had a m-re powerful, 
 impre sive, artistic picture of the French Revolution, from the revolutionist's point of 
 view, than that presented in Felix Gras's 'The Reds of the Midi.' . . . Adventures 
 follow one another rapidly ; splendid, brilliant pictures are frequent, and the thiead of 
 a lender, beautiful love story winds in and out of its pages." New York Mail and 
 Express. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK,
 
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