Big Game: A Story for Girls, Page 3

  CHAPTER THREE.

  A TONIC.

  Margot wandered about the Park so lost in her own thoughts that she wasdismayed to find that it was already one o'clock, when warned by thedeparting stream of nursemaids that it must be approaching luncheon hourshe at last consulted her watch.

  Half an hour's walk, cold cutlets and an irate Agnes, were prospectswhich did not smile upon her; it seemed infinitely more agreeable toturn in an opposite direction, and make as quickly as possible forOxford Terrace, where she would be certain of a welcome from poor sadEdith, who was probably even now lunching on bread and cheese andanxiety, while her two sturdy infants tucked into nourishing beefsteak.Edith was one of those dear things who did not preach if you were late,but was content to give you what she had, without apologising.

  Margot trotted briskly past Dorset Square, took a short cut behind theGreat Central Hotel, and emerged into the dreary stretch of MaryleboneRoad.

  Even in the spring sunshine it looked dull and depressing, with thegloomy hospital abutting at the corner, the flights of dull red flats onthe right.

  A block of flats--in appearance the most depressing--in reality the mostinteresting of buildings!

  Inside those walls a hundred different households lived, and moved, andhad their being. Every experience of life and death, of joy and grief,was acted on that stage, the innumerable curtains of which were sodiscreetly drawn. Margot scanned the several rows of windows with acurious interest. To-day new silk _brise-bise_ appeared on the secondfloor, and a glimpse of a branching palm. Possibly some young bride hadfound her new home in this dull labyrinth, and it was still beautiful inher sight! Alas, poor bird, to be condemned to build in such a nest!Those curtains to the right were shockingly dirty, showing that someover-tired housewife had retired discomfited from the struggle againstLondon grime. Up on the sixth floor there was a welcome splash ofcolour in the shape of Turkey red curtains, and a bank of scarletgeranium. Margot had decided long since that this flat must belong toan art student to whom colour was a necessity of life; who toiled up theweary length of stairs on her return from the day's work, tasting inadvance the welcome of the cosy room. She herself never forgot to lookup at that window, or to send a mental message of sympathy and cheer toits unknown occupant.

  Oxford Terrace looked quite cheerful in comparison with the surroundingroads,--and almost countrified into the bargain, now that the beechtrees were bursting into leaf. Margot passed by two or three blocks,then mounting the steps at the corner of a new terrace, walked alongwithin the railed-in strip of lawn until she reached a house in themiddle of the row. A peep between draped Nottingham lace curtainsshowed a luncheon table placed against the wall, after the cheerfulfashion of furnished apartments, when one room does duty for three, atwhich sat two little sailor-suited lads and a pale mother, smilingbravely at their sallies.

  Margot felt the quick contraction of the heart which she experiencedafresh at every sight of Edith's changed face, but next moment shewhistled softly in the familiar key, and saw the light flash back.Edith sprang to the door, and appeared flushed and smiling.

  "Margot, how sweet of you! I _am_ glad! Have you had lunch?"

  "No. Give me anything you have. I'm awfully late. Bread and jam willdo splendidly. Halloa, youngsters, how are you? We'll defer kisses, Ithink, till you are past the sticky stage. I've been prowling about thePark for the last two hours enjoying the spring breezes, and working outproblems, and suddenly discovered it was too late to go home."

  She sank down on a seat by the table, shaking her head in response to ananxious glance. "No, not my own affairs, dear; only Ron's! Can't theboys run away now, and let us have a chat? I know you have had enoughof them by your face, and I've such a lot to say. Don't grumble, boys!Be good, and you shall be happy, and your aunt will take you to the Zoo.Yes, I promise! The very first afternoon that the sun shines; butfirst I shall ask mother if you have deserved it by doing what you aretold."

  "Run upstairs, dears, and wash, and put on your boots before Esthercomes," said Mrs Martin fondly; and the boys obeyed, with a lingeringobedience which was plainly due rather to bribery than training.

  The elder of the two was a sturdy, plain-featured lad, uninterestingexcept to the parental eye; the younger a beauty, a bewitching, plump,curly-headed cherub of four years, with widely-opened grey eyes and aCupid's bow of a mouth. Margot let Jim pass by with a nod, but her handstretched out involuntarily to stroke Pat's cheek, and ruffle his curlypow.

  Edith smiled in sympathetic understanding, but even as she smiled sheturned her head over her shoulder to speak a parting word to the olderlad.

  "Good-bye, darling! We'll have a lovely game after tea!" Then the doorshut, and she turned to her sister with a sigh.

  "Poor Jim! everybody overlooks him to fuss over Pat, and it is hardlines. Children feel these things much more than grown-up peoplerealise. I heard yells resounding from their bedroom one day last year,and flew upstairs to see what was wrong. There was Pat on the floor,with Jim kneeling on his chest, with his fingers twined in his hair,which he was literally dragging out by the roots. He was put to bed forbeing cruel to his little brother, but when I went to talk quietly tohim afterwards, he sobbed so pitifully, and said, `I only wanted some ofhis curls to put on, to make people love me too!' Poor wee man! Youknow what a silly way people have of saying, `Will you give me one ofyour curls?' and poor Jim had grown tired of walking beside the pram,and having no notice taken of him. I vowed that from that day if Ishowed the least preference to either of the boys it should be to Jim.The world will be kind to Pat; he will never need friends."

  "No, Pat is all right. He has the `come-hither eye,' as his mother hadbefore him!"

  "And his aunt!"

  Margot chuckled complacently. "Well! it's a valuable thing to possess.I find it most useful in my various plights. They are dear naughtyboys, both of them, and I always love them, but rather less than usualwhen I see you looking so worn out. You have enough strain on youwithout turning nursemaid into the bargain."

  Mrs Martin sighed, and knitted her delicate brows.

  "I do feel such a wicked wretch, but one of the hardest bits of life atthe present is being shut up with the boys in one room all day long.They are very good, poor dears, but when one is racked with anxiety, itis a strain to play wild Indians and polar bears for hours at a stretch.We do some lessons now, and that's a help--and Jack insisted that Ishould engage this girl to take them out in the afternoon. I must be awretched mother, for I am thankful every day afresh to hear the doorbang behind them, and to know that I am free until tea-time."

  "Nonsense! Don't be artificial, Edie! You know that you are nothing ofthe sort, and that it's perfectly natural to be glad of a quiet hour.You are a marvel of patience. I should snap their heads off if I hadthem all day, packed up in this little room. What have you had forlunch? No meat? And you look so white and spent. How wicked of you!"

  "Oh, Margot," sighed the other pathetically, "it's not food that I need!What good can food do when one is racked with anxiety? It's my mindthat is ill, not my body. We can't pay our way even with the rent ofthe house coming in, unless Jack gets something to do very soon, and Iam such a stupid, useless thing that I can do nothing to help."

  "Except to give up your house, and your servants, and turn yourself intonurse, and seamstress, and tailor, and dressmaker, rolled into one; andlive in an uproar all day long, and be a perfect angel of sympathy everynight--that's all!--and try to do it on bread and cheese into thebargain! There must be something inherently mean in women, to skimpthemselves as they do. You'd never find a man who would grudge tenpencefor a chop, however hard up he might be, but a woman spends twopence onlunch, and a sovereign on tonics! Darling, will it comfort you most ifI sympathise, or encourage? I know there are moods when it's pureaggravation to be cheerful!"

  Edith sighed and smiled at one and the same moment.

  "I don't know! I'd like to hear a little of both, I thi
nk, just to seewhat sort of a case you could make out."

  "Very well, then, so you shall, but first I'll make you comfy. Which isthe least lumpy chair which this beautiful room possesses? Sit downthen, and put up your feet while I enjoy my lunch. I do love damsonjam! I shall finish the pot before I'm satisfied... Well, to take theworst things first, I do sympathise with you about the table linen! Oneclean cloth a week, I suppose? It must be quite a chronicle of theboys' exploits! I should live on cold meat, so that they couldn't spillhe gravy. And the spoons. They feel gritty, don't they? What is itexactly that they are made of? Poor old, dainty Edie! I know you hateit, and the idea that aliens are usurping your own treasures. Stupidpeople like Agnes would say that these are only pin-pricks, which weshould not deign to notice, but sensible people like you and me knowthat constant little pricks take more out of one than the big stabs. Ifthe wall-paper had not been so hideous, your anxieties would have seemedlighter, but it's difficult to bear things cheerfully against abackground of drab roses. Here's an idea now! If all else fails, starta cheerful lodging-house. You'd make a fortune, and be a philanthropistto boot... This _is_ good jam! I shall have to hide the stones, forthe sake of decency.--I know you think fifty times more of Jack than ofyourself. It's hard luck to feel that all his hard work ends in this,and men hate failure. They have the responsibility, poor things, and itmust be tragic to feel that through their mistakes, or rashness, orincapacity, as the case may be, they have brought hard times upon theirwives. I expect Jack feels the table cloth even more than you do! Yousmart, but you don't feel, `This is my fault!'"

  "It isn't Jack's fault," interrupted Jack's wife quickly. "He neverspeculated, nor shirked work, nor did anything but his best. It wasthat hateful war, and the upset of the market, and--"

  "Call it misfortune, then; in any case the fact remains that he is thebread-winner, and has failed to provide--cake! We are not satisfiedwith dry bread nowadays. You are always sure of that from father, iffrom no one else."

  "But I loathe taking it! And I would sooner live in one room than gohome again, as some people do. When one marries one loses one's placein the old home, and it is never given back. Father loves me, but hewould feel it a humiliation to have me back on his hands. Agnes wouldresent my presence, and so would you. Yes, you would! Not consciously,perhaps, but in a hundred side-issues. We should take up your sparerooms, and prevent visitors, and upset the maids. If you ran into debt,father would pay your debts as a matter of course, but he grudges payingmine, because they are partly Jack's."

  "Yes, I understand. It must be hateful for you, dear. I suppose no manwishes to pay out more money than he need, especially when he has workedhard to make it, as the pater has done; but if you take him the rightway he is a marvel of goodness.--This year--next year--sometime--never;--I'm going to be married next year! Just what I had decidedmyself... I must begin to pick up bargains at the sales."

  Margot rose from her seat, flicking the crumbs off her lap with a finedisregard of the flower-wreathed carpet, and came over to a seat besideher sister.

  "Now, shall I change briefs, and expatiate on the other side of thequestion? ... Why, Edie, every bit of this trouble depends on yourattitude towards it, and on nothing else. You are all well; you areyoung; you adore each other; you have done nothing dishonourable; youhave been able to pay your debts--what does the rest matter? Jack hashad a big disappointment. Very well, but what's the use of crying overspilt milk? Get a fresh jug, and try for cream next time! The childrenare too young to suffer, and think it's fine fun to have no nursery, andlive near Edgware Road. If you and Jack could just manage to think thesame, you might turn it all into a picnic and a joke. Jack is strongand clever and industrious, and you have a rich father; humanlyspeaking, you will never want. Take it with a smile, dear! If you willsmile, so will Jack. If you push things to the end, it rests with you,for he won't fret if he sees you happy. He _does_ love you, Edie! I'mnot sentimental, but I think it must be just the most beautiful thing inthe world to be loved like that. I should like some one to look at meas he does at you, with his eyes lighting up with that deep, brightglow. I'd live in an attic with my Jack, and ask for nothing more!"

  The elder woman smiled--a smile eloquent of a sadder, maturer wisdom.She adored her husband, and gloried in the knowledge of his love ofherself, but she knew that attics are not conducive to the continuanceof devotion. Love is a delicate plant, which needs care and nourishmentand discreet sheltering, if it is to remain perennially in bloom. Thesmile lingered on her lips, however; she rested her head against thecushions of her chair and cried gratefully--

  "Oh, Margot, you do comfort me! You are so nice and human. Do youreally, truly think I am taking things too seriously? Do you think I amdepressing Jack? Wouldn't he think me heartless if I seemed bright andhappy?"

  "Try it and see! You can decide according to the effect produced, butfirst you must have a tonic, to brace you for the effort. I've a newprescription, and we are going to Edgware Road to get it this veryhour."

  "Quinine, I suppose. Esther and the boys can get it at the chemist's,but really it will do roe no good."

  "I'm sure it wouldn't. Mine is a hundred times more powerful."

  "Iron? I can't take it. It gives me headaches."

  "It isn't iron. Mine won't give you a headache, unless the pins gettwisted. It's a finer specific for low spirits feminine, than anystupid drugs. A new hat!"

  Edith stared, and laughed, and laughed again.

  "You silly girl! What nonsense! I don't need a hat."

  "That's nonsense if you like! It depresses me to see you going about inthat dowdy thing, and it must be a martyrdom for you to wear it everyday. Come out and buy a straw shape for something and `eleven-three',"(it's always "eleven-three" in Edgware Road), "and I'll trim it withsome of your scraps. You have such nice scraps. Then we'll have tea,and you shall walk part of the way home with me, and meet Jack, andsmile at him and look pretty, and watch him perk up to match. What doyou say?"

  Edith lifted her eyes with a smile which brought back the youth andbeauty to her face.

  "I say, thank you!" she said simply. "You are a regular missionary,Margot. You spend your life making other people happy."

  "Goodness!" cried Margot, aghast. "Do I? How proper it sounds! Youjust repeat that to Agnes, and see what she says. You'll hear adifferent story, I can tell you!"