Joan Haste - H. Rider Haggard (fiction books to read .TXT) 📗

heard of such things.”

 

“Oh no, he is not bad enough for that; in fact, he is very good and

kind. He knew that I was coming away, and gave me five-and-twenty

pounds to start on, and he told me himself that he was left my trustee

by my father, who is dead, but whose name he was bound not to reveal.”

 

“Indeed,” answered Mrs. Bird, pursing up her lips. “And now I must go

and see about the dinner. As it happens, I do work for some of the big

shops; and I will inquire if there is any situation vacant that might

suit you. Look: Jim wants you to turn your head a little, so that he

can see your nose. Is he not making a beautiful likeness?” And,

nodding affectionately to her husband, she left the room.

 

Once outside the door, Mrs. Bird stood still and reflected. “There is

a mystery about that girl,” she thought, “and she has not told me all

her story: she has left out the love affair—I could see it in her

face. Now, if I were wise, I should send her about her business

without more words; but, somehow, I cannot find the heart to do it. I

suppose it is because she is so beautiful, and seems so sad and

friendless; and after all it is one’s duty to help those who are

placed thus—yes, even if they have not been quite respectable, though

of course I have no right to suppose that she has not. No, I cannot

turn her away. To do so might be to bring her to ruin, and that would

be a dreadful thing to have upon one’s mind. But I do not think much

of that guardian of hers, Mr. Levinger she called him, who can send

such a lovely girl to take her chance in London without providing her

with a proper home. It looks almost as if he wished to be rid of her:

altogether it is a very strange story. I must say that it interests

me; but then curiosity always was one of my sins, and I have not

conquered it yet.” And again shaking her head, this time at the

thought of her own depravity, Mrs. Bird made her way to the kitchen.

 

After dinner was over she announced to Joan that they were all going

out for a walk in the Park, and asked her if she would like to

accompany them. Joan, of course, was delighted, for already she began

to feel a want of the fresh air to which she was accustomed; but as

she accepted she looked inquiringly at Mr. Bird.

 

“Ah, my dear,” said his wife, “you are wondering how he can come out

walking when his legs are crippled. Well, presently you shall see. Now

go and put on your hat.”

 

By the time that Joan was ready she found that a long wheel-chair,

which she had noticed standing in the passage, had been run into the

sitting-room, and into this chair Mr. Bird shifted himself with

marvellous agility by the help of his muscular arms, nodding and

smiling at Joan the while.

 

“How on earth will they get it down the steps?” she wondered. Soon the

mystery was solved, for, the front door having been opened, Sally

appeared with three grooved boards which reached from the lintel to

the pavement. The three wheels of the chair having been set in the

grooves, Mr. Bird grasped the iron railings on either side of the

steps, and, smiling triumphantly, launched himself with much dignity

into the street.

 

“There, my dear!” said Mrs. Bird, while Sally replaced the boards in

the passage and shut the door, “necessity is the mother of invention.

Quite clever, isn’t it? But we have other contrivances that are even

cleverer.”

 

Then they started, Mr. Bird guiding himself, while Sally and Mrs. Bird

who was arrayed in a prim little bonnet and mantle, pushed behind.

Joan offered to assist, but was not allowed this honour because of her

inexperience of the streets, at any rate until they reached the Park.

So she walked by the side of the chair, wondering at the shops and the

noise and bustle of the Edgware Road.

 

Presently they came to the corner opposite the Marble Arch, where, as

usual, the wide roadway was blocked with traffic. “How will they ever

get across there?” thought Joan; “it frightens me to look at it.”

 

But it did not frighten Mrs. Bird and her family, who, without a

moment’s hesitation, plunged into the thick of it, calling to Joan to

keep close to them. It was really wonderful to see the skill with

which the transit was accomplished; cabs, omnibuses and carriages bore

down upon them from all directions, but the Bird family were not

dismayed. Here and there the chair headed, now passing under the nose

of a horse and now grazing the wheel of a cab, till at length it

arrived safely at the farther pavement. Joan was not so fortunate,

however; about half-way across she lost her head, and, having been

nearly knocked down by the pole of an omnibus, stood bewildered till a

policeman seized her by the arm and dragged her into safety.

 

“You see, my dear,” said Mrs. Bird, “although you are so strong, you

are not quite competent to wheel Jim at present. First you must learn

to look after yourself.”

 

Then they went for their walk in the Park, which Joan enjoyed, for it

was all new to her, especially when she was allowed to push the

precious chair; and returned to Kent Street in time for tea.

 

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed like those of the

previous day, and the morrow was as the yesterday had been. Indeed,

there was little variety in the routine of the Bird ménage—so

little that Joan soon began to wonder how they distinguished one month

or one year from another. Few customers came to the house, for most of

the dressmaking was put out to Mrs. Bird by the managers of large

shops, who had confidence in her, and were not afraid to trust her

with costly materials, which she made up, generally into skirts, and

took back in the evenings.

 

So it came about that all day long Mrs. Bird and Sally sewed, while

Jim carved endless walking-sticks, and Joan sat by giving such help as

she could, now listening to her hostess’s good-natured chatter and now

to the shrill song of the canary. At first, after all that she had

gone through, this mode of life was a rest to her. It was delightful

to be obliged neither to think nor to work unless she so wished; it

was delightful to know that she was beyond the reach of Samuel Rock,

and could not be harried by the coarse tongue of Mrs. Gillingwater or

by the gossip of her neighbours. The atmosphere of goodness in which

she lived was very soothing also: it was a new thing for Joan to pass

her days where there was no hate, no passion, no jealousy, and no

violence—where, on the contrary, charity and loving-kindness reigned

supreme. Soon she grew very fond of little Mrs. Bird, as, indeed,

anybody must have done who had the good fortune to know her; and began

to share her adoration of the two “babies,” the great patient creature

who faced his infirmities with a perpetual smile, and the sweet child

from whom love seemed to radiate.

 

But after a while, as her body and mind shook off their weariness,

these things began to pall; she longed for work, for anything that

would enable her to escape from her own thoughts—and as yet no work

was forthcoming. At times, tiring of Jim’s smile as he hewed out

libellous likenesses of herself upon his walking-sticks, and of the

trilling of the canary, she would seek refuge in her own sitting-room,

where she read and re-read the books that Henry had given her; and at

times, longing for air, she would escape from the stuffy little house

to the Park, to walk up and down there till she grew weary—an

amusement which she found had its drawbacks. At last, when she had

been a fortnight in Kent Street, she asked Mrs. Bird if there was any

prospect of getting employment.

 

“My dear,” was the answer, “I have inquired everywhere, and as yet

without success. To-night I am taking this skirt back to Messrs. Black

and Parker, in Oxford Street, and I will ask their manager, who is

quite a friend of mine, if he has an opening. Failing this I think you

had better advertise, for I see that you are getting tired of doing

nothing, and I do not wonder at it—though you should be most thankful

that you can afford to live without work, seeing that many people in

your position would now be reduced to starvation.”

 

That night, Mrs. Bird returned from Messrs. Black and Parker’s with a

radiant countenance.

 

“My dear,” she said, “there is a coincidence, quite a wonderful

coincidence. The young woman at Messrs. Black and Parker’s whose

business it was to fit on the cloaks in the mantle department has

suddenly been called away to nurse a sick uncle in Cornwall from whom

she has expectations, and they are looking out for some one to take

her place, for, as it chances, there is no one suitable for the post

in their employ. I told the manager about you, and he said that I was

to bring you there to-morrow morning. If they engaged you your pay

would be eighteen shillings a week to begin with; which is not much,

but better than nothing.”

 

Accordingly, on the following morning, having arrayed herself in her

best dress, and a pretty little bonnet that she had made with the help

of Sally, Joan set out for Messrs. Black and Parker’s in the company

of Mrs. Bird.

 

Messrs. Black and Parker’s establishment was an enormous one, having

many departments.

 

“You see it is a first-class shop, my dear,” said Mrs. Bird, glancing

with veneration at the huge windows filled with chefs-d’oeuvres of

the milliner’s and other arts. “Now follow me, and don’t be nervous.”

And she led the way through various divisions till she reached a large

box built of mahogany and glass labelled “Manager’s Office. No

admittance except on business.”

 

At this moment the door of the box opened, and from it issued an oiled

and curled specimen of manhood, with very white hands and hair so wavy

that it conveyed a suggestion of crimping tongs.

 

His eye fell upon Joan, and he bowed obsequiously.

 

“Can I do anything for you, madam?” he said. “We are so full this

morning that I fear you are not being attended to.”

 

“She is not a customer, Mr. Waters,” said Mrs. Bird, emerging from

behind Joan’s tall shape: “she is the young person about whom I spoke

to you, who wants a situation as show-woman.”

 

“Oh! is she?” said Mr. Waters, with a complete change of manner; “then

why didn’t you say so at first? Well, she’s a pretty girl anyway. Step

in here, miss, and take off your jacket, please, so that I can see

what your figure is like.”

 

Joan did as she was told, although she felt a hate of this individual

swelling in her heart. Mr. Waters surveyed her critically for half a

minute or more, shutting first one eye and then the other, as though

to bring her better into focus.

 

“Any experience?” he said laconically—“I mean of business.”

 

“No, sir, none,” Joan answered.

 

“Ah! I see: a lady, I suppose.”

 

“I am not a lady, sir,” replied