the expression. I am merely loud with her (and I beg you will honor me by being loud, too) as a necessary stimulant to her ideas. Shout at her—and her mind comes up to time. Speak to her—and she drifts miles away from you directly. Mrs. Wragge!'
Mrs. Wragge instantly acknowledged the stimulant. 'Tea, captain?' she inquired, for the second time.
'Put your cap straight!' shouted her husband. 'I beg ten thousand pardons,' he resumed, again addressing himself to Magdalen. 'The sad truth is, I am a martyr to my own sense of order. All untidiness, all want of system and regularity, cause me the acutest irritation. My attention is distracted, my composure is upset; I can't rest till things are set straight again. Externally speaking, Mrs. Wragge is, to my infinite regret, the crookedest woman I ever met with. More to the right!' shouted the captain, as Mrs. Wragge, like a well-trained child, presented herself with her revised head-dress for her husband's inspection.
Mrs. Wragge immediately pulled the cap to the left. Magdalen rose, and set it right for her. The moon-face of the giantess brightened for the first time. She looked admiringly at Magdalen's cloak and bonnet. 'Do you like dress, miss?' she asked, suddenly, in a confidential whisper. 'I do.'
'Show Miss Vanstone her room,' said the captain, looking as if the whole house belonged to him. 'The spare- room, the landlady's spare-room, on the third floor front. Offer Miss Vanstone all articles connected with the toilet of which she may stand in need. She has no luggage with her. Supply the deficiency, and then come back and make tea.'
Mrs. Wragge acknowledged the receipt of these lofty directions by a look of placid bewilderment, and led the way out of the room; Magdalen following her, with a candle presented by the attentive captain. As soon as they were alone on the landing outside, Mrs. Wragge raised the tattered old book which she had been reading when Magdalen was first presented to her, and which she had never let out of her hand since, and slowly tapped herself on the forehead with it. 'Oh, my poor head!' said the tall lady, in meek soliloquy; 'it's Buzzing again worse than ever!'
'Buzzing?' repeated Magdalen, in the utmost astonishment.
Mrs. Wragge ascended the stairs, without offering any explanation, stopped at one of the rooms on the second floor, and led the way in.
'This is not the third floor,' said Magdalen. 'This is not my room, surely?'
'Wait a bit,' pleaded Mrs. Wragge. 'Wait a bit, miss, before we go up any higher. I've got the Buzzing in my head worse than ever. Please wait for me till I'm a little better again.'
'Shall I ask for help?' inquired Magdalen. 'Shall I call the landlady?'
'Help?' echoed Mrs. Wragge. 'Bless you, I don't want help! I'm used to it. I've had the Buzzing in my head, off and on—how many years?' She stopped, reflected, lost herself, and suddenly tried a question in despair. 'Have you ever been at Darch's Dining-rooms in London?' she asked, with an appearance of the deepest interest.
'No,' replied Magdalen, wondering at the strange inquiry.
'That's where the Buzzing in my head first began,' said Mrs. Wragge, following the new clew with the deepest attention and anxiety. 'I was employed to wait on the gentlemen at Darch's Dining-rooms—I was. The gentlemen all came together; the gentlemen were all hungry together; the gentlemen all gave their orders together—' She stopped, and tapped her head again, despondently, with the tattered old book.
'And you had to keep all their orders in your memory, separate one from the other?' suggested Magdalen, helping her out. 'And the trying to do that confused you?'
'That's it!' said Mrs. Wragge, becoming violently excited in a moment. 'Boiled pork and greens and pease- pudding, for Number One. Stewed beef and carrots and gooseberry tart, for Number Two. Cut of mutton, and quick about it, well done, and plenty of fat, for Number Three. Codfish and parsnips, two chops to follow, hot-and-hot, or I'll be the death of you, for Number Four. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Carrots and gooseberry tart—pease- pudding and plenty of fat—pork and beef and mutton, and cut 'em all, and quick about it—stout for one, and ale for t'other—and stale bread here, and new bread there—and this gentleman likes cheese, and that gentleman doesn't —Matilda, Tilda, Tilda, Tilda, fifty times over, till I didn't know my own name again—oh lord! oh lord!! oh lord!!! all together, all at the same time, all out of temper, all buzzing in my poor head like forty thousand million bees—don't tell the captain! don't tell the captain!' The unfortunate creature dropped the tattered old book, and beat both her hands on her head, with a look of blank terror fixed on the door.
'Hush! hush!' said Magdalen. 'The captain hasn't heard you. I know what is the matter with your head now. Let me cool it.'
She dipped a towel in water, and pressed it on the hot and helpless head which Mrs. Wragge submitted to her with the docility of a sick child.
'What a pretty hand you've got!' said the poor creature, feeling the relief of the coolness and taking Magdalen's hand, admiringly, in her own. 'How soft and white it is! I try to be a lady; I always keep my gloves on—but I can't get my hands like yours. I'm nicely dressed, though, ain't I? I like dress; it's a comfort to me. I'm always happy when I'm looking at my things. I say—you won't be angry with me?—I should so like to try your bonnet on.'
Magdalen humored her, with the ready compassion of the young. She stood smiling and nodding at herself in the glass, with the bonnet perched on the top of her head. 'I had one as pretty as this, once,' she said—'only it was white, not black. I wore it when the captain married me.'
'Where did you meet with him?' asked Magdalen, putting the question as a chance means of increasing her scanty stock of information on the subject of Captain Wragge.
'At the Dining-rooms,' said Mrs. Wragge. 'He was the hungriest and the loudest to wait upon of the lot of 'em. I made more mistakes with him than I did with all the rest of them put together. He used to swear—oh, didn't he use to swear! When he left off swearing at me he married me. There was others wanted me besides him. Bless you, I had my pick. Why not? When you have a trifle of money left you that you didn't expect, if that don't make a lady of you, what does? Isn't a lady to have her pick? I had my trifle of money, and I had my pick, and I picked the captain—I did. He was the smartest and the shortest of them all. He took care of me and my money. I'm here, the money's gone. Don't you put that towel down on the table—he won't have that! Don't move his razors—don't, please, or I shall forget which is which. I've got to remember which is which to-morrow morning. Bless you, the captain don't shave himself! He had me taught. I shave him. I do his hair, and cut his nails—he's awfully particular about his nails. So he is about his trousers. And his shoes. And his newspaper in the morning. And his breakfasts, and lunches, and dinners, and teas—' She stopped, struck by a sudden recollection, looked about her, observed the tattered old book on the floor, and clasped her hands in despair. 'I've lost the place!' she exclaimed helplessly. 'Oh, mercy, what will become of me! I've lost the place.'
'Never mind,' said Magdalen; 'I'll soon find the place for you again.'
