The Paying Guest

that Louise would meet him, if possible, on Streatham Common, at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon. And he signed himself—’Very sincerely yours.’

‘I made up my mind at once,’ said the girl, ‘that I wouldn’t meet him. That kind of thing will have to stop. I’m not going to think any more of him, and it’s better to make him understand it at once—isn’t it?’

Emmeline heartily concurred.

‘Still,’ pursued the other, with an air of great satisfaction, ‘I thought I had better go home for this afternoon. Because when he didn’t see me on the Common he was pretty sure to call at the house, and I didn’t want mother or Cissy to be talking about me to him before he had heard my own explanation.’

‘Didn’t you answer the letter?’ asked Emmeline.

‘No. I just sent a line to mother, to let her know I was coming over to-day, so that she might stay at home. Well, and it happened just as I thought. Mr. Cobb came to the house at half-past three. But before that I’d had a terrible row with Cissy. That isn’t a nice expression, I know, but it really was one of our worst quarrels. Mr. Bowling hasn’t been near since I left, and Cissy is furious. She said such things that I had to tell her very plainly what I thought of her; and she positively foamed at the mouth! “Now look here,” she said, “if I find out that he goes to Sutton, you’ll see what will happen.” “What will happen?” I asked. “Father will stop your allowance, and you’ll have to get on as best you can.” “Oh, very well,” I said, “in that case I shall marry Mr. Bowling.” You should have seen her rage! “You said you wouldn’t marry him if he had ten thousand a year!” she screamed. “I dare say I did; but if I’ve nothing to live upon—” “You can marry your Mr. Cobb, can’t you?” And she almost cried; and I should have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t made me so angry. “No,” I said, “I can’t marry Mr. Cobb. And I never dreamt of marrying Mr. Cobb. And—”’

Emmeline interposed.

‘Really, Louise, that kind of talk isn’t at all ladylike. What a pity you went home.’

‘Yes, I was sorry for it afterwards. I shan’t go again for a long time; I promise you I won’t. However, Mr. Cobb came, and I saw him alone. He was astonished when he heard what had been going on; he was astonished at me, too—I mean, the way I spoke. I wanted him to understand at once that there was nothing between us; I talked in rather a—you know the sort of way.’ She raised her chin slightly, and looked down from under her eyelids. ‘Oh, I assure you I behaved quite nicely. But he got into a rage, as he always does, and began to call me names, and I wouldn’t stand it. “Mr. Cobb,” I said, very severely, “either you will conduct yourself properly, or you will leave the house.” Then he tried another tone, and said very different things—the kind of thing one likes to hear, you know; but I pretended that I didn’t care for it a bit. “It’s all over between us then?” he shouted at last; yes, really shouted, and I’m sure people must have heard. “All over?” I said. “But there never was anything—nothing serious.” “Oh, all right. Good-bye, then.” And off he rushed. And I dare say I’ve seen the last of him—for a time.’

‘Now do try to live quietly, my dear,’ said Emmeline. ‘Go on with your music, and read a little each day—’

‘Yes, that’s just what I’m going to do, dear Mrs. Mumford. And your friends will be here tomorrow; it’ll be so quiet and nice. And on Monday we shall go to the theatre, just for a change. And I’m not going to think of those people. It’s all settled. I shall live very quietly indeed.’

She banged on the piano till nearly eleven o’clock, and went off to bed with a smile of virtuous contentment.

The guests who arrived on Sunday morning were Mr. and Mrs. Grove, Mr. Bilton, and Mr. Dunnill. Mrs. Grove was Emmeline’s elder sister, a merry, talkative, kindly woman. Aware of the circumstances, she at once made friends with Miss Derrick, and greatly pleased that young lady by a skilful blending of “superior” talk with easy homeliness. Mr. Bilton, a stockbroker’s clerk, represented the better kind of City young man—athletic, yet intelligent, spirited without vulgarity a breezy, good-humoured, wholesome fellow. He came down on his bicycle, and would return in the same way. Louise at once made a resolve to learn cycling.

‘I wish you lived at Sutton, Mr. Bilton. I should ask you to teach me.’

‘I’m really very sorry that I don’t,’ replied the young man discreetly.

‘Oh, never mind. I’ll find somebody.’

The fourth arrival, Mr. Dunnill, was older and less affable. He talked chiefly with Mr. Grove, a very quiet, somewhat careworn man; neither of them seemed able to shake off business, but they did not obtrude it on the company in general. The day passed pleasantly, but in Miss Derrick’s opinion, rather soberly. Doing her best to fascinate Mr. Bilton, she felt a slight disappointment at her inability to engross his attention, and at the civil friendliness which he thought a sufficient reply to her gay sallies. For so good-looking and well-dressed a man he struck her as singularly reserved. But perhaps he was “engaged”; yes, that must be the explanation. When the guests had left, she put a plain question to Mrs. Mumford.

‘I don’t think he is engaged,’ answered Emmeline, who on the whole was satisfied with Miss Derrick’s demeanour throughout the day.

‘Oh! But, of course, he may be, without you knowing it. Or is it always made known?’

‘There’s no rule about it, my dear.’

‘Well, they’re very nice people,’ said Louise, with a little sigh. ‘And I like your sister so much. I’m glad she asked me to go and see her. Is Mr. Bilton often at her house?—Don’t misunderstand me, Mrs. Mumford. It’s only that I do like men’s society; there’s no harm, is there? And people like Mr. Bilton are very different from those I’ve known; and I want to see more of them, you know.’

‘There’s no harm in saying that to me, Louise,’ replied Mrs. Mumford. ‘But pray be careful not to seem “forward.” People think—and say—such disagreeable things.’

Miss Derrick was grateful, and again gave an assurance that repose and modesty should be the rule of her life.

At the theatre on Monday evening she exhibited a childlike enjoyment which her companions could not but envy. The freshness of her sensibilities was indeed remarkable, and Emmeline observed with pleasure that her mind seemed to have a very wholesome tone. Louise might commit follies, and be guilty of bad taste to any extent, but nothing in her savoured of depravity.

Tuesday she spent at home, pretending to read a little, and obviously thinking a great deal. On Wednesday morning she proposed of a sudden that Emmeline should go up to town with her on a shopping expedition. They had already turned over her wardrobe, numerous articles whereof were condemned by Mrs. Mumford’s taste, and by