Mother and Son (10 page)

“That dress is not shabby,” said Miranda.

“No, the occasions for it have been few and far between. I wore it so seldom that I let it fill the breach.”

“Well, that is sensible enough. You would not have any other use for it.”

“Mother, you assume too much knowledge of Miss Wolsey's affairs.”

“An ordinary knowledge of things comprises them.”

“I wonder if they are kind to him in the kitchen,” said Hester, as if to herself.

“Oh, those people always treat an animal as a human being,” said Miranda.

“Miss Wolsey, you do not misunderstand my mother?'

“He means the opposite,” murmured Alice.

“Oh, I plead guilty to being one of those people myself,” said Hester. “I would not be anything else.”

“Miss Wolsey, there was no implication intended.”

“Do not be foolish, my son,” said Miranda. “Do you wonder why we are such close friends, Miss Wolsey?”

“I see there must be things between you, that I do not understand.”

“There are things between us, that we ourselves do not understand,” said Rosebery. “And we hardly wish to do so. It would be to deprive them of something that goes deeper than understanding.”

“The fire has burnt up in the drawing-room, ma'am,” said Bates.

“Then we will go,” said Miranda. “Oh, there is that cat again. Cannot you keep it in the kitchen?”

“He creeps out when I open the door, ma'am. And he ignores remonstrance.”

“He chooses to pass it over,” said Hester. “He does not heed human prejudice.”

Tabbikin, feeling there was less of this than usual, gained Miranda's knee and settled down with audible purring.

“Why, what a thing to do!” said the latter, looking almost flattered.

“It does not heed human prejudice indeed,” said Julius.

“Oh, he surely overcomes it,” said Hester. “What a picture he makes!”

“So does Aunt Miranda,” said Francis.

“Now, Tabbikin, I do not want you,” said Miranda, with a mild effort at displacing him.

He took it for an adjustment for his comfort, and renewed his acknowledgement.

“How it takes to you, Mother!” said Rosebery.

“I have given it no reason to,” said Miranda, as though the explanation must lie deeper. “Come, relieve me of it, and let us go to the drawing-room.”

Tabbikin followed, crept halfway across the room, cast a look at Miranda and vanished.

“He recognises forbidden ground,” said Hester. “No ground is forbidden to Plautus.”

“We seem to talk of nothing but cats,” said Miranda. “You have certainly imposed your interests—your interest on us, Miss Wolsey.”

“I hope I have. It will bring its own reward.”

“I am going to bed. I am very tired to-night. Somehow the conversation has exhausted me. Would you come and read to me for twenty minutes? Not talk; read.”

“Yes, indeed I will. I am fond of reading aloud. I think it often gives more pleasure to the reader than to the listener.”

“I do not want you to read as if it gave you pleasure,” said Miranda, in a peevish tone. “It is my pleasure that is my object. And I cannot bear people to read in their
own way. I never like them to show off themselves. I just want to have the impression of the print. That is what I am concerned with.”

“Mother,” said Rosebery, with a note of reproach, “have you forgotten that reading you to sleep is my vested privilege? I was not proposing to relinquish it.”

“Then come up in half-an-hour. And Miss Wolsey can stay where she is. That will suit her better.”

“That may be true of you to-night, Miss Wolsey,” said Julius. “You must be tired yourself.”

“Miss Wolsey, you did not misunderstand my usurping what may seem to you your place? My point of view was as I expressed it. The privilege, or what I regard as such, is mine.”

“I do not grudge it to you. I feel I have been spared a risk. I could not hold my personality so much in abeyance. It is far too definite and wayward a thing. My impression of the book would somehow make its way through.”

“We have been grateful to you several times this evening,” said Julius.

“I have done my best,” said Hester, meeting his eyes. “And I will continue to do it. I am not a person who turns back.”

“You will find my wife's bark is worse than her bite.”

“Always an ominous description,” said Francis.

“It is the feeling of the power to bite that causes the bark,” said Alice. “And there does not seem much difference between them.”

“People ought not to be allowed to do either,” said Adrian.

“Yes, dear, we have to prepare for Hester's visit. Perhaps it makes it worth while to have been without her. I am sure it ought to be a thing like that.”

“I wish she was coming by herself,” said Miss Burke. “Mrs. Hume does not know I told her of the post, and she may remember me. Had I better keep out of sight?”

“Oh, no, dear, I could not bear not to show you. You are a cause for pride, and I have so few; I cannot think of another. I am so fortunate to have you, and people do admire good fortune. I never lift a finger for myself, and they respect you so for that. And if you keep away, I may have to lift one; and they will think I always do; and that would be most unfair.”

“Yes,” said Miss Burke, in agreement. “But what shall we say to Mrs. Hume?”

“That Hester had written her letter before you came to us. That is nearly true, as you told us about her so soon. And truth is stranger than fiction.”

“That kind of truth is. But Mrs. Hume may only believe the other kind.”

“So she may. It is the kind I believe myself. But she cannot say so, and it is voicing things that makes them real. We can feel that about what we tell her.”

“I should not be surprised if she could say so. It is the sort of thing she would do.”

“Do you suppose she says things to Hester? After all, Hester is her companion, and nothing would make a
person so companionable as having things said. I suppose that is the essence of companionship.”

“Well, of that kind,” said Miss Burke.

“I cannot bear to think of a demand being made on Hester's courage. There is a subtle unpleasantness in thinking one's friends are heroic. And I am not quite sure it is subtle.”

“What kind of luncheon shall we give to Mrs. Hume?”

“The kind to make her esteem Hester. No luxury and no contrivance.”

“Everything good and plentiful and in season.”

“How you understand me! Almost better than you need. I suppose I had a simple thought. And I hoped I never did. But perhaps it was not very simple.”

“Get out of my way, Plautus,” said Miss Burke. “I believe you know we are talking about food.”

“I wonder how he knows that Hester is coming home,” said Emma, resting her eyes on him.

“Does he know?” said Miss Burke.

“Yes, there is something different about him, something expectant.”

“Here you are then, Plautus,” said Miss Burke, responding to the latter feeling.

Plautus took her offering and moved away.

“Oh, say ‘thank you',” said Emma. “Yes, dear, give me a glance of contempt. Expecting Hester has brought back the ways you have cured me of. And I do not want her to find me quite a stranger. I should not dare to let her find it.”

“Do we use the same china as usual?”

“I am ashamed to say we use a better one. We make a difference for guests, which of course stamps us. And we behave as if we did not, which stamps us further. It shows we do things we are ashamed of. But then I think we ought to be ashamed.”

“You don't make as much difference as many people.”

“How you have seen the seamy side of life! That sort of thing ought to be kept from us. It is not as if we could not think of it for ourselves.”

“Well, why should you not be like other people?”

“I think I will tell you, dear. Because I am not like them. And if too much sameness creeps in, I shall be so. And it seems to be creeping in.”

“Our ordinary china is cracked and mended. But it is old and good. I should think it is rather rare.”

“Oh, then we will use it. Cracked and mended, but rather rare! That strikes the exact note. It is like fine old linen carefully darned. I suppose we have not any linen like that?”

“No, our table-cloths are new and ordinary.”

“Not so new that we might have bought one on purpose?”

“No, they have been washed. And people would not do that.”

“So they do stop somewhere. How I respect them! And how I ought! I would have bought one, if it had been necessary. And I will tell the truth; I could have had it washed.”

“You would not have thought of doing either.”

“Thank you so much. I believe that is only just.”

“I do not mind belonging to the multitude,” said Miss Burke.

“It is a brave lie. And of course you do not belong to it.”

“Do you have wine for luncheon when you have guests?”

“Yes, dear, I know I belong to it. There is some in the cellar, kept for these occasions. And we use the napkins that are not mended. As they are not fine linen, there is no harm in that.”

“Who mended the others?” said Miss Burke.

“You did, dear. I mean, you could not help not being here.”

“I shall not have time for mending. Did the last housekeeper have it?”

“I think she said she made it, dear.”

“It is not a thing I can make.”

“Plautus, will you mend the napkins?” said Emma, leaning forward. “Forgive me; it is because I cannot meet your eyes. I was afraid I might read your thought.”

“I cannot imagine you mending.”

“I am so glad. So I might have read it.”

“When the napkins want mending, we must discard them.”

“I knew you would never be at a loss. Can we hint to Mrs. Hume that we do that? Would it exalt Hester in her eyes?”

“No, I hardly think she would admire it.”

“So she does not belong to the multitude. Had we better use the mended napkins?”

“No, they are too much mended. The housekeeper must have made a lot of time.”

“Well, she did not keep any for herself. She told us so, when she left.”

“Yes, the maid has talked about her.”

“How do you know, when of course you do not listen? But you need not be troubled. You shall keep all the time you make.”

“I can make many other things better.”

“That is as well, because you may have to make them. We shall be five at the table. Mrs. Hume is bringing her son.”

“You did not tell me that.”

“No, I thought it would give you too much trouble.”

“But I had to know in the end.”

“That was it. I wanted to spare you the knowledge. So I did as long as I could.”

“The son is an odd man. He walked with me to the station. I think he is one of those men who respect womanhood.”

“That may seem odd to us, when we know about it. Of course women respect it, but they are the gallant sex. And they are women themselves, and women take personal views of things. But perhaps that is gallant. I think it is.”

“And do men respect manhood?” said Miss Burke.

“I think they are known not to be able to. It must be a man's simplicity. I am sure women would respect it; indeed I think they do. They seem to respect both. It really is gallant.”

“Will the wine do for the son?”

“Yes, if he is as odd as you say.”

“But suppose he is not? I know nothing about him, except that he is attached to his mother.”

“There is no need to know him any better. That is enough in these days. Well, Plautus, do you want to see the odd man when he comes?”

Plautus gave no sign of the wish, when the occasion came. He cast a glance at the guests, stayed it for a second on Hester, and walked away.

“Oh, how glad he is to see me! His feelings are too deep for him to show them. So he assumes a veil of indifference.”

Plautus looked over his shoulder at the sound of the familiar voice.

“I perceive the indifference,” said Rosebery, smiling. “What I question, is whether it is a veil.”

“This is a very pleasant house,” said Miranda. “It is larger than I had imagined it.”

“Mother, it must mean much to Miss Wolsey to return to it. I doubt if we realise what the occasion is to her.”

“I have only been away from it for three weeks,” said Hester.

“And long weeks they must have been to you.”

“No, they have passed rather quickly.”

“Miss Wolsey, it is both kind and courageous to say so.”

“How long have you lived in the house, Miss Greatheart?” said Miranda.

“We took it fifteen years ago.”

“Miss Greatheart,” said Rosebery, “we can hardly estimate what the break-up must have been.”

“How do you do?” said Miranda, as Miss Burke was
presented. “I think I have seen you before. Oh, you came to see me about the place as my companion! What a coincidence to find you here!”

“Mother, it is indeed a coincidence. Your possible companion and your actual one under one roof!”

“What work do you do here?” said Miranda, not taking her eyes from Miss Burke.

“The housekeeping and cooking. I think the companionship is on the other side.”

“So you changed your mind about what you were willing to do?”

“Well, I decided to take the place in this house.”

“Did you tell Miss Wolsey about me?” said Miranda, transferring her eyes to Hester, as if such information would be more properly sought from her. “Did you hear of me from Miss Burke?”

“She had written to you on the day Miss Burke came to us,” said Emma.

“And you let things take their course, Miss Burke,” said Miranda. “That was kind and fair of you, and did more than one of us a service.”