In a week she learned more about the habits of the idle rich than she had ever imagined in a lifetime.Her lodger lay in bed till ten in the morning,and expected to be waited on hand and foot.And when Mrs Yabsley could spare a minute,she described in detail the splendours of her father's home.She talked incessantly of helping Mrs Yabsley with the washing,but she seemed as helpless as a child,and Mrs Yabsley,noticing the softness and whiteness of her hands,knew that she had never done a stroke of work in her life.Then,with the curious reverence of the worker for the idler,she explained to her lodger that she only worked for exercise.
When Miss Perkins came,she had nothing but what she stood up in;but one night she slipped out under cover of darkness,and returned with a dress-basket full of finery,with which she dazzled Mrs Yabsley's eyes in the seclusion of the cottage.The basket also contained a number of pots and bottles with which she spent hours before the mirror,touching up her eyebrows and cheeks and lips.When Mrs Yabsley remarked bluntly that she was young and pretty enough without these aids,she learned with amazement that all ladies in society used them.Mrs Yabsley never tired of hearing Miss Perkins describe the splendours of her lost home.She recognized that she had lived in another world,where you lounged gracefully on velvet couches and life was one long holiday.
"It's funny,"she remarked,"'ow yer run up agin things in this world.
I never 'ad no partic'lar fancy fer dirty clothes an'soapsuds,but in my time,which ever way I went,I never ran agin the drorin'-room carpet an'the easy-chairs.It was the boilin'copper,the scrubbin'brush,an'the kitchen floor every time."She was intensely interested in Miss Perkins's cousin,who was on his way from England to marry her.She described him so minutely that Mrs Yabsley would have recognized him if she had met him in the street.His income,his tastes and habits,his beautiful letters to Miss Perkins,filled Mrs Yabsley with respectful admiration.As a special favour Miss Perkins promised to read aloud one of his letters announcing his departure from England,but found that she had mislaid it.She made up for it by consulting Mrs Yabsley on the choice of a husband.Mrs Yabsley,who had often been consulted on this subject,gave her opinion.
"Some are ruled by 'is 'andsome face,an'some by 'ow much money 'e's got,but they nearly all fergit they've got ter live in the same 'ouse with 'im.Women 'ave only one way of lookin'at a man in the long run,an'if yer ask my opinion of any man,I want ter know wot 'e thinks about women.
That's more important,yer'll find in the long run,than the shape of his nose or the size of 'is bankin'account."Mrs Yabsley still hid her money,but out of the reach of rats and mice,and Miss Perkins had surprised her one day by naming the exact amount she had in her possession.And she had insisted on Mrs Yabsley going with her to the Ladies'Paradise and buying a toque,trimmed with jet,for thirty shillings,a fur tippet for twenty-five shillings,and a black cashmere dress,ready-made,for three pounds.Mrs Yabsley had never spent so much money on dress in her life,but Miss Perkins pointed out that the cadgers in Cardigan Street went out better dressed than she on Sunday,and Mrs Yabsley gave in.Miss Perkins refused to accept a fur necklet,slightly damaged by moth,reduced to twelve-and-six,but took a plain leather belt for eighteen pence.They were going out to-morrow for the first time to show the new clothes,and she had left Miss Perkins at home altering the waistband of the skirt and the hooks on the bodice,as there had been some difficulty in fitting Mrs Yabsley's enormous girth.
Mrs Yabsley's thoughts came to a sudden stop as she reached the steep part of the hill.On a steep grade her brain ceased to work,and her body became a huge,stertorous machine,demanding every ounce of vitality to force it an inch farther up the hill.Always she had to fight for wind on climbing a hill,but lately a pain like a knife in her heart had accompanied the suffocation,robbing her of all power of locomotion.
The doctor had said that her heart was weak,but,judging by the rest of her body,that was nonsense,and a sniff at the medicine before she threw it away had convinced her that he was merely guessing.
When she reached the cottage she was surprised to find it in darkness,but,thinking no harm,took the key from under the doormat and went in.
She lit the candle and looked round,as Jonah had done one night ten years ago.The room was unchanged.The walls were stained with grease and patches of dirt,added,slowly through the years as a face gathers wrinkles.The mottoes and almanacs alone differed.She looked round,wondering what errand had taken Miss Perkins out at that time of night.
She was perplexed to see a sheet of paper with writing on it pinned to the table.Miss Perkins knew she was no scholar.Why had she gone out and left a note on the table?The pain eased in her heart,and strength came back slowly to her limbs as the suffocation in her throat lessened.At last she was able to think.She had left Miss Perkins busy with her needle and cotton,and she noticed with surprise that the clothes were gone.
With a sudden suspicion she went into the bedroom with the candle,and looked in the wardrobe made out of six yards of cretonne.The black cashmere dress,the fur tippet,and the box containing the toque with jet trimmings were gone!She shrank from the truth,and,candle in hand,examined every room,searching the most unlikely corners for the missing articles.She came back and,taking the note pinned to the table,stared at it with intense curiosity.What did these black scratches mean?For the first time in her life she wished she were scholar enough to read.
