Echoes of the War | Page 9

round by entrancing hopes and dreadful fears. They beam on her and jeer at her, they pull her this way and that; with difficulty she breaks through them and rushes to her pail, hot water, soap, and a looking-glass. Our last glimpse of her for this evening shows her staring (not discontentedly) at her soft old face, licking her palm, and pressing it to her hair. Her eyes are sparkling.
* * * * *
One evening a few days later Mrs. Twymley and Mrs. Mickleham are in Mrs. Dowey's house, awaiting that lady's return from some fashionable dissipation. They have undoubtedly been discussing the war, for the first words we catch are:
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'I tell you flat, Amelia, I bows no knee to junkerdom.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Sitting here by the fire, you and me, as one to another, what do you think will happen after the war? Are we to go back to being as we were?'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Speaking for myself, Amelia, not me. The war has wakened me up to a understanding of my own importance that is really astonishing.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Same here. Instead of being the poor worms the like of you and me thought we was, we turns out to be visible departments of a great and haughty empire.'
They are well under weigh, and with a little luck we might now hear their views on various passing problems of the day, such as the neglect of science in our public schools. But in comes the Haggerty Woman, and spoils everything. She is attired, like them, in her best, but the effect of her is that her clothes have gone out for a walk, leaving her at home.
MRS. MICKLEHAM, with deep distaste, 'Here's that submarine again.'
The Haggerty Woman cringes to them, but gets no encouragement.
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'It's a terrible war.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Is that so?'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'I wonder what will happen when it ends?'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'I have no idea.'
The intruder produces her handkerchief, but does not use it. After all, she is in her best.
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Are they not back yet?'
Perfect ladies must reply to a direct question.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'No,' icily. 'We have been waiting this half hour. They are at the theatre again.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'You tell me! I just popped in with an insignificant present for him, as his leave is up.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'The same errand brought us.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'My present is cigarettes.'
They have no intention of telling her what their presents are, but the secret leaps from them.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'So is mine.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Mine too.'
Triumph of the Haggerty Woman. But it is short-lived.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Mine has gold tips.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'So has mine.'
The Haggerty Woman need not say a word. You have only to look at her to know that her cigarettes are not gold-tipped. She tries to brazen it out, which is so often a mistake.
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'What care I? Mine is Exquisytos.'
No wonder they titter.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Excuse us, Mrs. Haggerty (if that's your name), but the word is Exquiseetos.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Much obliged' (weeps).
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'I think I heard a taxi.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'It will be her third this week.'
They peer through the blind. They are so excited that rank is forgotten.
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'What is she in?'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'A new astrakhan jacket he gave her, with Venus sleeves.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Has she sold her gabardine coat?'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Not her! She has them both at the theatre, warm night though it is. She's wearing the astrakhan, and carrying the gabardine, flung careless-like over her arm.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'I saw her strutting about with him yesterday, looking as if she thought the two of them, made a procession.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Hsh!' peeping, 'Strike me dead, if she's not coming mincing down the stair, hooked on his arm!'
Indeed it is thus that Mrs. Dowey enters. Perhaps she had seen shadows lurking on the blind, and at once hooked on to Kenneth to impress the visitors. She is quite capable of it.
Now we see what Kenneth saw that afternoon five days ago when he emerged from the bathroom and found the old trembler awaiting his inspection. Here are the muff and the gloves and the chiffon, and such a kind old bonnet that it makes you laugh at once; I don't know how to describe it, but it is trimmed with a kiss, as bonnets should be when the wearer is old and frail. We must take the merino for granted until she steps out of the astrakhan. She is dressed up to the nines, there is no doubt about it. Yes, but is her face less homely? Above all, has she style? The answer is in a stout affirmative. Ask Kenneth. He knows. Many a time he has had to go behind a door to roar hilariously at the old lady. He has thought of her