Mary Gray | Page 3

Lady Anne and her garden.
When Mary was about fourteen she made the acquaintance of Lady Anne--her full name was Lady Anne Hamilton--and that was an event which had a considerable influence on her fortunes. The meeting came about in this way.
Mary had gone marketing one day, and for once had deserted the shabby little row of shops which ran at the end of Wistaria Terrace, at right angles to it. She had gone out into the great main thoroughfare, the noise of which came dimly to Wistaria Terrace because of the huge mass of the church blocking up the way.
She had done her shopping and was on her way home, when, right in the track of the heavy tram as it came down the steep descent from the bridge over the canal, she saw a helpless bit of white fur, as it might well seem to anyone at a distance. The thing was almost motionless, or stirring so feebly that its movements were not apparent. Evidently the driver of the tram had not noticed it, or was not troubled to save its life, for he stood with the reins in his hand, glancing from side to side of the road for possible passengers as the tram swept down the long incline.
Mary never hesitated. The tram was almost upon the thing when she first saw it. "Why, it is Lady Anne's dog!" she cried, and launched herself out in the roadway to save it. She was just in time to pick up the blind, whimpering thing. The driver of the tram, seeing Mary in its path, put on the brakes sharply. The tram lumbered to a stoppage, but not before Mary had been flung down on her face and her arm broken by the hoof of the horse nearest her.
It was likely to be an uncommonly awkward thing for the Gray household, seeing that it was Mary's right arm that was injured. For one thing, it would involve the dispossession of that year's baby. For another, it would put Mrs. Gray's capable helper entirely out of action.
When Mary was picked up, and stood, wavering unsteadily, supported by someone in the crowd which had gathered, hearing, as from a great distance, the snarling and scolding of the tram-driver, who was afraid of finding himself in trouble, she still held the blind and whimpering dog in her uninjured arm.
She wanted to get away as quickly as possible from the crowd, but her head swam and her feet were uncertain. Then she heard a quiet voice behind her.
"Has there been an accident? I am a doctor," it said.
"A young woman trying to kill herself along of an old dog," said the tram-driver indignantly. "As though there wasn't enough trouble for a man already."
"Let me see," the doctor said, coming to Mary's side. "Ah, I can't make an examination here. Better come with me, my child. I am on my way to the hospital. My carriage is here."
"Not to hospital," said Mary faintly. "Let me go home; they would be so frightened."
"I shan't detain you, I promise you. But this must be bandaged before you can go home. Ah, is this basket yours, too?"
Someone had handed up the basket from the tram-track, where it had lain disgorging cabbages and other articles of food.
"I will send you home as soon as I have seen to your arm," the doctor said, pushing her gently towards his carriage. "And the little dog--is he your own? I suppose he is, since you nearly gave your life for him?"
"He is not mine," said Mary faintly. "He belongs to Lady Anne--Lady Anne Hamilton. She lives at No. 8, The Mall. She will be distracted if she misses the little dog. She is so very fond of it."
"Ah! Lady Anne Hamilton. I have heard of her. We can leave the dog at home on our way. Come, child."
The Mall was quite close at hand. They drove there, and just as the carriage stopped at the gate of No. 8, which had a long strip of green front garden, overhung by trees through which you could discern the old red-brick house. Lady Anne herself came down the gravel path. Over her head was a little shawl of old lace; it was caught by a seed-pearl brooch with an amethyst centre. She was wearing a quilted red silk petticoat and a bunched sacque of black flowered silk. She had magnificent dark eyes and white hair. Under it her peaked little face was the colour of old ivory. She was calling to her dog, "Fifine, Fifine, where can you be?"
A respectable-looking elderly maid came hurrying after her.
"I've looked everywhere, my lady, and I cannot find the little thing," she said in a frightened voice.
Meanwhile, the doctor had got out of the carriage and had taken