Sparrows | Page 8

"walled." Amelia was an orphan; she had been dragged up by the "Metropolitan Association for Befriending Young Servants," known to its familiars as the "Mabys," such designation being formed by the first letter of each word of the title. Every week, dozens of these young women issued from the doors of the many branches of this institution, who became, to their respective mistresses, a source of endless complaint; in times of domestic stress, one or two of these "generals" had been known to keep their situations for three months. Amelia was a prodigy of success, a record in the annals of the society, inasmuch as she had been at Brandenburg College for two years and a half. She kept her situation because she was cheap; also, because she did her best to give satisfaction, as she appreciated the intellectual atmosphere of the place, which made her hope that she, too, might pick up a few educational crumbs; moreover, she was able to boast to her intimates, on the occasions when she visited her parent home, how her two mistresses could speak four languages, which was certainly true.
"Wasn't it all beautiful, miss?" asked Amelia, who had listened to yesterday's entertainment halfway down the stairs leading to the basement.
"Wonderful," replied Mavis, as she tied on a kitchen apron, a preliminary to giving Amelia a helping hand with the breakfast.
"And the 'reverend'! He did make me laugh when he gave four prizes to fat Miss Robson, and said she was a good all round girl."
This joke had not been intentional on Mr Smiley's part; he had been puzzled by the roar of laughter which had greeted his remark; when he divined its purport, he was quite willing to take credit for having deliberately made the sally.
"You managed to hear that?" asked Mavis.
"Yes, miss; an' what the 'reverend' said about dear Mr Fuskin. I 'eard that too."
"Ruskin," corrected Mavis, as she set about making coffee.
Amelia, with a hurt expression on her face, turned to look at Miss Keeves, who, noticing the girl's dejection, said:
"Call him what you like, Amelia. It's only the Miss Mees who're so particular."
"Dear gentleman," continued Amelia. "Next to being always with you, miss, I should like to have been with 'im."
"I'm afraid you can't even be with me. I have to earn my own living."
"Yes, miss; but when you marry a rich gentleman, I should like to come with you as 'general.'"
"Don't talk nonsense, Amelia."
"But it ain't, miss; didn't the music master, 'im with the lovely, long, shiny 'air, promise me a shillin' to give you a note?"
"Did he?" laughed Mavis. "It's nearly eight: you'd better take in the breakfast things."
"Oh, well, if I can't be here, or with you, I'd sooner be with that dear Mr--"
"Ruskin, Amelia," interrupted Mavis. "Try and get it right, if only for once."
Amelia took no notice of the interruption, but went on, as she dusted the cups, before putting them on the tray:
"Dear Mr Fuskin! 'Ow I would have looked after 'im, and 'ow carefully I'd 'ave counted 'is washing!"
Punctually, as the clock struck eight, the two Miss Mees entered the breakfast room; they kissed Mavis on the cheek before sitting down to the meal. They asked each other and Mavis how they had slept, as was their invariable custom; but the sensitive, observant girl could not help noticing that the greetings of her employers were a trifle less cordial than was their wont. Mavis put down this comparative coldness to their pride at the success of yesterday's festival.
To the indifferent observer, the Miss Mees were exactly alike, being meagre, dilapidated, white-haired old ladies, with the same beaked noses and receding chins; both wore rusty black frocks, each of which was decorated with a white cameo brooch; both walked with the same propitiatory shuffle. They were like a couple of elderly, moulting, decorous hens who, in spite of their physical disabilities, had something of a presence. This was obtained from the authority they had wielded over the many pupils who had passed through their hands.
Nearer inspection showed that Miss Annie Mee was a trifle stouter than her sister, if this be not too robust a word to apply to such a wisp of a woman; that her eyes were kinder and less watery than Helen's; also, that her face was less insistently marked with lines of care.
The Miss Mees' dispositions were much more dissimilar than their appearance. Miss Helen, the elder, loved her home and, in her heart of hearts, preferred the kitchen to any other part of the house. It was she who attended to the ordering of the few wants of the humble household; she arranged the meals, paid the bills, and generally looked after the domestic economy of the college; she took much pride in the orderliness of her housekeeper's cupboard,