The Lady of the Basement Flat | Page 8

and comfort, and joy!" My voice broke suddenly. I was awfully lonely, and the thought of those figurative plums cut to the heart. The tears trickled down my cheeks; I forgot where I was, and to whom I was speaking, and just sobbed out all that was in my heart.
"Oh! Oh! To be needed again! To have some one to care for! That would help--that would fill the gap--that would make life worth while."
Instinctively I stretched out my hands, in appeal for sympathy and understanding.
"Oh, don't be silly!" said Aunt Eliza.
CHAPTER THREE.
CHARMION FANE INTERVENES.
During the next days the idea of making my home in London, and playing fairy godmother to the tenants in a block of flats, took an ever-deepening root in my heart. I pondered on it incessantly and worked out plans as to ways and means.
Bridget should go with me as general factotum, for my method of living must be as simple as possible, since the neighbours would be more likely to confide their troubles to the ear of one who was, apparently, in the same position of life as themselves. Smart clothing would be unnecessary also, and a hundred and one luxuries of a leisured life. I mentally drew up a list of things taboo, and regarded it with--let me be honest--lingering regret. I was quite, quite willing to deny myself, but it is folly to pretend that it didn't cost a pang. I like good clothes and dainty meals, and motor-cars, and space, and luxury, and people to wait upon me when I'm tired, and unlimited supplies of flowers, and fruit, and hot water, to say nothing of my own little share of variety and fun. Down at the bottom of my heart, a lurking doubt of myself stirred into life, and spoke with insistent voice:--
"All very well, Evelyn, but can you keep it up? Are you brave enough, strong enough, unselfish enough to give up all that has hitherto made your life, and to be satisfied with living through others? Won't the time come when nature will rebel, and demand a turn for yourself? And then, Evelyn, then what are you going to do? Could you ever respect yourself again if, having put your shoulder to the wheel, you drew back and lapsed into selfish indifference?"
As for Aunt Emmeline, she turned on the cold tap, and kept it on at a continuous trickle.
"Exaggerated nonsense! You always were exaggerated, Evelyn, from a child. Be kind, of course; that's only your duty, but I call it officious and presumptuous to interfere in other people's lives. You of all people! At your age! With your looks--"
"What have my looks to do with it?"
"My dear, it is not your fault, but I've said it before, and I say it again--you are showy! There is something about you which makes people stare. Dear Kathie could pass along quietly, or sit in a corner of a room and be conveniently overlooked, but you--I am not paying you a compliment, my dear, I consider it is a misfortune!--you take the eye! Wherever you go, people will notice you and gossip about your movements. At twenty-six, and with your appearance, I ask you candidly, as aunt to niece--do you consider yourself a suitable person to live alone, and minister to widowers?"
"Well, if you put it like that, I don't! But what of the children who shriek, and have holes in their stockings? Mightn't they like me better just because I am young and look nice?"
I laughed as I spoke, but Aunt Emmeline was so pleased that I showed some glimmerings of reason, that she said suavely:--
"Wait ten years, dear! Till your hair is grey! You will age early with those sharp features. In ten or twelve years you can do as you please."
I thought, but did not say:--
"My dear aunt, but I shall do it now!"
A week passed by, while I pondered and worried, and then at last came a "lead" from without. A morning dawned when Bridget brought my letters with my early tea, and set them down on the table by my bed.
"Four letters this morning, and only one of the lot you'll be caring to see."
Bridget takes a deep interest in my correspondence, and always introduces a letter with a note of warning or congratulation: "That bothering creature is worrying at you again!"
"There's a laugh you'll be having over Master George's fun!"
"You paid that bill before. Don't be letting them come over you with their tricks!"
It is, of course, reprehensible behaviour on the part of a maid, presumptuous, familiar, interfering; but Bridget is Bridget, and I might as soon command her not to use her tongue, as to stop taking an interest in anything that concerns "Herself". As a matter of fact, I don't try. Servility, and decorum, and a