The Paying Guest | Page 4

lonely, now and
then, during the day, and as we have plenty of room--'
Emmeline took the matter seriously, but, being a young woman of

some discretion, did not voice all her thoughts. The rent was heavy: so
was the cost of Clarence's season-ticket. Against this they had set the
advantage of the fine air of Sutton, so good for the child and for the
mother, both vastly better in health since they quitted London.
Moreover, the remoteness of their friends favoured economy; they
could easily decline invitations, and need not often issue them. They
had a valid excuse for avoiding public entertainments--an expense so
often imposed by mere fashion. The house was roomy, the garden
delightful. Clarence, good fellow, might be sincere in his wish for her
to have companionship; at the same time, this advertisement had
probably appealed to him in another way.
'A YOUNG LADY desires to find a home with respectable,
well-connected family, in a suburb of London, or not more than 15
miles from Charing Cross. Can give excellent references. Terms not so
much a consideration as comfort and pleasant society. No
boarding-house.--Address: Louise, Messrs. Higgins & Co., Fenchurch
St., E.C.'
She read it again and again.
'It wouldn't be nice if people said that we were taking lodgers.'
'No fear of that. This is evidently some well-to-do person. It's a very
common arrangement nowadays, you know; they are called "paying
guests." Of course I shouldn't dream of having anyone you didn't
thoroughly like the look of.'
'Do you think,' asked Emmeline doubtfully, 'that we should quite _do_?
"Well-connected family"--'
'My dear girl! Surely we have nothing to be ashamed of?'
'Of course not, Clarence. But--and "pleasant society." What about that?'
'Your society is pleasant enough, I hope,' answered Mumford,
gracefully. 'And the Fentimans--'

This was the only family with whom they were intimate at Sutton. Nice
people; a trifle sober, perhaps, and not in conspicuously flourishing
circumstances; but perfectly presentable.
'I'm afraid--' murmured Emmeline, and stopped short. 'As you say,' she
added presently, 'this is someone very well off. "Terms not so much a
consideration"--'
'Well, I tell you what--there can be no harm in dropping a note. The
kind of note that commits one to nothing, you know. Shall I write it, or
will you?'
They concocted it together, and the rough draft was copied by
Emmeline. She wrote a very pretty hand, and had no difficulty
whatever about punctuation. A careful letter, calculated for the eye of
refinement; it supplied only the indispensable details of the writer's
position, and left terms for future adjustment.
'It's so easy to explain to people,' said Mumford, with an air of
satisfaction, when he came back from the post, 'that you wanted a
companion. As I'm quite sure you do. A friend coming to stay with you
for a time--that's how I should put it.'
A week passed, and there came no reply. Mumford pretended not to
care much, but Emmeline imagined a new anxiety in his look.
'Do be frank with me, dear,' she urged one evening. 'Are we living
too--'
He answered her with entire truthfulness. Ground for serious
uneasiness there was none whatever; he could more than make ends
meet, and had every reason to hope it would always be so; but it would
relieve his mind if the end of the year saw a rather larger surplus. He
was now five-and-thirty--getting on in life. A man ought to make
provision beyond the mere life-assurance--and so on.
'Shall I look out for other advertisements?' asked Emmeline.

'Oh, dear, no! It was just that particular one that caught my eye.'
Next morning arrived a letter, signed 'Louise E. Derrick.' The writer
said she had been waiting to compare and think over some two hundred
answers to her advertisement. 'It's really too absurd. How can I
remember them all? But I liked yours as soon as I read it, and I am
writing to you first of all. Will you let me come and see you? I can tell
you about myself much better than writing. Would tomorrow do, in the
afternoon? Please telegraph yes or no to Coburg Lodge, Emilia Road,
Tulse Hill.'
To think over this letter Mumford missed his ordinary train. It was not
exactly the kind of letter he had expected, and Emmeline shared his
doubts. The handwriting seemed just passable; there was no
orthographic error; but--refinement? This young person wrote, too,
with such singular nonchalance. And she said absolutely nothing about
her domestic circumstances. Coburg Lodge, Tulse Hill. A decent
enough locality, doubtless; but--
'There's no harm in seeing her,' said Emmeline at length. 'Send a
telegram, Clarence. Do you know, I think she may be the right kind of
girl. I was thinking of someone awfully grand, and it's rather a relief.