The Paying Guest | Page 5

After all, you see, you--you are in business--'
'To be sure. And this girl seems to belong to a business family. I only
wish she wrote in a more ladylike way.'
Emmeline set her house in order, filled the drawing-room with flowers,
made the spare bedroom as inviting as possible, and, after luncheon,
spent a good deal of time in adorning her person. She was a slight,
pretty woman of something less than thirty; with a good, but pale,
complexion, hair tending to auburn, sincere eyes. Her little vanities had
no roots of ill-nature; she could admire without envy, and loved an
orderly domestic life. Her husband's desire to increase his income had
rather unsettled her; she exaggerated the importance of to-day's
interview, and resolved with nervous energy to bring it to a successful
issue, if Miss Derrick should prove a possible companion.

About four o'clock sounded the visitor's ring. From her bedroom
window Emmeline had seen Miss Derrick's approach. As the distance
from the station was only five minutes' walk, the stranger naturally
came on foot. A dark girl, and of tolerably good features; rather dressy;
with a carriage corresponding to the tone of her letter--an easy swing;
head well up and shoulders squared. 'Oh, how I hope she isn't vulgar!'
said Emmeline to herself. 'I don't like the bat--I don't. And that
sunshade with the immense handle.' From the top of the stairs she heard
a clear, unaffected voice: 'Mrs. Mumford at home?' Yes, the aspirate
was sounded--thank goodness!
It surprised her, on entering the room, to find that Miss Derrick looked
no less nervous than she was herself. The girl's cheeks were flushed,
and she half choked over her 'How do you do?'
'I hope you had no difficulty in finding the house. I would have met
you at the station if you had mentioned the train. Oh, but--how silly!--I
shouldn't have known you.'
Miss Derrick laughed, and seemed of a sudden much more at ease.
'Oh, I like you for that!' she exclaimed mirthfully. 'It's just the kind of
thing I say myself sometimes. And I'm so glad to see that you are--you
mustn't be offended--I mean you're not the kind of person to be afraid
of.'
They laughed together. Emmeline could not subdue her delight when
she found that the girl really might be accepted as a lady. There were
faults of costume undeniably; money had been misspent in several
directions; but no glaring vulgarity hurt the eye. And her speech,
though not strictly speaking refined, was free from the faults that betray
low origin. Then, she seemed good-natured though there was
something about her mouth not altogether charming.
'Do you know Sutton at all?' Emmeline inquired.
'Never was here before. But I like the look of it. I like this house, too. I
suppose you know a lot of people here, Mrs. Mumford?'

'Well--no. There's only one family we know at all well. Our friends live
in London. Of course they often come out here. I don't know whether
you are acquainted with any of them. The Kirby Simpsons, of West
Kensington; and Mrs. Hollings, of Highgate--'
Miss Derrick cast down her eyes and seemed to reflect. Then she spoke
abruptly.
'I don't know any people to speak of. I ought to tell you that my mother
has come down with me. She's waiting at the station till I go back; then
she'll come and see you. You're surprised? Well, I had better tell you
that I'm leaving home because I can't get on with my people. Mother
and I have always quarrelled, but it has been worse than ever lately. I
must explain that she has married a second time, and Mr. Higgins--I'm
glad to say that isn't my name--has a daughter of his own by a first
marriage; and we can't bear each other--Miss Higgins, I mean. Some
day, if I come to live here, I daresay I shall tell you more. Mr. Higgins
is rich, and I can't say he's unkind to me; he'll give me as much as I
want; but I'm sure he'll be very glad to get me out of the house. I have
no money of my own--worse luck! Well, we thought it best for me to
come alone, first, and see--just to see, you know--whether we were
likely to suit each other. Then mother will come and tell you all she has
to say about me. Of course I know what it'll be. They all say I've a
horrible temper. I don't think so myself; and I'm sure I don't think I
should quarrel with you, you look so nice. But I can't get on at home,
and it's better for all that we should part. I'm just two-and-twenty--do I
look older? I haven't learnt to do anything,