The Road to Mandalay | Page 7

she would be in weeds for at least two years? What about her
sables?"

Jane Tebbs was totally different; an honest and single-hearted woman,
she wrote business letters, interviewed the local agent, arranged for the
auction and,--O wonderful and miraculous achievement!--was even
instrumental in getting rid of the lease.
It was not surprising in all these circumstances that Mrs. Shafto should
cling as a limpet to Jane Tebbs, whom she had so often apostrophised
as a "meddling, mischievous, malignant old cat," but Lucilla Shafto
was suffering from a violent mental shock. The sudden descent, as it
were in one day, from comfortable affluence to a very narrow income,
had temporarily stunned her, and she had a secret conviction that if she
were to leave her affairs in the capable hands of her nearest neighbour,
all would be well. She therefore remained secluded in her own spacious
bedroom, whilst busy Jane undertook her affairs; helped with the
auction list, interviewed the tradespeople, and, accompanied by the boy,
went up to London to confer with Mr. Shafto's lawyers.
Douglas was subdued; he seemed a different creature, so silent and pale,
but keenly anxious to put his shoulder to the wheel. He had withdrawn
from Sandhurst and, in conversations with the Tremenheeres, informed
them that his idea of going into the Army was knocked on the head,
and that he now intended to look out for some job in the City.
It must not be supposed that Jane Tebbs, the indefatigable, was the only
neighbour who had come forward with offers of assistance to the
widow; the Tremenheeres, the vicarage, and many other acquaintances
had been sincere in their sympathy and goodwill, but somehow or other
Mrs. Shafto would have none of them! She refused to see the vicar or
his wife, and lay in bed most of the day bewailing her fate, scribbling
answers to letters of condolence, and occasionally dipping into a novel.
"Read she must," she declared, "as it diverted her mind from the too
dreadful present. A good novel was the best of anodynes."
The auction at "Littlecote" proved an important local event, and threw
the annual Church bazaar woefully into the shade. It lasted three
summer days and enabled a substantial sum to be placed to the credit of
Edward Shafto's widow. Unfortunately Edward Shafto's widow had
considerable private debts and, when these were settled, five hundred

pounds was all that remained for investment.
As is proverbial with respect to auctions, good and even valuable lots
went in some cases for the traditional old song; it is on record that Mrs.
Shafto's smart victoria was sold to a jobmaster for six pounds, Mrs.
Billing secured a wonderful bargain in the Crown Derby tea service,
and the Sheffield tea urn fell to Miss Tebbs for ten shillings and
sixpence! On the other hand, rubbish was at a premium. The kitchen
utensils were dispersed at an alarmingly high figure, and a Turkey
carpet, aged twenty years, fetched more than its original cost.
The sale was over. Needless to say, it had afforded enormous interest to
the inmates of Highfield Cottage. Miss Jane could almost tell the price
and history of each individual lot.
In a short time the great placards of advertisement were torn off the
gate piers at "Littlecote," the house was closed, and once more the
blinds were down.
CHAPTER IV
KICKS AND HALFPENCE
More than four years had elapsed since Mrs. Shafto and her son had
driven away from "Littlecote" behind a pair of smart bay steppers. (The
widow was determined to keep up what she was pleased to call "her
position" to the last.) Immediately succeeding this dignified exit came a
woeful change in their circumstances. Mrs. Shafto was obliged to make
the best of boarding-house and 'bus, and Douglas, thanks to the
exertions of his friends the Tremenheeres, found a situation in a
mercantile house in the City. There was no time for him to pick and
choose. It was imperative that he should begin to earn without delay,
and not, as his parent frankly remarked, "look to a poor widow for
support." This condition of abject poverty was, she declared, "entirely
due to his father's criminal carelessness respecting his affairs. She had
what would barely keep her alive"--170 pounds per annum--"and that
was all." As for Douglas, he must work.

Although they were not congenial companions Douglas faithfully
accompanied his mother in her varied wanderings, supported her in
action with enraged landladies, helped her out of a libel case, covered
her reverses and retreats, and lived by command under the same roof.
For the last eighteen months the pair had been established at a
well-managed private hotel in Lincoln Square, Bayswater, W.
"Malahide" was a flourishing concern; two substantial houses had been
thrown into one; the rooms