A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill
that the new mistress doesn't know a saucepan from a skillet.”
“She ain't no fool,” returned Myrtella instantly on the defensive.
“Of course not, just young and careless. I dare say she doesn't even
order the groceries, does she?”
“No, mam.”
“Nor plan for the meals?”
“No, mam.”
“And you attend to everything just as if she weren't there? It's really
too funny, isn't it, Margery? Tell Mrs. Queerington that I'll send the
motor for her at five; and do see that she is properly hooked up.”
Myrtella succeeded in getting herself and the box silently out of the
room, but the butler passing her on the back stairs was startled by a
verbal shower that was not in the least intended for him. It was as if
a watering cart had suddenly and unexpectedly turned on its supply
regardless of its surroundings.
At five o'clock Miss Lady, very radiant and apparently in high spirits,
presented herself at the Sequins'.
“May I come in just for a minute?” she asked at Margery's door. “I've
brought you some chrysanthemums. Uncle Jimpson brought them in from
Thornwood this morning. It's too bad you aren't so well.”
Margery turned admiring eyes on the bright face above her.
“I'm no worse,” she said, “just disappointed. I thought I was going to
have you all to myself this afternoon.”
“But I didn't know you could have me! I'll run in and tell your mother.”
Mrs. Sequin, who was being insinuated into a very tight gown by the
sheer physical prowess of her maid, exclaimed with satisfaction as Miss
Lady entered:
“There, I knew it! The hat makes the costume. You are perfect! Now,
remember the people I want you to be especially nice to, Mrs. Gibbs,
Mrs. Marchmont--”
“The silly old woman that paints her face and wears the pearls like
moth balls? She drove around yesterday to tell me the name of her
hairdresser. It's always the people that haven't any hair that want to
have it dressed.”
“Miss Lady! She is Mrs. Leslie Marchmont, the most sought after woman in
town!”
“I don't care, her horses look as if they had been fed on corn stalks.”
“But you mustn't say such things! You must cultivate discretion. If you
want me to introduce you to the right people--”
“But they may not be the right people for me! Some of them are lovely,
but I can't stand the affected ones, nor the ones that patronize me.”
“But they won't patronize you if you are a little more reserved. There's
no earthly reason for your telling them that you keep only one servant,
and saying that you come from Billy-goat Hill. It's a horrid name given
our beautiful hillside, by horrid people. You see, you really must
cultivate more caution. You are,--what shall I say? too frank, too
natural.”
Miss Lady laughed. “I haven't the least idea how to go about being
unnatural, but, thank heaven, I don't have to learn to-day! Margery is
feeling better and is going to let me stay with her.”
“That's absurd! You are all ready to go, and I want Mrs. Bartrum to see
you for the first time just as you look now. Where are your gloves?”
“I forgot them, but it doesn't matter, I'm not going.”
“I'll send Jenkins for them at once.”
Miss Lady's cheek flushed and she looked at Mrs. Sequin in perplexity,
then her brow cleared.
“You are afraid I'll stay too long and wear Margery out? I promise to go
the minute she looks tired. You can trust her with me, can't you?”
“But she has her nurse, there's no earthly reason--”
“Except that she wants me to stay. You'll feel happier, too, knowing
that she isn't lonely.”
“But don't you want to go to the tea?”
“Oh, I did a little. But I think that was because you and Connie and
Margery said I looked nice. I'm awfully squeezed and uncomfortable; I
wonder if Margery can't lend me a dressing sacque?”
Thus it was that Mrs. Sequin went off to the Bartrums' in a very bad
humor, leaving the two girls chattering together in the pink boudoir,
with the nurse banished to the lower regions.
“Don't you want some fresh air?” asked Miss Lady, when she had stood the
heat as long as she could.
“You may open the door,” said Margery, “we never leave the window up on
account of drafts.”
“But I can wrap you up, and put the screen up. There! You can't take
cold with all that on. It's the kind of day that makes me want to be on
a horse, galloping through the woods with the wind in my face.”
Margery watched Miss Lady's quick motion as she opened all the windows
behind the ruffled curtains, and let in a current of fresh invigorating
air.
“How young you are!” she said. “Years and years younger than I feel. I
can't realize you are married and have three step-children.”
“Neither can I,” said Miss Lady. “I'm always forgetting it. Wouldn't you
like to sit up for a while?”
“Oh! I can't. I have to lie perfectly quiet.”
“Who said so?”
“Everybody does who has nervous prostration. The doctors say that my
nerves are nothing but quivering wires. I suppose I went too hard last
winter, but of course I couldn't drop out in the middle of my first
season.”
“I don't believe it would hurt you a bit to sit up. If I fix that big
rocker will you try it?”
“But I haven't sat up for six weeks. When I try it in bed I have such
tingly sensations.”
“That's because your legs are straight out. Let's try it in the chair,
with them hanging down.”
“I'll try it, but I know I can't stand it. There! Thank you so much! You
wouldn't think that a year ago I was as strong as you are! Why, between
October and March I went to over a hundred and fifty entertainments,
besides the theaters and opera.”
“Good heavens!” cried Miss Lady aghast.
“Of course, about New Year's, I began to wobble, but mother had me
take massage and electricity and kept me going until Lent. After that
I collapsed until summer. Then we went to White Sulphur, where the
Dillinghams have a cottage, I had to lie down every afternoon, but I was
always able to be up for the dances.”
The nurse coming in with a long flower box, paused in surprise at the
sight of her patient sitting up, then discreetly tiptoed out again.
“Somebody has sent you some flowers!” cried Miss Lady excitedly. “How
nice! Shall I open the box?”
“Just as you like. They are probably from Lee. He sends them now instead
of coming.”
“But there may be a note,” said Miss Lady, searching in the tissue
paper.
Margery shook her head wearily; the little animation that had flushed
her face, died out leaving it wan and listless.
“I suppose you think this is a queer way for an engaged girl to talk,”
she said presently, with a nervous catch in her voice. “The truth is Lee
and I have quarreled over my uncle, Donald Morley. I will never forgive
him for the way he has treated Don; never!”
“You will if you love him,” said Miss Lady.
“But I'm not sure that I do!” burst out Margery. “I oughtn't to say
it! I shan't say it again, but I shall die if I don't talk to somebody.
Mother won't listen to a word. She says it's nerves. But the truth is,
Miss Lady, I've never been sure; that's what's making me ill!”
“Have you told him?”
“Yes, and he laughs at me. He may be right, they all may be right. When
I get well I may laugh at myself. But just now it seems so terrible for
the preparations to be going on while I'm lying here, night after night,
fighting down the doubts, trying to persuade myself, trying to be sure.
How can you tell when you are in love? How do you know?”
Miss Lady's hand that had been softly stroking the girl's thin white
fingers, paused; her eyes sought the open window, and she drew a short
breath.
“Know?” she repeated as if to herself. “How do you know when you are
cold, when you are hungry, when you're tired, when you're lonesome? How
do you know that you want air when you are smothering? Everything about
you tells you, your heart, your mind, your body, your soul. You can't
help knowing!”
“But suppose I don't feel like that! And suppose I should, some day,
for some one else! Oh! Miss Lady tell me what to do! Everybody else is
rushing me on, telling me not to worry, not to be afraid. But you
are not like the others, you consider something more than the outside
advantages to be gained. Tell me, what would you do in my place?”
“I'd wait for the real one to come,” cried Miss Lady, turning upon her
almost fiercely, “I'd wait, if it was forever! They have no right to
persuade you. You either love or you don't love and no power on earth
can make it different. You can laugh at sentiment and pretend you don't
believe in it, you can tell yourself a thousand times that you are doing
the sensible thing. You can blind yourself utterly to the truth for a
time. But some day you've got to realize that the only real thing in
life is love, and that you are powerless to make it live or die.”
After that they sat a long time in silence, until Miss Lady rose
abruptly and, making some excuse, took a hurried departure. She was
frightened at what she had said, at what she had thought. She was
terrified at this strange, new self, that spoke out of a strange, new
experience, and set at naught all her carefully acquired opinions. It
was not until she reached home after a brisk walk through the crisp air,
that the turmoil in her brain subsided.
On the hall table, beside a well-worn copy of Shelley, lay the Doctor's
gloves and soft gray hat. She seized the gloves impulsively and laid
them against her cheek.
“Dear, dear Doctor!” she whispered almost fiercely. “So good, and kind,
and--and wonderful!”
Suddenly she was aware of some one watching her covertly through the
crack of the dining-room door.
“Myrtella!” she cried. “Is that you?”
“Yes'm, if you please,” came in strange, meek accents. “I'd like to
speak with you.”
It was so entirely out of the course of human events for Myrtella to
assume humility, that Miss Lady looked at her in amazement.
“I can't say,” began Myrtella, still half behind the door, “that I
like the way things is run in this house. I'm thinkin' some of givin'
notice.”
“Why, Myrtella!” cried Miss Lady in dismay. “I'm afraid the work is too
heavy. We might get--”
“Needn't mind finishing, Mis' Squeerington, you was goin' to say a house
girl. If you think I'd share my room with any Dutch or Irish biddy, I
must say you're mighty mistaken! Besides, ain't I givin' satisfaction?
Ain't I doin' the work to suit you?”
“Of course you are, but I thought you--”
“Was gettin' old, I suppose, and couldn't do as much work as I used to.
I look feeble, don't I?”
Miss Lady glanced at the massive figure with brawny arms akimbo, and
smiled.
“Well, what's the trouble then?” she asked kindly. “Why do you want to
leave?”
Myrtella's eyes shifted as she rubbed some imaginary dust from the door:
“I ain't used to working fer a lady that don't take no holt. It don't
seem natural, and it leaves folks room to talk.”
“But I thought you wanted to have full charge and run things just as you
have done in the past.”
“Well, it don't look right fer you not to be givin' me no orders, nor
rowin' the grocery man, nor lightin' into nobody. If folks didn't know
better they'd think you wasn't used to bein' a lady!”
Miss Lady bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I'll be only too glad to
keep house, only I don't know much about it. Aunt Caroline and Uncle
Jimpson did everything out home, and you've done everything here.”
“Well, I ain't goin' to no longer,” said Myrtella firmly. “If you want
to light in and learn, I'll learn you. But I ain't going to stay except
on one condition, you got to take a holt of everything! You got to lock
things up and give me out what I need. You got to order all the meals
and tell me what you want done every mornin'. I ain't goin' to have
people throwin' it in my face that I work for a lady that don't know a
skillet from a saucepan!”