A City Schoolgirl and Her Friends

'Let's go for a walk; I've got my presentiment again,' announced Eva, shutting up her hymn-book and jumping up from her chair.

Mrs. Morrison looked at her over the top of her spectacles. 'What might you have?' she inquired, thinking that Eva was complaining of not feeling well.

'The hump, Mrs. Morrison, and I want a walk to shake it off,' she replied.

Mrs. Morrison did not understand this slang; but she understood that Eva felt depressed, and said, 'A walk will do you all good, and you will just have time to go over the hill yonder before church.'

Eva did not like to say that she was not going to church, but she privately decided to return home and amuse herself by trying over some waltzes while the rest were all at church.

The four accordingly set out for their walk; and, as Eva was a very entertaining companion, Vava enjoyed the walk with her. Amy and Stella were becoming such fast friends that they had dropped the formal 'Miss' in speaking to each other, and they enjoyed the walk. Mrs. Morrison had told them she should go straight to church. On the way back they passed the Presbyterian Church; and the two Whartons, remarking that they were only five minutes too early, turned in there.

'Won't you come to church with me, Eva?' asked Amy as the two walked on together.

'No, thank you; I have something to do at home. It's so jolly having a home that I prefer to stay in it. I sha'n't plague you to come to the pictures every night now,' replied Eva, going off.

But Eva had counted without her host, as Mrs. Morrison, having supposed that they would all go to church, had locked up and gone out, taking the key with her. As they were not on a main road, the door was not kept latched, and so they had no latchkeys. There was a light in the hall, and Eva turned the handle of the door, expecting it to open; but in vain. Then it flashed upon her that she was locked out, and must either wait there for an hour and a half or else go to church; neither of which things did she wish to do. A thought then struck her, and she knocked at the Hackneys' door; but they were all out, it appeared, for she knocked in vain. So turning away in annoyance, Eva sauntered back to the main street where Amy had gone to church.

'I believe that Scotchwoman did it on purpose; she thought I ought to go to church, and so she locked me out of my own home. But if she thinks she's going to manage me she's very much mistaken, as she will find, and I'll just show her that,' she said to herself; for she had just come to a brilliantly lighted kinematograph show, and made up her mind to go in there.

It was the first time she had gone there on Sunday, and to make herself feel more comfortable she had to remind herself that she must put her foot down and not be dictated to by strangers; and soon the music and the scenes before her distracted her thoughts, and this was what Eva really wanted. For some of her thoughts were troubling her, and she wanted to banish them.

But unfortunately the pictures could not last for ever, and when they were over there was Mrs. Morrison to face; and though Mrs. Morrison had a very kindly face, and had been very friendly and nice to Eva, whom she liked, the latter had a feeling that she could be very stern, and that she would disapprove of going to an entertainment on Sunday evening. To her surprise, when she came out there were no churchgoers to be seen in the streets, and when she passed Amy's church it was in darkness, and she guessed that it must be past nine o'clock, and that the others would be home.

'That comes of leaving my watch at home and trusting that man, who said we should be out before nine,' she muttered to herself, and hurried to Heather Road.

'Here she is!' cried a voice as Eva opened the gate; and Vava, who was standing looking out of the bow-window, came running to the door to greet her.

'We are so very sorry you were locked out! Mrs. Morrison understood you were both going to church, and she hurried home so as to be back before you. But it will not happen again; we will have a latch put on, and have our own keys,' said Stella, apologising.

'It doesn't matter. I had a headache, so did not go to church,' said Eva.

'And have you been walking about all this time in the dark by yourself? How horrid; nursie will be vexed!' cried Vava.

'I enjoyed myself very much, thank you,' said Eva, escaping upstairs to take off her hat and coat.

She had not said where she had been; and though Amy, who knew her, did not believe she had walked for more than two hours after their long walk, and guessed what she had done, no one asked any questions. For that Eva was thankful, and in spite of a bad conscience, which should have pricked her, she enjoyed the pie which Mrs. Morrison had made the day before and left in the oven to heat up along with baked potatoes.

'Sunday's dinner and supper always cook themselves,' she explained.

As a kind of amends for her un-Sunday-like day, Eva went into the kitchen and asked Mrs. Morrison if she might help her to wash-up.

It was on the tip of the good woman's tongue to refuse, and tell her that she must be too tired to stand about any more; but a glance at Eva's face showed that the girl was not tired, and some intuition told her that she had better accept the offer and try and make friends with this girl, who, after all, was only sixteen, and had no one to keep her in order. So she said, 'Thank you kindly, Miss Barnes, my dear; if you take this mop you will not put your hands in the water so much, and as I never use soda they will not get spoilt, and here 's a nice apron for you.'

Eva accordingly, enveloped in a large apron, stood at the tub and conversed with the Scotchwoman, who watched her quick movements with interest and admiration, for she was very graceful, and she did her work in a very business-like manner, which pleased the methodical housekeeper.

'There's a right way and a wrong way of doing everything, but you've got the right way of washing-up, and it makes a deal of difference, though folk won't believe it. I can't bear to see a young girl doing a few things at a time, and then going to find some more, and putting in the greasy things first, and the glasses and silver last,' she observed.

'My mother taught me that; once a week we went into the kitchen to learn how to do cooking and kitchen-work,' said Eva, and she gave a sigh.

'She must have been a wise woman and a good mother. Have you lost her long, my poor bairn?' inquired the housekeeper.

'A year and a half, but it feels like ten,' said Eva; and then she began to tell Mrs. Morrison about her past life at the pretty home in Cambridge, of which she had never spoken to Vava. 'Things were very different then,' she wound up.

'But they are not so bad now, and you have your old friends. Do you never see them or hear from them?' inquired the housekeeper.

'They have written, but I don't care to answer them. They have asked me to go and stay with them, and wanted to come and see me; but I had not a nice place to ask them to come to, and I won't stay with people I can't ask back.'

'I think you are wrong there; anybody would like to have a bright young leddie like you as a visitor, and you would like to see your old friends again, I'm sure. At any rate, now you have a nice home, and we'll soon have your sitting-room fit to receive a queen,' said Mrs. Morrison.

'I'll write to Mrs. Croker. She often comes to town, and she has a daughter just my age, only she is still at school and going on to college, and I am working for my living and not learning anything,' said Eva, a little bitterly.

'But you should be learning; you can get books anywhere, and can always improve yourself in the evenings. You shouldn't let Miss Croker get before you,' said Mrs. Morrison.

The good woman's interest touched Eva, and had its effect; for she delighted Mrs. Croker by writing to her and telling her where she was, and what she was doing; and Mrs. Croker said to her husband, 'I am so glad she has written. I was so vexed at losing sight of her, but she seemed to want to drop us all.'

'People do when they are poor, and she felt having her education stopped. You must ask her down for Easter. She has a few days then, I suppose?' replied the professor.

So the first Sunday at Heather Road did them all good in different ways.

CHAPTER XVIII.

STELLA'S SURPRISING REQUEST

'I shall breakfast a little earlier than usual to-morrow morning, Vava,' said Stella when they were going to bed that night.

'Doreen says she catches the 8.40, so we shall be in plenty of time if we have breakfast at eight o'clock,' objected Vava.

'You can go with Doreen by that train, but I shall take the 8.20,' replied her sister.

Vava coloured up, for she remembered in a flash that it was to secure that unlucky letter of hers that her sister was going up to town so early. 'Oh that letter!' she said, in such dejected tones that Stella was sorry for her.

'Never mind, Vava; I will not let Mr. Jones have that letter, so you need not worry,' she said.

'Don't you think I had better come with you?' suggested Vava.

'No! What for? I shall know your handwriting; there is no need for you to be there, and I should think it would be rather uncomfortable for you,' said Stella, lifting her eyebrows.

'I sha'n't feel uncomfortable. I feel quite at home with Mr. Jones, and I think I could ask for the letter back much better than you,' persisted Vava.

'Why?' inquired Stella, getting annoyed at her sister's persistence.

'Because it is my letter, and one has more right to ask for one's own letter than for other people's. Perhaps he'll refuse to give it to you; he'll think it will get me into a row,' suggested Vava.

'In that case I shall walk straight out of his office,' declared Stella, very angry at this last suggestion of Vava's.

'For goodness' sake don't do that, Stella! Leave the letter alone. Mr. Jones is much too gentlemanly to take any notice of what I said; besides, he knew it all before,' said Vava.

But Stella, who had calmed down, ignored this advice. 'You did not mean any harm, Vava, and it must be very difficult for an impulsive girl like you to think before you say or do things; you will know better when you are older,' was all she said.

But Vava saw her sister start off with many misgivings, which she imparted to the housekeeper. 'Mr. Jones won't like Stella going and looking over his private correspondence. You know City men don't like their lady-clerks taking liberties of that kind,' she declared.

'Miss Stella is not one to take a liberty,' affirmed the housekeeper.

'She may not think it a liberty, but it is one, and I should not be surprised if they quarrelled over it, because she really is rather disagreeable to him; and I don't see why she need have made all that fuss, nor why she would not let me go myself,' argued Vava.

'Miss Vava, my bairn, you think too much of yourself and your wits. I know you are quicker than your elder sister, but that's not to say you have more brains; and, even if you had, you have not as much knowledge as she has,' Mrs. Morrison admonished her.

Vava was just going to say that she had more sense about some things, but happily she abstained; and having finished her breakfast she went to the window to look out for Doreen, who had promised to call for her.

The other two girls went to town by a later train; so Vava, seeing Doreen coming out of her gate, called out good-bye to Amy and Eva, and went to meet her friend.

'Isn't Miss Wharton coming with us?' Doreen inquired, rather disappointed, for she admired Stella greatly.

'She has gone; she had some business to do at the office, so she went early,' explained Vava.

'She does work hard, and so do you. Miss Courteney said the other day that we might take an example from you in that; you do what you have to do with all your might, and so quickly too, and yet you are not a bit serious by nature,' commented Doreen.

Vava was very pleased at this praise; but, remembering nursie's lecture on not thinking too much of herself, she replied, 'I can't do things by halves, I suppose because I have too much energy. I wish sometimes I did not go at things so hard. I don't take time to think, and so I make a lot of mistakes.'

'We all make mistakes; I've made some mistake in this problem, and I can't get it right,' said Doreen, taking out her algebra.

'I can tell you how to do that,' said Vava, for it was one Mr. Jones had helped her with; and the two were soon deep in algebra, which lasted them until they got to the City.

'What a short journey!' said Vava as they alighted at the City station.

And yet that morning Stella had said to herself what a long journey it was. All the same, when she got out at that City station she wished she were just leaving home. To the proud, sensitive girl the business before her was very unpleasant, and she had magnified its importance till she felt as if she must get that letter or leave the office.

Mrs. Ryan was dusting the office when she arrived, and was surprised to see her. 'Mr. Jones did not expect you to-day, miss. He stopped late on Saturday answering a lot of letters himself, and said he should not be here till late this morning, as you would not be coming,' she told Stella.

'There was no need for me to stay at home, as we got the house nearly straight on Saturday. We had a delightful surprise; our old nurse and housekeeper was there. She is going to keep house for us, so we shall be very comfortable,' said Stella, smiling.

'I am glad to hear that; she will look after you, and it's much better to have some older person with you, for you are all very young to be householders,' said the old woman, going on with her dusting.

'Have the letters come, Mrs. Ryan?' inquired Stella anxiously.

'Yes, they get here by eight o'clock; they are in the letter-box,' replied the housekeeper.

'Where is the letter-box?' asked Stella.

Mrs. Ryan looked a little surprised at the question as she replied, 'On the door.'

Stella looked at the door, but saw none.

'Not that door; the door of the outside office,' explained Mrs. Ryan.

Stella was a little uncomfortable, but she felt she must get Vava's letter before any one came in, and she went to the letter-box, which, of course, was locked, as she might have expected if she had but thought a little. But Stella Wharton was not easily turned from a purpose she had formed; and, coming back to the housekeeper, she asked the woman if she had the key or knew where it was kept.

If Mrs. Ryan had been surprised before she was doubly surprised now, and said in rather shocked accents, 'No, I have not the key, nor do I know where Mr. Jones keeps his; and, if you'll excuse my saying so, Miss Wharton, I should not tell you if I did know, for City gentlemen don't care to have their correspondence meddled with. I know you only want to get to your work; but I know more about City ways than you, and I advise you not to do more than is your work. The head-clerk always unlocks the letter-box, and brings the letters into Mr. Jones when he arrives.'

Stella listened to this speech in silence. She did think of taking the good woman into her confidence; but a dislike of talking about her private concerns prevented her, so she said nothing. Going to her room, she took off her hat and coat, and sat down to wait until the head-clerk should appear and she should hear him unlocking the letter-box, a noise she remembered hearing about ten o'clock every morning. The half-hour seemed very long, and she grew so nervous that she gave a great start when she heard a step, and presently two or three more, and then the sound of the letter-box being opened.

She waited a moment, and then, summoning up her courage, she went up to the head-clerk, to whom, as it happened, she had never spoken, and asked him politely if she might have Mr. James Jones's letters.

The man, who had been in the employment of the firm for twenty-five years, stood, his hands full of letters, and stared at her. In all his years of service such a request had never been made to him. He had been rather flattered by Stella speaking to him at all, for she appeared, as a rule, not to be aware of the existence of any of them; but this request was so unusual that the man did not answer at once.

'Did Mr. James give you orders to open his correspondence?' he then asked; for every one in the office had such a high opinion of Stella that they would not have been surprised at any token of trust, and this occurred to the head-clerk as the possible explanation.

'Oh no, I do not want to open them,' said Stella, colouring and looking embarrassed.

They were standing just within the door of the large general office; but the head-clerk, after glancing at the other clerks, several of whom had arrived and were listening with curiosity, stepped outside the door, and, leading the way to Stella's office, said, 'May I speak to you for a moment, Miss Wharton?'

Stella, with her proudest and coldest manner, said, 'Yes.'

The man entered and shut the door. He still had the packet of letters in his hand as he said, 'Excuse me, Miss Wharton, but I do not quite understand what you want.'

'I wanted Mr. Jones's letters; the letters addressed to Mr. James Jones, the junior partner,' replied Stella.

'By whose authority do you ask? I am sorry to appear rude; but, you see, this is a serious matter. I should not like to refuse a request of yours, as the firm have a very high opinion of you, and, I know, trust you implicitly; but it is against all rules and regulations to give the letters of the partners into any hands but their own. Trade secrets, you know, Miss Wharton,' he wound up, with a smile.

Stella wished she had never asked for the letters, and replied in her coldest voice, 'I did not know it was against the rules. I have not Mr. James Jones's authority to ask for his correspondence, and of course I do not wish you to give it to me. I will wait till he comes, thank you;' and, so saying, she uncovered her typewriter as a sign that the conversation was at an end.

But the head-clerk stood there perplexed. Why had she asked for the letters? Ought he to give them? Would Mr. James be annoyed if he refused them? 'If you think Mr. James would wish you to have them' – he began doubtfully.

But Stella cut him short. 'It is of no consequence, thank you,' she said.

The head-clerk still lingered. 'Is it some special letter' – he began.

Stella interrupted him. 'That is my business,' she said curtly.

'I only thought you might have some letter that you were expecting which wanted answering,' he said, half-offended, for Stella's manner was not conciliatory.

'No, thank you; I will wait until Mr. James comes,' she repeated.

It was evidently no good talking to Stella, whom the head-clerk designated to himself a haughty young woman. And, vexed that this first encounter with her should have been such an unfortunate one, he went away, but decided to take counsel with one of the other heads of the firm if he should arrive first; or, if not, to see Mr. James and make his peace with him, if necessary, before Stella made any complaint.

As fortune would have it, the senior partner, Mr. Baines, arrived soon after, and to him the head-clerk took his tale.

Mr. Baines heard him in silence. 'Mr. James says she's a very good clerk, and I should imagine she is trustworthy; but one never knows. I've never seen the young lady myself. They say she is good-looking and very proud,' he remarked at last.

'She is both, sir; in fact, she's the prettiest young lady I've ever seen in my life. But proud! – proud isn't the word for it; she positively freezes you up. She looked so odd when I asked her why she wanted the letters that, upon my word, I didn't half like it; one never knows with women, not the best of them, sir,' said the head-clerk.

Mr. Baines laughed. 'Anyway, I should not worry about it; you did quite right not to give the letters to her, and if Mr. James says anything to me about it I shall take your part. If he had wished her to open his correspondence he should have given her his written authority; it would never do if any clerk who liked could ask for our letters, and so I shall tell him,' he declared.

The head-clerk went away, and hoped that he had done right. And Stella waited, with what patience she could, for Mr. James Jones's arrival, which was not until half-past ten, when she heard his step along the passage – there was no mistaking it, because it was so light and springy, the step of a man who loved and lived as much as was possible in the country. In fact, Stella had owned to herself that if she had met him in society she should have taken him for a country gentleman or a sailor, certainly not for a business man, which he clearly was from choice, since Mrs. Ryan said that he was very rich, and that he could retire from business to-morrow.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE JUNIOR PARTNER

Some months later it would have seemed impossible to Stella that she had worked herself into a state about such a trifle as a foolish letter from Vava to the junior partner, which, as she owned to herself, said nothing but the truth, for she knew she was stiff and proud, and that poverty made her stiffer and prouder, and that Mr. Jones knew it, and was far too friendly with Vava to resent her familiarity. But this morning the one thought that possessed her was that she must get that letter whatever happened. She could never face Mr. Jones after he had been asked by her younger sister to put up with her stiffness because she was poor and could not help it. So when his step was heard she just waited until he was in his office and had time to take off his hat and coat, and then she knocked at the door.

There was a murmur of voices within, and then the head-clerk opened the door, and said to Mr. Jones, 'Miss Wharton, sir.'

'Oh come in, Miss Wharton. I am late this morning, and your letters are not ready for you yet,' he replied.

'I should like to speak to you before you open them, if you please,' she said.

'Certainly, come in and sit down. – I'll see you in a few minutes, Leighton,' he added to the head-clerk.

'Excuse me, sir, but I want to speak to you too, and perhaps my twenty-five years' service may give me the right of precedence,' said Mr. Leighton, who was not very tactful.

'Not of a lady, Leighton. I expect your business can wait,' said Mr. Jones, turning civilly to Stella.

'I'm afraid it can't, sir; it has to do with Miss Wharton' – he began.

Stella had always thought the junior partner one of the easiest-going and most good-tempered of men, and she was startled by the look of anger that came into his face and his stern voice as he replied, 'You can have nothing to do with this lady. I thought I made that understood. – I hope you have not been annoyed in any way?' he continued to Stella.

But Stella, though she was annoyed with the senior clerk for his persistence, and rather angry that he should be there to complain of her, was too just not to know that it was her own fault, and she said in her proud way, 'Not in the least, thank you. On the contrary, I am afraid I annoyed your clerk by asking for your letters. I did not know it was against the rules.'

'So it is, Mr. Jones, without your authority,' began Mr. Leighton, anxious to defend himself.

But Mr. Jones cut him short. 'It's all right, Leighton; I quite understand how the mistake arose. Miss Wharton wished to get on with her letters; and, knowing she has our complete confidence, she thought she could ask for such a simple thing. If she ever makes any request in future, remember she has my authority,' he said.

Mr. Leighton left the room with a 'Very good, sir.' But he was far from thinking that it was very good, and might have been heard muttering in his own room about a 'pretty face' being the very mischief in a City office, and a nice thing for them all if she was to be allowed to ask for what she liked, and have it too. 'A proud minx!' he wound up viciously.

Meanwhile, Stella, being left with the junior partner, began to explain. 'It was not your business correspondence I wished to see, Mr. Jones, but a private letter.' She stopped, for really it sounded very odd; and then she continued, 'May I just look at the addresses of the letters, please?'

'Certainly,' said Mr. Jones, handing her his letters, with a perfectly grave and business-like face. Not a sign of surprise nor annoyance at this truly extraordinary request was to be seen on his face, nor even a gleam of amusement in his eyes.