A Humble Enterprise

An uncomfortable pause was broken by a protest from Alice, who was given to the saying of things that were better left unsaid. "I'm sure, never – until the tea-room – "

The mention of that bone of strife brought angry blushes to the family cheek, and glares which stopped her from going further.

"Don't speak ill of the tea-room, if you please," he said. "It is the most admirable institution that I know. But for the tea-room I should not have found my pattern wife – should not have known half her good qualities."

Jenny's intimacy with him– years old since eight o'clock – made her fearless of what she said or did, and, as has been intimated before, she was a person of spirit, with a good deal of human nature in her. She moved to his side, laid her hand on his shoulder for a moment, and said, with an ineffable air of self-justification, "He is not ashamed of the tea-room."

"On the contrary, dear, I am proud of it," he responded quickly, touching the little hand.

"Nevertheless," proceeded Jenny, "I will give it up now. It has been a success – I have earned a great deal of money – but I will dispose of it when I go home."

"We needn't talk about these things now," said Anthony, with a slight frown.

"But, my dear sir," the urbane uncle interposed, "I am her natural guardian, don't you see. Joseph is a good boy – a very superior youth, in fact – but he is only a boy. It is my duty, as her nearest male relative, standing in the place of her father, to attend to her affairs at this juncture."

"I merely wanted to say," proceeded Jenny, with an air of resolution, "that I wish to please those who have been so good to me – who have not despised me because of what I did to make a living. I will not wait in the tea-room again – for their sakes; and of course my mother and sister must not work there without me. I will think of something else, that shall not – not be disagreeable to anybody."

"You don't want to think any more, Jenny," said Anthony quietly. "I am going to do the thinking now."

"Still," urged Mrs. Rogerson, with tardy generosity and misguided zeal, "we can't allow you to be saddled with my sister and her children, Mr. Churchill. They must not live on your money."

"They won't," said Jenny.

"I know they won't," said Anthony, "if they are made of the same stuff as you. But please leave all that now, dear. And go to bed, or you will be tired for your journey to-morrow."

On the way to his hotel he confounded the impudence of her relatives in many bad words, and laughed at the notion that she was going to "boss" the family arrangements as heretofore.

CHAPTER XX

SHE CARES NOT

Next morning, while he was sitting with his fiancée in the bank drawing-room, the ladies of the house having discreetly pleaded domestic engagements, Mrs. Oxenham was announced – to see Miss Liddon.

Jenny rose from the sofa, pale and palpitating. Anthony neither moved nor spoke, but watched his sister narrowly.

"I have come," said Mary; and then she stopped, and held out her arms. Jenny rushed into them, sobbing; and it was made evident that all opposition was at an end, as far as this Churchill was concerned.

"I am not de trop, am I?" she inquired, with a tremulous laugh. "You don't mind my sitting here with you for a few minutes, do you, Tony?"

He got up, and solemnly kissed her. "You are a good old girl, Polly," he said, in a deep voice. "Sit down, and tell us that you wish us joy – it's about the only thing that could make us happier than we are already."

"I came on purpose," she replied, "to wish you joy, dears, and to fetch you both back to Wandooyamba. Jenny, you will come back to me, my darling? I understand now – I didn't before. And Harry – he is your devoted admirer, you must know – he commissioned me to say that he expects you."

Jenny looked at her lover, who shook his head.

"Can't," he said. "We have telegraphed to her mother, and have arranged to go down by this afternoon's train."

"Oh, no, Tony!"

"Yes, Polly! we can't put it off now. I must see her mother. And we are going to close the tea-room, and – and lots of things. But we can come back again."

Mrs. Oxenham was then prevailed on to wait to see them off, and the Rogersons sent out for champagne that lunch might be served in a style befitting the occasion. Having made up her mind to support Tony, there was nothing Mary would not do to please him; and she fraternised with Jenny's relatives, invited them to Wandooyamba, drove them to the station, and otherwise effaced herself and her social prejudices, in the spirit of a generous woman who is also a born lady. On the platform she kissed the lovers in turn, regardless of spectators.

"I declare," she said, aside to her brother, "it is ridiculous of you two to be going away like this; you should have gone alone, Tony, and left Jenny with me."

He laughed derisively.

"You could have come back for her when you had seen her mother, or I could have brought her down. You look exactly like a bride and bridegroom starting off on their honeymoon, with all this party seeing you off."

"We'll be that when we come back again," said he.

"Oh, I hope you are not going to put off coming to me till then!"

He laughed again, and dropped his voice. "I'm going to take her to Europe, Polly, and we must sail not later than March, you know, on account of the Red Sea, and the English spring, which I don't want her to miss."

"Tony! You are not going off again, before we've hardly got you back!"

"She has never seen the world, as we have, and I'm going to show it to her. It's what her little heart is set on. And time she had some pleasure, after all her hard work."

"Ah, ah! 'She' will be everything, now!"

"She won't be everything, but she'll be first. Where is she, by the way? Come, little one, jump in."

Jenny stepped into a small compartment of the ancient carriages provided for this unimportant branch line, and he sprang in after her. Though it was close to Christmas, and other compartments were fairly full, they had this one to themselves – whether by fair means or foul did not transpire. As soon as they were off Anthony proceeded to unfold in detail the plans he had been hatching through the night, because, he said, the main line train would be crowded, and he might not have another opportunity.

"We'll go abroad, Jenny, first, and then settle – "

"But I am not going to desert my family all in a moment, as you seem to think," she protested. "Indeed, indeed I cannot – "

He simply put his hand over her mouth.

"It won't take very long, and I shall want to have a house preparing for us to come to when we get back. I shall want to feel that we have a home, all the same – for we may get tired of wandering at any minute. And this is a thing one can't leave to other people. One must choose for one's self. So I shall at once look round for a nice place – Hush, Jenny! Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking, it's rude – and then I shall see if I can't persuade your mother and sister to look after it for us. You see, we shall be sending home furniture and all sorts of odds and ends from different places as we travel about, and we shall want somebody we can trust to receive the things and take care of them. I hardly like to ask such a favour of her, but for your sake I believe your mother would like the job; and I daresay she will feel lonesome with nothing to do when the tea-room is shut up. I shall take passages immediately, because berths are bespoken months before at this time of year. For February, if possible."

Jenny gasped. "Oh, talk of cheek and impudence – ! Am I not to have any say at all?"

"Certainly not. An infinitesimal little mite like you!"

"You seem to think that, because I am small, I'm not to be counted as a woman with a will of her own."

"Oh, no. But you have had your turn of bossing people and managing things. Now I'm going to have mine, and you must submit to be bossed in your turn. Do you see? That's only fair."

The sort of bossing that she received that day was too delicious for words. After her long toil and struggle to take care of others, the being cared for herself, in this strong and tender fashion, was perhaps the sweetest experience she ever had in her life. The main line train was crowded, but no one crowded her. Refreshments, such as they were, were produced without any trouble to herself, whenever she wanted them. But the charm of all was to sit beside him, content and peaceful, and know that she had nothing to do or to fear – that the combined world was powerless to touch her through the shield of his protection.

Jarvis was at Spencer Street, and took her luggage and instructions what to do with it. A hansom was waiting for his master, and into this he put Jenny, and drove her home through the gas-lit streets to her impatient mother and sister.

Mrs. Liddon had been prepared by Sarah for the tale they had to tell; nevertheless, she wept with joy when she heard it, and was particularly enchanted to know that her sister Emma had been properly taught not to look down on them that were as good as herself and better. Likewise she thanked God that Joey's future was assured. And she folded her eldest daughter to her breast, and declared that Mr. Churchill had got a treasure, though she said it that shouldn't; and bade him forgive her for being an old fool and crying over it, when she was really that happy that she didn't know if she stood on her head or her heels.

The tea-room had long been closed, and she had had time to exercise her special talents in the production of a charming supper, to the excellence of which he testified in the only satisfactory way. He ate largely, and remarked that he had never enjoyed anything more in his life.

"Well, I never enjoyed cooking things more," she said; and added, rather pathetically, "I must say I do get a little tired of making nothing but scones, day after day."

"You shall not make any more," said Jenny. "We are going to talk to Mrs. Allonby in the morning, and see if she will not take over the tea-room, and set us free."

"She'll be only too glad to jump at the chance," said Mrs. Liddon proudly, "if we make the terms reasonable. But, ah!" – shaking her head – "she'll never make scones like I do."

CHAPTER XXI

THE BEST AVAILABLE

So quickly did Jenny, aided by her impetuous lover, effect the transfer of her business, that she was out of it before Christmas Day. The basket-maker's wife had the benefit of the holiday custom, and the ex-proprietors the pleasant consciousness of having laboured successfully, in every sense of the word, and being now entitled to that rest and recreation which only those who have worked well can appreciate. They were all glad to be free. They had not realised the severity of the constant strain until it was removed, and wondered that people who could spend their days as they pleased were not more grateful for the privilege.

"And now," said Anthony, "I want you all to be my guests for Christmas. A friend has lent me his yacht, and we will go for a cruise wherever you like – inside the Bay or outside – according to how you stand it. Sarah is looking thin – she wants taking right out of this air; and the mother will not be the worse for a sea blow after living at the oven-mouth so long. Tell Joe to bring a mate – any male friend he likes. I have invited one of my own – a very good fellow – who wants to know you. Jenny, is a day long enough to get ready in? You don't want any finery."

"Quite," she replied, for she had been previously acquainted with this plan for enabling him and her to enjoy long days together; and she set to work to pack for the family with her business-like promptitude.

While thus engaged she was called into their little parlour to receive a visit from Mr. Churchill. The old gentleman presented himself in his most benevolent aspect, bearing a bouquet of flowers; and, while Jenny could hardly speak for blushing gratitude, he asked her if she would give an old man a kiss, and secured her doting affection for ever by that gracious recognition of her new rights.

"And so you are going to be my daughter," he said, patting her head. "Well, well!"

"I know I am unworthy of him," murmured Jenny.

"Oh, not at all! Just at first, perhaps – But then fathers are old fools. They never do think anything good enough for their children. I am quite pleased, my dear – quite satisfied and pleased. I am proud of my son for making such a choice. He has looked for true worth, rather than a brilliant match. Not many young men in his position have the discernment, the – a – what shall I say?"

"I have no worth," repeated Jenny, who really thought so, "compared with him. I know I am not fit for him."

"Tut, tut! He says differently, and so do I. It's your gallant conduct since your father's death, my dear – that's what it is. And I'm proud of my boy, to think he can fall in love for such a cause. He's got a bit of his mother in him – a good seed that hasn't been choked with riches and – and so on. The more I think of it the more I approve of him. We had an idea of marrying him to a lady of title, and making a great swell of him; but there – it's best as it is. A good wife is above rubies, doesn't the Bible say? – something like it – a crown to her husband, eh? You'll make a good wife, I'll warrant, and, after all, that's the main thing."

"I will indeed," declared Jenny solemnly, "if love and trying can do it – though I shall never be good enough for him."

"Oh, he's not an angel, any more than other men; I know that, though he is my son, and a good son too. You mustn't disparage yourself, Sally – isn't your name Sally? – no, Jenny, of course – nice, old-fashioned name. You are his equal, as I have been telling Mrs. Churchill – but these young ladies go so much by appearances – his equal in all but money, which anybody can have, and no credit to him. Your father was" – she thought he was going to say an "Eton boy," but he spared her – "a true gentleman, my dear, upright and honourable, the sort of man to breed good stock – if you'll excuse the phrase – the sort of blood one needn't be afraid to see in one's children's children. But there, I won't keep you. You are getting ready for your little trip? I wish you a happy Christmas, my dear, and a happy married life, you and him together, and – and – and I hope you'll look on me as your father, my dear – "

Emotion overpowered him, and a second kiss, warmer than the first, concluded the interview. Jenny let him out of the house, and then ran upstairs to tell her anxious sister that Anthony's father transcended the winged seraphs for goodness. And Mr. Churchill returned to Toorak with a swelling breast, to keep a careful silence towards his wife as to what he had been doing. For Maude had declared that nothing should ever induce her to recognise "that person" whom Tony had chosen to pick out of the gutter; and her outraged family abetted her in this resolve.

The yacht sailed on Christmas Eve, with a party of seven in addition to the crew; and Jenny had her first taste of the luxury that was thenceforth to be her portion. She found herself a little queen on board. Mr. Danesbury was introduced to her at the gangway, and rendered a quiet homage that Maude and Lady Louisa, on the previous cruise, had looked for at his hands in vain. Jarvis was there, in the capacity of cabin steward, and was called up to be introduced to her as his future mistress; and Jarvis waited on her as only he could wait, anticipating her little wants and wishes before she had time to form them. He had felt that, in the course of nature, he must have a mistress some day, if he remained in his present service; and, from a first impression that she might have been worse, he gradually adopted his master's view that she could hardly have been better, and treated her accordingly.

"The best servant in the country," Anthony said to her. "And I think we'll take him with us on our travels. You'd find him fifty times more useful than a maid. When we come back and set up housekeeping, he is to be our butler."

Jenny smiled at the prospect.

"How absurd it is!" she ejaculated.

"I don't see it," said Tony.

"I suppose not," she rejoined.

Lest unseasoned persons should have their appetites interfered with, the yacht did not venture outside the Heads, but cruised about in quiet waters, touching now and then at little piers, for the variation of a shore ramble or a picnic in the scrub; and it was a beautiful time. Adam Danesbury and Sarah became great friends. She talked to him by the hour of the virtues of her beloved sister, and he to her of the equal excellencies of Miss Lennox; topics of interest that never palled upon them. Mrs. Liddon was happy, knitting a shawl for Jenny's trousseau, and losing herself in sensational novels, and getting "wrinkles," as she called them, from the very swell cook who daily concocted dishes that she had never so much as heard of. If there was a fly in the sweet ointment of her satisfaction, it lay in the fact that Joey was not taken much notice of. But Mr. Churchill was not interested in Joey, and had invited the friend on purpose to relieve himself of the obligation to take much notice. The young men had each other's company, together with tobacco, books, cards, chess, and Jarvis to bring them cool drinks when they were thirsty; what could junior clerks require more? Joey was a very good boy on this occasion, very subdued and inoffensive, keeping all his swagger until he should return to the office to tell of his doings and the high company he had kept; and he was undeniably a handsome youth, with the proper bearing of a gentleman. But his sex was against him. Crippled Sarah, wizened and sallow, was infinitely more interesting to the distinguished host Between him and her a very strong bond existed.

And, as he had foreseen, the yachting arrangement was perfect for lovers on whose behalf every other member of the party was minded to be unobtrusive and discreet. What days were those that he and Jenny had together in the first bloom of their courtship! What fresh sea-mornings, in which to feel young blood coursing to the tune of the salt wind and the bubble of the seething wake! What dream-times under the awning in the tempered heat, with soft cushions and poetry books! What rambles on the lonely shores, and rests in ti-tree arbours, and talks and companionship that grew daily fuller and deeper, and more and more intimate and satisfying! In the quiet evenings four people sat down to whist round the lamp in the little cabin, and the fifth dozed over her knitting, so that the remaining two had the deck to themselves, and the romantic hours to revel in undisturbed. Then Tony smoked a little because Jenny wished it, and she leaned on his arm as they paced to and fro; and they opened those sacred chambers of thought which are kept locked in the daytime, and acquainted each other with dim feelings and aspirations that expressed themselves in sympathetic silences better than in speech.

Thus did they grow together so closely that Jenny's wedding-day came to her with no shock of change or fear. After the Christmas cruise he called to see her at all hours – to disturb her at her flying needlework, which she would slave at, in spite of him – making her own "things" to save expense, as if expense mattered; nightly taking her down to St Kilda for that blow on the pier which still refreshed her more than anything. And very soon they saw the mail boat come in – the very mail boat in which he had taken berths for their wedding journey. As they watched her passing in the falling dusk, they recalled their first meeting in that place – how very few mails had arrived since then, and what stupendous things had happened in the interval!

"What a funk you were in!" said Tony, laying his big hand over the small one on his arm. "Poor little mite! You took me for a gay devil walking about seeking whom I might devour, didn't you? What would you have thought if you had known I had followed you all the way – stalked you like a cat after a mouse – eh?"

"You didn't, Tony!"

"I did, sweetheart. It was Sarah put me up to it."

"Sarah! I won't believe such a thing of my sister."

"Ask her, then. Sarah understood me a long time before you did. And I made a vow that I'd repay her for that good turn, and I haven't done it yet. What do you think she would like best?"

"I know what she would like," said Jenny wistfully. "To go abroad with us. It has been the dream of her life."

"Not this time, pet. Next time she shall. This time I must have only you, and you must have only me. Besides, she wouldn't go, not if you went on your knees to her. She knows better. She's a deal cleverer than you are – in some things."

"I know she is. Poor Sally! And she might have been like me, with everything heart can wish for! Mother says she was a finer baby than I – beautifully formed and healthy; but she had an accident that hurt her back – a fall. And so all the sweetness of life has been taken from her, while I – I am overwhelmed with it."

"Not all," said Tony. "We shall make her happy between us."

"If she can't have this," said Jenny, pressing his arm, "she can't know what happiness means."

He drew the warm hand up, and kissed the tips of her fingers, on which gloves were never allowed on these occasions.

"I foresee," he said gravely, "that I shall have to beat you and refuse to give you money for new bonnets, to make you realise that your little feet are standing on the earth, Jenny, and not on the clouds of heaven."

They were married in February, that they might have a quiet month before sailing in March. Mrs. Rogerson wanted to undertake the wedding, but was politely informed that there was to be no wedding; and there was none in her sense. Jenny went out for a walk with her mother and sister, and Anthony went out for a walk with Adam Danesbury; old Mr. Churchill and his daughter Mary, who happened to be staying with him, took a hansom from the office, Joey having been released from his desk therein; and these people met together for a few minutes, transacted their business briefly, and adjourned to the Café Anglais for lunch; after which the bride and bridegroom, being already dressed for travel, with their baggage at the station, fared forth into the wide world.

Thus ended the tea-room enterprise.

And I don't know whether the moral of Jenny's story is bad or good. It depends on the point of view. Virtue, of course, ought to be its own reward – at any rate, it should seek no other; and there are people who think a husband no reward at all, under any circumstances, but quite the contrary. For myself, I regard a rich marriage as rather a vulgar sort of thing, and by no means the proper goal of a good girl's ambitions. Also, however well a marriage may begin, nobody can foretell how it will eventually turn out. It is a matter of a thousand compromises, take it at its best, and all we can say of it is that there is nothing above it in the scale of human satisfactions.

That I will maintain as beyond a doubt, because it is the dictum of nature, who is the mother of all wisdom. She says that even an unlucky marriage, which is a living martyrdom, is better than none, but that a marriage like that which arose out of Jenny's tea-room is a door to the sanctuary of the temple of life, never opened to the undeserving – the nearest approach to happiness that has been discovered at present. Yes – although, without beating her or keeping her short of pocket-money, the husband necessarily makes his wife feel that the earth is her habitation and the clouds of heaven many miles away.

THE END