Read Ebook: The Girl's Own Paper Vol. XX. No. 1021 July 22 1899 by Various

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JULY 22, 1899.

AFTER THE STORM.

BY SARAH DOUDNEY.

Patience! for the strife is o'er; Weary wave and dying blast Beat and moan around the shore; Peace must come at last.

Lo! the seagull's silver wing Flashes in the sunset gold; Wait, another morn shall bring Gladness, as of old.

Sunlight on the yellow strand, Shadows lying still and clear, Pearly fringes on the sand; Murmurs, sweet to hear.

Storms of life must have their way Ere these changeful years may cease; Foam and tempest for to-day, And to-morrow--peace.

Never till the fight is won, And the bitter draught is drained-- Never till the storm is done Shall thy rest be gained.

Waves and winds fulfil His word; Thou, like them, shalt do His will, Waiting till His voice is heard Saying, "Peace, be still."

THE HOUSE WITH THE VERANDAH.

LIFE'S LITTLE AMENITIES.

Determined to do all she could to please Florence, Lucy donned a pretty evening dress which she had already worn on the few occasions when she and Charlie had left their "ain fireside." She had freshened it up with white net ruching about the throat and arms. She indulged herself with a cluster of roses, and in order to arrive as early as possible, she treated herself to a cab, though otherwise, in the warm summer evening, her thrifty inclination would have been to shroud herself in a cloak and eke out the journey by an omnibus.

Still there seemed something exhilarating in the little outburst of elegance, ease and harmless "extravagance." For once, surely, Florence would be quite satisfied. And certainly Mrs. Brand's glance swept all over Lucy, from her little comb to her very shoes, even before she kissed her.

Mrs. Brand was not yet in her drawing-room awaiting her guests, but in her own apartment completing her dinner toilet. A tired sullen-looking servant was in attendance, and was curtly dismissed by her mistress when Lucy came in.

"It's getting late, Lucy," said Mrs. Brand, "and the few minutes we can have now is all the time we shall enjoy together. If I want a hand, you'll help me, won't you? I'm glad to get rid of Sophy, she's so stupid and clumsy."

"You haven't started a maid, have you, Flo?" asked Mrs. Challoner.

Her sister looked at her, half-bewildered, then replied--

"No, that's the parlour-maid. I know what you are thinking--that she will soon be telling me 'it is not her place' to push in a hairpin, or fasten a hook. I ought to have a proper maid, I know. But when I said so to Jem, he said there were already six women in the house to help his wife to do her part of the partnership, while to get the money which keeps the whole affair floating, there are only himself and two clerks. Jem turns that way sometimes. It's very ridiculous of him. But he generally comes right by-and-by. Men do, if one knows how to manage them. The crosser he is the sooner it's over, and the more sorry he is, and the more ready to make amends."

"But six women, Flo?" echoed Lucy, "Is it really so? That's an increase, isn't it?"

"Six women and a boy--the page," Florence returned in a stage whisper. "Jem actually forgot all about him, for, of course, he should have counted in somewhere, either on my side or Jem's."

"That's an increased contingent, isn't it?" asked Lucy.

"Well, yes, I believe it is. I've not seen you for such a time. There's cook and her scullery-maid, and the housemaid, and the parlour-maid, and the schoolroom-maid, and the nursery governess. And it is not one more than is needed. Mrs. Jinxson, next door, has only one child, but she has seven women servants, and a footman instead of a boy. And she wasn't brought up as we were, Lucy. She was quite a common person. You can see that still, under all the veneer. You'll meet her to-night. I say, Lucy, how nice you look! How do you manage it? I believe the fairies dress you sometimes! I am so glad you've come. It is such folly of you to tie yourself up to Hugh. Why, a queen's children have to be left to servants sometimes. I don't think you had any high hopes of your present girl, but I suppose she is giving you satisfaction, and is turning out a swan, as geese have a knack of doing under your hands."

Lucy was not quite proof against Florence's little flatteries. They reminded her of old times. She answered playfully--

"My 'present girl,' as you call her--you must mean Jane Smith--is now my past girl, and is represented by another who is a woman of about forty."

"Dear, dear! So you've had another change! Even immaculate you! Now you won't wonder at my changes. You used not to find it easy to believe they were necessary. But you won't readily get another Pollie. Such good fortune does not recur."

Lucy did not remind her sister of her former doubts and sneers concerning Pollie, and she little knew that Florence's rash and thoughtless talk had prematurely cost her the services of that young woman.

"What went wrong with Jane Smith?" asked Mrs. Brand.

"She had a lover whose visits I permitted," answered Lucy bravely, fully aware that after this she would receive no more flattery, but only censure. "And she changed him for another without one week's intermission, and without one word of explanation to me. Then when she felt I would remonstrate, she gave me notice, and has taken service with my opposite neighbours."

Florence laughed elfishly.

"Poor Lucy!" she cried. "When will you learn sense? The only way to do is to forbid all visitors whatever, as I do."

"Very Draconian and very unfair that seems to me," said Lucy, "and apt, like all Draconian laws, to be ignored."

"Of course it is," answered Florence. "And I know how it is done. Our gates, back and front, are heavy, and we can hear them open or shut. But our next-door neighbour--the other side from the Jinxsons--is a doctor, and he leaves his gates open, that a night call may be readily and noiselessly attended to at his hall door. Consequently, my girls' 'young men' come through his gate at night-fall, and leap over the low railing between our gardens. They depart in the same way."

"Then of what service is your rule?" asked Lucy.

"It saves us from all responsibility," Florence answered. "Whoever is in the house, or whatever happens, it is all absolutely against our strict orders, and the girls have no excuse to fall back upon. Of course, we know--and they know--that we cannot enforce our rule, seeing that Jem and I go out so much of an evening."

"Well, I think it is all very unfair and demoralising," said Lucy. "A respectable girl who wishes to obey you is reduced to solitude, and her decent friends and connexions are kept away, while any hussy who does not care a whit for your regulations is able to enjoy herself to her heart's content. It is precisely the young men who are prepared 'to leap over walls' whom I would wish to keep out of my house!"

"Well, 'the proof of the pudding is in the eating,'" returned Florence. "And now that you have lost your paragon, and are reduced to the rank and file of domestic servants, you do not seem to get on much better than the rest of us. What sort of person have you got now?"

"A middle-aged woman--as I told you, a Highland woman. She was recommended to me by Mrs. Bray's Rachel," said Lucy.

"She ought to be another paragon, then," remarked Florence; "for Rachel is a model. It needs to be a saint to live with Mrs. Bray, who keeps her maid 'going' from morning to night. And evidently you start with implicit trust in your Highland woman, as you have so promptly trusted Hugh to her society, in defiance of all your stoutly defended principles."

"I think I might trust him with her," Lucy answered mildly. "Nevertheless I should not have done so yet. I have Miss Latimer staying with me, and Hugh is left in the company of young Tom Black. Don't you remember the nice lad Charlie was so interested in, and who was one of my visitors on that awful Christmas Day? He has come to board with us."

Florence sprang up, and confronted her sister.

"What?" she cried, with startling emphasis.

"He has come to board with us," Lucy repeated. "He had lost the good home Charlie had found for him, and as I saw this Clementina Gillespie was a person who could be trusted to keep the housework regularly done, I suggested that he should come to us. He makes life much happier for Hugh than I can do myself just now."

"I cannot say I needed to do it. So far as money is concerned, everything is going on as I arranged and hoped," returned Lucy. "Rather I felt that the house is the better for another friendly inmate, full of good nature and spirits. I do not repent of it. Miss Latimer is old, the servant is elderly, and I am often too tired to talk to Hugh or play with him. If it will comfort your gentility to know there is not much money profit in the new arrangement, I can give you that assurance, Florence. Young Black pays me exactly what he gave Mrs. Mott in her little suburban house. It is a trifle over his actual expenses . But it cannot be said to take its share in the upkeep of a house in Pelham Street. It is a friendly agreement. Of course Tom could not afford more."

"Then you give up your privacy--your social status--for absolutely nothing!" cried Florence. "I never did see anybody like you, Lucy. If you don't want to make a profit out of your lodger, why did you take one? You could have got scores of young ladies glad to live in such a house as yours, without any salary--or even, I do believe, paying a trifle, and you could have called her Hugh's 'governess' or your own 'companion.' You might have taken Hugh away from the Kindergarten, and let her teach him at home. Any young lady could teach Hugh all he needs to learn yet."

Lucy shook her head. "Every young lady has not been taught how to teach," she answered. "If she had, it would not be fair to take her training for nothing."

"Oh, fair enough, if she were ready to give it," said Florence. "There are plenty of girls, with a little means of their own--who can't get on with their own people, and don't care to submit to the restraints of really salaried employment--who would have just suited you. And, as I say, I have no doubt there are many such who would even pay you as much as this boy does. For Pelham Street is a good address , and your appointment as art-teacher at the Institute would satisfy their friends of your eligibility as a chaperon."

Lucy shook her head more vigorously. "I am not eligible as a chaperon," she said. "I want my evenings for rest, and my Saturdays for my child and my house. And I am prejudiced against girls of the very type you say I might have found so ready to come to me. I certainly would not subject Hugh to the casual instructions of such errant misses. I desire his school education to proceed in orderly fashion. Therefore my household furnishes no occupation or interest for any who are without regular occupation or interests of their own outside of it. But you miss the true point of the position, Florence. The girls you speak of are all strangers to me. I know none such. But I do know Tom Black. Charlie also knew him and liked him. If I had known equally well some young woman-clerk or teacher also in Tom's plight, I should have made the same suggestion to her which I made to him."

"Miss Latimer ought to have been ready to teach Hugh and look after him, considering she is staying with you," observed Florence.

"Miss Latimer has her own pupils," Lucy answered. "She has as much work as her strength is equal for. And she is not my guest, Florence, but my boarder. She pays her own expenses, and I am much indebted to her for giving me the comfort of her society."

"What can she afford to pay?" Florence asked contemptuously. "One comfort is that it sounds well to say you have your old governess living with you. Nobody will think she pays anything."

Lucy was severely silent.

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