Sparrows Part 27

When this was over, Mr Poulter said:

"I don't know of what religious persuasion you may be, but would you be offended if I asked you to stay for family prayers?"

"I like you for asking me," declared Mavis.

"I am overjoyed at a real young lady like you caring to stay," replied Poulter.

Mr Poulter read a chapter from the Bible. He then offered up a brief extempore prayer. He prayed for Miss Nippett, for Mavis, for past and present pupils, the world at large. The Lord's Prayer, in which the two women joined, ended the devotions.

When Miss Nippett had put on her goloshes, bonnet, and cloak, and Mavis her things, Mr Poulter accompanied them to the door.

"I live in the 'Bush': where do you?" asked Miss Nippett of Mavis.

"Kiva Road, Hammersmith."

"Then we go different ways. Good night, Mr Poulter; good night, Miss Keeves."

Mavis wished her and Mr Poulter good night. The two women walked together to the gate, when Miss Nippett hobbled off to the left.

As Mavis turned to the right, she glanced at Mr Poulter, who was still standing on the steps; he was gazing raptly at "Turpsichor." A few minutes later, when she encountered the insolent glances of the painted foreign women who flock in the Goldhawk Road, Mavis found it hard to believe that they and Mr Poulter inhabited the same world.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MAVIS'S PRAYER

The next morning, Mavis was awakened by Mrs Bilkins bringing her a cup of tea.

"Bless my soul!" cried Mrs Bilkins, almost spilling the tea in her agitation.

"What's the matter?"

"You've got your window open. It's a wonder you're alive."

"I always sleep with it open."

"Well, you are funny. What will you do next?"

Mrs Bilkins sat on the bed, seemingly inclined to gossip. Mavis did not discourage her; for some reason, the landlady was looking different from when she had seen her the day before. Curious to discover the cause, she let the woman ramble on unchecked about the way in which "her son, a Bilkins," had "demeaned himself" by marrying a servant.

Then it occurred to Mavis that the way in which Mrs Bilkins had done her hair was the reason for her changed appearance: she had arranged it in imitation of the manner in which Mavis wore hers.

Presently, Mavis told the woman how she had got temporary employment, and added:

"But it's work I'm quite unaccustomed to."

To her surprise, Mrs Bilkins bridled up.

"Just like me. I ain't used to letting lodgin's; far from it."

"Indeed!" remarked Mavis.

"Oh, well, if you don't believe me, ask Mrs Bonus."

When Mavis came downstairs, she found Mrs Bilkins busy tr.i.m.m.i.n.g a hat.

The next day, the landlady wore it about the house, when Mavis was surprised and amused to see that it was a shabby imitation of her own.

At first, she could scarcely believe such emulation to be possible, but when, after buying a necessary pair of gloves, she found that her landlady had got a new pair for herself, she saw that Mrs Bilkins was possessed by jealousy of her lodger. This belief was strengthened by the fact of Mrs Bilkins making copious reference to past prosperity directly Mavis made innocent mention of former events in her life which pointed to her having been better off than she was at present. It was fourteen days before Miss Nippett's chilblains were sufficiently healed to allow her to take her place at "Poulter's" piano. During this time, Mavis became on friendly terms with the dancing-master; the more she saw of him, the more he became endeared to the lonely girl. Apart from his vanity where the academy was concerned (a harmless enough foible, which saddened quite as much as it amused Mavis), he was the simplest, the kindliest of men. He was very poor; although his poverty largely arose from the advantage which pupils and parents took of his boundless good nature, Mavis did not hear him utter a complaining word of a living soul, always excepting Gellybrand.

She learned how Mr Poulter had been happily married, although childless; also, that his wife had died of a chill caught by walking home, insufficiently clad, from an "All Night" in bleak weather. For all the pain that her absence caused in his life, he looked bravely, confidently forward (sometimes with tears in his eyes) to when they should meet again, this time never to part. When the evenings were fine, Mr Poulter would take Miss Nippett and Mavis for a ride on a tram car, returning in time for the night cla.s.ses. Upon one of these excursions, someone in the tram car pointed out Mr Poulter to a friend in the hearing of the dancing-master; this was enough to make Mr Poulter radiantly happy for the best part of two days, much to Mavis's delight.

Another human trait in the proprietor of "Poulter's" was that he was insensible to Miss Nippett's loyalty to the academy, he taking her devotion as a matter of course.

Miss Nippett and Mavis, also, became friends; the latter was moved by the touching faith which the shrivelled-up little accompanist had in the academy, its future, and, above all, its proprietor. If the rivalry between "Poulter's" and "Gellybrand's" could have been decided by an appeal to force, Miss Nippett would have been found in the van of "Poulter's" adherents, firmly imbued with the righteousness of her cause. She lived in Blomfield Road, Shepherd's Bush, a depressing, blind little street, at the end of which was a h.o.a.rding; this latter shut off a view of a seemingly boundless brickfield. Miss Nippett rented a top back room at number 19, where, on one Sunday afternoon, Mavis, being previously invited, went to tea. The little room was neat and clean; tea, a substantial meal, was served on the big black box which stood at the foot of Miss Nippett's bed. After tea, Miss Nippett showed, with much pride, her little treasures, which were chiefly pitiful odds and ends picked up upon infrequent excursions to Isle of Thanet watering-places. Her devotion to these brought a lump to Mavis's throat. After the girl had inspected and admired these household G.o.ds, she was taken to the window, in order to see the view, now lit by a brilliant full moon. Mavis looked over a desert of waste land and brickfield to a hideous, forbidding-looking structure in the distance.

"Ain't it beautiful?" asked Miss Nippett.

"Y--yes," a.s.sented Mavis.

"Almost as good as reel country."

"Almost."

"Why, I declare, you can see the 'Scrubbs': you are in luck to-day."

"What's the 'Scrubbs'?"

"The 'Scrubbs' prison. Oh, I say, you are ignorant!"

"I'm afraid I am," sighed Mavis.

"It ain't often you can see the 'Scrubbs' at this time of year 'cause of the fog," remarked Miss Nippett, whose eyes were still glued to the window.

Presently, when she drew the curtains, she looked contentedly round the little room before saying:

"I often think that, after all, there's no place like a good 'ome."

"If you're lucky enough to have one," a.s.sented Mavis heartfully.

"Sometimes I like it even better than 'Poulter's'; you know, when you've got a waltz in your 'ead, and 'ate it, and 'ave to play it over and over again. But every bit of this here furniture is mine and paid for."

"Really?" asked Mavis, feigning surprise to please her friend.

"I can show you the receipts if you don't b'lieve me."

"But I do."