Sparrows Part 49

"I knew you'd disappoint me. What is it?"

"The 7.53," replied the station-master, looking at his watch. "It's almost due."

"We can make a start," suggested Mavis.

Mr Medlicott quickly produced a collection of old-fas.h.i.+oned ballads, the covers of many of which were decorated with strange, pictorial devices.

"Stay! What say to 'Primrose Farm'?"

"Anything, so long as you sing," replied Mavis.

Mr Medlicott delightedly cleared his throat. It did not take Mavis long to discover that the station-master had little ear for music; he sang flat, although Mavis did her best to a.s.sist him by including in her accompaniment the notes of the vocal score. The song was no sooner concluded than the station-master caught up his braided cap and ran downstairs to meet the 7.53. Upon his return, he sang many songs. No sooner was one ended than he commenced another; they were only interrupted by the arrival of trains.

The room became insupportably hot. During one of Mr Medlicott's absences, Mavis asked his wife if she might open the window that overlooked the platform. Where Mavis sat by it, she could see Mr Medlicott performing his duties below. Once or twice, she fancied her ear caught strange sounds, which could be heard above the shouts of the porters and the noises of escaping steam; they proceeded from where Mr Medlicott stood. The noises became more insistent, when it occurred to Mavis that the station-master was taking advantage of the din to practise the more uncertain of his notes.

The next morning, when Mavis wanted to pay Mrs Medlicott, the station-master's wife would not hear of it. She declared that she was amply repaid by Mavis' accompanying her husband's songs, which was enough to make him happy for many weeks to come. Mrs Medlicott also observed that her husband would like to take singing lessons from Mavis, if the latter cared to teach him.

Mavis walked the good mile necessary to take her to the Melkbridge boot manufactory with a light heart. She reached it at nine, to find a square, unlovely building, enclosed by a high stone wall of the usual Wilts.h.i.+re type, broken slabs of oolitic formation loosely thrown together. She explained her errand to the first person she met inside the gate, and was told to await the arrival of Mr Gaby, the manager, who was due in half an hour, the time, she afterwards learned, at which the lady clerks were expected. When Mr Gaby came, she found him to be a nervous, sandy-haired man, who blushed like any school-girl when he addressed Mavis. A few minutes later, two colleagues arrived, to whom she was formally introduced. The elder of these was Miss Toombs, a snub-nosed, short, flat-chested, unhealthy-looking woman, who was well into the thirties. She took Mavis' proffered hand limply, to drop it quickly and set about commencing her work. Her conduct was in some contrast to the other girl's, who was introduced to Mavis as Miss Hunter. She was tallish, dark, good-looking, with a self-possessed manner. The first two things Mavis noticed about her were that she was neatly and becomingly dressed, also that her eyebrows met above her nose. She looked at Mavis critically for a few moments, and gave the latter the impression that she had taken a dislike to her. Then Miss Hunter advanced to Mavis with outstretched hand to say:

"I hope we shall all be great friends and work together comfortably."

"Thank you," replied Mavis, at which Miss Hunter proceeded to instruct her in her duties. These were of the kind usually allotted to clerical beginners, and consisted of the registering, indexing, and sorting of all letters received in the course of the day.

Mavis worked with a will; her bold, unaffected handwriting emphasised the niggling scrawliness of Miss Hunter's previous entries in the book.

"Don't work so fast," said Miss Hunter presently, at which Mavis looked up in surprise.

"If you do, you won't have anything to go on with," continued Miss Hunter.

About eleven, Mavis learned from Mr Gaby that Mr. Devitt would like to see her. The manager conducted Mavis to the board room, where she found Mr Devitt standing before the fire. Directly he saw her, he came forward with outstretched hand.

"Good morning, Miss Keeves. Why--" He paused, to look at her with some concern.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"You're different. If I may say so, you look so much more grown up."

"I've had rather a rough time since I last saw you."

"I can well believe it to look at you. Why didn't you write?"

"I didn't like to. It's good of you to do what you've done."

Mr Devitt appeared to think for a few moments before saying:

"I'm sorry I can't do more; but one isn't always in a position to do exactly what one would like."

"Quite so," a.s.sented the girl.

More was said to the same effect, although Mavis could not rid herself of the impression that he was patronising her. A further thing that prejudiced her against Devitt was his absence of self-possession. While speaking, he gesticulated, moved his limbs, and seemed incapable of keeping still.

"I'll pay you back the three pounds you so kindly sent me, gradually,"

said Mavis presently.

"Wouldn't hear of it; nothin' to me; only too happy to oblige you,"

declared Devitt, showing by his manner that he considered the interview at an end.

As she walked towards the door, he said:

"By the way, where are you stayin'?"

"At Mrs Farthing's; it's quite near here."

"Quite two miles from us," remarked Devitt, as if more pleased than otherwise at the information.

"Quite," answered Mavis.

"Well, good-bye! Let me know if I can ever do any-thin' for you," he cried from the fireplace.

Mavis went back to her work. She had an hour's liberty at one, which she spent at Mrs Farthing's, who provided an appetising meal of stewed steak and jam roly-poly pudding.

About three, Miss Toombs made tea on the office fire; she asked Mavis if she would like to join the tea club.

"What's that?" asked Mavis.

"You pay fourpence a week for tea and biscuits. We take it in turn to make the tea and wash up: profits equally divided at Christmas."

"I shall be delighted," said Mavis, as she produced her purse.

"Not till tomorrow. Today you're a guest," remarked Miss Toombs listlessly.

About four, there was so little to do that Miss Toombs produced a book, whilst Miss Hunter rather ostentatiously opened the Church Times. Mavis scribbled on her blotting paper till Miss Toombs brought out a brown-paper-covered book from her desk, which she handed to Mavis.

"It's 'Richard Feverel'; if you haven't read it, you can take it home."

"Thanks. I'll take great care of it. I haven't read it."

"Not read Richard Feverel?" asked Miss Toombs, as she raised her eyebrows, but did not look at Mavis.

"Is it always easy like this?" Mavis asked of Miss Hunter, as they were putting on their things at half-past four.

"You call it easy?"

"Very. Is it always like this?"

"Always, except just before Christmas, when there's a bit of a rush, worse luck," replied Miss Hunter, to add after a moment: "It interferes with one's social engagements."

Mavis walked to her rooms with a light heart. It was good to tread the hard, firm roads, with their foundation of rock, to meet and be greeted by the ruddy-faced, solidly built Wilts.h.i.+re men and women, many of whom stopped to stare after the comely, graceful girl with the lithe stride.