As Seen By Me. Bell Lilian
and plenty of tea. Feed them; that's the main thing," I said, firmly, taking up my pen and looking steadily at her.
"I'll go," she said, hastily. "Do you have to go to the bank to-day? You know to-morrow we must pay our weekly bill."
"It won't be much," I said, cheerfully; "I am sure I have enough."
The next day the bill came. Our landlady sent it up on the breakfast-tray. I opened it, then shrieked for my sister. It covered four pages of note-paper.
"For heaven's sake! what is the matter?" she cried. "Has anything happened to Billy?"
"Billy! This thing is not an American letter. It is the bill for our cheap lodgings. Look at it! Look at the extras—gas, coals, washing bed—linen, washing table—linen, washing towels, kitchen fires, service, oil for three lamps, afternoon tea, and three shillings for sundries on the fourth page! What can sundries include? She hasn't skipped anything but pew-rent."
My sister looked at the total, and buried her face in the pillows to smother a groan.
"Ring the bell," I said; "I want the maid."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to find out what 'sundries' are."
She gave the bell-cord such a pull that she broke the wire, and it fell down on her head.
"That, too, will go in the bill. Wrap your handkerchief around your hand and give the wire a jerk. Give it a good one. I don't care if it brings the police."
The maid came.
"Martha, present my compliments to Mrs. Black, and ask her what 'sundries' include."
Martha came back smiling.
"Please, miss, Mrs. Black's compliments, and 'sundries' means that you complained that the coffee was muddy, and after that she cleared it with an egg. 'Sundries' means the eggs."
"Martha," I said, weakly, "give me those Crown salts. No, no, I forgot; those are Mrs. Black's salts. Take them out and tell her I only smelled them once."
"Martha," said my sister, dragging my purse out from under my pillow, "here is sixpence not to tell Mrs. Black anything." Then when Martha disappeared she said, "How often have I told you not to jest with servants?"
"I forgot," I said, humbly. "But Martha has a sense of humor, don't you think?"
"I never thought anything about it. But what are you going to do about that bill?"
"I'm going to argue about it, and declare I won't pay it, and then pay it like a true American. Would you have me upset the traditions? But I've got to go to the bank first."
I did just as I said. I argued to no avail. Mrs. Black was quite haughty, and made me feel like a chimney-sweep. I paid her in full, and when I came up I said:
"You are quite right. She has a poor opinion of us. When I asked her how long it would take to drive to a house in West End, she said, 'Why do you want to know?' I said I 'wanted to see the house.'"
"Didn't you tell her we were invited there?" asked my sister, scandalized.
"No; I said I had heard a good deal about the house, and she said it was open to the public on Fridays. So I said we'd go then."
"I think you are horrid!" cried Bee. "The insolence of that woman! And you actually think it is funny! You think everything is funny."
I soothed her by pointing out some of the things which I considered sad, notably English people trying to enjoy themselves. Then the men began to drop in for tea, and that succeeded in making her forget her troubles.
Reggie and the Duke arrived together. My sister at once took charge of the Duke, while Reggie said to me, "I say, what sort of creature is the old girl below?"
"Not a very good sort, I am afraid. Why? What has she done now?"
"Why, she stopped Abingdon and me and asked us to wipe our shoes."
"She asked the Duke of Abingdon to wipe his shoes?" I gasped, in a whisper.
"Yes; and Freddie, who was just ahead of us, turned back and said, 'My good woman, was the cab very dirty, do you think?'"
"Oh, don't tell my sister! She has almost died of Mrs. Black already to-day; this would finish her completely."
"Well, you must give your woman a talking to—a regular going over, d'ye know? Tell her you'll be the mistress of the whole blooming house or you'll tear it to pieces. That's the way to talk to 'em. I told my landlady in Edinburgh once that I'd chuck her out of the window if she spoke to me until she was spoken to. She came up and rapped on the door one Saturday night at ten o'clock, when I had some fellows there, and told me to send those men home and go to bed."
"Then she isn't taking advantage of us because we are Americans, the way the cabmen do?"
"Oh yes, I dare say she is; but you must stand up to her. They're a set of thieves, the whole of 'em. I say, that's a pretty picture you've got pinned up there."
"That's to hide a hole in the lace curtain," I explained, gratuitously. Then I remembered, and glanced apprehensively at my sister, but fortunately she had not heard me. "That is one of the pictures from Truth, an American magazine. I always save the middle picture when it is pretty, and pin it up on the wall."
"That is one thing where the States are away ahead of us—in their illustrated magazines."
"Don't say 'the States!' I've told you before. I didn't know you ever admitted that anything was better in America."
Reggie only smiled affably. He ignored my offer of battle, and said:
"Abingdon is asking your sister to dine. I'm asked, and Freddie and his wife, and I think you will enjoy it."
When they were all gone I marched downstairs to Mrs. Black without saying a word to any one. When I came up I found my sister hanging over the banisters.
"What is the matter? What have you done? I knew you were angry by the way you looked."
"It was lovely!" I said. "I sent for Mrs. Black, and said, 'Mrs. Black, do you know the name of the gentleman whom you asked to wipe his shoes to-day?' 'No,' said she. 'It was the Duke of Abingdon,' I said, sternly, well knowing the unspeakable reverence which the middle-class English have for a title. She turned purple. She fell back against the wall, muttering, 'The Duke of Abingdon! The Duke of Abingdon!' I believe she is still leaning up against the wall muttering that holy name. A title to Mrs. Black!"
The next day both the Tabbies were curtsying in the hall when we started out. We were going on a coach to Richmond with Julia and her husband, and another American girl, and then Julia's husband was going to row us up the Thames to Hampton Court for tea, and they were all going to dine with us at Scott's when we got home.
It was a lovely day. The trees were a mass of bloom, and everybody ought to have enjoyed himself. We were having a very good time of it among ourselves reading the absurd signs, until we noticed the three girls who sat opposite to us. They had serious faces, and long, consumptive teeth, which they never succeeded in completely hiding. I knew just how they would look when they were dead; I knew that those two long front teeth would still—They listened to all we said without a flicker of the eyelashes. Occasionally they looked down at the size of the American girl's little feet and then involuntarily drew their own back out of sight.
Presently I espied a sign, "Funerals, for this week only, at half price." I seized Julia's hand. "Stop, oh, stop the coach and let's get a funeral! We may never have an opportunity to get a bargain in funerals again. And the sale lasts only one week. Everybody told me before I came away to get what I wanted at the moment I saw it; not to wait, thinking I would come back. So unless we order one now we may have to pay the full price. And a funeral would be such a good investment; it would keep forever. You'd never feel like using it before you actually needed it. Do let me get one now!"
Of course, Julia, my sister,