The Three Miss Kings 8

The Three Miss Kings 8

CHAPTER VII.

 

 

A MORNING WALK.

 

 

But they slept well in their strange beds, and by morning all their

little troubles had disappeared. It was impossible not to suppose

that the pets "at home" were making themselves happy, seeing how the

sun shone and the sea breezes blew; and Dan, who had reached years of

discretion, was evidently disposed to submit himself to circumstances.

Having a good view of the back yard, they could see him lolling

luxuriously on the warm asphalte, as if he had been accustomed to be

chained up, and liked it. Concerning their most pressing anxiety--the

rapid manner in which money seemed to melt away, leaving so little to

show for it--it was pointed out that at least half the sum expended was

for a special purpose, and chargeable to the reserve fund and not to

their regular income, from which at present only five pounds had been

taken, which was to provide all their living for a week to come.

 

So they went downstairs in serene and hopeful spirits, and gladdened

the eyes of the gentlemen boarders who were standing about the

dining-room, devouring the morning's papers while they waited for

breakfast. There were three of them, and each placed a chair promptly,

and each offered handsomely to resign his newspaper. Elizabeth took an

_Argus_ to see what advertisements there were of houses to let; and

then Mrs. M'Intyre came in with her coffee-pot and her cheerful face,

and they sat down to breakfast. Mrs. M'Intyre was that rare exception

to the rule, a boarding-house keeper who had private means as well as

the liberal disposition of which the poorest have their share, and so

her breakfast was a good breakfast. And the presence of strangers at

table was not so unpleasant to our girls on this occasion as the last.

 

After breakfast they had a solemn consultation, the result being that

the forenoon was dedicated to the important business of buying their

clothes and finding their way to and from the shops.

 

"For we must have _bonnets_," said Patty, "and that immediately.

Bonnets, I perceive, are the essential tokens of respectability. And we

must never ride in a cab again."

 

They set off at ten o'clock, escorted by Mrs. M'Intyre, who chanced

to be going to the city to do some marketing. The landlady, being a

very fat woman, to whom time was precious, took the omnibus, according

to custom; but her companions with one consent refused to squander

unnecessary threepences by accompanying her in that vehicle. They had a

straight road before them all the way from the corner of Myrtle Street

to the Fishmarket, where she had business; and there they joined her

when she had completed her purchases, and she gave them a fair start at

the foot of Collins Street before she left them.

 

In Collins Street they spent the morning--a bewildering, exciting,

anxious morning--going from shop to shop, and everywhere finding

that the sum they had brought to spend was utterly inadequate for

the purpose to which they had dedicated it. They saw any quantity of

pretty soft stuffs, that were admirably adapted alike to their taste

and means, but to get them fashioned into gowns seemed to treble their

price at once; and, as Patty represented, they must have one, at any

rate, that was made in the mode before they could feel it safe to

manufacture for themselves. They ended by choosing--as a measure of

comparative safety, for thus only could they know what they were doing,

as Patty said--three ready-made costumes that took their fancy, the

combined cost of which was a few shillings over the ten pounds. They

were merely morning dresses of black woollen stuff; lady-like, and with

a captivating style of "the world" about them, but in the lowest class

of goods of that kind dispensed in those magnificent shops. Of course

that was the end of their purchases for the day; the selection of

mantles, bonnets, gloves, boots, and all the other little odds and ends

on Elizabeth's list was reserved for a future occasion. For the idea of

buying anything on twenty-four hours' credit was never entertained for

a moment. To be sure, they did ask about the bonnets, and were shown a

great number, in spite of their polite anxiety not to give unprofitable

trouble; and not one that they liked was less than several pounds in

price. Dismayed and disheartened, they "left it" (Patty's suggestion

again); and they gave the rest of their morning to the dressmaker, who

undertook to remodel the bodices of the new gowns and make them fit

properly. This fitting was not altogether a satisfactory business,

either; for the dressmaker insisted that a well-shaped corset was

indispensable--especially in these days, when fit was everything--and

they had no corsets and did not wish for any. She was, however, a

dressmaker of decision and resource, and she sent her assistant for a

bundle of corsets, in which she encased her helpless victims before she

would begin the ripping and snipping and pulling and pinning process.

When they saw their figures in the glass, with their fashionable tight

skirts and unwrinkled waists, they did not know themselves; and I am

afraid that Patty and Eleanor, at any rate, were disposed to regard

corsets favourably and to make light of the discomfort they were

sensibly conscious of in wearing them. Elizabeth, whose natural shape

was so beautiful--albeit she is destined, if the truth must be told, to

be immensely stout and heavy some day--was not seduced by this specious

appearance. She ordered the dressmaker, with a quiet peremptoriness

that would have become a carriage customer, to make the waists of the

three gowns "free" and to leave the turnings on; and she took off the

borrowed corset, and drew a long breath, inwardly determining never to

wear such a thing again, even to have a dress fitted--fashion or no

fashion.

 

It was half-past twelve by this time, and at one o'clock Mrs. M'Intyre

would expect them in to lunch. They wanted to go home by way of those

green enclosures that Paul Brion had told them of, and of which they

had had a glimpse yesterday--which the landlady had assured them was

the easiest thing possible. They had but to walk right up to the top of

Collins Street, turn to the right, where they would see a gate leading

into gardens, pass straight through those gardens, cross a road and

go straight through other gardens, which would bring them within a

few steps of Myrtle Street--a way so plain that they couldn't miss

it if they tried. Ways always do seem so to people who know them. Our

three girls were self-reliant young women, and kept their wits about

them very creditably amid their novel and distracting surroundings.

Nevertheless they were at some loss with respect to this obvious route.

Because, in the first place, they didn't know which was the top of

Collins Street and which the bottom.

 

"Dear me! we shall be reduced to the ignominious necessity of asking

our way," exclaimed Eleanor, as they stood forlornly on the pavement,

jostled by the human tide that flowed up and down. "If only we had Paul

Brion here."

 

It was very provoking to Patty, but he _was_ there. Being a small man,

he did not come into view till he was within a couple of yards of them,

and that was just in time to overhear this invocation. His ordinarily

fierce aspect, which she had disrespectfully likened to that of Dan

when another terrier had insulted him, had for the moment disappeared.

The little man showed all over him the pleased surprise with which he

had caught the sound of his own name.

 

"Have you got so far already?" he exclaimed, speaking in his sharp and

rapid way, while his little moustache bristled with such a smile as

they had not thought him capable of. "And--and can I assist you in any

way?"

 

Elizabeth explained their dilemma; upon which he declared he was

himself going to East Melbourne (whence he had just come, after his

morning sleep and noontide breakfast), and asked leave to escort them

thither. "How fortunate we are!" Elizabeth said, turning to walk up the

street by his side; and Eleanor told him he was like his father in the

opportuneness of his friendly services. But Patty was silent, and raged

inwardly.

 

When they had traversed the length of the street, and were come to the

open space before the Government offices, where they could fall again

into one group, she made an effort to get rid of him and the burden of

obligation that he was heaping upon them.

 

"Mr. Brion," she began impetuously, "we know where we are now quite

well--"

 

"I don't think you do," he interrupted her, "seeing that you were never

here before."

 

"Our landlady gave us directions--she made it quite plain to us. There

is no necessity for you to trouble yourself any further. You were not

going this way when we met you, but exactly in the opposite direction."

 

"I am going this way now, at any rate," he said, with decision. "I am

going to show your sisters their way through the gardens. There are a

good many paths, and they don't all lead to Myrtle Street."

 

"But we know the points of the compass--we have our general

directions," she insisted angrily, as she followed him helplessly

through the gates. "We are not quite idiots, though we do come from the

country."

 

"Patty," interposed Elizabeth, surprised, "I am glad of Mr. Brion's

kind help, if you are not."

 

"Patty," echoed Eleanor in an undertone, "that haughty spirit of yours

will have a fall some day."

 

Patty felt that it was having a fall now. "I know it is very kind of

Mr. Brion," she said tremulously, "but how are we to get on and do for

ourselves if we are treated like children--I mean if we allow ourselves

to hang on to other people? We should make our own way, as others have

to do. I don't suppose _you_ had anyone to lead you about when _you_

first came to Melbourne"--addressing Paul.

 

"I was a man," he replied. "It is a man's business to take care of

himself."

 

"Of course. And equally it is a woman's business to take care of

herself--if she has no man in her family."

 

"Pardon me. In that case it is the business of all the men with whom

she comes in contact to take care of her--each as he can."

 

"Oh, what nonsense! You talk as if we lived in the time of the

Troubadours--as if you didn't _know_ that all that stuff about women

has had its day and been laughed out of existence long ago."

 

"What stuff?"

 

"That we are helpless imbeciles--a sort of angelic wax baby, good

for nothing but to look pretty. As if we were not made of the same

substance as you, with brains and hands--not so strong as yours,

perhaps, but quite strong enough to rely upon when necessary. Oh!"

exclaimed Patty, with a fierce gesture, "I do so _hate_ that man's cant

about women--I have no patience with it!"

 

"You must have been severely tried," murmured Paul (he was beginning

to think the middle Miss King a disagreeable person, and to feel

vindictive towards her). And Eleanor laughed cruelly, and said, "Oh,

no, she's got it all out of books."

 

"A great mistake to go by books," said he, with the air of a father.

"Experience first--books afterwards, Miss Patty." And he smiled coolly into the girl's flaming face.