The
cottage from the window of which
the Misses Williams had looked
out stands, and has stood for
many a year, in that pleasant
suburban district which lies
between Norwood, Anerley, and
Forest Hill. Long before there
had been a thought of a township
there, when the Metropolis was
still quite a distant thing,
old Mr.
Williams had inhabited "The Brambles," as the little house was called, and had
owned all the fields about it. Six or eight such cottages scattered over a rolling
country-side were all the houses to be found there in the days when the century
was young. From afar, when the breeze came from the north, the dull, low roar
of the great city might be heard, like the breaking of the tide of life, while
along the horizon might be seen the dim curtain of smoke, the grim spray which
that tide threw up. Gradually, however, as the years passed, the City had thrown
out a long brick-feeler here and there, curving, extending, and coalescing, until
at last the little cottages had been gripped round by these red tentacles, and
had been absorbed to make room for the modern villa. Field by field the estate
of old Mr. Williams had been sold to the speculative builder, and had borne rich
crops of snug suburban dwellings, arranged in curving crescents and tree-lined
avenues. The father had passed away before his cottage was entirely bricked round,
but his two daughters, to whom the property had descended, lived to see the last
vestige of country taken from them. For years they had clung to the one field
which faced their windows, and it was only after much argument and many heartburnings,
that they had at last consented that it should share the fate of the others.
A broad road was driven through their quiet domain, the
quarter was re-named "The Wilderness," and three square, staring, uncompromising
villas began to sprout up on the other side. With sore hearts, the two shy little
old maids watched their steady progress, and speculated as to what fashion of
neighbors chance would bring into the little nook which had always been their
own.
And
at last they
were all three
finished. Wooden balconies and
overhanging eaves had been added
to them, so that, in the language
of the advertisement, there were
vacant three eligible Swiss-built
villas, with sixteen rooms, no
basement, electric bells, hot
and cold water, and every modern
convenience, including a common
tennis lawn, to be let at L100
a year, or L1,500 purchase. So
tempting an offer did not long
remain open. Within a few weeks
the card had vanished from number
one, and it was known that Admiral
Hay Denver, V. C., C. B., with
Mrs. Hay Denver and their only
son, were about to move into
it. The news brought peace to
the hearts of the Williams sisters.
They had lived with a settled
conviction that some wild impossible
colony, some shouting, singing
family of madcaps, would break
in upon their peace. This establishment
at least was irreproachable.
A reference to "Men of the Time" showed
them that Admiral Hay Denver
was a most distinguished officer,
who had begun his active career
at Bomarsund, and had ended it
at Alexandria, having managed
between these two episodes to
see as much service as any man
of his years. From the Taku Forts
and the _Shannon_ brigade, to
dhow-harrying off Zanzibar, there
was no variety of naval work
which did not appear in his record;
while the Victoria Cross, and
the Albert Medal for saving life,
vouched for it that in peace
as in war his courage was still
of the same true temper. Clearly
a very eligible neighbor this,
the more so as they had been
confidentially assured by the
estate agent that Mr. Harold
Denver, the son, was a most quiet
young gentleman, and that he
was busy from morning to night
on the Stock Exchange.
The
Hay Denvers
had hardly
moved in before
number two
also
struck its placard, and again
the ladies found that they had
no reason to be discontented
with their neighbors. Doctor
Balthazar Walker was a very well-known
name in the medical world. Did
not his qualifications, his membership,
and the record of his writings
fill a long half-column in the "Medical
Directory," from his first little
paper on the "Gouty Diathesis" in
1859 to his exhaustive treatise
upon "Affections of the Vaso-Motor
System" in 1884? A successful
medical career which promised
to end in a presidentship of
a college and a baronetcy, had
been cut short by his sudden
inheritance of a considerable
sum from a grateful patient,
which had rendered him independent
for life, and had enabled him
to turn his attention to the
more scientific part of his profession,
which had always had a greater
charm for him than its more practical
and commercial aspect. To this
end he had given up his house
in Weymouth Street, and had taken
this opportunity of moving himself,
his scientific instruments, and
his two charming daughters (he
had been a widower for some years)
into the more peaceful atmosphere
of Norwood.
There was thus but one villa
unoccupied, and it was no wonder
that the two maiden ladies watched
with a keen interest, which deepened
into a dire apprehension, the
curious incidents which heralded
the coming of the new tenants.
They had already learned from
the agent that the family consisted
of two only, Mrs. Westmacott,
a widow, and her nephew, Charles
Westmacott. How simple and how
select it had sounded! Who could
have foreseen from it these fearful
portents which seemed to threaten
violence and discord among the
dwellers in The Wilderness? Again
the two old maids cried in heartfelt
chorus that they wished they
had not sold their field.
"Well, at least, Monica," remarked
Bertha, as they sat over their
teacups that afternoon, "however
strange these people may be,
it is our duty to be as polite
to them as to the others."
"Most certainly," acquiesced
her sister.
"Since
we have called
upon Mrs. Hay
Denver and
upon the
Misses Walker, we must call upon
this Mrs. Westmacott also."
"Certainly,
dear. As long
as they are
living upon
our land
I feel as if they were in a sense
our guests, and that it is our
duty to welcome them."
"Then we shall call to-morrow," said
Bertha, with decision.
"Yes,
dear, we shall.
But, oh, I
wish it was
over!"
At four o'clock on the next
day, the two maiden ladies set
off upon their hospitable errand.
In their stiff, crackling dresses
of black silk, with jet-bespangled
jackets, and little rows of cylindrical
grey curls drooping down on either
side of their black bonnets,
they looked like two old fashion
plates which had wandered off
into the wrong decade. Half curious
and half fearful, they knocked
at the door of number three,
which was instantly opened by
a red-headed page-boy.
Yes, Mrs. Westmacott was at
home. He ushered them into the
front room, furnished as a drawing-room,
where in spite of the fine spring
weather a large fire was burning
in the grate. The boy took their
cards, and then, as they sat
down together upon a settee,
he set their nerves in a thrill
by darting behind a curtain with
a shrill cry, and prodding at
something with his foot. The
bull pup which they had seen
upon the day before bolted from
its hiding-place, and scuttled
snarling from the room.
"It wants to get at Eliza," said
the youth, in a confidential
whisper. "Master says she would
give him more'n he brought." He
smiled affably at the two little
stiff black figures, and departed
in search of his mistress.
"What--what did he say?" gasped
Bertha.
"Something about a---- Oh,
goodness gracious! Oh, help,
help, help, help, help!" The
two sisters had bounded on to
the settee, and stood there with
staring eyes and skirts gathered
in, while they filled the whole
house with their yells. Out of
a high wicker-work basket which
stood by the fire there had risen
a flat diamond-shaped head with
wicked green eyes which came
flickering upwards, waving gently
from side to side, until a foot
or more of glossy scaly neck
was visible. Slowly the vicious
head came floating up, while
at every oscillation a fresh
burst of shrieks came from the
settee.
"What in the name of mischief!" cried
a voice, and there was the mistress
of the house standing in the
doorway. Her gaze at first had
merely taken in the fact that
two strangers were standing screaming
upon her red plush sofa. A glance
at the fireplace, however, showed
her the cause of the terror,
and she burst into a hearty fit
of laughter.
"Charley," she shouted, "here's
Eliza misbehaving again."
"I'll settle her," answered
a masculine voice, and the young
man dashed into the room. He
had a brown horse-cloth in his
hand, which he threw over the
basket, making it fast with a
piece of twine so as to effectually
imprison its inmate, while his
aunt ran across to reassure her
visitors.
"It is only a rock snake, " she
explained.
"Oh, Bertha!" "Oh, Monica!" gasped
the poor exhausted gentlewomen.
"She's hatching
out some eggs. That is why
we have the fire.
Eliza always does better when
she is warm. She is a sweet,
gentle creature, but no doubt
she thought that you had designs
upon her eggs. I suppose that
you did not touch any of them?"
"Oh, let us
get away, Bertha!' cried Monica,
with her thin,
black-gloved hands thrown forwards
in abhorrence.
"Not away, but into the next
room," said Mrs. Westmacott,
with the air of one whose word
was law. "This way, if you please!
It is less warm here." She led
the way into a very handsomely
appointed library, with three
great cases of books, and upon
the fourth side a long yellow
table littered over with papers
and scientific instruments. "Sit
here, and you, there," she continued. "That
is right. Now let me see, which
of you is Miss Williams, and
which Miss Bertha Williams?"
"I am Miss Williams," said
Monica, still palpitating, and
glancing furtively about in dread
of some new horror.
"And you live, as I understand,
over at the pretty little cottage.
It is very nice of you to call
so early. I don't suppose that
we shall get on, but still the
intention is equally good." She
crossed her legs and leaned her
back against the marble mantelpiece.
"We thought that perhaps we
might be of some assistance," said
Bertha, timidly. "If there is
anything which we could do to
make you feel more at home----"
"Oh, thank
you, I am too old a traveler
to feel anything but
at home wherever I go. I've just
come back from a few months in
the Marquesas Islands, where
I had a very pleasant visit.
That was where I got Eliza. In
many respects the Marquesas Islands
now lead the world."
"Dear me!" ejaculated Miss
Williams. "In what respect?"
"In the relation
of the sexes. They have worked
out the great
problem upon their own lines,
and their isolated geographical
position has helped them to come
to a conclusion of their own.
The woman there is, as she should
be, in every way the absolute
equal of the male. Come in, Charles,
and sit down. Is Eliza all right?"
"All right,
aunt."
"These are
our neighbors, the Misses Williams.
Perhaps they
will have some stout. You might
bring in a couple of bottles,
Charles."
"No, no, thank you! None for
us!" cried her two visitors,
earnestly.
"No? I am sorry that I have
no tea to offer you. I look upon
the subserviency of woman as
largely due to her abandoning
nutritious drinks and invigorating
exercises to the male. I do neither." She
picked up a pair of fifteen-pound
dumb-bells from beside the fireplace
and swung them lightly about
her head. "You see what may be
done on stout," said she.
"But don't you think," the
elder Miss Williams suggested
timidly, "don't you think, Mrs.
Westmascott, that woman has a
mission of her own?"
The lady of the house dropped
her dumb-bells with a crash upon
the floor.
"The old cant!" she cried. "The
old shibboleth! What is this
mission which is reserved for
woman? All that is humble, that
is mean, that is soul-killing,
that is so contemptible and so
ill-paid that none other will
touch it. All that is woman's
mission. And who imposed these
limitations upon her? Who cooped
her up within this narrow sphere?
Was it Providence? Was it nature?
No, it was the arch enemy. It
was man."
"Oh, I say, auntie!" drawled
her nephew.
"It was man,
Charles. It was you and your
fellows I say that
woman is a colossal monument
to the selfishness of man. What
is all this boasted chivalry--these
fine words and vague phrases?
Where is it when we wish to put
it to the test? Man in the abstract
will do anything to help a woman.
Of course. How does it work when
his pocket is touched? Where
is his chivalry then? Will the
doctors help her to qualify?
will the lawyers help her to
be called to the bar? will the
clergy tolerate her in the Church?
Oh, it is close your ranks then
and refer poor woman to her mission!
Her mission! To be thankful for
coppers and not to interfere
with the men while they grabble
for gold, like swine round a
trough, that is man's reading
of the mission of women. You
may sit there and sneer, Charles,
while you look upon your victim,
but you know that it is truth,
every word of it.
Terrified as they were by this
sudden torrent of words, the
two gentlewomen could not but
smile at the sight of the fiery,
domineering victim and the big
apologetic representative of
mankind who sat meekly bearing
all the sins of his sex. The
lady struck a match, whipped
a cigarette from a case upon
the mantelpiece, and began to
draw the smoke into her lungs.
"I find it very soothing when
my nerves are at all ruffled," she
explained. "You don't smoke?
Ah, you miss one of the purest
of pleasures--one of the few
pleasures which are without a
reaction."
Miss Williams smoothed out
her silken lap.
"It is a pleasure," she said,
with some approach to self-assertion, "which
Bertha and I are rather too old-fashioned
to enjoy."
"No doubt,
It would probably make you
very ill if you attempted
it. By the way, I hope that you
will come to some of our Guild
meetings. I shall see that tickets
are sent you."
"Your Guild?"
"It is not
yet formed, but I shall lose
no time in forming
a committee. It is my habit to
establish a branch of the Emancipation
Guild wherever I go. There is
a Mrs. Sanderson in Anerley who
is already one of the emancipated,
so that I have a nucleus. It
is only by organized resistance,
Miss Williams, that we can hope
to hold our own against the selfish
sex. Must you go, then?"
"Yes, we have one or two other
visits to pay," said the elder
sister. "You will, I am sure,
excuse us. I hope that you will
find Norwood a pleasant residence."
"All places are to me simply
a battle-field," she answered,
gripping first one and then the
other with a grip which crumpled
up their little thin fingers. "The
days for work and healthful exercise,
the evenings to Browning and
high discourse, eh, Charles?
Good-bye!" She came to the door
with them, and as they glanced
back they saw her still standing
there with the yellow bull pup
cuddled up under one forearm,
and the thin blue reek of her
cigarette ascending from her
lips.
"Oh, what a dreadful, dreadful
woman!" whispered sister Bertha,
as they hurried down the street. "Thank
goodness that it is over."
"But she'll return the visit," answered
the other. "I think that we had
better tell Mary that we are
not at home. |