Hilda Lessways

sways’ S

ret; they were conspirators together: which fact was both disconcerting and delicious. She recalled their propinquity in the lobby; the remembered syllables which he had uttered mingled with the faint scent of his broadcloth, the whiteness of his wristbands, the gleam of his studs, the droop of his moustaches, the downward ray of his glance, and the proud, nimble carria

reath-taking initiative, fear of the upshot of her adventure, and a fear without a name. Nevertheless she exulted.

got nearly to the scullery door with her wringing and splashing and wiping; and she had dirtied even her face. As Hilda absently looked at her, she thought somehow of Mr. Cannon’s white wristbands. She saw the washing and the ironing of those wristbands, and a slatternly woman or two sighing and grumbling amid wreaths of steam, and a background of cinders and suds and sloppiness.... All that, so that the grand creature might have a rim of pure whi

benevolence was not quite absent. The drastic treatment accorded to her cold seemed to have done it good

epeated, at a loss an

use she was afraid lest Mr. Cannon, as a member of the older generation, might have betrayed her to her mother. This fear was not very genuine, though she pretended that it was and enjoyed playing with it: as if she really desired a catastrophe for the outcome of her adventure. She had only come downstairs in response to her mother’s direct summons, and instantly on seeing her she had k

s. Lessways’ phrase,—“You’ve got you

of the Calder Street rents,” explained Mrs.

are of self-

ous. “You’re as pleased as Punch, and you’re saying to yourself you’ve

prim worldliness,—“I thought I heard him

o admit that in truth her mother was not completely a simpleton. In her mother was a vein of perceptive shrewdness that occasionally cropped out and made all Hilda’s critical philosophy seem school-girlish.) “Do you think I don’t know George Cannon? He came here o’ purpose to get that rent-collecting. Well, he’s got it, and he’s

other, secretly very flattered and delighted by the visit, was adopting a derisive attitude in order to ‘show off’ before h

he said a great deal. He doesn’t. I’ll say this for him. He’s always the gentleman. And I couldn’t say as much for h

sis

, since you’re so part

faintly to recall a forgotten fact of whi

nd content. “I did hear she’s quarrelled out and out with him,

iend of Mrs. Lessways. The friendship was legendary in the house, and the grand quarrel which had finally put an e

cloth and the coloured fruit-jelly and the silver spoon

she has,” said Mrs. Lessways,

and the hot-water jug. The child wore proudly a new white apron that was a little too long for her, and she smile

when Florrie had whispered and gone: “Now we shall see if she can make t

eing poured on the leaves. There was something in this Florrie. Already she was exhibiting the mysterious quality of efficiency. The first day, being the firs

kfast-cup full of steaming tea, to drink with the thick bread-and-butter on the scrubbed kitchen-table, all by herse

o herself, maternally reflectin

i

tally Hilda was thereby placated. Why should she not be happy? She wished for nothing else. And she was not a woman to meet trouble half-way. One of her greatest qualities was that she did not unduly worry. (Hilda might say that she did not worry enough, letting things go.) In spite of her cold, she yielded with more gusto t

sad because her adventure was over—over too soon and too easily. She thought, now, that really she would have preferred a catastrophe as the end of it. She had got what she desired; but she was no better off than she had been before the paralytic stroke of Mr. Skellorn. Domesticity had closed in on her once more. Her secret adventure had become sterile. Its risks were destroyed, and nothing could spring from it. Neverth

lf-brother?” Hilda demanded

mother, that is—married a foreign

nnon isn’t

yes. Surely you knew all about that,

by Peels at Bursley, the great rivals of Mintons and of Copelands. And that in course of time the modeller had informally changed the name to Cannon

be a solicitor?” Hil

em, and more! And he has that Mr. Karkeek to cover him like. That’s what they say.... He used to be a lawyer’s clerk—at Toms and Scoles’s, I think it was. Then

talk F

! My word, he can that! Eh, he’s a ‘c

ated at the table, was awa

g thought oc

he’ll expect me to go and see him and talk it over. And I suppose I shall have