Chapter VII

Into a New Home

PATTIE DALE was very young, and not much versed in the ways of the world. Nevertheless, she had eyes and ears, and she knew how to use them.

It had not escaped her attention, in these few days of trouble, that Cragg's kindness was all his own action, and not that of his wife. She had noted that he seldom spoke of Mrs. Cragg, that when he did speak, it was in a dubious and uncomfortable manner, that he brought no message of sympathy from Mrs. Cragg, that Mrs. Cragg never came with him.

Though she did not count it needful to tell him, she was not in absolute ignorance of what had passed between him and her father. A few minutes after her return to the sick-room, Mr. Dale had whispered feebly, "Lean down, dear. Listen to me, Pattie. That is a good man,—a good man! He will take care of you. He will give my Pattie a home—always—for always. He promised—promised me." Then, before Pattie could ask any questions, or could, if so disposed, make any protest, insensibility had come on. Those were her father's last conscious words.

None the less, Pattie thought things over. She recalled her impressions about Mrs. Cragg, and she decided privately that, whatever Cragg in his kindness of heart might intend, it was by no means certain that his wife would agree with him. She also thought that in any case she could not be content to live a life of dependence. If Cragg should offer her a home, she might go to him for a while, but certainly not for always. She fully meant to work for her own living. Sixteen is, however, young for making one's way in life, especially without previous training, and Pattie knew this.

Cragg did make the offer, and Pattie, while falling in with it, let him understand that she did not look upon the plan as permanent. She kept her own counsel, and would not show how much she knew. It seemed to her that he and she would both be more free, if he was unaware how much she had heard.

Mrs. Cragg on the day after the funeral was not very agreeable. She asked her husband no questions, but glowered sulkily. He told her after breakfast that Pattie was coming before night, and inquired where she was to sleep.

"How am I to know?" was Mrs. Cragg's reply. "I don't keep rooms for taking in of riff-raff."

"Pattie Dale is no more riff-raff than you and I are!" Cragg was roused to reply firmly. Things had reached a point when he would either have to set his foot down firmly, or to give way and break his word.

"I know what she is. I knew it the first moment I set eyes on those two."

"My dear, it really does not matter what you may imagine them to have been. Mr. Dale is dead, and I have—I intend to provide for his child, at all events until she can do for herself."

"You have—what?"

"I have made up my mind to do as much as that." Cragg wished now that he had been more open.

"There's the workhouse."

"She will not go to the workhouse so long as I can prevent it."

"She could get a place, I suppose—if she ain't too grand."

"My dear, Pattie is coming here for the present."

Mrs. Cragg tossed her head.

"There's only one other way," Cragg said suddenly. "If she isn't happy here, and doesn't wish to stay, then I shall have to pay for her being taken in by somebody else. It will cost more, and I've none too much money to spare. But if things come to that, why, it will have to be, and we must save in another direction. So now I hope you understand."

"I always said you were crazy about those Dales." But it was plain that Mrs. Cragg did understand. The idea of drawing in elsewhere was, unwelcome; and she thought better of some previous resolutions. She had meant to make the arrangement so far unpleasant to Pattie, that Pattie would speedily wish to go. Since that scheme could only end in her having less money to spend, she began to take a different view of the matter. If Pattie had to come, the best plan would be to make use of the girl.

These ideas passed through Mrs. Cragg's mind. While Cragg was still meditating on his last words and on her reply, she had travelled miles ahead, and her next remark took him by surprise:

"Well, if it's got to be—though I don't hold with you, mind, and I think a man's first duty is to his own wife and children—"

"But not his whole duty, surely!"

"That's another question, Mr. Cragg. What I was saying was, that I think a man's duty is to his wife and children, and not to any sort of riff-raff he can pick up anywhere. But if it's got to be, it's got to be; and I suppose she can have that little room at the back, on the ground floor. It isn't wanted particular for anything else, I suppose?"

"It'll want making comfortable."

"People living on charity have no business to expect grandeur."

"My dear, if you would but be reasonable! Who spoke of grandeur? I simply wish the room to be made comfortable. In an hour or two I will take a look at it. A bed is easily put there, and—but I will see what is wanted. Pattie will not be here till late in the afternoon. I have promised to fetch her."

"As if she couldn't walk alone. What's the good of making a fine lady of her? Hasn't she got any furniture of her own? Why isn't it brought up out of the mine?"

"A few attempts have been made, but the things are so broken as to be almost useless."

"I suppose she can take her meals with the servants?"

"No, my dear. She will sit at table with us. I wish her to be one of ourselves. When you have learnt to know Pattie, you will feel as I do."

Mrs. Cragg tossed her head.

"Well, if she comes here, she ain't going to be idle. I shall give her something to do."

"I am sure Pattie would wish to be useful. But she must not have hard work."

Cragg thought he had said enough, and he made his escape. Busy as he was, he did not forget to take a look into the small room, and it was owing to him that, when he brought her that afternoon, the said little room wore a cosy and comfortable appearance. Pattie glanced round with pleased eyes.

"How nice! What a dear room! I shall like to sleep here," she said gratefully.

Cragg wondered how she would like something else in the house. He had to present Pattie to his wife, and that meant an ordeal for himself, as well as for the unconscious Pattie.

Not that Pattie was so unconscious as he supposed. She had not the least expectation of a warm reception from Mrs. Cragg. And if her eyes did open rather widely at the first sight of the latter, it was not in surprise at the greeting vouchsafed, but in amazement at Mrs. Cragg's green velveteen jacket and red feather. Pattie's slim figure, in black skirt and jacket, with neat crape-trimmed hat, made an effective contrast.

"So you've come?" said Mrs. Cragg, looking her up and down.

"Mr. Cragg was so kind; he fetched me," Pattie answered, with a glow of gratitude.

"I'm sure I don't know how he managed it. He never has time to do anything I want. Always too busy."

"My dear, I really don't know that you have wanted anything to-day."

"If you had known, it wouldn't have made a grain or difference. You'd have had too much to see to, going off there."

Cragg looked apologetically towards Pattie.

"But I could have come alone," Pattie said quietly. "I dare say I should have felt a little shy, because I didn't know you; but that wouldn't have mattered. I could easily have done it. And then Mr. Cragg could have seen to whatever you wanted. I'm so sorry you didn't tell about it."

What could Mrs. Cragg say? There was no room for a sharp answer to Pattie's gentleness.

"And now you know my wife, I want you to know my little girl," Cragg said, delighted with Pattie's mode of meeting his wife's humour. He began to hope that things would go better than he had ventured to expect.

"Little Dot! I should like that so much. I love children."

"Here she comes!" exclaimed Cragg.

Dot made her appearance after her own fashion: calmly and deliberately, with small head held well up, and light-grey eyes widely-opened. She ignored her own relatives, and advanced straight towards Pattie. Then disappointment fell upon the infant mind.

"You'm not that poo-ar lickle girl. You'm drown-up,' she asserted.

"What a little darling!" murmured Pattie.

"All drown-up," repeated Dot, in profound disappointment.

"But I'm not grown up; truly I'm not. I am only a girl still, Dot. Not really grown up. And I love games of play. May I play with you sometimes? And I love reading stories aloud. May I read to you?"

"Pay glames and lead to me all day long," declared Dot, without an instant's hesitation. She seized Pattie's hand to draw her away.

"But, hallo, Dot,—you're forgetting me. Not a word for-poor old daddy!" protested her father.

Dot stopped and gave him a perfunctory kiss, then returned to Pattie.

"Pay glames and lead," she repeated. "Tome along."

Pattie looked at Mrs. Cragg.

"May I go?" she asked. "May I take care of Dot sometimes for you?"

Mrs. Cragg assented, not too graciously, and Pattie vanished, led by the fat little hands of Dot. Cragg looked at his wife.

"Well?" he said.

Mrs. Cragg tossed her head.

"Well, I just say the same, Mr. Cragg. I hold that a man's duty is to his own, and not to a pack of strangers. But if she's got to be here, she may as well be useful. If she likes to look after Dot, she's welcome; so long as she don't spoil the child worse than she's spoilt already. You've done enough that way, I hope. There's no managing her when she hears your voice. Not a child in the town is worse spoilt than Dot. And I say it's a shame."

"My dear, she's an uncommon good child. Why, Dot never cries."

"If she don't cry, she gets her own way a lot too much. You're for ever fussing about her. And if Pattie Dale is going to do the same, she'll be unbearable."

"Come, come, my dear. If people want a grievance, they can always make one."

"I suppose you mean to say that I'm making a grievance, Mr. Cragg!"

Mr. Cragg had had that thought in his mind, but he wisely held his tongue, and ventured on no further remarks.

Pattie spent a happy hour with Dot. As she had said, she dearly loved children, and Dot, though not pretty, was clever and winning and lovable. Few children, indeed, fail to be lovable, and Dot was not one of those few.

Pattie had been feeling very sore at heart and desolate; and nothing could well have comforted her more than Dot's soft arms round her neck, and Dot's smiling face close to her own. Before ten minutes were over the two had become fast friends; and Pattie knew that, though life in this house might mean divers rubs, and perhaps a great many harsh words, it would also mean a dear little friend and companion.

When Dot went to bed, Pattie had to go to tea with Mr. and Mrs. Cragg, and that event she had been dreading. Still, it could not be escaped, and she was quietly brave in meeting the duties of life, one after another, without needless fears and complainings. At the sight of her placid face, Cragg was aware of a satisfied feeling. Tête-à-tête meals with a person of Mrs. Cragg's temperament were apt to flag, since five times in six she was sure to be offended at something said or not said. Pattie's presence made a change. Mrs. Cragg seemed to be under some slight restraint, and she was not quite so tart as usual; while Cragg had one to whom he could make remarks, which he found to be an advantage.

But when tea was ended, somebody called Cragg away, and Pattie was left alone with Mrs. Cragg.

Mrs. Cragg eyed her curiously, expecting to see signs of embarrassment. There were not any, however. Pattie looked tired and sad, but not embarrassed.

"Shall I help to clear away the tea things?" she asked. "I always did at home."

"Well, yes, you may as well, I suppose."

Pattie at once set to work, with light, dexterous hands which made no noise, and Mrs. Cragg idly watched her.

"What made you and your father come to this place?" she demanded.

A faint flush rose in answer.

"We were leaving our old home, and father wanted to live in a country place."

"What made you leave your home? Where was it? How long did you live there?"

"A great many years. Ever since I was a little child."

"Then why should you have come away?"

"Father wished it."

"What for?" Mrs. Cragg was not troubled by delicate scruples when she wished to gain information.

"He had lost the work he used to do. There was no need for us to stay there any longer."

"What sort of work was it?"

"He was an accountant in a small bank—a branch bank."

"Where? And what was the name of the bank?"

Pattie was silent.

"Where was it, I say?"

"I don't think I ought to tell you, Mrs. Cragg. Father wished me not to talk of those days to anybody. He told me so when first we came."

"What for?"

"We had trouble there. He had, I mean. He did not tell me all. He had done nothing wrong. It was not that. It was something he could not help. And when we came away, he said I was not to talk about our last home. So I would rather not, please."

"But if you live with us, child, we've a right to know. Why, dear me, what rubbish! How can I tell that you're a proper person to have in the house, if you won't say more, or a nice companion for Dot? I never heard such nonsense in my life! Of course you've got to tell whatever we want to know. Your father might have been—anything—" as Pattie's quiet eyes gave a slight flash. "There mustn't be any mysteries. I shall just speak to Mr. Cragg."

"I am afraid I cannot tell more," Pattie said gently. "I must do what my father wished—even now."

"You've got to do what I wish, if you mean to stay in the house—that's certain!"

"I must do what father wished," repeated Pattie.

"It isn't a question now of what he wished, but of what Mr. Cragg and I choose. If you're going to be here, you've got to be open and above-board. I can't abide secrets and mysteries. Don't you see, girl? Why, what do we know about you and your people? Haven't you got any uncles or aunts?"

"No; none."

"Nor any friends? It's they that ought to see after you. That's what I think."

"They don't know where I am. Father did not wish that they should. I am going to work for myself. As soon as possible I shall find something to do."

Mrs. Cragg tossed her head.

"You look like it! Who'd take such a child as you? If you have friends, you ought to write to them—not expect to be cared for by strangers. I never heard of such a way of going on! Of course they'll want to know where you are. And if your father did anything wrong—"

"My father did nothing wrong."

"They wouldn't visit it on you, at any rate," finished Mrs. Cragg. "You'd best tell me and Mr. Cragg all about it, and then we can advise you how to manage."

Pattie was silent.

"Well! D'you hear?" asked Mrs. Cragg sharply.

"Yes. I am very sorry; I can't do as you wish."

"Can't do what?" said Cragg, coming in.

"Who was it you went to see?" asked his wife.

That turned Cragg's thoughts, and he put no more questions. But Pattie knew that Mrs. Cragg would not let the matter drop.