Chapter X: Concerning Lottie Medland

"SPRING is really coming now," announced Ann Reed, as she stood at the dining-room window one Saturday afternoon towards the end of February; "I believe I see some crocuses in the garden. By the way, Violet, you have not been there yet."

"No," replied Violet, folding up the letter she had been engaged, for the last half hour, in writing to her people at home; "but there's not much to be seen in a garden in the winter, is there? I've finished my letter, so I'm ready to do anything you like, now. Are you thinking of going out?"

"I thought it would be nice to have a stroll round the garden."

Violet agreed, and, five minutes later, the two girls left the house together. Having posted Violet's letter at the pillar-box, at one corner of the square, they entered the garden, which they had entirely to themselves, and spent a half hour in pacing the winding paths which led through little shrubberies, and by rockeries and flower-beds, promising, in the course of a few weeks, to be gay with spring flowers where as yet only a few hardy snowdrops and yellow crocuses had ventured to bloom.

"This is an almond tree," said Ann, pausing to indicate a leafless tree under which there was a seat, "the scent of the flowers is delicious; it will be in blossom in another month if we do not get very cold weather again. I often sit here in the summer, I choose this seat if I can get it because I can see our door and watch who comes and goes. There's someone there now. Why, I do believe it's Malvina Medland! Oh, Violet, let us go back, for mother's not at home and, Malvina's so shy that for certain she'll refuse to go in if she doesn't see one of us, and she ought to have a really good rest. I expect she's brought the crochet edging."

The two girls hastened back to the house, which they reached at the moment Malvina was turning from it. The expressive face of the poor girl changed from disappointment to keenest pleasure as she caught sight of them, and a glad light shone in her blue eyes.

"Oh, Malvina, how naughty of you to think of going away without a rest!" cried Ann, reproachfully. "You must come in and have a cup of tea. Mother's not at home, but I expect she will be back presently; you must wait and see her—without, of course, you are really in a hurry?"

"I am not in a hurry, miss," Malvina answered; "but the servant said Mrs. Reed was out, and so I left the work with her. It is such a beautiful afternoon that I thought I would bring the crochet myself, though Lottie said she'd find time in the evening to run round with it if I liked."

Ann led the way into the house, and into the dining-room where she placed her visitor in an easy chair near the fireplace and removed her cloak; then she flitted away to order tea, leaving Malvina to be entertained by Violet. For a few minutes Violet was at a loss how to commence a conversation, but, at last, she remarked:—

"I suppose you do not take many walks in the winter?"

"No, miss, because you see I can't walk fast enough, if the weather's very cold, to keep myself warm; and I never leave home if mother and Lottie are away at work. The factories shut early on Saturdays."

"Why did not Lottie come with you?" inquired Ann, as she re-entered the room, followed by the tweeny-maid with the tea-tray.

Malvina appeared slightly embarrassed at this question, and she answered with some hesitation:—

"I—I hardly know, Miss Ann. I did ask her to come, but—but she has her own friends and she likes to spend her spare time with them, and—and she walks much quicker than I do."

"I daresay she does," Ann responded. "Polly, I wish you would get cook to cut us a few tongue-sandwiches," she said, turning to the servant, "I am sure Malvina could eat some after her walk, and I think I could, couldn't you, Violet?"

"Yes," nodded Violet, seeing that she was expected to assent. It had not occurred to her before that she and Ann would have tea with Malvina, and she could not help wondering what their school-fellows would think of such an arrangement; several of them had already confided to her that they considered Ann Reed very odd because she habitually went her own way, and acted as she liked without troubling her head about the opinions of others.

Seated by the fire, Malvina, who had looked cold and weary, soon grew warm and comfortable. The tea refreshed her, and she did full justice to the tongue-sandwiches—the truth being that she had had but a scanty dinner; whilst a little flush, born of excitement at the novelty of the situation, crept into her pale cheeks. The conversation was mostly between her and Ann. Violet was surprised to see how the latter, by her ready tact and sympathy, won the other's confidence, so that it was not long before Malvina was pouring out a tale of woe.

"It's Lottie mother and I are worrying about, Miss Ann," she said, her voice tremulous, her eyes misty with tears; "and—and it's owing to her I came this afternoon. I ought not to have pretended it was the beautiful weather which had enticed me out, for it wasn't that altogether. I came because we couldn't trust Lottie—it's dreadful to say it of my own sister!—and—and we want the money so badly."

"Then I am glad we stopped you from going without it," Ann replied; "you must wait till mother comes and she will pay you."

"Thank you, miss. We ought not to be so short up to-day, but—" and there was mingled shame and indignation in the girl's voice— "Lottie's not brought home her money this week, not a penny of it, and we have the rent to pay, and—oh, it's cruel of Lottie, that it is, when mother works so hard, and, for that matter, so she does herself!"

"And you work hard, too, Malvina," Ann said gently. "What has Lottie done with her money? Spent it on a new hat or something of that kind, I suppose?"

"No, Miss Ann, I only wish she had," was the mournful response, "it would have been thoughtless and selfish of her, but mother and I wouldn't have minded that so much. She has spent it in betting."

"In betting!" echoed Ann, looking astounded. "But, Malvina, I never knew—why, surely girls don't bet?" she asked incredulously.

"Oh, yes, indeed they do," Malvina declared, with a sob; "you wouldn't know it, but they do. A lot of betting goes on amongst the factory women and girls, and the bookmakers have their agents everywhere—even in the workshops, and lately poor Lottie's been led away by them. She thinks she's going to make her fortune, I believe."

"Oh, Malvina, how dreadful!" cried Ann in a shocked voice, exchanging a look of concern with Violet who was no less astonished and dismayed than herself. "I've heard father say that this is a terrible place for betting," she continued, "but I never imagined that girls would go in for it. Lottie must be out of her mind."

"If Lottie is out of her mind there are many others like her," Malvina asserted, shaking her head sadly. "You can understand what a great trouble this is to mother and me, Miss Ann, can't you?"

"Oh, indeed, yes! I am so sorry for you!"

"You see, Lottie won't listen to reason. Mother's told her that she'll end by bringing us to ruin, but she doesn't believe it. The first bet she made she won, and that made her go on; but she loses much more than she wins now, and the last three weeks she hasn't put a penny towards the housekeeping, and she's grown so ill-tempered, so unlike herself, and the most extraordinary thing is that, though she's bound to see the misery betting brings to others, it doesn't teach her a lesson. There's a family living in the same house as we do, they have the third storey, and sometimes the children haven't food to eat though their father's in regular employment; it's because his earnings mostly go in betting. I could tell you of a great many cases as bad, but I don't think I ought to. I see I've shocked you, Miss Ann, and you, too, miss," she concluded, glancing at Violet, who had been listening to all she had said with the keenest interest.

As a matter-of-fact Violet was even more shocked than Ann, for she knew nothing about the vices of big towns and cities; she had been shielded in her home from the knowledge of a great deal which had never been hidden from Ann, who was fully aware that intemperance and gambling were at the root of much of the poverty and misery which overshadowed the wage-earning classes in Barford. But Ann had not realised before to-day that even young girls were in the habit of betting, and, though she did her best to console Malvina by saying she trusted Lottie would soon see the error she was committing, her heart was filled with dismay, for she had frequently heard her father say that the mania for betting grew, and she foresaw continued trouble for Malvina and her widowed mother.

By-and-by Mrs. Reed appeared upon the scene, much to the relief of mind of her daughter, and, having examined Malvina's work and expressed her satisfaction with it, she promptly paid the money due for it and gave an order for some more. Then, cheered and refreshed by the good meal she had had, Malvina took her departure, saying she would now be able to reach home before dark.

As soon as Malvina had gone, Ann informed her mother of the tale she and Violet had heard about Lottie. Needless to say Mrs. Reed was much concerned, though she was far less surprised than the girls had been. She felt very grieved for poor Mrs. Medland and Malvina; but she shook her head when Ann asked her if she could not interfere in the matter; she could not see her way to do so.

That night, after dinner, when the doctor came into the drawing-room for the quiet hour he always so greatly enjoyed, Ann immediately spoke to him of Malvina's visit and the trouble in connection with Malvina's sister, and, though he did not know the deformed girl except by name as a protégé of his wife's, he showed no lack of interest in all his daughter told him.

"Isn't it sad, father?" she said earnestly, after she had given him all the details of the situation, "sad for poor Mrs. Medland and Malvina, I mean?"

"Yes, and sadder still for the misguided girl—Lottie, do you call her? What sort of girl is she?" he asked, glancing at his wife.

"Very good-looking, and not at all loud in her manners like so many of the factory hands," Mrs. Reed replied; "but she is very unlike Malvina, who is about a year her senior, I believe. Lottie has not been earning her own living long. I had hoped the family would have been in more comfortable circumstances now, but of course if Lottie squanders her wages the others have no chance of getting on. She will drag them down."

"I call Lottie a wicked, selfish girl," said Ann, with unusual severity in her tone, "she's very fond of dress and pleasure—very different from Malvina."

"My dear Ann, isn't it natural that a healthy girl should be fonder of dress and pleasure than a poor hunchback?" questioned her father gravely. "Did it never occur to you that by reason of her affliction your deformed friend is set apart from many temptations? Don't let your sympathy for one sister make you too hard on the other."

"But, Dr. Reed, it is very selfish of Lottie to spend her money in betting!" exclaimed Violet, her brown eyes sparkling with indignation. "And surely it must be wrong to bet?"

"Surely it is," agreed the doctor; "for, look at it in what light you may, it cannot be argued that any good can come of it, whilst we see its evil results on every side. I have little doubt that this Lottie is a foolish, ignorant girl—a selfish one, too, as you say—led away by the hope of making money without working for it. We must try not to be too hard upon her, however, but remember her temptations. Poor girl, she is greatly to be pitied. I wish something could be done to prevent the factory women betting, but it is a difficult problem to tackle. By the way, I think you remarked that these Medlands are patients of Dr. Elizabeth's? Would a word of warning from Dr. Elizabeth have any influence with this girl, Lottie, I wonder?"

"I don't know, perhaps so," Ann replied; "mother does not think she can interfere, and, when one comes to think about it, if she did Lottie would know that Malvina had been talking to us about her, and she might be resentful to her sister."

"I really know very little of Lottie," Mrs. Reed remarked, "I never knew any of the family till Dr. Elizabeth asked me if I could give Malvina an order for some crochet. No, I don't think I can interfere in this case."

"No," agreed her husband, "but Dr. Elizabeth might. She feels very strongly on this betting question, and I believe, if it was suggested to her, she would make it her business to see if anything can be done to keep this poor girl from ruin—it means ruin if she persists in the course she has begun."

"Oh, let me go and see Dr. Elizabeth on Monday!" Ann cried eagerly. "Will you go with me, Violet?"

"Yes," assented Violet; "she lives a good way from here, does she not?"

"A good way—about a mile. We shall not be able to go till late in the afternoon, after school hours; but we shall be more likely to find her at home then than earlier in the day. We will tell her about Lottie Medland, and she will know if anything can be done to help her."

After that the conversation passed into another channel. Seeing his daughter was very troubled about the Medland family, Dr. Reed sought to distract her thoughts by talking to Violet of her relatives, and soon Ann was laughing at an account of some of the mischievous pranks the twins were in the habit of playing on their much enduring sisters and Barbara.

"You know they don't mean to be naughty, but they're high-spirited like all boys," explained Violet, who, now she was separated from her little brothers, thought of them very tenderly indeed; "it really used to be very funny to hear them teasing Barbara, and she's very fond of them both, though she pretends she's not. Billy used to mimic her, and it was impossible not to laugh, and then she would run after him and chase him out of the kitchen, and Ruth would have to go down and make peace."

"So Ruth is the peacemaker?" Dr. Reed questioned, with a smile.

"Yes," assented Violet. She always talked unreservedly to the doctor now, and he considered her a very bright, frank girl, as indeed she was with people she trusted, and she had learnt to trust Dr. and Mrs. Reed, and Ann. "I don't know what they would have done at home if you had said you wouldn't take me instead of Ruth," she proceeded candidly; "mother said in her last letter that Ruth is more than ever her right hand in the house."

"How does she get on with her drawing?" asked the doctor.

"Oh, capitally! She tells me she puts all her spare time to it; she means to be a great artist some day, I wonder if she will."

"Time will show," Mrs. Reed said, smiling, "I hope so. If she really has a talent for drawing and painting and works hard, no doubt she will get on. She is evidently ambitious."

"She wants to be able to make money so as to be able to help father," Violet explained.

"That is a worthy ambition," Dr. Reed declared heartily, "and an unselfish one, too. She is fond of her father—like another person I could mention," he added, with a quick glance at Ann.

Violet saw the look, and a sharp pang shot through her heart, whilst the home-sickness against which she had secretly fought—she had been successful in hiding it from the Reeds—and conquered altogether, as she had considered, returned as strong as it had ever been. At that minute she would have given anything for a glimpse of the shabby little Streatham home, and the faces of those who had never appeared so dear to her, when she had seen them every day, as they did now. For a few minutes Violet's brown eyes were dim with unshed tears.