Chapter XXII: At Streatham

ALL too swiftly the early autumn days slipped away for the holiday-keepers at Teymouth. The evenings were growing much shorter now, and a golden tinge was here and there noticeable on the woods which made a background for the little sea-side village; blackberries, too, were ripening fast, greatly to the satisfaction of the Wyndham boys, who rambled far and wide in search of them.

It had been arranged for the Wyndhams to return to London on the twelfth of September, and Mr. Wyndham had looked forward with the keenest pleasure to the company of Dr. Reed at Teymouth for a week or so before that date, but a few days before the one on which the doctor and his wife had planned to arrive Ann received a letter from home with the information that Mr. Luscombe, who had been away for his holiday, had returned far from well and was now laid up with pneumonia, so that it would be quite impossible for her father to leave his practice at present; therefore, he and her mother had decided to defer their visit to Devonshire till the following month. Ann carried the news at once to her friends at the farm, who received it with many expressions of regret.

"Father says Mr. Luscombe is not seriously ill," she explained, "I am very glad of that; but it will be several weeks before he will be well enough to work again. I expect father is very disappointed that he cannot get away now, and mother, too. Oh, dear, I suppose I shall have to travel all the way home by myself, and it is such a long journey! Perhaps, though, Violet could meet me in London, if I remain with Granny till nearly the beginning of the term."

"Could you not return with us to London?" suggested Mr. Wyndham. "You might spend a few days at Streatham, and then you and Violet could go back to Buford together."

"Oh, that would be a capital plan!" cried Violet, "oh, do come, Ann!"

"I should much like to," Ann replied, her face brightening; "but would it be convenient?" she asked, as she fancied she saw a dubious expression on Mrs. Wyndham's face.

"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Wyndham assured her hastily; "you would have to share Madge's room, but you would not mind that, perhaps?" she said inquiringly.

"Certainly not, if Madge does not—" Ann was commencing when Madge sprang impetuously to her side, and interrupted her by flinging her arms around her neck and giving her a friendly hug, exclaiming as she did so:—

"Oh, what fun it will be! I slept with Ruth for months and months, but when Violet came home I had to turn out for her. I do love having someone to talk to. Mine is a very little room, Ann, but you aren't very particular, are you?"

"No," replied Ann, smiling, "a very small space will do for me."

"I will write to your mother at once," said Mrs. Wyndham, "and we shall soon hear what she and your father think of our plan."

Dr. and Mrs. Reed thought the plan a most excellent one and immediately sent a reply to that effect. So it came to pass that when the Wyndhams left Teymouth they took Ann with them. Ann felt parting from her grandmother but the old lady, who had the visit of her son and daughter-in-law to look forward to and was in good spirits on that account, bade her a cheerful good-bye and spoke hopefully of their meeting next year.

Nevertheless, Ann could not help feeling a little depressed during the first part of the journey to London, for a year seemed a long time to look forward to, and she knew it was most unlikely that she would see her grandmother again before the expiration of that time. Long before Bristol was reached, however, which was about half the distance they had to travel, she was joining in the general conversation, apparently as merry and happy as her companions, who, rather to their own surprise, were eager now to get home.

"It was lovely at Teymouth, and it's very nice in a farm house in the summer," observed Madge, "but it must be very dull in the winter, I should think, when the weather is bad. I'm looking forward to see Barbara, and she'll be glad to see us, I know."

"I hope she will have everything comfortable for us," remarked Mrs. Wyndham, rather anxiously, "I wrote to her to get help to put the house in order, but poor Barbara has no head for management, and, with the best intentions in the world, she is a sad muddler."

Mr. Wyndham smiled on hearing this, and a humorous twinkle crept into his eyes.

"Well, don't begin to worry, my dear," he said kindly, "we all know what Barbara is, except Ann, and she will make allowances for her, I've no doubt."

The travellers, being eight in number, had a compartment to themselves, and the journey was made most comfortably. When Paddington was reached they all declared they were not in the least tired; but, by the time they arrived at Streatham they told a different tale.

Ann was secretly very curious to see Violet's home, and she looked with considerable interest at the plain, freckled face of the girl who stood on the doorstep broadly smiling a welcome. Barbara, who had been sent to her home on board wages whilst the Wyndhams had been away on their holiday, had not been sorry to get to work again; she had done her best during the few days previous to the family's return to put the house in good order, with the assistance of a charwoman, and she was satisfied with the result of her labours.

Mrs. Wyndham was exceedingly pleased when she saw how nice everything was looking. Several of the rooms had been repapered and repainted, and, consequently, there was an air of freshness about the place which was as delightful as it was novel; and Barbara had a substantial high tea ready in the sitting-room, which the travellers were all ready to fully appreciate.

Ann spent several days with the Wyndhams. She noticed at once how much Mrs. Wyndham relied upon her eldest daughter in every way, and what a busy life Ruth led, at the beck and call of everybody. It was always, "I want you, Ruth," or "Ruth knows about that," or "You must ask Ruth to help you," and so on; and Ruth never grumbled that it was so, or said that she had too much to do, but was always willing and cheerful.

"Things are much nicer and more comfortable in every way at home than they used to be," Violet informed Ann confidentially, on one occasion when they were alone together, "I really think it's all Ruth's doing. She makes the boys pick up their playthings and won't let them worry Barbara in the kitchen; she seems to superintend everything, doesn't she? And then she gives Barbara a hint when her cap goes crooked, and persuades her to take her time and not get 'in a rush!'" Ann smiled understandingly, as Violet went on, "Oh, dear me, what a to-do it used to be when Barbara was 'in a rush' She'd break the crockery in her hurry to try to get ahead of the work, and she never used to get ahead of it, she was always behind, and poor mother would cry when things went wrong and she couldn't set them right. I was surprised when I came home to find things so different, just as though some good fairy had been at work. I think our good fairy is Ruth."

Ruth had certainly done her best to make her home more comfortable and orderly since she had left school, and her efforts, which her mother had been the first to appreciate and further, had met with more success than she had dared to hope would be the case; she was full of bright hopes for the future when her father would be in the position to allow more money for the household expenses, and there would not be such anxiety about meeting the bills.

The afternoon before Ann and Violet left Streatham for Buford they were returning from a walk with Ruth and Madge when Violet drew Ann's attention to a large, red brick house with bow windows, standing in its own grounds, and informed her that it was Agnes Hosking's home.

"That's the sort of house Violet admires," Ruth remarked, with a mischievous laugh, "it's quite ordinary on the outside, isn't it, but I believe the interior is something extraordinary. Have you told Ann how it is furnished, Vi?"

"No," returned Violet, colouring, "I have not—it would not interest her at all; and I've changed my mind about wishing to live in a house like that, Ruth, I should not care to have furniture that's too fine to use and a drawing-room that's nothing but a showroom. By the way, I do hope we shall not run against Agnes; I wonder if she's at home."

The words were scarcely out of Violet's mouth when, looking ahead, she caught sight of a familiar figure coming towards them, and Madge exclaimed, with excitement in her voice:—

"Why, here she is! Oh, girls, it's Agnes herself!"

"We cannot avoid meeting her," said Ruth, with a nervous glance at Violet, whose bright colour had perceptibly lessened.

"Avoid meeting her?" echoed Ann, "why should you wish to do that? Ah, she recognises us, I see!"

Agnes was close up to them now. She was staring hard at Ann, as though she could scarcely believe she saw aright; a minute later she had stopped in front of her, and was holding out her hand.

"Ann! Ann Reed!" she cried, in accents of intense surprise; "is it really you?"

"Certainly," Ann replied, rather dryly, ignoring the outstretched hand, whilst her companions moved on a few steps and stood waiting for her.

"Fancy meeting you here! You must come to my house! Look, that is where I live!" Agnes appeared excited. "Are you staying with the Wyndhams?" she inquired in a lower tone.

"Yes; but I am going home to-morrow."

"Is Violet Wyndham to return to Barford with you?"

"Yes."

"Well, if you are leaving Streatham to-morrow you must certainly spare me a little while this afternoon," Agnes said eagerly. "Do come in," she continued, nodding towards her home, "you can bring the Wyndhams with you if you like, I don't mind."

"No, thank you—" Ann was beginning when Agnes interrupted her by exclaiming:—

"Oh, you must come! Do come in all of you," she added pressingly, raising her voice and addressing the three Wyndham girls, who, however, showed not the least inclination to accept her invitation.

"No, thank you," Ruth said gravely, "we would rather not."

"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried Agnes, intent on gaining her own way. "I want you to come with me and have some tea—all of you. I haven't congratulated you yet on your father's new appointment," she went on, looking pointedly at Violet, "I heard nothing about it till I came home for the holidays. Let me congratulate you now. I hear it's a splendid rise for your father; I'm sure I'm very glad, for it must have been very disagreeable to have been so badly off, and being poor makes people do things they'd never dream of doing if—"

"What do you mean?" broke in Violet, indignantly. "Are you trying to insult us—to insult me?"

"No, no," Agnes assured her hastily, "indeed I am not! I was only going to say that I wish bygones to be bygones, and that if you did take my purse I forgive you; I am not one to bear malice, so let us be friends."

"Agnes," said Violet, trying to speak calmly, "I don't understand why you should wish to be friends with a girl you consider a thief. I see now you really do believe that I robbed you, although you apologised to me—and—and—oh how can you believe it? I have never set eyes on your purse since I saw you put it in your muff the night you lost it."

"Surely you must see Violet is speaking the truth," said Ruth, her voice trembling with anger, her face set and stern; "how dare you suspect her of having taken your wretched purse?"

"It was not a wretched purse," Agnes retorted, "it was as handsome a purse as you ever saw in your life, and it contained one pound, seven shillings, and fivepence half-penny! But I've got over the loss of it now—I mean I really don't care now whether Violet took it or not, for father's given me a new one which I like just as well. Come, if I'm willing to be friends, why can't you meet me half-way? You won't? Well, I shan't bother about you any more, you Wyndhams always thought too much of yourselves even when you were as poor as church mice! And as for you, Ann Reed," she proceeded, her temper getting the better of her as she read aright the contemptuous expression of Ann's usually kind face, "who are you I should like to know—"

"I think you know very well who she is!" interrupted Madge, unable any longer to keep from joining in the conversation.

"Yes, miss Pert, I do," Agnes replied, in a voice which was shrill with rage. "I know she's the grand-daughter of an old woman who lives in a cottage, an old woman who was nothing but a domestic servant brought up to scrub and clean and do all sorts of menial work. You cannot deny it, Ann Reed."

"Certainly I cannot, nor do I wish I could," rejoined Ann in a voice which, though low in tone, was expressive of intense scorn.

"No wonder Dr. Reed keeps his mother down in Devonshire!" sneered Agnes, "no wonder he's ashamed to have her to live at Barford! What would his friends think of her—"

"It cannot concern you what my father's friends would think of my grandmother," Ann interposed, with a light in her grey eyes which warned Agnes she had said enough, "my grandmother is—but I will not discuss her with you! I always knew you to be a mean-spirited girl, but I never realised before to-day that you were so hopelessly vulgar and—and contemptible. In one breath almost you admitted your belief that Violet stole your purse and asked her into your house; you think it may be worth while to keep in with her if her father is going to be a successful man, and on that account you are ready to overlook an act which, if she had committed it, would have put her on a par with a common thief. Shame on you! I am beginning to understand you now, and I tell you plainly I wish to have nothing to do with you. I consider you are a girl to be avoided, and I am sure my friends agree with me."

Agnes winced perceptibly beneath the contempt with which Ann uttered these words, and, as soon as the latter had finished speaking, she quickly away, whilst the others, all very agitated, walked on for some distance in complete silence.

"You have made an enemy, Ann, I fear," said Violet at length.

"You fear?" echoed Ann; "why should you fear? I think Agnes Hosking is very like a nettle, she requires firm handling."

"She was abominably rude to you about your grandmother, Ann!" cried Ruth wrathfully, "and it is dreadful that she should still believe Vi stole her purse!"

"She judges Violet by her own standard," rejoined Ann, with a pitying glance at Violet's quivering face. "Perhaps I ought not to have said that," she went on, a moment later, "I have no right to suggest that, in any circumstances, she would be a thief. Don't make a grief of this unfortunate encounter of ours with Agnes, though, Violet; you must not be unhappy on your last day at home."

"No, indeed," agreed Ruth, "that will never do. 'Truth will out,' you know, dear Vi."

"I wish I could think so, Ruthie," Violet responded, with a deep-drawn sigh. She was looking much upset, but she grew more cheerful before she reached home, consoled by the heartfelt sympathy of her sisters and her friend. "Don't tell mother we met Agnes and fell out with her," she whispered, as they entered the house, "it would only trouble her if she knew all that was said."

On that point they were all agreed, so Agnes Hosking's name was not mentioned when they spoke of their walk, and Mrs. Wyndham, not being very observant, failed to notice that something had gone wrong.