Читать книгу The Abbey Girls In Town - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 6

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Ruth was using Biddy’s peacock-blue basin with much enjoyment next morning, when the sound of music in the outer room made her pause and listen. She hastily finished dressing and hurried out, to find Mary putting on her hat before the mirror, while Biddy sat cross-legged on the “humpy” footstool, like a very sturdy Puck, and whistled “Rufty Tufty,” her fingers playing swiftly over the six holes of a long yellow pipe.

“I couldn’t do that!” Ruth said yearningly. “You’re jolly clever, Biddy! Mary, you look ten years older in a skirt! Must you go? It’s so very nearly Christmas!”

“I’ve Christmas Eve as a holiday. But Biddy will look after you. It’s holidays for her. Tell her what you want to do,” and Mary said good-bye and hurried away.

“I want to hear that whistle again. I want to see Jen Robins and her pipe. I want to see the shops and buy things. I want to see London,” Ruth proclaimed, as Biddy brought her porridge and eggs and coffee. “Is it still foggy?”

“No, quite decent. You can’t see Jen. She’s going off to Yorkshire to-day for Christmas in their own home; but, she’s coming back for Chelsea. But the shops are there, and fearfully busy. And London’s all right! We’ll go out as soon as you like, when I’ve tidied up. Shall we meet Mary for lunch? I know where she goes.”

“I’d love to. Will you help me to buy things?”

“I love buying things!” Biddy said warmly. “But I’m rather poor just now. I’m saving up for next week.”

Ruth asked again if she might hear the whistle once more.

“It’s a dear!” Biddy said enthusiastically. “I’ve three. We’ve no piano, and we simply had to play the dances and songs somehow, so Jen lent us the music, and I soon found I could get some of the tunes on a whistle. I’ll pipe while you’re eating.”

She sat cross-legged on the “humpy” and whistled tune after tune, and Ruth laughed and applauded and asked for more. But Biddy sprang up at last, throwing down the whistle, and brought the carpet sweeper.

“We must get out, or the shops will be too crowded! And we must leave the house decent.”

“I want them to be crowded! I want to see the Christmas crowds!”

“You will! Don’t worry!” Biddy said briefly.

“Had enough of crowds?” she inquired, as they struggled out of the mob in a big Oxford Street shop.

Ruth laughed breathlessly. “I began to think we’d never get out alive! It is true! There are more people in London than anywhere else in the world! And I’ve seen them at last. They were all—all!—inside that one shop!”

“You’ll find a few left in Selfridge’s!” Biddy mocked.

“Biddy, will you help me with some shopping?” Ruth asked earnestly, when they had lunched with Mary, and were entering the fray again.

“Try me! I’m first-class at that! But you can’t send home Christmas presents now?”

“I know that. Come along and do as you’re told.”

Biddy followed meekly, and after a severe struggle with the rest of London’s population, found herself actually near a counter where knitted jackets and jumpers were for sale.

“But you’ve got a lovely green one, Ruth!” she remonstrated. “There’s nothing whatever wrong with it. I only wish mine was half as nice!”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Mary,” Ruth said briefly. “What colour would she like?”

“For Mary?” Biddy gaped at her. “Ruth, you mustn’t—she won’t let you—you can’t——”

“I’ll see to that! Your job is to help me to choose the right colour.”

“But, Ruth!——”

“Would she like yellow? Don’t waste time, Biddy. It’s Christmas, and everybody is busy. They can’t wait all night while we argue.”

“She’s dying for an amethyst one!” Biddy burst out. “She goes and gazes at them in the shop windows! Oh! But that one’s far too good, Ruth!”

“We’ll have that one,” Ruth’s tone was final. “It will suit her. Now what about you? Blue?”

Biddy’s incredulous eyes roved over the colours before her. “Oh, I don’t want to wear blue! Oh, Ruth! That rust-red! I’ve been wanting it for years!”

Ruth laughed. “You’ll look very pretty in it. I like your choice. Right! We’ll have those two.”

“I think we’d better go home before you spend any more money,” Biddy murmured rapturously, as she clasped the bundle to her breast.

“I’m frightened of what Mary will say!” Biddy said, as they climbed the long flights of stairs wearily.

“I’ll manage Mary! We’ll make her plates of buttered toast, drown her in it, make her drunk with it!”

“She won’t be able to say anything when she sees that lovely jacket! She was more sick of her old one than you’d believe. And you’ve paid your own expenses all day! She won’t like it, Ruth.”

“I’m going to make her let me pay for my lunch too.—And if she says a word against it,” and Ruth leaned over the rail at the stairhead and addressed the darkness below, in which she had heard Mary’s step, “I’m going right off to-morrow to the Gordons in Devonshire, and I shan’t see any more of London, or go to Chelsea, or meet Jen Robins and the Pixie, or see the Tower or Westminster Abbey, or anything, and I shall be fearfully disappointed, that’s all!”

“Goodness, what’s the matter? What has Biddy been doing?” and Mary followed them into the room.

Biddy flew to put the kettle on. “Giving Ruth her own way in everything. Mary, you’ve no idea what she’s like! She’s a fearfully strong-willed person. I’m sure she’ll bully you!”

“I’m sure she will. Nobody could call me strong-willed! What dreadful things has she been doing, Biddy?”

“She’s paid all her own bus fares, and mine, too, sometimes. She wants to pay for her lunch. And—look!” and Biddy tore open the parcel and, before Mary’s bewildered eyes, put on her rust-red jacket and held up the pretty amethyst jacket.

“I couldn’t resist them, Mary,” Ruth’s tone was apologetic.

Mary looked at the amethyst jacket and then at her. There was that in her look which made Ruth go to her, and say, speaking hurriedly, “Mary, I didn’t mean to tell you yet. Father left it to my judgment to tell you or not, as I thought best. But I can’t go on living with you and taking kindness from you, and not be honest. Mary, we’ve heaps of money. It’s all happened within the last few months. They’ve found diamonds on the farm, on our land; and father’s sold the land, partly for a big sum and partly for shares in the mining company that’s been formed to work it. He’s only kept the house, because he has to live in South Africa, and we all love the place. We aren’t farmers any more; and we’re going to travel; and we can have things if we want them, and we can give things to our friends. Perhaps that’s best of all. I’m starting with you and Biddy. You’ve been kinder than kind, giving me your beds and all; and you’ve made me feel as if I’d been here always. And these are Christmas presents; so that you’ll look pretty and festive at Chelsea, Mary!”

“A millionairess in our family!” Biddy whispered, in awestricken tones.

“It’s not so bad as all that,” Ruth assured her. “Mary, do you like yours?”

“Oh, it’s beautiful! Just the colour I love to wear! But, Ruth, I am glad!—for your mother and father and his sisters! We’ve often said what a hard life it was for them, to be farming out in those wild places. We wished they could come home and live more comfortably. This will make things easy for them. I am so glad!”

“And you’ll let me pay my own bus fares?” Ruth pleaded, laughter in her eyes.

“You shall pay mine, too!” Biddy proclaimed enthusiastically.

“I will! And you’ll come to the theatre with me?” Ruth begged. “I can’t go alone. If you’ll take me to Chelsea, I’ll take you to the theatre!”

“We’ll go out to-morrow morning, and see what seats we can get for Boxing Day!” Biddy assured her gleefully.

“It’s as good as a story!” Mary said fervently, and threw off her hat and coat and tried on the amethyst jacket before Ruth’s delighted eyes.