IV
Mr. Verney and Mary went to Westerfield the next day, leaving a very sulky Harry behind.
“I can’t think why Uncle Herbert didn’t send that money to me,” he grumbled. “Why should a girl like Mary have all this almoning fun? I could almon as well as she can.”
As a matter of fact, Uncle Herbert had made a very wise choice. Harry had none of Mary’s interest in the village, nor had he any of her patience. But in his own way he was a very clever boy. He bowled straight, and knew a linnet’s egg from a greenfinch’s.
Mr. Verney and Mary’s first visit was to the bank, where Mary handed her five-pound note through the bars, and the clerk scooped up four sovereigns and two half-sovereigns in his little copper shovel and poured them into her hand.
Then they bought a penny account-book and went on to Mr. Flower, the ironmonger, to see about Thomas Barnes’ truck. Mr. Flower had a secondhand one for twenty-five shillings, and he promised to touch it up for two shillings more; and he promised, also, that neither he nor his man should ever say anything about it. It was arranged that the barrow should be wrapped up in sacking and taken to Mr. Verney’s, inside the waggon, and be delivered after dark.
“Why do you want it?” Mary asked him.
“That’s a secret,” he said; “you’ll know later.”
Mr. Flower also undertook to send three shillings’ worth of netting to Mrs. Callow, asking her to do him the favour of trying it to see if it were a good strong kind.
Mary and Mr. Verney then walked on to Mr. Costall, the dentist, who was in Westerfield only on Thursdays between ten and four. It was the first time that Mary had ever stood on his doorstep without feeling her heart sink. Mr. Costall, although a dentist, was a smiling, happy man, and he entered into the scheme directly. He said he would write to Mrs. Meadows and ask her to call, saying that some one whom he would not mention had arranged the matter with him. And when Mary asked him how much she should pay him, he said that ten shillings would do. This meant a saving of half a crown.
“How nice it would be always to visit Mr. Costall,” Mary said, with a sigh, “if he did not pull out teeth.”
Mary and Mr. Verney then chose Mrs. Wigram’s new bonnet, which they posted to her at once. Mr. Verney liked one with red roses, but Mary told him that nothing would ever induce Mrs. Wigram to wear anything but black. The girl in the shop recommended another kind, trimmed with a very blue bird; but Mary had her own way.
Afterwards they bought a ball for the Barretts; and then they bought a postal order for eight shillings for Mrs. Carter, and half a crown for Mr. Eyles, and ten shillings for Mrs. Ryan, and fourteen shillings for Mrs. Pringle. It was most melancholy to see the beautiful sovereigns dropping into other people’s tills. Mary put all these amounts down in her penny account-book. She also put down the cost of her return ticket.
When they got back to the village they saw Mr. Ward, the station-master. After telling him how important it was to keep the secret, Mary bought a return ticket to the sea for Tommy Pringle, without any date on it, and two excursion tickets for old Mr. and Mrs. Snelling for the 1st of next month. Mr. Ward did not have many secrets in his life, and he was delighted to keep these.
While they were talking to him a curious and exciting thing happened. A message began to tick off on the telegraph machine. Mr. Verney was just turning to go away when Mr. Ward called out, “Stop a minute, please! This message is for Miss Stavely.”
Mary ran over to the machine and stood by Mr. Ward while he wrote down the message which the little needle ticked out. She had never had a telegram before, and to have one like this—“warm from the cow,” as Mr. Ward said—was splendid. Mr. Ward handed it to her at last.
“Mary Stavely, Mercombe.
“How is the almoning? I want to pay all extra expenses.—Uncle Herbert.”
The reply was paid; but Mary had to write it out several times before it satisfied her and came within the sixpence. This was what she said:
“Stavely, Reform Club, London.
“All right. Will send accounts. Expenses small.—Mary.”
On the way home they spoke to Fraser, who let out carriages and carts. Fraser liked the plan as much as every one else did. He promised to call in on the Snellings in a casual way, on the morning on which they would receive the tickets, and suggest to them that they should let him drive them to the station and bring them home again. When Mary offered to pay him, Mr. Fraser said no, certainly not; he would like to help her. He hadn’t done anything for anybody for so long that he should be interested in seeing what it felt like. This meant a saving of four shillings.
Mary went to tea at Mr. Verney’s. After tea he printed addresses on a number of envelopes, and put the postal orders inside, with a little card in each, on which he printed the words, “From a friend, for Tommy to go to the sea-side home for a fortnight”; “From a friend, for Mr. and Mrs. Snelling to go to London”; “From a friend, for Mr. Eyles’ spectacles,” and so forth, and then he stamped them and stuck them down, and put them all into a big envelope, which he posted to his sister in Ireland, so that when they came back they all had the Dublin postmark, and no one ever saw such puzzled and happy people as the recipients were.
“Has your mother any friends in Dublin, Miss Mary?” Mrs. Snelling asked a day or so later, in the midst of a conversation about sweet peas.
“No,” said Mary. It was not until afterwards that she saw what Mrs. Snelling meant.