Sometimes she felt that this life was almost too difficult! Mrs. Taylor's poisonous influence told heavily against her; her enemy was so often with her in the Gate; she lunched or dined two or three times a week,—and having a genuine appetite for small doles, carried away fresh eggs, extra flowers, half-cut cakes, a box of scented soap, and similar useful largesse! After her visits, Nancy always found her aunt more than usually snappy, and ill to please; yet on the other hand, Mrs. Jenkins had what her niece mentally called "her good days." On these, she would talk glibly enough about her brother Laurence; his mad pranks, his high spirits, his good looks, extraordinary love for animals, and general popularity with old and young.
It also seemed to the girl—who was gifted with a vivid imagination—that now and then, in her aunt's conversation, she caught a faint echo of familiar expressions, and that she saw at long intervals on the face of her despotic relative, a glimmer of her father's smile! For these somewhat far-fetched, and flimsy reasons, Nancy still clung to her post. After all, Aunt Arabella, with her funny ways, was her only near relative. She was Daddy's sister too, they had been brought up in the very same nursery, and had shared the same home.
The talks of "old times" at Lambourne, were considerably discounted by Mrs. Jenkins' rosy and prosy reminiscences of her own personal triumphs. On this subject, she could expatiate for hours,—content with a silent audience, or an occasional ejaculation.
"I daresay, my dear," she remarked to her niece, "that your father often told you, that I was the beauty of Blankshire, and how people would stand upon the road to look at me, and push and fight each other, to travel in the same railway carriage. The County ball was actually postponed, until I had returned home. After I was married, when I had a box at the theatre, it was most unpleasant the way the audience stared—every opera-glass levelled at poor me—and people waited in the vestibule, to see me pass out. Once when we were dining at a foreign restaurant, the prince of a royal house, sent round to inquire my name? Your uncle was furious, and I am sure it was the prince who sent me every morning, a most beautiful bouquet of flowers!"
She also related at considerable length, how several great artists had humbly implored permission to paint her portrait, but had been rudely snubbed by dearest Samuel: who had never allowed her picture to be on public exhibition.
Nancy listened with attentive interest to these tales of triumph, and faithfully believed in them. It may have been due to this artless confidence and appropriate deference, that she and her aunt were perceptibly drawing closer to one another; Nancy would receive an occasional kiss, a little patting of her hand, or even a word of praise, and thanks.
Alas, shortly before Christmas, a slump in Mrs. Taylor's dividends and a severe financial crisis, figuratively cast that lady at the feet of her wealthy school-fellow. Dearest Henrietta was received with open arms, offered the best spare bedroom, the second best, and most comfortable arm-chair, and soon settled down with remarkable ease into the position of an established resident.
Not long after this acquisition to the family circle, Mrs. Jenkins' manner to her niece underwent a change; she became querulous and fault-finding, and her "good days" were rare. Once, when the girl had ventured to speak of her old home, her friends, the far-away blue hills, and the coffee estate, Mrs. Taylor had coughed significantly, and her aunt had said:
"There, that will do, Nancy, that will do! I don't want to hear anything about those people; I am not interested."
As there were visitors present, Nancy was overwhelmed, and put to open shame by such a resounding slap in the face. Perhaps, after all, it was excellent discipline; Nancy the impulsive, was rapidly mastering the noble art of self-effacement and self-control. Her sorest trial was experienced of an evening, when Bridge was played, and Miss Dolling made a fourth. The scoldings administered to Nancy—especially when playing with Mrs. Taylor—made her so nervous that her mistakes were flagrant. She had actually been known to trump her partner's best card; more than once, she had been driven from the table in disgrace, and the rubber had ended in "cut throat."