These being her plans and ideas, the arrival of the boy and carpet-bag on this May evening was somewhat disconcerting to Jane Rodgers. The child was out sulking. She was ready with a rod in pickle, as she would have said, to chastise her for running away without hat or bonnet after she had been ordered to her room; but Mrs. Grey, should she find her on the sands, might probably fail to take Jane's view of matters.
There would be time for revelations too, and Jane could scarcely explain to her lodger all the reasons that had moved her to the mode of treatment she had employed with her daughter in her absence. However, matters being so, it was best to put a bold face on them. Jane prided herself on her independence. Mrs. Grey was certainly a yearly lodger—a rare kind of article at the seaside, and especially at Middlethorpe; still, if she should choose to take offence she might go.
None of these latter reflections appeared in her face as she went forward to meet Mrs. Grey, white-capped and aproned, the very picture of quiet respectability.
"Glad to see you back, ma'am," she said respectfully, "and sorry you should find Miss Laura in such a plight. She run out when my back was turned. I was in such a fidget about putting on my bonnet to look after her, when—"
"That will do, Jane," said Margaret quietly. "Bring up our tea and pay the boy. When I have put Miss Laura to bed I will speak to you in the parlor."
"As you please, ma'am."
Jane turned away with a slight toss of the head, quite determined to let her lodger go. She was not a servant, she said to herself, to be treated in such a way. But the sight of her comfortable kitchen and the hour of delay brought calmer and more prudent thoughts to Jane's mind. Instinctively she recalled the fate of Mrs. Brown and Miss Simpson, two ladies of her calling, who, after trying in vain to make a living out of their houses, had been obliged finally to sell their furniture and take to service again; Mrs. Short, who let, indeed, in the summer, but generally to large families, and had her things knocked about in such a way that no charge for breakages could cover the necessary outlay which followed their departure; Mrs. Dodd, who had taken in unaware a lady recovering from the small-pox, and whose servant had taken the disease, thus necessitating a general turn-out and white-washing before her rooms could be considered habitable.
Whatever the antecedents or private history of her lodger might be, Jane Rodgers could not but recognize that she lived a quiet life and gave wonderfully little trouble. Then, though she paid her rent monthly, she was in reality a yearly lodger; she had already taken Jane's house for more than a year, her rent having been all the time regularly paid. It would manifestly be a pity to give her up by any over-hastiness.
Jane resolved upon a compromise. She took up the tea, arranged the bedrooms scrupulously, and then sat down in her kitchen to await Mrs. Grey's summons.
Some time passed before it came, for Margaret would not leave her child that evening until she had seen her in the quiet, peaceful sleep that ought to come so readily at her age; and she noted with ever-increasing indignation that her little daughter was feverish and restless, that she started painfully now and then, and clung nervously to her hand.