He was in Wedgewood Street at a few minutes before eight on the following evening. The sky above Lambeth was no longer obscured; there were wintry stars shining over that forest of chimney pots and everlasting monotony of slated roofs; and even Lambeth looked lively with its costers’ barrows and bustle of eventide marketing. Theodore found the door open, as it had been yesterday, and he found an extra lamp upon the first floor landing, and the door of Miss Newton’s room ajar, while from within came the sound of many voices, moderated to a subdued tone, but still lively.
His modest knock was answered by Miss Newton herself, who was standing close to the door, ready to greet every fresh arrival.
“How do you do? We are nearly all here,” she said, cheerily.
“I hope you have not just been dining, for with us tea means a hearty meal, and if you can’t eat anything we shall feel as if you were Banquo’s ghost. How do you do, Mrs. Kirby?” to another arrival. “Baby better, I hope? Yes, that’s right. How are you, Clara? and you, Rose? You’ve had that wretched tooth out—I can see it in your face. Such a relief, isn’t it? So glad to see you, Susan Dale, and you, Maria, and you, Jenny. Why, we are all here, I do believe.”
“Yes, Miss Newton,” said a bright-looking girl by the fireplace, who had been making toast indefatigably for twenty minutes, and whose complexion had suffered accordingly. “There are two and twenty of us, four and twenty, counting the gentleman and you. I think that’s as many as you expected.”
“Yes, everybody’s here. So we may as well begin tea.”
In most such assemblies, where the intention was to benefit a humble class of guests, the proceedings would have begun with a hymn; but at Miss Newton’s parties there were neither hymns nor prayers—and yet Miss Newton loved her hymn-book, and delighted in the pathos and the sweetness of the music with which those familiar words are interwoven; nor would she yield to anybody in her belief in the efficacy of prayer; but she had made up her mind from the beginning that her tea-parties were to be pure and simple recreation, and that any good which should come out of them was to come incidentally. The women and girls who came at her bidding were to feel they came to be entertained, came as her guests, just as, had they been duchesses, they might have gone to visit other duchesses in Park Lane or Carlton Gardens. They were not asked in order that they should be taught, or preached to, or wheedled into the praying of prayers or the singing of hymns. They went as equals to visit a friend who relished their society.
And did not everybody relish the tea! which might be described as a Yorkshire tea of a humble order; not the Yorkshire tea which may mean mayonnaise and perigord pie, chicken and champagne—but tea as understood in the Potteries of Hull, or the humbler alleys and streets of Leeds or Bradford. Three moderate-sized tables had been put together to make one capacious board, spread with snowy damask, upon which appeared two large plum loaves, two tall towers of bread and butter, a glass bowl of marmalade, a bowl of jam, two dishes of thinly-sliced German sausage set off with sprigs of parsley—German sausage bought at the most respectable ham and beef shop in the Borough, and as trustworthy as German sausage can be; and for crowning glory of the feast a plentiful supply of shrimps, freshly boiled, savouring of the unseen sea. The hot buttered toast was frizzling on a brass footman in front of the fire, ready to be handed round piping hot, as required. There were two tea-trays, one at each end of the table, and there were two bright copper kettles, which had never been defiled by the smoke of the fire, filled with admirable tea.
Miss Newton took her place at the head of the table, with Theodore on her right hand, and a pale and fragile looking young woman on her left. These two assisted the hostess in the administration of the tea-tray, handing cups and saucers, sugar-basin and cream-jug; and in so doing they had frequent occasion to look at each other.
Having gone there prepared to be interested, Theodore soon began to interest himself in this young woman, whom Miss Newton addressed as Marian. She was by no means beautiful now, but Theodore fancied that she had once been very handsome, and he occupied himself in reconstructing the beauty of the past from the wreck of the present.