“That you can, miss. An’ if there’s much mendin’, an’ I’ve a spare hour or two, just you hand some of it over to me: I’m not too bad with me needle. Sure, I knew Bella had made a mistake about you the minute I seen your room, left all tidy an’ the bed made. I’ll be off now, an’ I’ll tell me fine Bella that I know a lady when I see one. Anyone that’s reared in the County Cork can tell when she meets wan of the ould stock!”
Father’s picture seemed to smile at me as she tramped away. I think he was glad he had given me an Irish grandmother.
CHAPTER V
I WALK ABROAD AT NIGHT
HAPPILY for me, the spirit of work did not claim Mrs. McNab very violently during my first week at The Towers. There were occasional periods during which she remained in seclusion, and from the window of my room, which commanded a view of her eyrie, I sometimes saw her light burning far into the night; certainly she used to look pale and heavy-eyed in the morning. But for the greater part of each day she mingled with her family, and showed less vagueness in letting me know what were my duties. I was kept pretty busy, but there was nothing especially difficult. Already the seabathing and the country air were telling upon me: I lost my headaches, and began to sleep better, and it was glorious to feel energy coming back to me. I had visions of returning to Colin and Madge fattened out of all recognition.
Julia had evidently paved the way for me with Mrs. Winter, the cook. I found her a somewhat dour person, but by no means terrifying; she unbent considerably when she found that I did not leave the kitchen in a mess when I cut sandwiches. The last holder of my office, she told me, had always made her domain into “a dirty uproar.” We exchanged notes on cookery; she taught me much about making soup, and was graciously pleased to approve of a recipe for salad that was new to her.
Bella was a harder nut to crack. She was a thoroughly up-to-date young person with an excellent opinion of herself and a firm belief that I was her natural enemy. Also, she was “work-shy,” and did just as little as was possible, with a fixed determination to do nothing whatever that did not fall within the prescribed duties of a parlourmaid. We clashed occasionally: that was inevitable, though I tried hard to let the clashing be all on her side. I recalled Mrs. McNab’s advice as to tact, and struggled to cultivate that excellent commodity. But I don’t believe that anyone of eighteen has much tact in dealing with a bad-tempered parlourmaid of five-and-twenty. I did my best, but there were moments when I ached to throw aside tact and use more direct measures.
The house-party increased rapidly, friends of Beryl and Harry McNab arriving almost every day, until there was not a room to spare. They were a cheery, good-hearted crowd, making their own amusements, for the most part: they bathed, fished, yachted, played tennis and picnicked, and there was dancing every night, interspersed by much singing. Madge was the musical genius of our family, but I could play accompaniments rather decently, and for that reason I was constantly in request. I refused, at first, to dance, for it was quite evident that Beryl McNab preferred me to remain in the background; but there were more men than girls, and occasionally they made it impossible for me to refuse. I protested to Harry McNab, who was one of the chief offenders, but my remarks had not the slightest weight with him.
“Oh, rubbish!” he said. “Why on earth shouldn’t you dance? No one expects you to work all day and all night, too—and you dance better than nearly any girl here! Don’t tell me you don’t like it!”
“Of course I like it,” I said, with some irritation. “But I’m not here to dance, Mr. McNab, and you know that very well. Ask your sister, if you have any doubt on the matter.”
“Oh—Beryl!” he said with a shrug. “Who cares what she thinks? She’s not your boss, Miss Earle.”