Mrs. Hallam's companion; and The Spring Farm, and other tales

by Mary Jane Holmes

“I knew you would not care to go in the ’bus with your servants, so I ventured to order the carriage for you,” she said, as they wound up the steep hill to the Hôtel Splendide.

Then she told what she had done for her friend’s comfort and the pleasure it had been to do it, notwithstanding all the trouble and annoyance she had been subjected to. The season was at its height, and all the hotels were crowded, especially the Splendide. A grande duchesse with her suite occupied the guestrooms on the first floor; the King of Greece had all the second floor south of the main entrance; while English, Jews, Spaniards, Greeks, and Russians had the rooms at the other end of the hall; consequently Mrs. Hallam must be content with the third floor, where a salon and a bedchamber, with balcony attached, had been reserved for her. She had found the most trouble with the salon, she said, as a French countess was determined to have it, and she had secured it only by engaging it at once two weeks ago and promising more per day than the countess was willing to give for it. As it had to be paid for whether occupied or not, she had taken the liberty to use it herself, knowing her friend would not care. Mrs. Hallam didn’t care, even when later on she found that the salon had been accredited to her since she first wrote to Mrs. Haynes that she was coming and asked her to secure rooms. She was accustomed to being fleeced by Mrs. Haynes, whom Rex called a second Becky Sharp. The salon business being settled, Mrs. Haynes ventured farther and said that as she had been obliged to dismiss her maid and had had so much trouble to fill her place she had finally decided to wait until her friend came, when possibly the services of one maid would answer for both ladies.

“Gracie prefers to wait upon herself,” she continued, “but I find it convenient at times to have some one do my hair and lay out my dresses and go with me to the baths, which I take about ten; you, no doubt, who have plenty of money, will go down early in one of those covered chairs which two men bring to your room. It is a most comfortable way of doing, as you are wrapped in a blanket quite en déshabille and put into a chair, the curtains are dropped, and you are taken to the bath and back in time for your first déjeûner, and are all through with the baths early and can enjoy yourself the rest of the day. It is rather expensive, of course, and I cannot afford it, but all who can, do. The Scrantoms from New York, the Montgomerys from Boston, the Harwoods from London, and old Lady Gresham, all go down that way; quite a high-toned procession, which some impertinent American girls try to kodak. I shall introduce you to these people. They know you are coming, and you are sure to like them.”

Mrs. Haynes knew just what chord to touch with her ambitious friend, who was as clay in her hands. By the time the hotel was reached it had been arranged that she was not only to continue to use the salon, but was also welcome to the services of Mrs. Hallam’s maid, Celine, and her courier, Browne, and possibly her companion, although on this point she was doubtful, as the girl had a mind of her own and was not easily managed.

“I saw that in her face the moment I looked at her, and thought she might give you trouble. She really looked as if she expected me to speak to her. Who is she?” Mrs. Haynes asked, and very briefly Mrs. Hallam told all she knew of her,—of the mistake in the photographs, of Reginald’s admiration of the one which was really Bertha’s, and of his encounter with her on the ship.

“Hm; yes,” Mrs. Walker rejoined, reflectively, and in an instant her tactics were resolved upon.

Possessed of a large amount of worldly wisdom and foresight, she boasted that she could read the end from the beginning, and on this occasion her quick instincts told her that, given a chance, this hired companion might come between her and her plan of marrying her daughter Grace to Rex Hallam, who was every way desirable as a son-in-law. She had seen enough of him to know that if he cared for a girl it would make no difference whether she were a wage-earner or the daughter of a duke, and Bertha might prove a formidable rival. He had admired her photograph and been kind to her on the boat, and when he met her again there was no knowing what complications might arise if, as was most probable, Bertha herself were artful and ambitious. And so, for no reason whatever except her own petty jealousy, she conceived a most unreasonable dislike for the girl; and when Mrs. Haynes was unreasonable she sometimes was guilty of acts of which she was afterwards ashamed.

Arrived at the hotel, which the ’bus had reached before her, she said to Bertha, who was standing near the door, “Take your mistress’s bag and shawl up to the third floor, No. —, and wait there for us.”

Bertha knew it was Celine’s place to do this, but that demoiselle, who thus far had not proved the treasure she was represented to be, had found an acquaintance, to whom she was talking so volubly that she did not observe the entrance of her party until Bertha was half-way up the three flights of stairs, with Mrs. Hallam’s bag and wrap as well as her own. The service at the Splendide was not the best, and those who would wait upon themselves were welcome to do so, and Bertha toiled on with her arms full, while Mrs. Hallam and Mrs. Haynes took the little coop of a lift and ascended very leisurely.

“This is your room. I hope you will like it,” Mrs. Haynes said, stopping at the open door of a large, airy room, with a broad window opening upon a balcony, where a comfortable easy-chair was standing. Mrs. Hallam sank into it at once, admiring the view and pleased with everything. The clerk at the office had handed her a letter which had come in the morning mail. It was from Rex, and was full of his visit to the Homestead, the kindness he had received from Mr. Leighton and Dorcas, and the discovery he had made with regard to Bertha.