When the wagonette was out of sight Gainah put her patchwork away methodically. Then she went into the garden, looking at things critically, speaking to Daborn in a sharp voice—the imperious voice of old. She was a little cramped yet—mentally and bodily. But the fact that Pamela had gone was beginning to glimmer in on her poor intelligence. When she saw the housekeeping keys in the basket, she picked them up and dropped them in her deep pocket with a cunning chuckle. Then she marched solemnly into the kitchen.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
WHEN Pamela walked out into the yard at Victoria, the stale stable smell, the heavy air, and coarse sounds instantly made her feel at home. The last time she had breathed London was on that hot, stifling August morning nearly a year ago when she had started for Folly Corner. Her head had been heavy then, her eyes inflamed with crying, her feet sore and burning with the ceaseless, hopeless walk of the night before—backward and forward across the common, keeping the stolid prison—his shameful casket—in sight.
To-day her mouth curved happily, the blood ran in and out of her face with the intensity of her emotion. Folly Corner was far behind her—behind forever; Aunt Sophy, Nancy, Annie—all the kind, slow-witted women—were mere phantoms; Jethro, clumping his fields stupidly, his head hanging, his big heart sore, was simply a rustic figure of no particular interest.
That life at Folly Corner had been a different incarnation. The one moment when it seemed real was when a ruddy-faced man had brushed by her on the platform—a pointed Niphetos rosebud in his coat. She thought then fleetly of her garden, of all the bushes which had been her choice, which had been planted for her.
She listened joyously to the hoarse voices of the drivers, to the mellow rattle of the piano-organ playing a tune which she had never heard. An orderly boy, looking pertly up in her face as she got into the cab, said:
“Now we shan’t be long.”
That must be the new catchword; once she had been well up in these things. Edred had taken her to music-halls.
How hot and misty and stuffy it was! And how delicious! She leaned back in the cab, laughing softly and continuously, like a mad thing. Then she began to be afraid, not knowing how Edred would receive her. Then she smiled again, knowing that she knew how to make herself adorable—at least for a little while. There were certain gestures, certain airs and words, which always pleased him. She coaxed a finger under her veil, and pulled a loose bit of hair on the temple over her brow. He liked loose hair.