An American Girl in London

by Sara Jeannette Duncan

But Mrs. Portheris was bowing, with stately indefiniteness, to Mrs. Torquilin's back.

'Come, Miss Purkiss!' she commanded again. 'You can get a sandwich at the "A. B. C."'

And Miss Purkiss arose and followed my relation, which was the saddest thing of all.

As soon as they were well out of the room, Mrs. Torquilin turned round. 'I suppose you'll wonder about the why and wherefore of all this turn-up,' she said to me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. 'It's a long story, and I'll tell you another time. But it comes to this in the end—that creature and I married into the same family. My husband and the late John Portheris, poor fellow, were step-brothers; and that old cat had the impudence—but there's no use going into it now. All I have to say is, she generally meets her match when she meets me. I'll put up with no hanky-panky work from Mrs. Cummers Portheris, my dear—and well she knows it!'

'It was certainly nice of you to help me out of the difficulty, Mrs. Torquilin,' I said, 'for I'd rather go anywhere than to Miss Purkiss's; but I'm sorry you had to——'

'Tell a tarradiddle? Not a bit of it, my dear—I meant it. Two are better than one, any day—I've plenty of room in my little flat, and if you like to share the expenses, I'll not object. At all events, we can but try it, and it will be showing very good feeling towards the Maffertons. I'm not a great hand for junketing, mind you, but we'll manage to amuse ourselves a little—a little giddy-goating does nobody any harm.'

Then I kissed Mrs. Torquilin, and she kissed me, and I told her how extremely obliged I was to her, and asked her if she had really considered it; and Mrs. Torquilin said, wasn't it enough that I should be left to 'that woman,' meaning my relation, and that I should come next day to see how we could best arrange matters. 'And while I think of it, child, here is my address,' my friend continued, taking out her card-case, and watching me very carefully, with a little smile about her mouth. I looked at it. I think my embarrassment gratified her a little, for the card read, 'Lady Torquilin, 102 Cadogan Mansions, S.W.' I didn't know what to say. And I had been calling a lady of title 'Mrs.' all this time! Still, I reflected, she would hardly have been so nice to me if I had offended her very much, and if she had been particular about her title she could have mentioned it.

'It seems,' I said, 'that I have been making a mistake. I expected to make mistakes in this country; but I'm sorry I began with you.'

'Nonsense, child!' she returned. 'It was just my little joke—and I made Charlie Mafferton keep it. There's precious little in the handle I assure you—except an extra half-crown in one's bills!' And Lady Torquilin gave me her hand to say good-bye.

'Good-bye,' I said; 'I think handles are nice all the same.' And then—it is an uncomfortable thing to write, but it happened—I thought of something. I was determined to make no more mistakes if asking would prevent it.