THE MEAN-WELLS

“Geoffrey examined the box.”

Page 5.

THE MEAN-WELLS

BY MABEL QUILLER-COUCH AUTHOR OF “THE CARROL GIRLS,” “TROUBLESOME URSULA,” “A PAIR OF REDPOLLS,” “KITTY TRENIRE,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY G. E. ROBERTSON

LONDON WELLS GARDNER, DARTON & CO. Ltd. 3 & 4, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.C. AND 44, VICTORIA STREET, S.W.

TO LILY IN REMEMBRANCE

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE MEAN-WELLS

CHAPTER I THE WORTH OF A TOOTH

IT did seem very unjust, and the more they thought of it the more unjust it seemed, especially to Priscilla.

“When I had a tooth pulled out no one gave me anything,” she grumbled; “but Loveday has a shilling given her for hers, and some sweets, and such a fuss made.”

“I only had sixpence, and mine was a double tooth,” said Geoffrey thoughtfully, “and I am a boy.”

“I don’t see that being a boy ought to make any difference,” retorted Priscilla; “boys’ teeth don’t hurt more than girls’, and boys ought to be able to bear it better.”

“Oh, but boys always have more in—in comparison, just as men do.”

“Do they?” asked Priscilla thoughtfully. “I wonder why? I think it ought to be just the other way, ’cause boys and men are stronger.”

“Oh, you’ll understand some day,” said Geoffrey loftily; “you are too young now.”

There had been great excitement in the house that afternoon. Loveday had been having toothache frequently[2] for some time. Whenever she drank anything hot or cold, or ate anything sweet, or put a lollipop in her mouth, her tooth had begun to jump and ache; and as she was generally doing one or the other, or wanting to, Loveday’s life lately had not been a bed of roses, any more than had the lives of those who had to relieve her pain and stop her sobs. So at last her father had decided that the tooth must go. It was slightly loose already and decayed, and Loveday was assured that she would know no comfort while it remained in her mouth; but if it was taken away another would soon grow, they told her, and she was promised some sweets and a shilling when the operation was over, if she bore it bravely.

Loveday had to think the matter over a little before she gave her consent, for though she hated having pain and not being allowed to eat sweets, she did like to have a wobbly tooth, one that she could move with her tongue, and she had hoped that if she waited a little while it would not hurt her when it wobbled.

But her father told her that that was very unlikely, and that if she did not have it taken out now it would fall out some day soon, perhaps while she was asleep, and then there would be danger of its choking her.

“If it felled out should I have a shilling and sweets, father?” she asked.

But father, without any hesitation, said:

“Oh dear, no—certainly not.”

So Loveday consented to the operation. She wanted the shilling to buy a paint-box with, and she wanted to see the tooth.

[3]Then began a great bustle. One servant ran for a tumbler of warm water, and another for a towel and different things, and they looked at Loveday so pityingly that she began to wonder if it would be very dreadful after all, and grew quite frightened. Then her father came in, and perched her on the table, and told her to open her mouth and let him see which tooth it was; and before she knew he had even seen which was the right one, she felt a little tweak, and it was out! She did not cry, for as soon as the pain began it was over, before she could even make a sound, or screw out a tear; and then, when she realised what had happened, every one was petting and praising her, and calling her a brave little heroine, and Nurse gave her a box of chocolates, and her father gave her a shilling, and her mother an extra penny because she had not made any noise. Priscilla thought it the easiest and quickest way of earning pocket-money that she had ever dreamed of—much easier than catching snails or pulling weeds.

The extraction itself was far too quickly over to please Geoffrey and Priscilla, who had been standing by the table, looking on. Priscilla had covered her ears that she might not hear Loveday’s screams, and, after all, Loveday had not screamed; and having closed her eyes too—for when it came to the most exciting moment she felt she could not look—Priscilla had missed everything, and when she unstopped one ear a little to hear if the screams had begun, she heard Loveday saying quite calmly:

“Thank you. Now I want my paint-box. Geoffrey, go and buy it for me at once, please.”

[4]And when Priscilla looked, Loveday was proudly handing to Geoffrey the new shilling she had just earned.

It had been arranged beforehand that if she won it, Geoffrey should run at once and buy her a box of paints with it.

So, finding that all the excitement was over, Priscilla decided to go with Geoffrey to buy the paints, and it was while they were on their way to the shop that the sense of injustice began to grow in her small breast, and it grew and grew until, as she stood in Miss Potts’ toy-shop and gazed about her, she felt that at least two of the toys she saw there were hers by right, for she had had out two teeth, and one had hurt her very much. Geoffrey had not, of course, such deep cause of complaint, for he had accepted the sixpence gladly, and if he did not stick out for more at the time he could not very well say anything now.

“And what kind of paints is it you want, Master Geoffrey?” asked Miss Potts pleasantly when he had told her what he had come for.

Most of her customers—and they were not numerous—were penny-toy customers, so she was very anxious to oblige her larger purchasers when she did get any. Not but what she was polite and kind to every one who entered her little shop; she did not know how to be anything else.

“It’s a shilling box I want, please,” said Geoffrey, as though such a purchase was quite a small matter to him, and jingling in his pocket all the while the shilling and a French halfpenny of his own. “I want Sans Poison, please,” he added—he pronounced it in the[5] English way, so that it sounded like “Sands Poison”—“because then Loveday can’t harm herself if she swallows some. She always will lick her brush, and it’s no use trying to stop her.”

Miss Potts, in common with the children, felt the greatest respect and faith in that mysterious person “Sans,” who, according to their belief, had discovered how to make paints that any child might swallow and not die.

“I’d never buy anybody else’s for Miss Loveday, if I were you, sir,” said Miss Potts solemnly. “You see, he guarantees them harmless, and we have proved them to be so, and ’tisn’t likely that now he’s made his reputation he’d risk it by selling others. But there’s no knowing what other folks will put in theirs; I wouldn’t trust them.”

Geoffrey agreed gravely, while he examined the box to see that the brushes and saucers were in perfect order. He was five years older than Loveday, and felt at least twenty.

Priscilla, who had been wandering about the shop, eagerly examining its treasures, came up to the counter.

“Miss Potts,” she asked very gravely, “don’t you think that if a double tooth is worth a shilling, a single one is worth sixpence?”

“I dare say you’re right, dearie,” said Miss Potts kindly, “but I never found mine worth anything, not even for chewing.”

“Did you have some once?” asked Priscilla, in genuine astonishment. The question was excusable, for she had never seen Miss Potts with even one.

[6]Miss Potts, quite unembarrassed, laughed good-temperedly.

“Why, yes, dearie, of course I had; but I was glad enough to get rid of them, I can assure you.”

“So should I be if I could get a shilling for each;” and Priscilla began to count her teeth, to find out what wealth might be hers. “Do you think I shall have none some day?” she asked eagerly.

“Oh dear no, missie; I don’t suppose so. You’ll be looked after too well for that.”

Priscilla grew thoughtful.

“I do think, though, that two teeth ought to be worth a—a——”

She looked around the shop to see what she could choose out of all that was there. It was very difficult, and Geoffrey, having finished examining a top that had caught his fancy, began to grow impatient.

“Come along, Prissy,” he said impatiently; “you know Loveday will be waiting for us,” and he strolled to the door.

“I shall ask father if I may have a hoop,” said Priscilla to Miss Potts. “I don’t think that’s too much. There were two teeth, and both hurt a lot, and oh, how they bled! You never saw such a thing! Much more than Loveday’s! But every one pets Loveday so,” she added, in a confidential tone, “because she is the youngest. They always say, ‘Ah, but she is the baby!’ But she isn’t; she is nearly seven years old, and babies aren’t babies when they are as old as that, are they?”

“Well, dear, you see folks always think a lot of the youngest,” said Miss Potts gently.

[7]Priscilla nodded her head very soberly.

“They do!” she said gravely, “and of the eldest, too, I think. Yesterday when granny gave Geoffrey a book and didn’t give me one, she said it was given to Geoffrey because he was the eldest. I don’t think it is very nice to be an in-between, do you, Miss Potts?”

“I don’t know, dear,” said Miss Potts, with a deep sigh. “I’d be glad to be anything if only I’d got some brothers and sisters.”

“Miss Potts, didn’t you ever have any?” Priscilla was standing at the end of the counter, gazing up at the tall, thin woman behind it. Miss Potts was certainly a very interesting person, she thought—so much seemed to have happened in her life. Miss Potts shook her head, and passed her hand across her eyes.

“I had them, Miss Priscilla,” she said softly, “but I’m the only one left.”

“I am very sorry,” said Priscilla, in a tone of sympathy. “It must be dreadfully sad for you; I hope you didn’t mind my asking.” Then, after a moment’s pause, “I’ll be your sister, if you would like me to, Miss Potts. Of course, I couldn’t live with you always, but——”

“I wonder what your pa and ma would say to that, dear,” said Miss Potts, half laughing, half crying. “It is very kind of you to think of it, I’m sure, but I reckon you’ve got brothers and sisters enough already.”

“Well, anyhow I can come in very often to see you. That will make it seem a little less lonely, won’t it?[8] And— Oh, there’s Geoffrey running away. I must go, because I want to see Loveday unwrap her paint-box. I wonder if she will let me use it too. I think she might, considering. There are two brushes, aren’t there? and she can’t use both at once. Good-bye, Miss Potts. I will come again soon. O Geoffrey, you are mean! You might as well wait, when you know I am hurrying as fast as ever I can.”

CHAPTER II A DRIVE AND A PINK PARASOL

WHEN Geoffrey and Priscilla got back, they found Loveday seated at the dining-room table, with a newspaper spread before her, to protect the table-cloth, a glass of water and a piece of white rag beside her, and before her an old bound volume of Little Folks, already open at the picture she had selected to paint. Close at her hand lay a little screw of white paper containing her tooth. She was all in readiness to begin, and very impatient at what she considered their long delay.

“I do think you might have hurried,” she said, in an injured tone, “when you knew that I was not at all well.”

“What is the matter? You are all right now the tooth is out,” said Geoffrey teasingly.

“No, I am not. Look at the great hole between my teefs; it’s ’normous! I can put all my tongue in, nearly.”

“Well, don’t put any paint in, or you might die,” said Priscilla. “Loveday, dear, don’t you think I had better paint for you, while you look on?”

“No, I don’t,” said Loveday, who usually said exactly what she thought. “Geoffrey has got ‘sans[10] poison’ paints, and I’ve got a piece of rag to wipe my brushes on, and I am waiting to begin.”

“Well, I think you are very greedy,” said Priscilla rather unjustly.

“No, I am not, I’ve been ill,” explained Loveday, looking up with a grave face and wide blue eyes full of reproach; “and when peoples are ill they are ’lowed to do what they like.”

“I don’t think you are ill. I think you are only greedy. I don’t call having just one tooth out being ill; but you make so much fuss about everything.”

“You don’t know how much it hurt me,” said Loveday, returning quite calmly to the mixing of her paints, her short golden curls falling all about her little flushed face. “It was—oh, it was somefin’ dreadful!”

“It couldn’t have been so very bad, or you would have screamed, I know;” and with this parting shot Priscilla walked away.

“Aren’t you going to watch me paint?” called Loveday anxiously.

“No, I am not,” said Priscilla shortly. She was feeling cross and dissatisfied, and she knew she was behaving unkindly, which did not help her to feel happier. Geoffrey had disappeared since he brought back the paint-box, and Priscilla felt dull and miserable; she could not think of anything she wanted to do. First of all she wandered up to the nursery, but it looked lonely, so she quickly came out again, and, strolling downstairs, went out into the yard.

The afternoon sun was shining hotly, right down into the yard, bringing out the beautiful scents of[11] the mignonette and lemon-verbena in the box on the kitchen window-sill, and the aromatic smell of the scenty-leaved geranium. On the ground underneath the window stood several very large fuchsias in pots; their branches hung thickly with pendent graceful blossoms like little dancers, some in pink frocks with white petticoats, others in white frocks with pink petticoats, while others, again, had scarlet frocks with purple petticoats.

All the plants belonged to Ellen, the cook, who had a perfect passion for flowers and growing plants. One of the greatest offences the children could commit was to break or injure any of her treasures in any way.

Ellen was leaning out of the window now, admiring her beloved plants, smoothing over the earth with her fingers, and tidying away any dead leaves, and all the time she was doing it she talked to the plants just as though they could hear her and understand. She picked a leaf of the scenty geranium and offered it to Priscilla, who took it gratefully, for she loved the scent, and Ellen was not often so generous.

It was too hot in the yard to remain there long, and too dull, so Priscilla presently wandered away to the orchard beyond. The orchard was on the slope of the hill at the back of the house, and was full of very old apple-trees. Each of the children had a favourite tree, and a favourite seat in it. Priscilla clambered up to hers, and sat there for a few moments, sniffing at her geranium leaf and looking about her rather disconsolately; it was so stupid and uninteresting to be there alone, yet nothing else seemed worth doing[12] by herself, and what had become of Geoffrey she did not know.

“I don’t wonder Miss Potts is sorry she has no brothers or sisters; it must be dreadful to be always without any. I wonder how little ‘only’ girls and boys play? They can’t ever have such nice games as we have.”

She sat up amongst the branches, gazing down through the shady trees, pondering over this matter and sniffing at her leaf; and all her life after, the scent of those geraniums brought back to her mind the sunny day, Loveday’s tooth-pulling, Miss Potts, the old orchard, and the serious mood she was in there.

Presently the sound of horses’ hoofs on rough cobble-stones reached her. “That must be Betsy being harnessed,” she murmured, beginning at once to climb down; “I wonder if father is going out?”

Priscilla’s love of horses was, then and always, one of the passions of her life, and of all horses Betsy was the queen. She hurried through the orchard now to speak to Betsy, and to see what was happening. In the yard she found Hocking, their man, wheeling the carriage out of the coach-house, and Betsy standing, partly harnessed, looking on. At the sound of Priscilla’s step she looked around, and Priscilla, running to her, embraced one of her legs and kissed her soft warm shoulder.

“You dear!” she said, laying her cheek against the old horse, patting her with little loving pats, and Betsy lowered her head and looked at her little mistress in a motherly way.

[13]While Priscilla stood there her father came out to place a medicine-case in the carriage.

“Hullo, little woman,” he said. “What are you doing? Nothing! That’s a dull way of passing your time. Would you like to come with me?”

“Oh!” cried Priscilla, unclasping Betsy and clasping her own small hands in rapture, “may I?”

“Yes, if you like. I am going to Lantig, but I shall be back by tea-time. Hurry in, then, and get ready, and don’t spend an age over your toilet.”

Priscilla laughed delightedly, and flew up to her room. As she passed in and up the stairs, she heard Loveday’s shrill little voice calling to her:

“Prissy, Prissy, do come here! Oh, I do want some one to watch me paint! Just look what I’ve done!”

“Can’t stay,” shouted back Priscilla. “I am going to Lantig with father, and he told me to hurry.”

“Well, somebody ought to stay with me when I’m an—an invalid,” declared Loveday, in an aggrieved tone.

“Where is mother?”

“Out.”

“Oh, well, she’ll be in soon. Go out to the kitchen and show your pictures to Ellen;” and on she ran.

The children had not a real nurse now; Dr. and Mrs. Carlyon were not wealthy people, and when the children were no longer babies Mrs. Carlyon had felt that she must, if possible, manage with only two maid-servants. But Nurse was so fond of her “babies,” as she called them, that she asked to stay on as nurse-housemaid, in the place of Prudence, the housemaid,[14] who was just leaving to be married, and she did so, to the delight and comfort of every one.

Priscilla did not call Nurse now to help her to get ready; she was learning to do a great many things for herself, and her toilet was a very simple one. She passed a brush vigorously over her curls, replaced her sun-hat, plunged her hands into the jug—it was too heavy for her to lift—rubbed the dirt off on the towel, slipped on a clean holland coat, which she found in the drawer, and ran down again.

Loveday was standing at the dining-room door, with a paint-brush in one hand and a cake of paint in the other; her face was streaked with paints of different colours.

“I want to go for a drive too. Shall I?” she asked eagerly, when she saw Priscilla.

“No,” said Priscilla, “you can’t.” Then she suddenly remembered Miss Potts, who was an “only,” and how she longed for a little sister like Loveday, and how dreadful it would be to be without her, and quite suddenly her mood changed, and all her ill-temper vanished.

“We will ask father,” she said; “I expect he will say ‘Yes.’”

But father did not say “Yes” at once; he thought it would be better for her not to go.

“It would be very bad for you, dear, if you got a cold in that tooth——”

“But I will leave it at home,” pleaded Loveday eagerly, “on the mantelpiece, and wrapped up.”

“I did not mean the tooth itself, you monkey; I meant the place where it came out from.”

[15]“I’ll keep my mouth shut as tight as tight can be, and put my handkerchief up to hold it all the time.”

“I should think if she had a shawl round her face she would not take cold,” said Priscilla, with the old-fashioned motherly air she wore sometimes.

“Very well, let Miss Persistency come,” said Dr. Carlyon, laughing, “only Nurse had better take some of that paint off her face first, or the people in Lantig will think I am bringing a wild Indian to the village.”