Boardinghouses -- Juvenile fiction; London (England) -- Juvenile fiction; Love stories; Mothers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction
During the next few days I spent all my time searching for houses. I
got quite independent, and, I think, a little roughened. I was more
brusque than usual in my manners. I became quite an adept at jumping
in and out of omnibuses. I could get off omnibuses quite neatly when
they were going at a fairly good pace, and the conductors, I am sure,
blessed me in their hearts for my agile movements. Then the agents all
round Bloomsbury began to know me. Finally, one of them said, on the
event of my fourth visit--
"Had you not better try further afield, Miss? There are larger,
brighter, and newer houses in the neighbourhood of Highbury, for
instance."
"No," I said, "we must live in Bloomsbury." Then I noticed that the
man examined me all over in quite a disagreeable fashion, and then he
said slowly--
"14 Cleveland Street is still to be had, Miss, but of course you
understand that the landlord will want the usual references."
"References!" I cried. "He shall certainly have them if he requires
them." And then I wondered vaguely, with a queer sinking at my heart,
to whom of all our grand friends I might apply who would vouch for us
that we would not run away without paying the rent. Altogether, I felt
most uncomfortable.
The days passed. No more likely houses appeared on the horizon, and at
last the afternoon came when our friends were to visit us, when I,
Westenra, was to break to these fashionable society people my wild
project. But I had passed through a good deal of the hardening process
lately, and was not at all alarmed when the important day dawned. This
was to be our very last entertainment. After that we would step down.
Mother, exquisitely dressed in dove-coloured satin, waited for her
guests in the drawing-room. I was in white. I had given up wearing
white when I was going about in omnibuses, but I had several charming
costumes for afternoon and evening wear still quite fresh, and I
donned my prettiest dress now, and looked at my face in the glass with
a certain amount of solicitude. I saw before me a very tall, slender
girl; my eyes were grey. I had a creamy, pale complexion, and
indifferently good features. There were some people who thought me
pretty, but I never did think anything of my looks myself. I gave my
own image a careless nod now, and ran briskly downstairs.
"You'll be very careful what you say to our guests, Westenra?" queried
mother. "This whole scheme of yours is by no means to my liking. I
feel certain that the dear Duchess and Lady Thesiger will feel that
they have been brought here unfairly. It would have been far franker
and better to tell them that something singularly unpleasant was about
to occur."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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