Sparrows: The Story of an Unprotected GirlNewte, Horace W. C. (Horace Wykeham Can)
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Sparrows: The Story of an Unprotected Girl
Newte, Horace W. C. (Horace Wykeham Can)
London (England) -- Fiction
She had little thought to give the matter, as she was concerned to know
where she was going to spend the night. Mr Medlicott solved her
perplexity; he insisted upon Mavis seeing Mrs Medlicott, who proved to
be a simple, kindly countrywoman, who dropped an old-fashioned curtsey
directly she set eyes on the girl. The station-master's wife showed
Mavis a little room and told her that she was welcome to the use of it
for the night, if she were not afraid of being kept awake by the
passing and shunting of trains. Mavis jumped at the offer, whereat Mrs
Medlicott insisted on her sitting down to a solid, homely tea, a meal
which was often interrupted by Mr Medlicott getting up to attend to his
duties upon the platform. When tea was over, there was yet another
hour's daylight. Mrs Medlicott suggested to Mavis that it might be as
well for her to call on Mrs Farthing, to see if she liked her; she
mentioned that Mr Farthing was a very nice man, but that his wife was
not a person everyone could get on with.
Mavis set out for the Pennington end of Melkbridge, where, after some
inquiry, she found that Mrs Farthing lived in an old-world cottage,
which was situated next door to a farm.
The girl's knock brought Mrs. Farthing, first to the window, then to
the door, whereupon Mavis explained her errand, not forgetting to
mention who had recommended her to come.
"Please to come inside," said Mrs. Farthing.
Mavis followed the woman, who was little and sharp-eyed, into a clean,
orderly living room, where she was asked to take a seat. She was
surprised to see her prospective landlady also sit, for all the world
as if she were entertaining a guest.
"Did you say you were taking up church work?" asked Mrs Farthing.
"No, I did not."
"I thought you did," said Mrs Farthing, as her face fell.
"You see, my father was a sea captain, so I have to be so careful to
whom I let my rooms."
"If I thought they weren't respectable, I shouldn't have come here,"
retorted Mavis.
Mrs Farthing winced, but recovered herself.
"Since I have been resident at Pennington Cottage, one colonel, three
doctors, two lawyers, seven reverends, and one banker have visited
here."
"I'm glad to see others appreciate you," remarked Mavis.
"Professional gentlemen and their ladies take to me at once. Did you
tell me your uncle was a reverend?"
"No, I did not," replied Mavis, who was beginning to lose patience.
"You see, my father being a sea captain--"
"I can't see how that's anything to do with letting lodgings," said
Mavis.
"Pardon me, it raises the question of references."
"Of course, I must have yours. I have only your word for the sort of
people you've had here."
Mrs Farthing looked at Mavis in astonishment; she was unaccustomed to
being tackled in this fashion.
"Perhaps, perhaps you'd like to see the sitting-room?" she faltered.
"I should," said Mavis.
Mrs Farthing led the way to a quaint little room, the window of which
overlooked the neighbouring farmyard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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