A VAGRANT TUNE
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 BY 
 
 BRYAN T. HOLLAND 
 
 BOSTON 
 SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922 
 
 BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASS.
 
 ' From a briar-grown garden that nobody knows, 
 
 Save one lone bird with a vagrant tune, 
 The dreamer gathers a last sad rose, 
 
 The ghost of a season that once was June. 
 
 ' Pale are the blossoms that cluster here, 
 
 And lonesome the song of the mateless bird, 
 Yet linger and listen, O Sweet and Dear, 
 You shall catch of my soul the secret word.' 
 
 LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON 
 (in The Garden of Dreams) 
 
 213S044 '
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE village of Diddlebury lies at the other end 
 of nowhere that is to say, a couple of miles or 
 so off the main road which runs from the market 
 town of Little Frippon to the Cathedral city of 
 Purchester and thence to the coast. 
 
 No one, unless he is a resident or has some 
 business to transact in the village, ever ventures 
 to turn off the highway on to the loop lane which 
 eventually, after pursuing a leisurely way up hill 
 and down dale, merges into ' the street,' as the 
 natives call it, and issuing again out of the ham- 
 let rejoins the Purchester road a considerable 
 distance from the spot where it left it. Very 
 occasionally a stray pedestrian or motorist finds 
 himself in the village by accident, but when that 
 happens the inhabitants view him with such sus- 
 picion that he is quite relieved to get out of the 
 place with all possible speed. 
 
 Just before the houses begin there is another
 
 2 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 road running off at right angles, but that only 
 leads up to the Heath, and is chiefly used by 
 those who, whether for amatory or ambulatory 
 reasons, wish to reach that salubrious spot, and 
 it dies an early death among some farm buildings 
 just beyond the open space where gorse and 
 heather and harebells jostle one another in the 
 crowd, and where the wild thyme makes a fra- 
 grant bed upon which to lie and listen to the larks 
 quivering the air with beating wings and pouring 
 out their ecstatic song, their grace for the blue 
 sky and white clouds and all the maddening 
 beauty of a world bathed in golden sunshine. 
 
 It was half-way up this hill leading to the 
 Heath that Miss Lavender's cottage stood, sepa- 
 rated from the road by a narrow strip of garden, 
 gay for at least six months of the year with old- 
 fashioned flowers, and with a gray flagged path 
 running up to the front door, between the worn 
 stones of which yellow stonecrop and purple 
 aubretia and soft green moss insisted upon grow- 
 ing. Miss Lavender loved these uninvited plants 
 almost as much as she did the gillyflowers and
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 3 
 
 verbenas and hollyhocks resting sedately on 
 their beds of warm brown soil on either side, 
 but Euphemia never saw them poking out their 
 perky little heads year after year without ex- 
 claiming aloud. When she had been younger 
 and better able to stoop, she had made, periodi- 
 cally, onslaughts upon them with a broken 
 kitchen fork kept for that express purpose; but 
 they had only, as it were, jeered at her for her 
 pains and come up the following spring in 
 greater profusion than ever, until at last, sooner 
 than acknowledge defeat, she had made the ex- 
 cuse of rheumatics and left them to work their 
 wicked will unmolested, to Miss Lavender's se- 
 cret joy and her own unconcealed annoyance. 
 Euphemia was Miss Lavender's domestic, and 
 had been so for so long that the two had in- 
 sensibly drifted into a relationship far closer 
 than that usually existing between mistress and 
 maid. For something like forty years she had 
 served Miss Lavender with such complete single- 
 ness of purpose, that service had become the 
 pivot upon which everything else turned, and her
 
 4 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 mistress the one person in the world who mat- 
 tered. Side by side the two of them had passed 
 through the various phases of life, had faced 
 sorrow and happiness, hope and disappointment; 
 side by side they had watched the years slip 
 away, adding here a wrinkle, there a gray hair; 
 and side by side they now stood on the shadowy 
 western slope with the brow of the hill at their 
 backs, and the valley, through which they each 
 must journey alone, lying wrapt in the mists of 
 evening at their feet. 
 
 A few people those who could not under- 
 stand that love breaks through all barriers, even 
 those social ones set up by man were apt to 
 consider that Miss Lavender allowed her old 
 servant a great deal too much freedom of speech 
 and was altogether on too familiar terms with 
 her; but then they looked at the matter from 
 their own standpoint and tried to imagine their 
 little Mauds and Emilys demanding to know 
 whether they had changed their damp boots 
 directly they came in, and if not why not, and 
 naturally the picture was beyond them. The
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 5 
 
 particular Maud or Emily who presumed to lec- 
 ture her mistress on the folly of sitting in wet 
 shoes would inevitably have left at the end of 
 her month, and it was outside their powers of 
 reasoning to grasp the fact that Euphemia was 
 something quite apart from the ordinary 
 ' general.' 
 
 Miss Lavender's house was, like its owner, 
 small and neat and clean as a new pin. The 
 dining-room, on the left of the front door as you 
 entered, had only one window looking out 
 towards the road across the strip of garden, and 
 behind it, separated by a narrow passage, was 
 the kitchen. The drawing-room was the other 
 side of the hall and staircase, a long narrow room 
 with a window at one end corresponding to that 
 in the dining-room and at the other a glass door 
 which led out into a small enclosure, half gar- 
 den, half orchard, surrounded by a high red brick 
 wall, so mellowed by time that it was almost the 
 colour of the roses which climbed up it and 
 nodded over the top to the stolid cattle in the 
 meadow beyond, which cattle, since roses are not
 
 6 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 good for food, remained callously indifferent to 
 their charms, much as an alderman at a city 
 banquet remains indifferent to the charms of the 
 ladies in the balcony who watch him eat. 
 
 In one corner of this wall, close up against the 
 house, was a door opening out on to a by-lane, 
 but it was so many years since it had been used 
 that it was doubtful whether it would still swing 
 on its hinges, even if it had not been locked and 
 the key lost. This door, nevertheless, was a 
 source of much uneasiness to Euphemia, who 
 had a rooted conviction, which nothing served to 
 eradicate, that ' some fine day ' a tramp would 
 discover this means of ingress and, proceeding 
 to batter it down, would burst in upon Miss 
 Lavender in the drawing-room and compel her, 
 at the point of the pistol, to hand over her purse 
 and the few simple articles of jewellery which 
 she wore. She had insisted upon planting a row 
 of hollies across the recess in which the door 
 stood, in order to make his entry as unpleasant 
 as possible, and she contemplated the havoc that 
 would be wrought upon his garments, not to
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 7 
 
 mention his person, with a kind of melancholy 
 satisfaction, but that anything would keep him 
 out when he did come she steadily refused to 
 believe for a single instant. Miss Lavender had 
 once tentatively suggested the advisability of 
 keeping a dog as a means of protection, but Eu- 
 phemia had opposed the scheme on the grounds 
 that a dog included fleas, and that, on the whole, 
 the uncertain burglar was a lesser evil than the 
 certain flea. 
 
 Miss Lavender's other name was Mottram, 
 but nobody in the village ever dreamt of calling 
 her by it, and had it not been for her infrequent 
 correspondence she might almost have forgotten 
 it herself. As for Euphemia, she presumably had 
 a surname once upon a time, but what it had 
 been was a secret locked up in her own bosom, 
 and she was quite content to be known as ' Miss 
 Lavender's Euphemia.' 
 
 Diddlebury held her in high esteem as one 
 who could, when occasion required, use the 
 rough side of her tongue, and he was a brave 
 fellow among the tradesmen who dared venture
 
 8 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 to cross swords with her, for she called a spade 
 a spade without any regard whatever for the 
 feelings of that humble implement, and even 
 Mrs. Bowers, the rector's wife, who considered 
 it her mission in life to regulate the affairs of the 
 whole parish down to the smallest details, hesi- 
 tated before bearding her in her den! 
 
 Towards Miss Lavender her attitude was a 
 queer mixture of humility and self-assertiveness. 
 She never thought twice about speaking out her 
 mind freely when her mistress did anything 
 which she considered might be derogatory to her 
 dignity or injurious to her health, but woe betide 
 anybody else who presumed to criticise ! Home- 
 truths fell about their shoulders like hailstones, 
 and they were left with no illusions as to their 
 own characters. A lioness defending her cubs 
 was not fiercer than Euphemia defending Miss 
 Lavender against her critics! 
 
 It is a curious but undeniable fact that the less 
 eventful life is, the more swiftly does time move, 
 and such was certainly the case with these two 
 living their quiet existence in the small house on
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 9 
 
 the hill. One day told another, and one night 
 certified another with so little to mark the differ- 
 ence, that the most trivial deviation from the 
 ordinary routine of life, which in most house- 
 holds would have passed unnoticed, seemed to 
 them events of soul-stirring importance. 
 
 There had, of course, been happenings of local 
 interest, apart from purely personal ones, to ex- 
 cite the village and rouse it to a state of vivacity 
 almost bordering on frenzy, such as, for instance, 
 that never-to-be-forgotten occasion when the 
 west gallery of the church collapsed in the 
 middle of the rector's sermon, narrowly escaping 
 killing the sexton who was slumbering peacefully 
 behind one of its wooden pillars, and who was 
 extricated from the ruins unhurt, but more dead 
 than alive with terror, being firmly convinced, 
 despite assurances to the contrary, that it was 
 the end of the world. A good many people, at 
 the time, thought that it had something to do 
 with the choir having been put into cassocks and 
 surplices, but, as the sexton justly remarked, it 
 was rather hard that he should be the one singled
 
 10 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 out for retribution even if his wife did do the 
 church washing. 
 
 Diddlebury is very loyal, and waves flags on 
 Empire Day with great gusto, but the Throne is 
 one of the few institutions it shares in common 
 with the outside world. Battle, murder, or 
 sudden death moves half a continent to wonder, 
 horror, or grief, as the case may be, and Diddle- 
 bury remains callously indifferent, though the 
 demise of the carrier's horse will stir it to its 
 very foundations. 
 
 New ideas gain ground but slowly in the little 
 out-of-the-way hamlet; in fact it might almost 
 be said that what Diddlebury thinks to-day, 
 England thought the day before yesterday, and 
 the stranger in the place who cannot satisfac- 
 torily explain his presence is viewed with just 
 suspicion. The rising generation accept the tele- 
 graph as an acknowledged fact simply because 
 they have been brought up to it, but there are 
 still those among the older inhabitants who 
 shake their heads over the innovation and lay to 
 its charge every thunderstorm which visits the 
 district, while telephones they regard as some-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 11 
 
 thing to be religiously avoided by all who value 
 the welfare of their souls. What would happen 
 if by any chance an airman happened to descend 
 in their midst is too terrible to contemplate, 
 since a motor-cyclist very nearly caused the 
 death of old Mrs. Smith, who was standing at 
 her garden gate when he came by at the rate of 
 some forty miles an hour, she being firmly con- 
 vinced that he was a visitant from another 
 world, and that not a better one! In time, no 
 doubt, telephones and electric light and ' com- 
 pany's water ' will find their way to Diddlebury, 
 but with their advent something of the sturdy 
 independence of the place will be taken away, 
 and, instead of standing alone, it will become a 
 mere appendage to Little Frippon. Already the 
 cloud no bigger than a man's hand has arisen 
 in the shape of a proposal, emanating from some 
 of the more adventurous spirits among the 
 younger inhabitants, to introduce a system of 
 drainage into the village, but Diddlebury, as a 
 whole, is strongly averse to burying its individu- 
 ality in a sewer, and long may it continue to be 
 so!
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BEHIND Miss Lavender's cottage, on the fur- 
 ther side of the meadow beyond the red brick 
 wall, stood a large, gray, stone house known as 
 Starr Cross. Once upon a time, but so long ago 
 that only those who were grown up could recol- 
 lect it, a large noisy family of boys and girls had 
 inhabited it, but one by one they had gone out 
 into the world, and the father and mother had 
 died, and, somehow or other, nobody had come 
 to take their place, so that for years the house 
 had remained empty and desolate, the glass 
 broken in the window-panes, the doors rotted on 
 their hinges, while in the garden the trees and 
 bushes, with no one to cut them back, had grown 
 together into a thick tangle of branches meeting 
 across what had once been paths, completely ob- 
 literating them, and even encroaching upon the 
 drive itself, so that, before long, any one wishing
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 13 
 
 to reach the front door would have to cut a way 
 through like the prince in Sleeping Beauty. 
 
 It had never been rightly explained how it 
 ever happened that the house had been allowed 
 to get into such a state of decay, but it was popu- 
 larly supposed that, the owner of the property 
 having died abroad, his heirs had lacked either 
 the means or the energy to put it into order, and, 
 after vainly endeavouring for some years to sell 
 it, had simply given up the attempt, and left it to 
 fall to pieces of its own accord. 
 
 Hardly to be wondered at was it that the house 
 had gained the reputation of being haunted, or 
 that there was nobody in the village who would 
 willingly have gone by it after dark. There was, 
 luckily, no need to do this last thing, as Starr 
 Cross stood well away by itself, and the sole ap- 
 proach to it was down the by-lane which led past 
 the gate into Miss Lavender's back garden, that 
 gate which Euphemia had so carefully fortified 
 against invaders. 
 
 Miss Lavender herself always felt a sneaking 
 dread of what she might see from the staircase
 
 14 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 window on her way up to bed, especially on 
 bright moonlight nights, and, if the blind hap- 
 pened to have been left undrawn, hurried by 
 with averted eyes, while Euphemia, whose bed- 
 room looked right across the meadow to the 
 shrubbery, was frankly and avowedly terrified 
 lest the ghost should some time elect to leave its 
 own precincts and, wandering afield, make its 
 way in her direction. Now and then, in a sudden 
 access of panic, she would get out of bed and ar- 
 range straws crosswise on the sill lest it should 
 take it into its head to climb in at her window, 
 but she was slightly ashamed of, and never con- 
 fessed to, this weakness. 
 
 It was Mrs. Brill who first brought the news 
 that Starr Cross was actually taken. 
 
 Mrs. Brill, or 'that there Caroline' as she was 
 contemptuously designated by Euphemia, was 
 the lady whose services were requisitioned at 
 those times of domestic upheaval which involved 
 any additional labour, such as the annual Spring- 
 clean, and the rare occasions upon which Miss 
 Lavender, like Hans Breitmann, gave a party.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 15 
 
 She also 'obliged' one day a week by coming in 
 to do some of the rough work, an obligation 
 which put four shillings into her pocket each Sat- 
 urday evening, and, incidentally, a nice little 
 sum into the till of the bar-parlour of the 'Uni- 
 corn,' Mr. Brill never failing to exact a substan- 
 tial toll out of his wife's earnings. 
 
 Mr. Brill was by way of posing as a carpenter, 
 but, as Caroline very truly observed, it was only 
 by * fits and starts' that he pursued his legitimate 
 calling, preferring to spend his time at the one 
 public-house of which the village boasted, airing 
 his views as to the superiority of the British 
 workman, and apostrophising those who were 
 sensible enough to remain on good terms with 
 their employers as 'beggarly parasites,' a term 
 of opprobrium of the meaning of which he was 
 entirely ignorant, though it shocked his wife, 
 who had an idea that it had something to do 
 with murdering your father. She knew better 
 however, poor soul, than to expostulate with him 
 on the subject, for he did not carry his theories 
 of the equality of all men into his home life,
 
 16 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 and was rather apt to 'form 'asty judgments,' 
 as she put it, which resolved itself into brute 
 force being employed if she ventured to hold an 
 opposite opinion to her lord and master. 
 
 Euphemia never knew which of the two to pity 
 most, and was quite unable to decide in her own 
 mind which of them was cause, and which effect, 
 though she was slightly inclined to believe that 
 Caroline was enough to drive anybody to drink. 
 
 1 'Alf an hour of 'er nearly sends me mad, so 
 what it must be to find yourself tied up to 'er 
 for life don't bear thinking of,' she observed once 
 to Miss Lavender. 
 
 'But he needn't have married her in the first 
 instance,' Miss Lavender pointed out with some 
 show of reason. 
 
 'That's not for us to say 'oo didn't know 'er 
 mother,' Euphemia said darkly. 'I'll never be- 
 lieve, for one, that Caroline went off without a 
 good strong push from be'ind, and from all ac- 
 counts 'er mother 'ad the knack of bringing a 
 man to see reason, leastways she managed to get 
 three 'usbands for 'erself.'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 17 
 
 The days on which Euphemia was forced not 
 only to do her own work but to superintend that 
 of Caroline were always a sore trial to her. She 
 was glad to be spared the arduous task of scrub- 
 bing floors, but it galled her nevertheless to 
 watch her understudy's slow movements, and 
 she was fond of comparing her own methods with 
 those of the unfortunate Mrs. Brill, to the great 
 disadvantage of the latter. 
 
 The floors she had scrubbed you could have 
 eaten your dinner off afterwards, had you been 
 minded so to do, but in these days a lick and a 
 promise seemed all that was thought necessary, 
 and as for moving out the dresser and cleaning 
 behind it, well, she'd be sorry to look there and 
 see the dirt there must be! One of these fine 
 days she'd go down on her knees, rheumatics or 
 no rheumatics, and just show Caroline how it 
 ought to be done. 
 
 Another thing which exasperated Euphemia 
 was the habit Mrs. Brill had of keeping up a 
 continual steady flow of conversation, never 
 adhering to one subject for more than a few
 
 18 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 seconds at a time, so that it required a series of 
 mental leaps and bounds to follow her. She 
 flitted among the various bits of gossip she had 
 picked up during the week, like a bumble-bee 
 among flowers, bridging the gulf which separated 
 them with ruminations of her own, expecting 
 neither question nor comment, though humbly 
 grateful if her listener displayed the slightest in- 
 terest in what she was talking about. 
 
 It was during one of these discursive rambles 
 that she imparted the information about Starr 
 Cross already mentioned, and, as usual, she had 
 begun far away from the topic. 
 
 ' I 'ear the comic 's coming to England,' she 
 had remarked from underneath the kitchen table, 
 where she happened to be at the moment, en- 
 gaged in washing that bit of the floor. 
 
 1 'Oo 's 'e ? ' inquired Euphemia, addressing 
 her through the intervening woodwork without 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 1 It's not an 'e, it's one o' them stars with a 
 tail shooting 'ither and thither in the 'eavens as 
 the fancy takes it,' explained Caroline.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 19 
 
 ' A comet, you mean/ corrected Euphemia. 
 1 1 thought, for the minute, you meant one o' 
 them black monarchs.' 
 
 1 Well, any'ow, I 'ope it won't do any damage,' 
 Caroline said doubtfully. 
 
 ' Why should it ? ' queried Euphemia. 
 
 ' You never seem to know where you are with 
 them 'eavenly bodies,' was the reply in a some- 
 what less muffled voice, Caroline having emerged 
 on the other side of the table by this time. 
 
 ' A railway train, now,' she continued medita- 
 tively, ' 'as its own appointed limits to keep, 
 unless there's an accident, and even then it don't 
 do more than run down an embankment or fall 
 off a bridge, underneath which no person in their 
 senses would choose for to stand, not without it 
 was a tramp, tramps using sech places to sleep 
 in. A comic, on the other 'and, not 'aving fixed 
 lines on which to run, ain't any more responsible 
 for its goings on than an omblibus without a 
 driver, and if it takes it into its 'ead to fly in 
 through your bedroom winder there's no one to 
 gainsay it, so far as I can see,'
 
 20 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 I There was a comet when I was a gal, but as 
 far as I remember it just 'ung from the sky by 
 its tail and did no 'arm/ recollected Euphemia. 
 
 ' But this 'ere one's made up with laughing- 
 gas,' said Caroline a trifle anxiously. ' Accord- 
 ing to a gentleman 'oo stargazes in Paris, it'll 
 make us all die o' laughing, which sounds to me 
 'ardly respectable, though, to be sure, what 
 might befall anybody at the dentist's 'aving a 
 tooth pulled out by gas. 
 
 I 1 don't 'old with prophesiers, though,' she 
 went on after a pause. 'What I sez is if any- 
 thing unpleasant 'as got to 'appen, the less we 
 knows about it before'and the better. It must 
 be dreadful seeing all the 'orrible things that are 
 going to 'appen, and not be able so much as to 
 lift a finger to stop 'em, like that Old Moore, 
 'ooever 'e may be. The rector come in to pay 
 a procul visit on me, a while back, and see'd the 
 almanac lying on the table, and 'e was quite put 
 out about it. Vain supposition 'e called it, but 
 if you asked me I should say liver 'ad something 
 to do with it, for no man living could look so
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 21 
 
 persistent on the black side of things without 
 their inside was out o' order. I 'aven't spent 
 fifteen years married to Brill without 'aving to 
 suffer many things along o' 'is liver. Once that 
 gets wrong everything's wrong, and do what one 
 may, one can't please 'im, 'e 's that full o' 
 crotchets and quavers. I declare to goodness 
 that if it wasn't for the thought of the 'arps I'd 
 almost be glad to go.' 
 
 ' If it wasn't for what 'arps ? ' asked Euphe- 
 mia irritably. 
 
 ' The 'arps I should 'ave to play in 'eaven,' 
 explained Caroline. Tve always 'ad a distaste 
 for string instruments ever since an uncle o' mine 
 took lessons on the banjo. They seem to make 
 my 'ead twang.' For a few seconds she scrubbed 
 on in silence, then a sudden thought seemed to 
 strike her, for she sat back on her heels, after 
 depositing her various implements on the floor, 
 and gazed out of the window with a far-away 
 look in her eye. 
 
 ' There's always the 'ope, of course, that Brill 
 may be took first/ she observed rather more
 
 22 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 cheerfully. 'Not that wild 'orses 'ud drag me to 
 the halter again if I 'ad the good fortune to be 
 left a widder to-morrow; but there, I never was 
 one o' the lucky ones like mother.' 
 
 * Three times, wasn't it ? ' inquired Euphemia 
 with a sudden display of interest. 
 
 Caroline nodded complacently. 
 
 1 But I was all the family she ever 'ad,' she 
 said. 'She felt that.' 
 
 ' She would ! ' Euphemia said decidedly. 
 
 'Ah yes, she did. "You ain't much to show 
 for three 'usbands," many and many's the time 
 I've 'card 'er say, when she was a bit put out 
 like. I was never brought up to think too much 
 o' my looks as some is.' 
 
 ' Which per'aps was just as well,' remarked 
 Euphemia caustically. 'Life's full o' disappoint- 
 ments as it is without 'aving them thrust upon 
 us by others.' 
 
 ' You might well say so if you was married,' 
 Caroline said despondently, resuming her work 
 with a deep sigh. 'For if ever there was a dis- 
 appointment in this world it's Brill. Not but
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 23 
 
 what I 'ope I know my duty towards 'im,' she 
 added hastily. 'It sez in the Bible that the 'us- 
 band shall rule over 'is wife, though o' course 
 that was said about Adam, and 'e being an Asi- 
 atic would naturally expect to keep 'is wife in 
 objection, as they do to this day, or so I've 'card 
 tell, shutting 'em up in 'arems and never letting 
 'em see another man, much less speak to one, 
 and 'owever they do their shopping it beats me 
 to think. I'm sure I'm not surprised they've 
 started banana missions for the poor creatures.' 
 
 * 'Ow you do rattle on, to be sure,' said Euphe- 
 mia impatiently. 'It makes me tired to listen to 
 you, what with your 'arems and 'arps and stars 
 and what not.' 
 
 'And that reminds me, 'ave you 'card that 
 Starr Cross is took ? ' asked Caroline. 
 
 The reception of this item of information was 
 more than even Mrs. Brill had dared hope for. 
 Euphemia dropped the basin she happened to 
 be holding in her hands at the time with a loud 
 crash on to the floor at her feet, where it lay 
 shivered into a thousand atoms, while she her-
 
 24 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 self sat down abruptly in the nearest chair, clasp- 
 ing her heart with both hands. 
 
 * Never ! ' she exclaimed in tones of utter 
 incredulity. 
 
 ' It's as true as I stand 'ere,' declared Caroline, 
 suiting the action to the words with the aid of 
 the kitchen table. 
 
 'I don't believe it. 'Oo told you ? ' Euphemia 
 demanded to know. 
 
 'The very words I used meself when first I 
 'card of it,' observed Caroline, gratified beyond 
 measure at the other's display of incredulous 
 amazement. ' 'Ooever's been fool enough to 
 want to go and live in that benighted 'ole ? I sez, 
 which is 'aunted by a ghost, let alone the roof 
 lets in water by the gallon.' 
 
 ' 'Oo told you ? ' demanded Euphemia once 
 more, this time with evident suspicion. 
 
 Caroline thus adjured settled down to a recital 
 of her tale with obvious relish. 
 
 ' I went into Frippon yesterday by the carrier 
 to sell a few eggs, and, my business being done 
 and 'aving 'alf an hour to spare, I thought I'd
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 25 
 
 jest walk along to Mercer's and 'ave a look in 
 their winder in case I might get an 'int as to 'ow 
 to do up my winter 'at for Easter, and I 'adn't 
 'ardly turned the corner into Middle Street when 
 'oo should I see but Mr. Bates the builder, and 
 the minute 'e notices me 'e gives me an 'ail. 
 "Lucky meeting you like this," 'e says; "I was 
 meaning to run out to Diddlebury on my bike 
 one o' these afternoons and find out if your 
 'usband was busy jest at present." "I dessay 'e 
 could fit in any little job you 'ad for 'im, Mr. 
 Bates," I sez, (for I wasn't going to let on that 
 Brill wasn't doing anything). "Whereabouts 
 might it be ? " I sez. "Why, where but in your 
 own parish, Mrs. Brill," 'e sez; " 'aven't you 
 'card that Starr Cross is took ? " Well, I was 
 that flabbergasted that I never answered 'im a 
 word, but stood there on the pathway opening 
 and shutting my mouth with no sound coming 
 out.' 
 
 ' Not a minute ago you told me you said you 
 didn't believe it,' interrupted Euphemia severely, 
 who was beginning to recover from the first
 
 26 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 shock of the news, and to realise that Caroline 
 was adopting a quite unwarrantable air of superi- 
 ority which required rigorous suppression before 
 it grew to greater dimensions. 
 
 ' And so I did directly I could find the words/ 
 Caroline said. ' 'Ooever 'as been fool enough 
 I sez ' 
 
 1 And 'oo 'as?' cut in Euphemia. 
 
 1 Ever 'eard of Tidd?' asked Caroline. 
 
 Euphemia thought for a minute, then shook 
 her head. 
 
 ' The name sounds familiar enough, but I 
 can't lay 'ands on where I've come across it/ she 
 said. "Go's Tidd?' 
 
 ' Why, the patient medicine man, o' course/ 
 announced Caroline triumphantly. 
 
 1 Not the Cure-All/ gasped Euphemia. 
 
 1 That's the very one/ said Caroline. Though 
 what 'e wants with Starr Cross beats me.' 
 
 Euphemia laughed hysterically. 
 
 ' 'E's going to build a pill factory/ she de- 
 clared unhesitatingly. 'My poor Miss Lavender 
 'ull be driven out of 'ouse and 'ome by a lot o'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 27 
 
 nasty belching chimneys covering the 'ole place 
 with smuts and dirt.' 
 
 ' Like 'Agar,' suggested Caroline, to whom the 
 picture forcibly appealed. 
 
 1 For goodness' sake don't be more foolish than 
 'eaven made you,' snapped Euphemia, who was 
 in no mood to be trifled with. 'If you was to at- 
 tend to washing the floor properly instead of 
 gossiping on about rubbish we shouldn't 'ave 
 these upsets.' 
 
 ' Well, there now,' said the aggrieved Caroline, 
 stung by the injustice of the charge to defend 
 herself. 'You can't 'old me responsible for what 
 others may do, and a nice thing if Miss Lavender 
 'ad 'card the news in the village without 'aving 
 'ad due warning. It would 'ave given 'er a turn.' 
 
 ' I'd better go and tell 'er at once, before the 
 rumour reaches 'er,' Euphemia said flurriedly, 
 almost as though she expected the report to make 
 its way up from the village unaided and burst in 
 upon her mistress in the dining-room, unless 
 steps were instantly taken to prevent such a 
 catastrophe.
 
 28 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Miss Lavender was engaged upon the uncon- 
 genial task of adding up the weekly books when 
 Euphemia interrupted her. 
 
 * Whatever is the matter, Euphemia ? ' she 
 inquired in some trepidation, noticing the other's 
 set expression. 
 
 Euphemia shook a gloomy head. 
 
 ' Matter enough,' she replied forebodingly. 
 'Starr Cross is took.' 
 
 1 Starr Cross taken ! ' exclaimed Miss Lav- 
 ender, hardly .believing her ears. 'Are you posi- 
 tive, Euphemia ? ' 
 
 1 Caroline told me for certain, not five minutes 
 since; but that ain't the worst.' 
 
 ' It isn't they aren't going to start a private 
 asylum there ? ' Miss Lavender asked, clutching 
 the arms of her chair in an agony of despair. 
 
 ' Worse,' was Euphemia's terse reply. 
 
 ' Oh, Euphemia, whatever could be worse ! 
 For mercy's sake tell me quickly what it is/ 
 besought Miss Lavender in trembling tones. 
 
 1 Well then, they're going to make pills there,' 
 Euphemia said with due solemnity.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 29 
 
 Miss Lavender drew herself up stiffly. 
 
 ' Pills,' she echoed incredulously. 'I never 
 heard of such a thing. I shall write and protest 
 to the authorities.' 
 
 ' What authorities ? ' inquired Euphemia. 
 
 ' The the inspector of public nuisances,' an- 
 swered Miss Lavender desperately.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 LUCKILY for Euphemia's peace of mind, it was 
 not long before she discovered that the 'pill- 
 factory' existed only in her own fevered imagina- 
 tion, and that Mr. Tidd, the proprietor of the 
 famous 'Cure-All,' who already possessed exten- 
 sive works on the outskirts of London, had no 
 intention whatever of adding to his responsibili- 
 ties by building fresh ones in a remote country 
 district, but, on the contrary, had bought Starr 
 Cross as a place to retire to in his declining years, 
 leaving the business in the hands of a capable 
 manager. 
 
 'Though what maggot 'e 'ad in 'is brain to 
 induce 'im to go and buy a ramshackle old barn 
 like that, when there's 'ouses and to spare with 
 doors and winders to 'em, not to mention roofs 
 to cover 'em, is past my understanding. You 
 mark my words, there's something be'ind it all,' 
 quoth Euphemia, waxing eloquent.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 31 
 
 ' It's a very nice house, at least it used to be 
 in Mr. Evershed's time. Why shouldn't he want 
 to buy it ? ' Miss Lavender said a little sharply, 
 resenting the implied slight on it. 
 
 ' Yes, but 'e's not even been down to see it, 
 so 'ow can 'e tell whether it's nice or no? Folks 
 don't buy pigs in pokes without some good rea- 
 son, not without they're born fools. There's 
 something be'ind it all,' insisted Euphemia, who 
 took the deepest interest in everything that con- 
 cerned Starr Cross and its new occupants, and 
 who seldom returned from her walks abroad 
 without having gleaned some items of informa- 
 tion about one or the other to regale her mis- 
 tress with. 
 
 Miss Lavender, it must be confessed, was quite 
 as eager to listen as Euphemia was to relate, 
 though she did think it her duty occasionally to 
 feign indifference, and the sight of a workman 
 passing the cottage with a pot of paint was suffi- 
 cient to send her flying to the window, unless the 
 old servant was hi the room. 
 
 These same workmen were a source of much
 
 32 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 perturbation to Euphemia, since nearly all of 
 them were strangers to the place, and she took 
 the precaution of purchasing a length of barbed 
 wire to supplement the row of hollies across the 
 door leading out into the lane down which they 
 had to go to reach their work. 
 
 ' They'll leave something be'ind to identify 
 'em by if they do come,' she remarked, surveying 
 her handiwork with satisfaction. 
 
 ' Yes, but think how much more desperate 
 they'll be if they've hurt themselves getting in. 
 Besides, they may bleed on to the drawing-room 
 carpet,' objected Miss Lavender, who viewed 
 these preparations for the reception of possible 
 disturbers of the peace with considerable mis- 
 giving. She never pretended to be anything but 
 an arrant coward, and Euphemia always sternly 
 refused to tell her where she hid the silver each 
 night, so that ignorance of its whereabouts might 
 be quite truthfully pleaded in case of emergency. 
 
 1 There's only 'imself and one son,' Euphemia 
 announced one morning on her return from the 
 village, whither she had been ostensibly to buy
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 33 
 
 butter. (It was wonderful in these days how 
 often orders were forgotten to be given to the 
 boot-boy when he left, for delivery at the shop.) 
 'The son's at Oxford College.' 
 
 Miss Lavender did not need to ask to whom ' 
 she referred. 
 
 ' Did you hear anything about Mrs. Tidd ? ' 
 she inquired with interest, the feminine portion 
 of the family being that likely to concern her 
 most. 
 
 Euphemia shook her head. 
 
 ' It's a funny thing, but not once 'ave I 'card 
 'er mentioned, nor 'as any one else. There's some 
 reason for it, you may be sure. I 'ope it's not 
 'er 'oo's be'ind it all. I can't 'elp the feeling that 
 it's something in connection with 'er that they've 
 come to settle in such a far-off spot.' 
 
 I What nonsense, Euphemia,' said Miss Lav- 
 ender quite crossly. 'What reason could there 
 possibly be why Mrs. Tidd should want to live 
 here more than anywhere else? ' 
 
 I 1 didn't say she wanted to,' Euphemia said
 
 34 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 darkly. 'It may be the rest of 'er family 'oo want 
 to 'ide 'er from view.' 
 
 1 Whatever do you mean ? ' asked Miss 
 Lavender. 
 
 ' Well, it's not for me to say, Miss, but drink, 
 or disease, or brain-mischief 'ud any of 'em be 
 reason enough, to my way o' thinking, to make 
 'em wishful not to 'ave too many neighbours 
 round.' 
 
 That the good lady had, for the last twenty 
 years been the solitary occupant of an exces- 
 sively hideous and correspondingly expensive 
 tomb at Kendal Green was too obvious an ex- 
 planation to be entertained by either of them 
 for one single instant. Their imaginations, jaded 
 with the excitements of the past few weeks, re- 
 fused any such simple solution of the silence 
 which reigned supreme as far as Mrs. Tidd was 
 concerned. From that moment, until the one in 
 which the commonplace truth was forced upon 
 their notice, they never spoke of her except with 
 bated breath as one above whose head there 
 hung the shadow of a fear, though what cast the
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 35 
 
 shadow they could not determine to their satis- 
 faction. Miss Lavender, because her greatest 
 terror was mad people, was perfectly convinced 
 that the unfortunate lady was a victim to peri- 
 odical attacks of mania, probably homicidal, 
 while Euphemia inclined to the theory that drink 
 was at the bottom of the trouble. Both agreed 
 that bottle glass round the top of the garden wall 
 was desirable, if not actually necessary. 
 
 The day after the workmen were out of Starr 
 Cross, which was not until well on in May, Miss 
 Lavender suddenly announced her intention of 
 going round there to see what alterations had 
 been made. 
 
 ' You can come too, if you like,' she said gra- 
 ciously to Euphemia. 
 
 It was during lunch that she made known her 
 decision, and Euphemia, who was handing the 
 vegetables at the moment, nearly dropped the 
 potatoes in her surprise. In spite of its close 
 proximity her mistress had not once entered the 
 gates of Starr Cross since it had been left empty 
 more than twenty years ago.
 
 36 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 1 A deserted house is one of the saddest things 
 on earth, especially to those who have known it 
 under different circumstances. Don't ever ask 
 me to go there,' she had said on one occasion 
 when Euphemia had suggested that she might 
 sometimes use the garden to sit out in. That 
 was before the ghost had put in an appearance, 
 or the suggestion would never have been made ! 
 Even now, though the sun was shining brightly, 
 Euphemia looked a little dubious at the idea of 
 risking an encounter with it, but curiosity at 
 length got the better of her fears, and she de- 
 cided to accept the invitation. 
 
 * We'll start early so as not to be too late 
 back,' she said. 'I'll run along directly I've 
 swallowed my dinner, and fetch the key from 
 Caroline.' 
 
 1 What is Caroline doing with the key ? ' asked 
 Miss Lavender. 
 
 * She's to do the cleaning up after the work- 
 men,' explained Euphemia. 'And a job I 'ad to 
 persuade 'er to accept the offer. Thinks the 
 ghost'll eat 'er, I shouldn't wonder.' She laughed
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 37 
 
 the easy laugh of one who scoffs at danger, de- 
 liberately forgetting her hesitation of a few mo- 
 ments since. 
 
 ' Poor Caroline/ said Miss Lavender, with a 
 guilty remembrance of those occasions when she 
 herself had hurried past the staircase window 
 with averted head, on her way to bed, for fear 
 of what she might see if she looked out across 
 the moonlit meadows in the direction of the un- 
 kempt shrubbery with its deep mysterious 
 shadows and tangled undergrowth. 
 
 ' I shall start at three, then,' said Miss Lav- 
 ender as she got up from the table at the end of 
 the meal. 
 
 ' I'll be ready,' Euphemia responded. 
 
 It was with strangely mixed feelings that Miss 
 Lavender found herself opening the gate through 
 which she had passed so many times in bygone 
 days. Everything looked so exactly the same as 
 it had been, that it left her with an odd sensation 
 of having dreamed the intervening years, and she 
 had to glance surreptitiously at Euphemia, who 
 walked at her side, to convince herself that she
 
 38 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 really was an elderly woman, and not the girl who 
 had spent so many happy hours in that very 
 garden. 
 
 ' Twenty years is a long time, for all it goes 
 so quick,' Euphemia suddenly said, as though 
 answering the unspoken thought which had 
 flashed through her mind. 
 
 ' It's twice twenty-five years since I used to 
 play here as a child,' said Miss Lavender a little 
 wistfully. 'I wonder what has become of all the 
 others? I've quite lost sight of them all, even 
 Mary Evershed who used to be such a friend of 
 
 mine.' 
 
 ' What a one she was for tricks and mischief,' 
 Euphemia said pensively. * Always wishing she'd 
 been born a boy! She was for ever leading you 
 into all kinds of trouble.' 
 
 Miss Lavender shook an almost regretful head. 
 
 * I was generally much too frightened to do 
 the things she used to,' she said. 'Do you re- 
 member how angry Mrs. Evershed was with her 
 for climbing that oak tree in the upper 
 meadow ? '
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 39 
 
 ' And 'ow she used to run races with those 
 young fellows Mr. Evershed 'ad down from 
 London for an 'oliday one summer,' continued 
 Euphemia, taking up the tale. ' It was 'er Pa 
 put 'is foot down there, and quite rightly too, in 
 my opinion, for when all's said and done they 
 were only what you might call common young 
 men, shop assistants and the like, respectful and 
 well be'aved though they may 'ave been, and it 
 wasn't 'ardly suitable for a young lady to de- 
 mean 'erself to 'em. I always wondered at Mr. 
 Evershed asking 'em down, I must say, but 'e 
 was a kind gentleman and looked to make others 
 'appy when 'e 'ad the chance. But for 'im, I 
 daresay, those lads wouldn't ever 'ave got a 
 breath of good country air inside their lungs, for 
 that was before the days when everybody 'as 
 their fortnight at the seaside, be they what they 
 may. The grand gentlemen 'oo serve be'ind the 
 counter nowadays 'ud be insulted at being put 
 to sleep in a loft over the stables, like they was, 
 but they seemed 'appy enough, and grateful into 
 the bargain. I lay there's many of them 'as pleas-
 
 40 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ant recollections of this place, if only one knew 
 what 'ad become of 'em.' 
 
 1 On fevered beds where sick men toss/ quoted 
 Miss Lavender, so softly that the words were 
 barely audible. 
 
 ' Eh ? ' said Euphemia, who had not caught 
 them. 
 
 Miss Lavender roused herself with a little 
 start. 
 
 ' Perhaps some of them died abroad, far away 
 from those they loved, of fever or some other 
 dreadful disease. If so, I should think that must 
 have been the sort of time when one's memory 
 would turn back with an almost desperate long- 
 ing to this peaceful garden, with its cool shade 
 and quiet,' she said, getting rather pink, as she 
 realised that sentiments were being forced out 
 of her lips which usually she would have kept 
 locked up in her breast. 
 
 They walked on in silence for a few yards until 
 a bend in the drive brought them in view of the 
 house, and at sight of it Miss Lavender stopped 
 short.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 41 
 
 ' It's very extraordinary/ she said. 
 
 ' What is ? ' asked Euphemia, stopping per- 
 force also. 
 
 1 It's precisely the same as it was in the Ever- 
 sheds' time,' said Miss Lavender, resuming her 
 progress, but continuing to stare at the house in 
 front of them with an air of bewilderment. 
 
 ' Why shouldn't it be the same ? ' demanded 
 Euphemia in matter-of-fact tones. 
 
 1 Well, you'd have thought there would have 
 been some alteration, some improvement, but 
 nothing is altered in the very least. Even the 
 paint is the same ugly buff colour it used to be, 
 and they've got the same four lozenge-shaped 
 beds on the lawn opposite the front door. It 
 almost looks as if ' 
 
 1 As if what ? ' asked Euphemia, as Miss 
 Lavender paused. 
 
 'As if it was done on purpose. As if they 
 wanted it to look the same.' 
 
 1 Whatever should they want that for ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, unless unless it has been 
 done by somebody who knew and loved it in old
 
 42 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 days. Euphemia, who is Mr. Tidd ? ' said Miss 
 Lavender solemnly. 
 
 It was at this moment that the sound of a 
 motor horn fell upon their startled ears, and the 
 next second, to their dismay, they distinctly 
 heard a car come down the lane and pull up at 
 the very gate through which they had so lately 
 passed. 
 
 ' I don't know 'oo 'e is, but 'ere 'e is,' said 
 Euphemia hysterically. 
 
 Miss Lavender threw a haunted glance around. 
 Not three feet off, on the grass at the edge of 
 the drive, was a thick laurel bush. Without a 
 word she seized the astonished Euphemia by the 
 wrist and, dragging her violently behind, scurried 
 under cover in the very nick of time to balk dis- 
 covery, for, even as they cowered down on the 
 ground, the car swept round the bend which had 
 mercifully hidden them from view, and gliding 
 up to the front door, deposited its solitary pas- 
 senger on the steps, a short, rather rotund gentle- 
 man in a heavy overcoat, and wearing a thick 
 woolen muffler pulled high up to protect his 
 throat and mouth.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 43 
 
 1 That 'e should 'ave chosen this day to come, 
 of all others,' said Euphemia palpitatingly when 
 they found themselves once more safely outside 
 the gate, at which they had arrived by a devious 
 route, skulking behind bushes, and pushing their 
 way through undergrowth, with an utter disre- 
 gard of either convenience or dignity. 
 
 It's a mercy we weren't actually in the house,' 
 gasped Miss Lavender, trying to arrange her dis- 
 ordered garments with shaking fingers. 
 
 Euphemia gave a little shriek of dismay at 
 the words. 
 
 ' Whatever is it, Euphemia ? ' demanded Miss 
 Lavender irritably. 
 
 ' We've got the front door key,' was the reply 
 in sepulchral tones.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 IT took Miss Lavender some little time to 
 recover from her hasty and undignified exodus 
 from Starr Cross, though she was slightly con- 
 soled by the discovery that, after all, the key 
 which had been borrowed from Caroline was 
 that of the back door, and not the front, so that 
 she was no longer haunted by visions of Mr. 
 Tidd wandering round his own house, unable to 
 effect an entrance, since, it appeared, he had 
 motored down from town, calling at the agent's 
 in Little Frippon on the way for the front door 
 key, which was in that gentleman's possession. 
 
 He had not even penetrated into the village 
 en route, so that nobody could give a satisfactory 
 account of what he looked like, and Miss 
 Lavender and Euphemia had been much too 
 agitated to pay attention to anything but escap- 
 ing without being seen, consequently they would
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 45 
 
 have been unable, apart from their disinclina- 
 tion to mention that rather disastrous episode, 
 to give any description of him to the various 
 people who expressed curiosity on the point. 
 
 The Tidds took up their abode in the middle 
 of June, after a week of delirious excitement for 
 Diddlebury, the entire population of which 
 turned out en masse on the arrival of each fresh 
 vanload of furniture, as many as could spare the 
 time accompanying it as far as the gate of Starr 
 Cross, to watch it with eager eyes lumbering up 
 the drive, some even lingering, after it had 
 turned the bend and was lost to view, to listen 
 to the scrunch of the heavy wheels on the gravel, 
 though what pleasure was to be derived from 
 that it would be hard to explain. 
 
 The servants were brought over from Frippon, 
 in a couple of hired motors, a day in advance of 
 their master; there were six of them altogether, 
 four women and two men, the latter causing 
 quite a mild flutter, for it was forty-five years 
 since there had been anything of the sort in 
 Diddlebury, and then it had only been a male
 
 46 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 attendant for the rector-of-the-time's brother 
 who was slightly deficient. It was generally felt 
 that their presence would revolutionise Diddle- 
 bury society, and Miss Perkins, the butcher's 
 daughter, went so far as to order a new blouse 
 from the Little Frippon Emporium, with an eye 
 to the subjugation of the butler, who, as it after- 
 wards turned out when too late to countermand 
 it, was a married man with four children, whose 
 wife and family were to join him as soon as the 
 lodge was ready for occupation. 
 
 If the domestics were not the rose they were 
 at any rate near it, and their advent created 
 quite a furore on a small scale. 
 
 Euphemia, who watched their almost royal 
 progress from behind the dining-room curtains, 
 took in every detail of their appearances at a 
 glance which embraced everything, from the 
 bracelet which the upper housemaid wore ' above 
 her station' to the emaciation of the footman 
 who ' wanted looking after careful, else he'd 
 go off in a gallop,' and duly reported to her 
 mistress, whose pride forbade her to spy upon
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 47 
 
 the new-comers, although it required all her 
 strength of will-power to resist. 
 
 To the intense disappointment of the whole 
 village, the Tidds arrived late at night, when 
 most people had gone to bed, so that it was just 
 as well that Mrs. Bowers' suggestion of a tri- 
 umphal arch, with ' Diddlebury greets you ' 
 written across it in red flannel letters on a white 
 calico ground, had come to nothing. 
 
 'Let 'er speak for 'erself,' Euphemia had said, 
 with considerable indignation, on first hearing 
 of the proposition. 'We'd better find out what 
 'e's like before we're so ready to welcome 'im.' 
 
 The Sunday following their arrival there was 
 a record congregation at church in the morning, 
 but the only person to put in an appearance from 
 Starr Cross was the kitchenmaid, who could 
 hardly be said to be representative of the family 
 
 Euphemia considered this, coupled with the 
 late hour of their original arrival, to be fresh 
 proof of her theory that Mrs. Tidd was labouring 
 under some disability of body or mind, and was 
 inclined to assume an aggressive air of 'I told
 
 48 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 you so ' which was only effectually quenched by 
 the direct testimony of the cook (who had been 
 in Mr. Tidd's service at the time), regarding the 
 lady's decease of long standing, as supplied to 
 Mrs. Critchett at the ' Stores.' 
 
 ' It makes it very awkward about calling.' 
 Miss Lavender said anxiously, on learning of the 
 absence of any lady at the head of the establish- 
 ment. * I shouldn't like to do anything which 
 might turn out to be incorrect, and yet, at the 
 same time, I should be sorry to appear un- 
 friendly, especially as they are such close neigh- 
 bours. I've really almost a mind to consult the 
 rector. He's a clergyman, you see, so he's used 
 to being shocked, and I could rely on his discre- 
 tion not to let it go further that I was ignorant 
 of the proper course to pursue.' 
 
 * There's that book all about 'ow to be'ave 
 when you ain't sure,' Euphemia suggested with 
 a sudden inspiration. ' You might find some- 
 thing in that. It's in the spare room shelves. 
 I'll fetch it.' 
 
 She departed on her errand, and presently re-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 49 
 
 appeared with a dingy brown volume which she 
 handed to her mistress. 
 
 ' There you are,' she said. 
 
 'Wherever did it come from?' remarked Miss 
 Lavender, surveying the book with disfavour. ' I 
 don't ever remember seeing it before.' 
 
 'You got it at old Mr. Crowe's sale, along with 
 a cookery book and one or two more,' said 
 Euphemia. 
 
 Miss Lavender consulted the chapter headings 
 in the index doubtfully. ' Etiquette in calling, 
 page 290,' she read out; then, turning to the 
 place indicated, ' "A lady never calls on a gentle- 
 man unless professionally or officially. It is not 
 only ill-bred, but positively improper to do so." 
 That settles it,' she said, closing the book, and 
 feeling quite hot and uncomfortable at the idea 
 of having contemplated, even for a second, an 
 act of such glaring impropriety. 'Perhaps after 
 all it's just as well. I don't know that I could 
 ever have felt quite at ease in the house of a 
 man who mixes medicines.' 
 
 ' But Dr. Cruickshank does 'is own dispensing,
 
 50 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 and you call on Mrs. Cruickshank,' objected 
 Euphemia. 
 
 1 Yes, but somehow a patent medicine seems 
 worse than other kinds. I don't know I'm sure 
 why it should be so, but it is. Dr. Cruickshank, 
 you see, makes up a medicine to suit a particular 
 case, while, with a patent medicine, the cases 
 seem to suit themselves to it. It's the same 
 sort of difference as between having tea with a 
 friend and having it in a tea-shop. I can't 
 explain, but I know what I mean,' said Miss 
 Lavender flounderingly. 
 
 ' It's a good thing somebody does, for I don't,' 
 said Euphemia severely. 
 
 For some mysterious reason she seemed a trifle 
 annoyed at Miss Lavender's decision not to call, 
 and presently it came out. 
 
 ' Young Mr. Tidd rode by 'ere on 'orseback 
 while I was doing the front this morning before 
 breakfast. A nicer looking young gentleman you 
 couldn't wish for to see, and pleasant spoken 
 too,' she remarked. 
 
 In an instant Miss Lavender was all agog.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 51 
 
 ' Euphemia! You never told me,' she said 
 reproachfully. 'Do you actually mean to tell 
 me you spoke to him? ' 
 
 1 We didn't 'ave many words,' Euphemia re- 
 plied, a note of regret in her voice. 'I daresay 
 I looked at 'im a bit 'ard, as you might say, for 
 as 'e drew up alongside 'e smiled quite friendly, 
 and touched 'is cap with the 'andle of 'is whip, 
 and "The early birds 'as the best of it these 
 beautiful mornings," 'e says, just as if 'e'd known 
 me all 'is life, and I couldn't but 'elp smile back 
 for very joy of 'im, 'e looked so 'appy.' 
 
 She paused and gave a little sigh. 
 
 ' It must be wonderful to 'ave a son you can 
 be proud of like 'im,' she added reflectively. 
 
 ' But I don't see what all this has got to do 
 with whether I call upon Mr. Tidd or not,' said 
 Miss Lavender in some bewilderment. 
 
 ' No, I suppose it ain't, only I did 'ope we 
 should see 'im 'ere now and then the young one 
 I mean,' said Euphemia. 'Of course though, 
 one wouldn't wish to make folks talk, and if 
 the gentleman in the book says it ain't the
 
 52 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 thing, we must just abide by 'is decision, that's 
 all.' 
 
 ' We've got on very nicely for the last thirty 
 years and more without young men coming to 
 the .house. I fail to understand why you should 
 have this sudden desire to see one here,' Miss 
 Lavender observed, with a touch of asperity in 
 her voice. 
 
 ' We've put up with it,' retorted Euphemia. 
 'What can't be cured must be endured.' 
 
 Miss Lavender drew herself up stiffly. 
 
 'Really, Euphemia!' she protested. 
 
 ' Oh, what's the good of pretending,' Eu- 
 phemia said, growing reckless under reproof. 
 'There ain't a woman worth the name 'oo 'asn't 
 got the longing to mother something, and if she 
 ain't got children to spend it on she just casts 
 about to find something, instead, a cat, maybe, 
 or a parrot, or one o' them nasty, fat, wheezing 
 pug-dogs, if she ain't lucky enough to 'ave any 
 men-folk, which is best of all, for when you come 
 to think, what are men but grown children? 
 Look 'ow 'elpless they are without a woman to
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 53 
 
 see after 'em and sew on their buttons, and 
 cosset 'em when they're sick, and kiss 'em when 
 they fall down and bruise their poor little knees 
 on the 'ard road.' 
 
 She paused and laughed a little constrainedly 
 before she went on: 
 
 ' I may 'ave missed marrying and 'aving real 
 flesh and blood children, but the children I've 
 'ad in make-believe! Many's the time when 
 I've been alone in the kitchen doing my work 
 that I've 'ad 'em in my mind, until I almost 
 seemed to see 'em round me.' 
 
 Once more she paused, a far-away look in her 
 dim eyes, and a tender smile hovering at the 
 corner of her lips, as though, even now, she saw 
 before her the forms her imagination had con- 
 jured up. 
 
 1 It sounds silly, I know,' she continued in a 
 little while, 'but when that lad smiled at me so 
 friendly this morning, it seemed, all of a sudden, 
 as if 'e might be one o' my dream children grown 
 up and come to life, and I felt so proud of 'im.' 
 
 She stopped, and swallowed down some emo-
 
 54 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 tion in her throat which had risen up and threat- 
 ened to break bounds. Miss Lavender laid her 
 hand gently on the old servant's arm. 
 
 ' I know,' she said softly. 'We're just two 
 lonely old women, when all's said and done.' 
 
 ' But we've got one another,' Euphemia said 
 with desperate eagerness. 'You mustn't go 
 thinking I'd 'ave things different. You mustn't 
 think that, my dear.' Miss Lavender patted her 
 arm reassuringly. 
 
 * No, no, I don't think that,' she said consol- 
 ingly. 'We've jogged along together for too 
 many years to be able to spare one another 
 easily, even if a miracle should happen.' 
 
 She debated for an instant, then, as if she had 
 come to a definite conclusion, picked up the eti- 
 quette book which lay at her elbow, and trotting 
 across the room dropped it into the wastepaper 
 basket. 
 
 ' The man who wrote that book is a mere 
 mole, living in a conventional burrow. Eu- 
 phemia,' she said resolutely, 'I shall call at Starr 
 Cross to-morrow."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Miss LAVENDER was not destined to carry her 
 bold design into execution. That very afternoon, 
 as she sat quietly in the drawing-room knitting, 
 the front door bell rang, causing her to stuff her 
 work hastily into the bag which hung down at 
 the back of the sofa, and to hurry to the glass 
 over the mantelpiece in order to give a few 
 ineffectual dabs to her hair, to settle the black 
 velvet bow which concealed its shortcomings 
 more firmly on her head. 
 
 She was still at the fireplace when the door 
 opened, and Euphemia, red in the face with 
 suppressed excitement, ushered in what, at 
 first sight, looked like a crowd of men, led by 
 Mrs. Bowers, the rectoress, a modern Joan of 
 Arc, though she waved a reticule instead of a 
 sword. 
 
 The crowd of men presently resolved itself 
 into three, the rector and sufficient reason
 
 56 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 for Euphemia's hardly-contained emotions the 
 new tenant of Starr Cross and his son. 
 
 Miss Lavender stood there staring stupidly, 
 while Euphemia announced the visitors in a 
 voice which, despite her endeavours, shook a 
 little, and only recovered the use of her faculties 
 when Mrs. Bowers ran at her with a purr of 
 delighted surprise, as if the mistress of the house 
 were the very last person she had expected to see. 
 
 ' How too delicious, you dear thing,' she ex- 
 claimed effusively, clasping Miss Lavender in a 
 warm embrace. Tve been meaning to come and 
 see you for days, but somehow something always 
 turned up to prevent it well, you know how 
 busy I am. I'm sure, as I often say to the 
 RECTOR, I get no time for my own affairs, and I 
 could do with twenty-six hours in the day.' 
 Mrs. Bowers always spoke of her husband in 
 capital letters outside the rectory, although in 
 private life she treated him as if he were nothing 
 more important than a footnote to the story of 
 her own life. 
 
 ' Could you really,' said Miss Lavender, feel-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 57 
 
 ing the futility of the remark but unable to think 
 of another. 
 
 1 But now that I have found a minute in which 
 to pop in upon you, I have not come alone,' went 
 on Mrs. Bowers; 'I've brought a new neighbour 
 but an old friend to visit you.' 
 
 1 An old friend ? ' queried Miss Lavender, 
 gazing helplessly at the rector to see if he could 
 enlighten her, but as he only nodded back and 
 smiled vacantly, she turned once more to his 
 wife for information. 
 
 1 An old friend ? ' she repeated again. 
 
 * Mr. Tidd,' said the rectoress quite sharply. 
 And at the words Miss Lavender's heart stood 
 still while you could count three, as she after- 
 wards told Euphemia, for she had no doubt in 
 her own mind that they had been seen that after- 
 noon when they had cowered behind the laurel 
 bush in the Starr Cross drive, and that Mrs. 
 Bowers was being funny at her expense. At this 
 last thought, pride came to her rescue. 
 
 ' I saw Mr. Tidd pass in his motor when he 
 paid a visit to Starr Cross one day last month,
 
 58 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 but otherwise I don't think I have had the 
 pleasure of meeting him,' she said, with a little 
 bow in his direction. 'Won't you sit down? ' 
 1 Oh, much longer ago than that,' said Mrs, 
 Bowers impatiently. ' You were boy and girl 
 together, or something of that sort. Mr. Tidd 
 was telling me all about it at lunch, only I 
 couldn't understand, except that I know he was 
 most anxious for me to bring him to call, and 
 now you deny having ever seen him before, and 
 I'd made up quite a romance, and now you're 
 going to spoil it. It's too bad. I insist on your 
 having a good look at him before you knock 
 down my castle.' With which she stepped aside 
 and, brushing the rector out of the line of vision, 
 left an embarrassed elderly gentleman face to 
 face with a still more embarrassed elderly lady, 
 each struck dumb with exactly the same agony 
 of shyness which seizes upon two miserable 
 children who have been commanded by their 
 parents or nurses to 'kiss and make friends,' 
 while conscious that all the time they are being 
 watched.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 59 
 
 Mr. Tidd was the first to recover himself. 
 
 ' It's so long ago,' he said. 'So many years 
 ago. I was only a lad at the time.' 
 
 ' I suppose it's very rude of me to have 
 forgotten, but I'm afraid I must confess to it,' 
 Miss Lavender said apologetically. 'I'm I'm 
 so stupid about remembering people, though of 
 course we don't have so very many strangers in 
 Diddlebury that that is an adequate excuse. 
 Perhaps you used to stay with Mr. Crowe. I 
 know he sometimes had visitors.' She was so 
 obviously distressed at her failure to recognise 
 Mr. Tidd that he hastened to reassure her. 
 
 ' Now you mustn't think anything more about 
 it,' he said soothingly. 'It isn't to be expected 
 you would 'remember me. I was only one of a 
 crowd, and you probably never even noticed me.' 
 He stopped, and his lips twitched. 'Though we 
 did rob an apple orchard together.' 
 
 Instantly into Miss Lavender's brain flashed 
 the picture of a hitherto well-nigh forgotten 
 episode of her youth. She saw herself, an incon- 
 gruous figure in a short skirt of tartan, beneath
 
 60 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 which peeped out the white frills of certain 
 nether garments in accordance with the ridicu- 
 lous custom of those otherwise modest days, 
 wringing her hands at the foot of an apple tree in 
 Farmer Child's orchard, the tears coursing down 
 her craven cheeks as she implored her two com- 
 panions, a boy and a girl, to leave their forbidden 
 fruit and escape before the farmer, whom she 
 espied in the next field, discovered them and 
 inflicted summary justice. She saw the two 
 faces, the boy's compassionate, the girl's con- 
 temptuous, peering down through the branches, 
 and she heard the girl's voice saying 'Little 
 coward' in tones of scorn, but she also remem- 
 bered, even now with a thrill of gratitude, how 
 the boy had slid to the ground, and asking her 
 not to cry had handed her a rather dirty hand- 
 kerchief with which to dry her eyes, after which 
 they had run side by side to the safer ground of 
 the Starr Cross shrubbery, pursued by the deris- 
 ive laughter of the girl left alone among the 
 apple boughs. The girl had been Mary Ever- 
 shed, and the boy one of those whom Mr. Ever-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 61 
 
 shed had brought down from the London raff to 
 spend a few weeks in the country, away from 
 the toil and turmoil of the city, that summer so 
 many years ago. 
 
 Was it possible that this dapper little gentle- 
 man with the well-cut clothes and the gray side- 
 whiskers was the same person as her champion 
 of those youthful days? She remembered that he 
 had been rather a grubby boy, and that he had 
 been called 'Jimmy' by the others, but as for 
 any other name, he might have had none for all 
 she had known to the contrary. If it was so, 
 it was true what Euphemia had said about some 
 of those lads keeping green the memory of those 
 halcyon days, for here was an example in front 
 of her very eyes. Here was one to whom they 
 had been so precious that, when fortune smiled 
 upon him, he had turned gratefully back to the 
 spot around which clustered such happy memo- 
 ries, rescuing it from oblivion in order that he 
 might pass the remainder of his life among the 
 scenes where he had first learned that the world 
 is not entirely composed of mean streets and
 
 62 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 crowded thoroughfares, but has better gifts to 
 offer her sons in the shape of flowers and trees, 
 and birds and green fields, and pure air and sun- 
 shine, though it is only the fortunate few to 
 whom the chance of profiting by these gifts is 
 given. 
 
 1 Is it really you ? ' Miss Lavender managed to 
 gasp out, as the truth forced itself upon her. 
 
 'Yes. It's I,' he responded gravely; then 
 added with a whimsical smile, 'A lot of water 
 has run under the bridges since then, eh? I was 
 nothing but a young urchin in those days, and 
 now I've got a young urchin of my own.' 
 
 He turned, as he spoke, with a gesture of un- 
 mistakable pride to his son, who stood just 
 behind him. 
 
 ' My boy, Ma'am,' he said. 
 
 Miss Lavender came forward and shook 
 hands, regarding him with frank curiosity. 
 
 * We're quiet people here. You'll find it dull 
 among us,' she said. 
 
 He laughed back, a boyish, unaffected laugh, 
 and at the sound of it Miss Lavender began
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 63 
 
 dimly to understand and sympathise with Eu- 
 phemia's mood of the morning. It was nice to 
 feel young life about one. 
 
 ' It depends upon oneself whether one's dull or 
 not, not on other people,' he said cheerfully. 
 'Besides, I've heard so much about Diddlebury 
 from my earliest infancy that it only seems like 
 coming home to come here.' 
 
 1 Now if that isn't a neatly turned compli- 
 ment,' put in Mrs. Bowers, who considered that 
 she and the rector were being left rather out in 
 the cold. 'Your father must have specially pleas- 
 ant recollections of the little place to have 
 remained faithful to its memory for such a long, 
 long time.' 
 
 'And so I have,' said Mr. Tidd senior sturdily. 
 'When I came here as a lad, never mind how 
 long ago, I was just earning a few shillings a 
 week by running errands and cleaning out the 
 shop for a chemist in one of the poorer parts of 
 London. That was before the days of these 
 fresh-air funds and so forth, when poor people 
 had to be content with what they had in the way
 
 64 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 of surroundings. It'll sound strange to you 
 maybe, but I was nearly seventeen when I came 
 down here, and until then I'd never set eyes on 
 the country. It was like a foretaste of heaven 
 to a miserable little guttersnipe like me, and 
 many was the night I cried myself to sleep after 
 I got back to my corner of a crowded bedroom in 
 Poplar, longing for another sight of this place. 
 But it did one thing for me which nothing else 
 could have done. It made me determined to get 
 on in the world, so that some day I could come 
 back. I set to work to educate myself. I went 
 to night schools ; I studied chemistry ; I pestered 
 my master with questions about drugs and their 
 uses, until at last he began to take an interest in 
 me, and I discovered I was worth something 
 better than to sweep floors and wash bottles. He 
 used to let me watch him mixing medicines. With 
 his help I qualified as a chemist, worked my way 
 up to being his partner, invented my "Cure- 
 All" as I call it, and and here I am,' he con- 
 cluded lamely, suddenly becoming aware that he 
 had let his tongue run away with him.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 65 
 
 ' So nice,' murmured the rector, feeling that 
 he ought to contribute his share towards the 
 conversation, but a trifle vague as to what it was 
 all about. 
 
 1 Quite like Dick Whittington,' remarked Mrs. 
 Bowers, who always sought for analogies in the 
 events of everyday life. 
 
 ' Only the other way round,' observed Bobbie. 
 Tity that Tidd is a name which doesn't give 
 self-respecting bells a chance. Did you hear the 
 Diddlebury bells peal, "Turn again Tidd, chair- 
 man of the Diddlebury parish council," Dad, as 
 you left? ' 
 
 ' Alas, we are not fortunate enough to possess 
 a peal of bells,' said the rector, who always took 
 everything literally, and lacked the sense of 
 humour. 'Although we have a belfry,' he added 
 with indecent haste, and one eye on Mr. Tidd's 
 pocket, as though he half expected that gentle- 
 man to put his hand into it and produce the 
 requisite sum for the purchase of church bells 
 then and there. 
 
 The entrance of the tea-tray made a welcome 
 diversion.
 
 66 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' You remember Euphemia ? ' said Miss 
 Lavender. At which, forgetting everything else 
 in the astonishment of the moment, Euphemia 
 stood stock still in the middle of the room staring. 
 
 Mr. Tidd bowed as if he were being presented 
 to a duchess. 
 
 ' I remember Euphemia perfectly,' he said. 
 'She may not recall the incident, but the last 
 time I had the privilege of meeting her, she 
 boxed my ears.' 
 
 ' What for ? ' asked Mrs. Bowers suspiciously, 
 while the tray sloped to a dangerous angle. 
 
 ' For throwing stones at a cat, if my memory 
 serves,' Mr. Tidd informed her, to which the 
 sole response was a sniff one of those sniffs 
 which are so much more eloquent than mere 
 words! 
 
 ' Mind the tea things, Euphemia,' cried Miss 
 Lavender in an agony, noticing the angle of the 
 tray and momentarily expecting to see her best 
 Crown Derby cups and saucers smashed to bits 
 on the carpet. 
 
 Euphemia set the tray down on the table, then 
 resumed her staring.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 67 
 
 ' You ain't never the same ? ' she said incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 ' As far as the wrong side of sixty can be the 
 same as the right side of twenty, I am,' Mr. Tidd 
 assured her. 
 
 'Well, there now!' exclaimed Euphemia. 
 'When I think of the little ragamuffin of them 
 days, and look at you now, I can 'ardly believe it.' 
 
 'Euphemia!' expostulated Miss Lavender. 
 
 With an obvious effort Euphemia withdrew 
 her gaze from Mr. Tidd and turned it upon her 
 mistress. 
 
 ' Is it the truth?' she inquired of her. 
 
 ' Of course, Euphemia,' said Miss Lavender, 
 a trifle shocked at her handmaiden's continued 
 disbelief. 'Mr. Tidd has told you.' 
 
 'To think of it!' A gratified smile spread 
 itself slowly over her face. 'I wasn't so far out, 
 you see,' she said triumphantly. 
 
 What about?' asked Miss Lavender. 
 
 1 About some of 'em being grateful. 'Ere's 
 one, at any rate.' She indicated Mr. Tidd with a 
 gesture of the head. 'Fancy remembering that
 
 68 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 box on the ears all this time. Well, I reckon it 
 wasn't wasted, there's that to be said about it.' 
 
 1 Indeed it wasn't,' said Mr. Tidd solemnly, 
 albeit with a twinkle in his eye. 'It is one of my 
 most grateful memories.' 
 
 ' Such a character,' remarked Mrs. Bowers 
 with empressement, when the door had finally 
 shut on Euphemia's broad back. 'Euphemia 
 always reminds me of faithful Henry.' 
 
 But as nobody at the moment could recollect 
 who Faithful Henry was, the observation fell 
 rather flat, the only person to respond being the 
 rector, who murmured, 'Very apt; very apt 
 indeed,' and then hastily rose to hand tea-cups, 
 lest haply he might be called upon to substan- 
 tiate the aptitude of his wife's comparison.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE discovery of Mr. Tidd's identity had 
 been something in the nature of a shock to Miss 
 Lavender. She felt as if her youth had suddenly 
 risen out of the grave in which she had long ago 
 decently interred it, to confront her, a ghostly, 
 pallid youth, with all its former joy in life done 
 away with, and only the mockery of what she 
 once had been remaining. 
 
 It is difficult enough to credit the passage of 
 time in ourselves, but in those whom we have 
 lost sight of for years, it is almost impossible to 
 realise the alteration which those years have 
 wrought, and we resent it as something un- 
 natural and contrary to what we have the right 
 to expect. Six o'clock on a fine evening in June 
 is, perhaps, one of the best times in the whole 
 year, but, like all really beautiful things, there 
 can be a tinge of melancholy about it if one is 
 in a receptive mood for depression, as Miss 
 Lavender was this particular evening, and no
 
 70 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 doubt the hour completed the feeling of dejec- 
 tion which the sight of Mr. Tidd's gray whiskers 
 had begun. 
 
 Those who are lucky enough to be able to look 
 back upon many a 'crowded hour of glorious 
 life' cannot fully appreciate the tragedy of a life 
 which has been denied the opportunities of ex- 
 pansion; a life which, if it has never known the 
 bitterness of great suffering, has likewise never 
 experienced the thrill of great joy for it is a 
 tragedy to have reached the age of fulfilment 
 only to find oneself with empty hands and a 
 heart devoid of hope. 
 
 The last occasion upon which these two had 
 met, the highway of the world had lain before 
 them, stretching out into unknown possibilities, 
 and, to Miss Lavender at least, the way had 
 proved barren of incident, a dead, monotonous 
 level along which to trudge, without ever a bend 
 in the road to relieve the tedium, or a hill to 
 climb, down which she might look back and 
 feel the glow of satisfaction at a difficulty sur- 
 mounted.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 71 
 
 Euphemia, coming in to clear away the tea 
 things after the departure of the guests, found 
 her mistress still sitting at the table, hands folded 
 in her lap, gazing out into the garden where the 
 lengthening shadows were beginning to creep 
 across the lawn. A tiny breeze had sprung up, 
 gently stirring the tops of the elms which 
 bordered the lane on the other side of the wall, 
 while from the shrubbery beyond the meadow 
 the flutelike notes of a blackbird could be heard, 
 saying grace for the day that was drawing to a 
 close. 
 
 * Well, if that don't beat everything,' ex- 
 claimed Euphemia, who had evidently not yet 
 recovered from the excitements of the afternoon. 
 
 Miss Lavender roused herself with a start. 
 
 1 He's very much altered,' she said, pursuing 
 her own train of thought. 
 
 ' What do you expect? It's forty-four years 
 come August since we set eyes on 'im. Time 
 'asn't stood still with 'im any more than it 'as 
 with us,' observed Euphemia. 
 
 Miss Lavender gave a little sigh of regret.
 
 72 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' Have I changed as much as he has, Eu- 
 phemia?' she asked wistfully. 
 
 Euphemia surveyed her critically. 
 
 1 It's 'ard to say when you've lived with a 
 person/ she replied. 'Your 'air of course 'as 
 dinged a bit, and there ain't so much of it, but 
 then, on the other 'and, you 'aven't grown 
 whiskers, which is a pull in your favour. No, 
 I shouldn't say, take it all round, you'd changed 
 as much as 'im.' 
 
 Miss Lavender got up from her seat with a 
 gesture of impatience. 
 
 ' I have changed. I've changed as much as he 
 has. I'm an old woman, as he's an old man, 
 only he's something to show for his life, and I've 
 nothing nothing,' she said, throwing out her 
 arms wide, as though to prove her words and 
 display the emptiness. 
 
 Euphemia stared at her in amazement, almost 
 terrified by this unwonted outburst. 
 
 ' Why, my dear,' she said wonderingly, 'what- 
 ever 's amiss?' 
 
 With an effort Miss Lavender recovered her- 
 self.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 73 
 
 ' Did you think I'd gone mad?' she said with 
 a little shamefaced laugh. 'It was only I 
 forgot myself.' 
 
 'And did you forget me too?' asked Euphemia. 
 turning away lest Miss Lavender should catch 
 sight of the pain in her face at the knowledge 
 that all the years of faithful service and unwav- 
 ering loyalty counted for nothing when measured 
 against what might have been. All the love, 
 all the devotion of which she was capable, she 
 had stored up in her heart, to lay at the feet of 
 this beloved mistress, only to learn that it had 
 not even sufficed to fill up one corner of the 
 empty inner room in her life. 
 
 Perhaps Miss Lavender guessed something of 
 the thoughts which were weighing down the old 
 woman's spirit, for she went across to where she 
 stood and, taking hold of her by both shoulders, 
 gave her a little shake first, then gently kissed 
 her on the cheek. 
 
 ' You're as great an old fool as I am,' she 
 said. 'How do you suppose I should get 
 along without you to look after me, and scold
 
 74 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 me, and cosset me, and set me to rights when 
 I'm wrong. Don't go getting silly ideas into 
 your head, just because I lost mine for a 
 minute.' 
 
 Euphemia winked back the tears which had 
 risen in her eyes. 
 
 * I can't bear for you to fret,' she said, resting 
 her hand for a second on Miss Lavender's. 'I 
 don't ask anything back so long as you're happy. 
 That's what matters, when all's said and done. 
 There! I 'aven't time to stand talking 'ere, else 
 I won't get these things washed before it's time 
 to set the dinner.' 
 
 Picking up the tray, she vanished from the 
 room, and Miss Lavender, getting her knitting, 
 settled herself down on the sofa, determined not 
 to indulge in any more gloomy reflections, or to 
 worry herself about a state of affairs which it 
 was beyond her power to alter. 
 
 It was Euphemia who reopened the subject of 
 Mr. Tidd. 
 
 ' Sech a little slubber-degullion as 'e used 
 to be,' she remarked as she placed the soup
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 75 
 
 tureen in front of her mistress at dinner that 
 same evening. 
 
 * Who used?' inquired Miss Lavender, some- 
 what startled at this sudden and candid criticism 
 about some unknown person. 
 
 'Why, that Tidd,' rejoined Euphemia. 'Jimmy 
 'e was called in them days, if I remember 
 right, and now I suppose I shall 'ave to call 'im 
 " Sir." ' 
 
 1 Shall you mind?' asked Miss Lavender, see- 
 ing possible breakers ahead. 
 
 ' I don't know as I shall exactly mind, only 
 it comes queer from me to 'im,' replied 
 Euphemia thoughtfully. 'From what I can 
 recollect, I usedn't to set much store by them 
 boys.' 
 
 ' But, Euphemia, don't you think it splendid 
 that he should have made himself what he is?' 
 said Miss Lavender. 'The more you despised 
 him as a boy, the more reason you have to 
 admire him now.' 
 
 ' I don't know that it was 'im more than the 
 others, but I dessay I'll admire 'im right enough
 
 76 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 if you'll give me time to collect myself. At 
 present, I don't seem to 'ave sorted 'im out. 
 To think of 'im remembering that box on the 
 ears I give 'im, all these years.' 
 
 Euphemia smiled as at some pleasurable 
 recollection. 
 
 1 I'm glad I did it now,' she remarked. 
 
 ' Why? ' asked Miss Lavender, rather puzzled. 
 
 Euphemia considered for a moment. 
 
 ' I can't 'ardly say why,' she said at length. 
 * Unless it is it gives me a sort of right to take 
 an interest in that boy of 'is. I reckon boxing 
 'a man's ears is much the same as kissing 'im. 
 'E stands out from among the others.' 
 
 ' Euphemia!' protested Miss Lavender, her 
 sense of propriety outraged by the unblushing 
 candour of this speech. 
 
 * Well, ain't it true?' demanded Euphemia 
 
 'I I don't know. I I've had very little 
 to do with men. I never boxed the ears of 
 one in my life, and I most certainly never 
 did the the other thing,' said Miss Lavender 
 stiffly.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 77 
 
 ' More did I. The other thing, I mean, but 
 I expect I ain't far wrong,' declared Euphemia. 
 
 1 1 know nothing at all about it. You can take 
 away the soup,' said Miss Lavneder, effectually 
 closing the discussion.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 IT was almost inevitable, under the circum- 
 stances that a certain intimacy should spring up 
 between the two households so near to one 
 another, and gradually it grew to be the custom 
 for Mr. Tidd and his son to be continually pop- 
 ping into Miss Lavender's, either to consult her 
 upon some domestic affair, or to present her with 
 a bunch of greenhouse flowers, or else to ask her 
 opinion about something which they felt unequal 
 to dealing with unaided. A man without female 
 belongings always appeals to the motherhood 
 lying dormant in every true woman's heart, and 
 by degrees not only Miss Lavender, but Eu- 
 phemia also, took it upon themselves to exercise 
 a certain amount of supervision over them in 
 such matters which cry aloud for feminine inter- 
 ference, such as the changing of wet boots and 
 the not sitting about in damp clothes, and the 
 avoidance of draughts when one was hot.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 79 
 
 ' I never knew a man wanted so much looking 
 after,' Miss Lavender said a little wistfully one 
 day, when Mr. Tidd had called in to say that he 
 did not feel at all well and should not be sur- 
 prised if he was discovered to be suffering from 
 some mortal complaint. 'It was nothing in the 
 world but his liver out of order, I'm sure.' 
 
 ' Did you tell 'im so ? ' inquired Euphemia, 
 to whom this confidence was made. 
 
 Miss Lavender blushed. 
 
 ' Oh no. I couldn't have done that,' she 
 replied. 
 
 ' Why couldn't you ? ' pursued Euphemia. 
 
 ' Oh, because because it wouldn't have been 
 the thing,' answered Miss Lavender, at bay. 
 
 * The thing ! ' rejoined Euphemia scornfully. 
 'I declare I 'aven't patience with folk 'oo make 
 out nobody's got an inside except themselves.' 
 
 ' There are things one doesn't talk about/ 
 said Miss Lavender primly. 
 
 ' Then one ought, when occasion arises, that's 
 my opinion,' remarked Euphemia decidedly 
 ' There's a time to speak just the same as there's
 
 80 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 a time to keep silent. You wait till 'e next rings 
 that front door bell. I'll 'ave something to say 
 to 'im about 'is inside, whether it's the thing, or 
 whether it ain't, I promise you.' 
 
 * He's got his own medicine. Why don't you 
 leave him to cure himself ? ' asked Miss Lav- 
 ender, in a faint-hearted endeavour to stay 
 Euphemia's hand. 
 
 1 'E knows better than to dose 'imself with 'is 
 own stuff, I'll lay,' was the contemptuous reply; 
 and after that, Miss Lavender gave up the un- 
 equal contest and left her neighbour to his fate. 
 
 Bobbie did not pay quite as many visits to 
 the cottage as his father, and, when the hunting 
 season commenced, was only rarely to be seen, 
 but to make up for his absence Mr. Tidd came 
 more frequently and stayed longer, until Miss 
 Lavender began to regard a call from him as 
 part of the day's programme, and felt, if by any 
 chance he failed to turn up, as though the routine 
 of life had been thrown out of gear. 
 
 When she allowed herself to think, which was 
 not often, she could not help a sensation of
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 81 
 
 wonder overcoming her at the comparison of 
 past with present. 
 
 She belonged to an age which regarded a self- 
 made man as an anomaly; an age which care- 
 fully differentiated between class and class, and 
 in which the game of Tom Tiddler's ground was 
 a strictly nursery pastime. In her youth, if a 
 man belonged to what people were pleased to 
 call the lower orders, it was no easy matter for 
 him to force his way into Society. His latchkey 
 might be a golden one, but what was the use of 
 that when doors were bolted and barred against 
 all those who had not at least one grandfather 
 behind them? 
 
 If Miss Lavender had been accustomed to the 
 vagaries of latter-day society she would have 
 known that class distinctions are very nearly as 
 extinct as the dodo, and that to be on intimate 
 terms with a successful vender of patent medi- 
 cines is to be reckoned among the lucky ones of 
 the earth. Laugh at him as much as you like 
 behind his back, but don't let any contempt you 
 may feel for him jeopardise your chances of get-
 
 82 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ting yours, or rather his money's worth. Charity 
 still covers a multitude of sins, but to be effec- 
 tive it must be gold-plated. It is more showy 
 that way. 
 
 Miss Lavender could not be regarded as a 
 member of the high aristocracy, but she was of 
 sufficiently good family (and sufficiently behind 
 the times) to wonder what her parents would 
 have said if they could have seen her receiving, 
 on terms of equality, one who was unquestion- 
 ably her inferior by birth. That he had educated 
 himself to a degree which was remarkable, when 
 you took into consideration his early upbringing, 
 would not, she knew, have weighed with them in 
 the least, and now and then, as she sat opposite 
 to him in her little drawing-room, pouring out 
 tea or listening to some tale of domestic woe, her 
 conscience pricked her for ever having admitted 
 him to anything beyond the merest acquaint- 
 anceship, though the next minute that same 
 troublesome conscience would round upon her 
 and upbraid her for want of charity. That Mr. 
 Tidd showed signs of his humble origin there
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 83 
 
 was no denying, but they were all outward and 
 visible ones, and his heart was in the right place, 
 if his aitches were not, and what, after all, do 
 the rules of grammar matter as long as the rules 
 of life are observed? A gentleman by instinct 
 is of more value than many gentlemen by posi- 
 tion, and the former Mr. Tidd certainly was, 
 although he did say 'ain't' instead of 'are not,' 
 and talked about 'them days.' As time went on, 
 Miss Lavender found it more and more difficult 
 to reconcile his identity with that of the boy in 
 the apple tree, and gradually the memory of 
 that scene in the orchard, which had stood out 
 so vividly in her recollection on her first re- 
 meeting with him, grew to be something myth- 
 ical and unreal, like a remembered dream of 
 childhood. 
 
 With the shortening days, Mr. Tidd took to 
 appearing with a book under his arm, from which 
 he insisted upon reading aloud passages which 
 had caught his fancy, and, as he read, Miss 
 Lavender would sit watching him, trying to 
 picture to herself the various phases of his
 
 84 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 evolution. She had never hitherto had oppor- 
 tunity of studying her fellow-creatures, and she 
 discovered it to be an engrossing pastime ; indeed 
 when the winter slipped by and warmer weather 
 came, she found herself almost regretting its 
 advent, for it must mean the ending of those 
 pleasant odd half-hours spent beside the blazing 
 hearth during which she had learnt, by quiet 
 observation rather than by actual conversation, 
 a great deal about her new neighbour which 
 years of casual acquaintanceship could not have 
 taught her. 
 
 She did not see quite so much of him as the 
 days grew appreciably longer, for he liked to 
 potter about his garden and, as he expressed it, 
 'watch the flowers wake up'; but Bobbie, on the 
 other hand, now that hunting could not claim 
 his time, appeared more frequently, to Euphe- 
 mia's beaming satisfaction. 
 
 Here was a fresh study for Miss Lavender. 
 
 She had never before met, on terms of inti- 
 macy, a young man just down from the 'Varsity, 
 and if he did sometimes take her breath away, he
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 85 
 
 compelled her to regard the world from an en- 
 tirely new standpoint, and, without her being 
 aware of it, did more to broaden her mind than 
 any amount of solid reading of complex 
 literature. 
 
 Her ideal young man, up to date, had com- 
 bined the features of the Prince Consort with 
 the attainments of a Senior Wrangler and the 
 piety of an Archbishop, and Bobbie, who cer- 
 tainly did not come up to her standard in any of 
 the foregoing requisites, upset all her precon- 
 ceived notions, but nevertheless she felt strangely 
 attracted to him. 
 
 His breezy entrance at unorthodox hours and 
 into those parts of the house devoted solely to 
 its conduct it was impossible to inveigh against, 
 for he simply paid no regard to any remon- 
 strances, and Euphemia, who hardly admitted a 
 tradesman over the threshold of the back door, 
 tamely submitted to his presence in the kitchen 
 in the middle of the morning, and only feebly 
 protested when he insisted on helping her to cook 
 the dinner, as he occasionally did, and when, at
 
 86 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Easter, he went away to stay with an Oxford 
 friend, the two in the cottage felt quite dull and 
 lifeless without his periodical visits to look for- 
 ward to. 
 
 It was the last week in April when he walked 
 into the drawing-room, unannounced as usual. 
 Miss Lavender had been washing the Crown 
 Derby bowls which stood on the mantelpiece, 
 and was putting them back when he came in at 
 the open door, and she was quite surprised at 
 the sudden thrill of pleasure which ran through 
 her at sight of him. 
 
 'You're back then,' she said, putting the ob- 
 vious into words, as nine people out of every ten 
 do. 
 
 * Yes, I'm back,' replied Bobbie. 
 
 'And how did you enjoy your visit?' went 
 on Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' Oh, all right, thanks.' 
 
 The answer was so curt that Miss Lavender 
 could not help looking at him a little curiously. 
 It was unlike him to be sparing of words. 
 
 He evidently noticed the look, for he shuffled
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 87 
 
 his feet and added hastily, 'I had quite a good 
 time.' 
 
 It was on the tip of Miss Lavender's tongue 
 to say, 'Well you don't look as if you had,' but 
 she refrained, and instead substituted the words, 
 'But you're glad to be back, I daresay ? ' 
 
 1 One's always glad to come home,' Bobbie 
 said. 
 
 ' You you don't find it dull ? ' essayed Miss 
 Lavender, trying to grope her way into the boy's 
 confidence. That he had come with the inten- 
 tion of confiding in her was pretty certain, only 
 he did not seem to know exactly how to begin. 
 
 ' I love it,' Bobbie answered with a flash of 
 enthusiasm, which died out almost immediately. 
 1 The question is ' 
 
 'Well?' queried Miss Lavender eagerly. 
 
 ' How would it strike other people ? ' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' We're different to them. Oh yes, we are.' 
 (As she would have protested) 'D'you suppose 
 I haven't had to face that fact times without 
 number? We're neither fish, flesh, nor fowl.'
 
 88 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 " But you're very good red herring,' said Miss 
 Lavender quaintly, and, in spite of himself, 
 Bobbie could not help bursting out into a peal 
 of laughter. 
 
 ' You do buck a chap up,' he said. 
 
 1 But I can't see why you want "bucking up/' 
 as you call it,' she said anxiously. 'You're just 
 the same person as you were when you went 
 away.' 
 
 1 Am I ? ' he said. 'Is anybody ever the same 
 person for a fortnight together ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I hope so,' said Miss Lavender quite 
 indignantly. 'I've been the same person for the 
 last forty years.' 
 
 Bobbie shook his head. 
 
 ' You think you have, but you haven't/ he 
 remarked. 'And what's more, you never will be 
 as long as time endures. Each man, woman, 
 or child you meet, every word you utter, every 
 thought that comes into your brain, leaves you 
 different to what you were before. By Jove, it's 
 enough to give one the jumps to think of it ! ' 
 
 Miss Lavender smiled involuntarily. The
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 89 
 
 boyish conclusion sounded so contradictory to 
 the sober, middle-aged reflections that had gone 
 before. 
 
 1 Oh, you can laugh,' he said, noticing the 
 smile. 'But it's true for all that.' He went to 
 the window as he spoke, and stood there, with 
 his back to the room, swinging the blind-cord to 
 and fro while he stared out into the garden. 
 
 . Miss Lavender followed him and put her hand 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 ' Your father's so proud of you, Bobbie,' she 
 said, and instantly wondered what had prompted 
 her to do so, unless it was some subtle instinct 
 which warned her that the two men, father and 
 son, had arrived at a crisis in their hitherto un- 
 clouded relationship, such a crisis as too often 
 arises when the boy first realises his manhood, 
 and demands that others shall recognise it too. 
 She had a foreboding, none the less disquieting 
 because it was uncircumstantiated, that Bobbie 
 was going to hurt his father in some way or 
 another, and she resented it, though without 
 knowing why. It was no business of hers
 
 90 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 whether Mr. Tidd was disappointed in his son 
 or not, but if she could prevent it she would. 
 
 She was on the point of pressing him for an 
 explanation of this strange, unaccustomed mood 
 of his when, to her intense annoyance, the front 
 door bell rang, and the next minute a well-known 
 voice could be heard asking whether she was at 
 home. . 
 
 ' The Guv'nor,' exclaimed Bobbie. 
 
 Miss Lavender turned to greet the new-comer, 
 and, even as she did so, her previous visitor 
 slipped out through the window and disappeared 
 round the corner. 
 
 ' Had Bobbie here ? ' inquired Mr. Tidd when 
 he had shaken hands. 
 
 ' Yes. He's he's just gone,' said Miss 
 Lavender, speaking the strictest truth, yet feel- 
 ing all the time as if she was telling a lie. 
 
 ' Did 'e tell you 'e's got some of his fine friends 
 coming to stay next week ? ' asked the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 * No, he didn't,' replied Miss Lavender, be- 
 ginning to smell a rat.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 91 
 
 * Ah, he 'as though. He won't want the old 
 gent then, will 'e ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, I hope he will,' exclaimed Miss 
 Lavender indignantly. 
 
 Mr. Tidd shook his head. 
 
 1 No, no,' he said, 'there comes a time when 
 the old folks have to make room for the young 
 'uns. That's 'ow the world wags, Miss Lavender, 
 and we have to take things as we find 'em. Well, 
 if I have to give my boy up I 'ope I'll do it with 
 a good grace, though I'll miss 'im, there's no 
 denying. 'E's meant a lot to me.' 
 
 A sudden light broke in upon Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' Why do you talk of giving him up ? ' she 
 asked. 'Is he engaged to be married ? ' 
 
 1 Not rightly engaged, as you might say, but 
 keeping company, Miss Lavender, keeping 
 company.' 
 
 Miss Lavender had heard the phrase applied 
 to the lower classes, and could not refrain from 
 commenting on it. 
 
 ' Keeping company ! ' she repeated dubi- 
 ously. ' But surely we don't keep company ? '
 
 92 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' Don't we, heh, don't we ? ' said the shrewd 
 old man. 'What d'you call it then when a young 
 man and woman are courting one another ? ' 
 
 * An an understanding, I believe,' answered 
 Miss Lavender hesitatingly. 
 
 * Then Bobbie and a certain young lady have 
 an understanding, if you prefer the word, and, 
 if I don't make a mistake, it's me who's the 
 stumbling-block to its being something more.' 
 
 ' Do you mean you disapprove ? ' 
 
 ' Not me. If anybody disapproves it's the 
 young lady's father. From what I can make out, 
 he thinks me a common old fellow, and the rest 
 of it. So I am, but if I'm ready to pay the piper 
 and let him call the tune, I don't see what I 
 matter to him or any one else. Suppose 'e 
 thinks my blood ain't good enough to run in the 
 veins of his grandchildren that's about it.' 
 
 ' These are the people, I conclude, that Bobbie 
 has been staying with ? ' said Miss Lavender, 
 beginning to grasp the situation. 'Who are 
 they ? ' 
 
 ' Chalmers, their name is. Young Chalmers
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 93 
 
 was at Oxford with my boy. That's where he 
 met the sister. The father is brother to Sir 
 Jacob Chalmers. He's a parson; not, I take it, 
 because 'e 'ad leanings that way, but because 
 the family living wanted filling, and they're the 
 sort of folk who think the tenants on the estate 
 'aven't much chance of getting to 'eaven except 
 by 'anging on to the coat-tails of one of 'em.' 
 
 Miss Lavender knew by the way aitches were 
 flying that Mr. Tidd was labouring under strong 
 emotion, although outwardly he preserved his 
 calm. 
 
 ' It's they who are coming here next week ? ' 
 she asked. 
 
 Mr. Tidd nodded. 
 
 1 I'm on appro.,' he said. 'A reversal of the 
 usual order of things, ain't it ? ' 
 
 1 Well, whatever you do, don't make yourself 
 too cheap,' counselled Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' Cheap ! ' exclaimed Mr. Tidd. 'That's a good 
 'un! I reckon I've got to make myself pretty 
 expensive. You mustn't think I grudge it to my 
 boy though, Miss Lavender. I don't want but
 
 94 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 his 'appiness. He's been a good boy to me, bless 
 'im, and I won't stand in 'is way, so long as 'e 
 is happy. I'll own it'll come a bit hard parting 
 with 'im, but that's a thing that all parents have 
 to put up with.' 
 
 ' Why shouldn't they live here with you ? ' 
 suggested Miss Lavender. 'Surely the house is 
 large enough.' 
 
 But this proposition Mr. Tidd absolutely re- 
 fused to listen to. 
 
 1 No, no,' he said. 'That wouldn't be fair to 
 Bobbie nor his wife. What would she be doing 
 shut up in the country with an old dullard like 
 me? Bobbie and his wife must start fair, same 
 as I and my Missus did, though, thank God, 
 I can afford to ensure 'em against the struggle 
 we 'ad. Not that a bit of roughing it's bad for a 
 young couple, when you come to think, for, after 
 all, trouble's a great teacher, and when you've 
 'ad to fight every inch of the way, you learn to 
 value the one who's stood shoulder to shoulder 
 with you. Sometimes it strikes me a bit hard that 
 she had all the rough and so little of the smooth,
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 95 
 
 but there! It's wonderful 'ow things pan out 
 for the best, and if we don't see the reason of 'em 
 in this world, I make no doubt we shall in the 
 next. Well, well. Here we are talking as if 
 Bobbie was married and done for, when he ain't 
 even engaged.' 
 
 1 No. And from what I can gather of the 
 Chalmers family I sincerely trust he won't be,' 
 said Miss Lavender quite viciously.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. TIDD apparently made himself expensive 
 enough to satisfy the demands even of Mr. 
 Chalmers, for in less than a week from the date 
 of her arrival at Starr Cross, Miss Marjorie 
 Chalmers graciously consented, presumably in 
 consideration of handsome settlements in pros- 
 pect, to give her hand, if not her heart, to 
 Bobbie, who, in the seventh heaven of delight, 
 burst in upon Miss Lavender to tell her the won- 
 derful news and suggest bringing his newly-ac- 
 quired fiancee to tea in order that she might be 
 able to assure him of his extraordinary good 
 fortune, such as had been enjoyed by no young 
 man hitherto, and the like of which no young 
 man would ever enjoy through future ages. The 
 egotism of youth in love is colossal, and its ex- 
 periences unique ! ! ! 
 
 All the rest of the morning Miss Lavender 
 was in a flutter of excitement which she could 
 not conceal, and which took the form of trotting
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 97 
 
 backwards and forwards between the kitchen 
 and the drawing-room, with occasional side 
 rushes to the storeroom to supplement Euphe- 
 mia's already lavish preparations with some sud- 
 denly recollected dainty, until that harassed 
 person was driven almost wild! 
 
 1 Fancy Mr. Bobbie going to be married ! ' 
 she kept on saying with such persistent reitera- 
 tion that, at last, Euphemia was stung to reply: 
 
 ' It don't need all that amount o' fancying, as 
 I can see. It ain't as if we've known 'im long.' 
 
 ' I suppose we haven't, as time goes,' agreed 
 Miss Lavender unwillingly. 'But I feel as if we 
 had,' she added more cheerfully. 
 
 ' Feel as you like, but it don't alter the fact,' 
 insisted Euphemia, laying down the law with 
 aggravating deliberation. 
 
 'I've the greatest respect for Mr. Tidd,' de- 
 clared Miss Lavender, faintly endeavouring to 
 hold her own, but without avail. 
 
 ' I've got a great respect for the King on 'is 
 throne, but I'd 'ardly go so far as to say 7 e was 
 a friend o' mine.'
 
 98 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 1 You can't have friendship without respect,' 
 Miss Lavender asserted, flourishing a pot of 
 blackberry jelly in one hand. 
 
 ' You can't 'ave a nose without a face, but you 
 can 'ave a face without a nose,' observed Euphe- 
 mia, calmly continuing to stone raisins. 
 
 1 That's no argument,' said Miss Lavender 
 shortly, retiring in disorder. 
 
 ' You'll bring in the tea directly they come, 
 Euphemia,' directed Miss Lavender, hovering 
 round the tea-table as though she had a suspi- 
 cion that the minute her eye was off it, it would 
 deliberately set to work to disarrange itself. 
 'They won't be long now, I expect. It's a 
 quarter-past four. You put a damp cloth over 
 the savoury sandwiches? That's right. Re- 
 member to take it off before you bring them in. 
 Perhaps you had better draw down the blind a 
 little, and just put one small lump of coal on the 
 fire, in case she finds the room chilly.' 
 
 ' Nobody 'card of a fire in May in my young 
 days,' grumbled Euphemia as she proceeded to
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 99 
 
 carry out her mistress's orders. 'I don't know 
 what folks are comin' to, what with wantin' to 
 warm themselves beside the fire in the middle o' 
 summer, and breakin' the ice in ponds to 'ave 
 a bathe in the middle o' winter! If one was 
 livin' in Australia, where everything's contrary 
 to nature, one could understand it.' 
 
 ' Don't be absurd,' said Miss Lavender 
 severely. 'Nature is nature, all the world over.' 
 
 * D' you mean to tell me it's natural to eat 
 your Christmas puddin' in weather so 'ot that 
 as often as not you take it for a picnic, or that 
 it's natural to 'ave your swans black, or to be 
 walkin' about 'ead downwards ? ' demanded 
 Euphemia. 
 
 ' It's quite as natural to them as it is to us.' 
 
 ' To walk about 'ead downwards ! That you'll 
 never make me believe.' 
 
 ' Of course they don't walk about in any such 
 ridiculous fashion,' said Miss Lavender, tapping 
 her foot on the floor. 'I meant the black swans, 
 and the pudding, and and so on,' she ended 
 up, lamely.
 
 100 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' Well, any'ow, it ain't natural to me to see a 
 fire burning in the grate in the middle o' May, 
 with the clean chintzes on the chairs and all. If 
 you ain't careful, it'll mean another Spring-clean. 
 It's nigh upon the half hour. I'd better be 
 putting the kettle on to boil.' 
 
 ' You got the cream from Mrs. Ricketts ? ' 
 
 ' It's in the larder to keep cool.' 
 
 ' Then directly you've shown them in, you'll 
 bring tea without my ringing ? ' 
 
 'That'll be all right. Don't you start 
 worryin',' said Euphemia reassuringly. 
 
 When she had gone out of the room, Miss 
 Lavender took up her knitting, then laid it back 
 again on the table. 
 
 ' They'll be here any minute now; it isn't 
 worth while to start another row.' 
 
 As a matter of fact there would have been 
 time for many rows, for the minutes went by 
 and they had not come, nor had they at the end 
 of five minutes, nor ten, nor a quarter of an 
 hour, and when the clock on the mantelpiece 
 struck the hour there was still no sign of them.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 101 
 
 Miss Lavender sat regarding the tea she had 
 been at such trouble to prepare daintily, with 
 rather a rueful countenance. It seemed that it 
 was all going to be wasted. 
 
 At a quarter-past five Euphemia put her head 
 in at the door, to know if her mistress would wait 
 any longer or begin tea without her expected 
 visitors. 
 
 ' I suppose I had better not wait,' Miss 
 Lavender said a little disappointedly. 'They 
 aren't likely to be coming now.' 
 
 * Nice manners, I must say ! ' said Euphemia, 
 setting down the tray with a bang which caused 
 the cups to rattle in their saucers. 'I don't envy 
 Mr. Bobbie, if that's 'er line.' 
 
 ' If what's her line ? ' inquired Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' Putting folks out for nothing, like this,' 
 snapped Euphemia, who was smarting under the 
 injury of having made a cake after a special 
 recipe of her own which was reserved for high 
 days and holidays. 
 
 And even as she spoke, the garden gate shut
 
 102 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 with a clang, and footsteps and voices sounded 
 coming up the flagged path to the front door. 
 
 1 There they are,' said Miss Lavender excit- 
 edly. 'Go and let them in.' 
 
 1 A nice hour to turn up! They'd better have 
 stopped away altogether,' grumbled Euphemia, 
 trundling off to do her mistress's bidding. 
 
 What sort of a girl she expected Marjorie 
 Chalmers to be she hardly knew, but she was 
 certainly not prepared for the ultra-fashionable 
 damsel whom Euphemia presently ushered in, 
 followed by Bobbie, smirking self-consciously at 
 her very high heels. 
 
 ' You will let me give you a cup of tea,' she 
 said, when the ceremony of introduction was 
 over and they were sitting down. 
 
 ' Thanks. Just a tiny half,' drawled Miss 
 Chalmers. 
 
 * Cream and sugar, my dear? I know young 
 people like sweet things.' She smiled in friendly 
 fashion at her guest, but there was no answer- 
 ing smile on Miss Chalmer's well-bred counte- 
 nance. Rather, she looked at the simple little
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 103 
 
 lady opposite her as though she were a stuffed 
 figure in a museum, labelled 'Specimen of Early 
 Victorian Spinster, very rare.' 
 
 1 Neither, thanks. Just a little lemon,' she 
 said languidly. 
 
 Miss Lavender dropped the sugar-tongs, and 
 peered at her helplessly over the top of her 
 spectacles. 
 
 ' Lemon ! ' she repeated vaguely. 'Did you 
 say lemon ? ' 
 
 Miss Chalmers laughed, a half-sneering, half- 
 patronising laugh. 
 
 1 Never mind. On second thoughts, I don't 
 think I'll have any tea.' 
 
 ' Oh, but of course you must, my dear,' said 
 Miss Lavender, recovering herself with an effort. 
 * If you don't mind waiting a few minutes you 
 shall have your lemon. Will you ring the bell, 
 please, Bobbie.' 
 
 1 A little lemon, please,' she said when 
 Euphemia appeared at the door. 
 
 ' Lemon,' exclaimed Euphemia amazedly 
 'Whatever do you want with lemon now ? '
 
 104 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' Kindly do as I bid you,' said Miss Lavender 
 sharply. 
 
 Euphemia withdrew, shutting the door behind 
 her, but the next instant it opened a crack, and 
 her head was thrust through the aperture. 
 
 ' In a glass ? ' she inquired. 
 
 Miss Lavender hesitated, and glanced at 
 Bobbie for inspiration; but he was far too en- 
 grossed in gazing at his lady-love to notice her 
 appeal, and it was Miss Chalmers who spoke. 
 
 ' It really isn't worth all this fuss,' she said 
 disdainfully. Tray don't put yourself out on my 
 account.' 
 
 ' But you must have some tea,' Miss Lavender 
 said, to whom tea was not a meal, but a solemn 
 rite. 
 
 Miss Chalmers, however, steadily declined, to 
 her hostess's poignant distress, who felt that, in 
 some way or another, she was responsible for 
 the catastrophe. 
 
 ' At least you'll have something to eat, some 
 tea-cake, or a piece of bread and butter ? ' she 
 urged her guest, but Miss Chalmers was not to 
 be cajoled.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 105 
 
 ' It's so late, we shall be dining soon,' was the 
 sole reply, and the way she said it implied that 
 Miss Lavender was to blame for the time. 
 
 The conversation languished on for a quarter 
 of an hour, during which time Miss Lavender 
 learnt that the young lady hated the country, 
 pitied those whose fate it was to live anywhere 
 else but in London, and only remembered the 
 existence of her home when she wanted to 
 squeeze money out of her long-suffering parent. 
 
 1 It's rather a good thing Papa loathes me so, 
 as he forks out at once, to get rid of me,' was the 
 outspoken comment of this dutiful daughter. 
 
 1 I'm sure you're joking, my dear,' said Miss 
 Lavender, striving manfully to conceal the 
 horror she felt at this statement. 
 
 i I never joke for the benefit of people who 
 would probably not appreciate it,' said Miss 
 Chalmers coldly, and the covert insolence of the 
 remark made even Bobbie, who was in the bliss- 
 ful stage of thinking everything his fiancee said 
 or did perfect, grow uncomfortably hot. 
 
 ' We'd better be off. It's getting on for six,'
 
 106 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 he reminded her, and Miss Lavender, for once in 
 her life, sped the parting guest, and did not 
 attempt to persuade them to stay on. 
 
 She watched them pass the window on their 
 homeward way, from behind the curtain, until 
 they were out of sight, then returned to the table 
 and looked regretfully at the untouched dainties 
 which she had been at such pains to prepare. 
 It is humiliating to find that even the swine have 
 disdained your pearls! 
 
 Euphemia, when she came in presently to take 
 the tea things away, made no effort to hide her 
 opinion of Miss Chalmers. 
 
 ' A proud look and an 'igh stomach don't make 
 for happiness, as Mr. Bobbie 'ull find to his cost,' 
 she observed caustically, lumping the still piled- 
 up plates on to a tray. 'I suppose oysters and 
 champagne are more in her ladyship's style. She 
 might at least have pretended, even if she didn't 
 want.' 
 
 The following morning Mr. Tidd paid his first 
 visit for more than a week, and Miss Lavender 
 was quite startled at his appearance, he looked 
 so ill and worried.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 107 
 
 She was out in the garden gathering the 
 daffodils which made bright patches of yellow 
 in the cool green grass under the almond-trees, 
 the blossom of which was already beginning to 
 fall in showers of pink. Mr. Tidd sat heavily 
 down on the wooden seat, and taking off his hat, 
 put it beside him, then, producing a large red 
 handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his 
 forehead. 
 
 ' You've seen 'er ? ' he remarked after a few 
 moments of uncomfortable silence, during which 
 each waited for the other to speak first. 
 
 ' Yes.' The monosyllable came out with a 
 snap. Miss Lavender felt its utter inadequacy, 
 but for the life of her she could think of nothing 
 to round it off and make it seem a little less 
 tell-tale. 
 
 ' WeU ? ' 
 
 ' She's very fashionable.' As before, she 
 would have given worlds to have been able to 
 say more, but the words simply would not come, 
 though she realised how damning the faint praise 
 must sound. To her relief, however, the old
 
 108 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 gentleman seized upon them as though they were 
 a rope thrown to him in a troubled sea to pull 
 him through the surf. 
 
 ' That's it/ he said with tremulous eagerness. 
 'We can't judge them fashionable folk by our- 
 selves. It's all pose with them. It ain't really 
 their true characters ? ' 
 
 The note of interrogation in his voice nega- 
 tived all his efforts to make it sound an asser- 
 tion, and Miss Lavender felt a fierce resentment 
 rising within her against the girl who had sown 
 even the tiniest seed of suspicion in his trusting 
 nature. For more than twenty years he had set 
 his boy in a niche in his heart, and worshipped 
 him almost as an idol, and this creature had 
 merely to beckon him with her little finger for 
 him to follow, leaving the niche empty and dese- 
 crated. It was the story over again of the poor 
 man and his ewe-lamb, that story which goes on 
 continually, which, old as it is, is always new. 
 
 ' They aren't married yet,' she found herself 
 saying in consolatory tones, then stopped con- 
 fusedly, remembering that he had not yet con-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 109 
 
 fided in her, although she knew, as well as if he 
 had told her in so many words, what was passing 
 in his mind. 
 
 ' But they will be/ he answered heavily. 'I 
 don't know what's come over the boy, she's fair 
 bewitched 'im.' 
 
 1 You can stop it, if you like,' said Miss 
 Lavender, and immediately hated herself for the 
 suggestion. 
 
 ' You mean I needn't give 'im the money ? ' 
 
 She kept silence. 
 
 1 No, I couldn't do that. It 'ud break the boy's 
 heart. I've got to put a good face on the matter; 
 I've got to make up my mind to 'is going away 
 from me, and I've got to make up my mind that 
 when 'e's gone, 'e won't come back." 
 
 'Won't come back! What nonsense! Of 
 course he'll come back,' said Miss Lavender with 
 that forced cheerfulness which one uses with 
 children and invalids, but old Mr. Tidd shook 
 a mournful head. 
 
 ' It won't be the same,' he insisted. * 'E won't 
 be my boy like 'e was before. For the matter of 
 that, 'e ain't my boy now, same as 'e was.'
 
 110 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' How do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Mean? I mean she's taught 'im to be 
 ashamed o' me, me, 'is father, who'd cut off my 
 right hand if it 'ud do 'im any good.' His voice 
 broke on the words, and Miss Lavender was ter- 
 ribly afraid, for a fraction of a second, that he 
 was going to lose his self-control, which would 
 have embarrassed her dreadfully; but he was 
 made of too stern stuff for that, and after a pause 
 went on speaking. 
 
 ' One 'as eyes in the back of one's head, when 
 one's trying not to see anything. I think I could 
 'a' borne anything but that.' He got up from 
 where he sat and took a few steps towards her, 
 then turned and went again to the seat, though 
 he did not sit down, but stood there twisting his 
 fingers nervously. 
 
 ' Are you quite sure you are not mistaken ? ' 
 asked Miss Lavender gently. 'I can't believe 
 such a thing of Bobbie.' 
 
 ' I wish to God I was, ma'am,' he said bitterly. 
 'I shouldn't mind 'er laughing at me behind my 
 back. I'm a common old man, and I daresay I
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 111 
 
 strike 'er as funny, compared to the sort of folks 
 she's used to, but what I can't stand is 'er 
 making game of me to my boy. It's it's cruel, 
 that's what it is, downright cruel. She's be- 
 witched 'im, that's what she's done. Does she 
 think I don't see 'er smiling when I say my words 
 wrong, and what's worse, making Bobbie smile 
 too? She's teaching 'im to look down on me, 
 that's what she's doing, and yet she'll be ready 
 enough to live on my money. She won't think 
 twice about spending it on the food she puts in 
 'er mouth, and the clothes she puts on 'er back. 
 The money ain't common, it's only the old fool 
 who made it.' 
 
 1 It's himself Bobbie ought to be ashamed of,' 
 said Miss Lavender indignantly, but the loyal 
 old man refused to attach any blame to his idol, 
 even while acknowledging the hurt. 
 
 * 'E'd never do it of 'is own accord,' he stoutly 
 maintained. ' 'E can't bear to go against 'er in 
 anything, that's what it is. Young folks in love 
 are very dependent on one another; I ought to 
 try and remember that.'
 
 112 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 1 Do you think he is really in love with her ? ' 
 Miss Lavender could not refrain from asking. 
 
 ' That's the one comfort I 'ave/ replied Mr. 
 Tidd. * 'E just worships 'er. D' you think other- 
 wise 'e'd stand 'er despising me, who've been 
 father and mother to 'im all these years ? ' He 
 turned upon her quite fiercely in his outraged 
 pride, as though daring her to hold a contrary 
 opinion. 
 
 ' It's extraordinary,' she remarked; 'he's not 
 known her so very long.' 
 
 Miss Lavender had not had the advantage of 
 a classical education, else she might possibly 
 have recollected that once upon a time there was 
 a lady called Circe, who possessed the power of 
 turning men into swine in the space of a few 
 minutes ! 
 
 ' Well, anyway, I've got to make the best of 
 it,' Mr. Tidd said heavily. 
 
 'Are you sure you are making the best of it?' 
 ventured Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' What d'you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Are you sure it is for the best that Bobbie
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 113 
 
 should marry this young lady? Wouldn't it 
 be better that he should endure a little unhap- 
 piness now than be miserable for the rest of his 
 life ? ' 
 
 ' You mean he should break it off ? ' 
 
 * There would be no need for that if you were 
 firm, and refused to give him the allowance she 
 expects.' 
 
 He pondered for a minute, then shook his 
 head. 
 
 1 One can't arrange for other folks like that,' 
 he said. 'I've never interfered with my boy yet, 
 and I ain't going to begin now. If 'e makes a 
 mistake well 'e'll only 'ave 'imself to blame, 
 but if / make it, 'e'll hold me responsible all 'is 
 life, and that 'ud be worse than anything.' 
 
 1 If only I could help you,' cried Miss Lav- 
 ender involuntarily. 
 
 He turned to her with a flickering smile. 
 
 * You do,' he said gratefully. 
 'I do! How?' 
 
 1 You let me come 'ere and growl over my 
 young cub, like the old bear that I am. You
 
 114 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 won't say a word to 'im though, will you? I 
 wouldn't, for the world, let 'im know I was 
 fretting. I wouldn't 'ave told you, only things 
 are 'ard to bear by oneself, and I've nobody to 
 turn to.' 
 
 He shook hands hurriedly and was gone, 
 leaving Miss Lavender with an absurd feeling 
 that some of the colour had been taken out of 
 the golden daffodils, and that the grass was not 
 so green, nor the sky so blue, nor the blossom 
 so pink as it had been half an hour ago.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 1 MR. TIDD has invited me to go for a drive in 
 his motor car, Euphemia,' remarked Miss 
 Lavender, in as natural a tone as she could as- 
 sume considering the importance of the dis- 
 closure she was making. 
 
 Euphemia, who happened to be tacking up 
 the mantel border where it had broken loose 
 from its moorings, all but swallowed the nail 
 which she was holding at the moment between 
 her lips. 
 
 ' If I didn't think there was something on, the 
 way you kept on fidgetin' with your work, 
 puttin' it down and pickin' it up again until I 
 could 'ave screamed aloud,' she said. 
 
 Euphemia had a rooted conviction that the 
 real control of anything which moved without 
 visible agency was vested in the powers of dark- 
 ness, and she steadily refused to believe for one 
 single instant that the chauffeur had any voice
 
 116 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 in the matter of the guidance of a car. She was 
 firmly of the opinion that an automobile could, 
 if it chose, take the law into its own hands, and 
 she never saw one coming along the road with- 
 out fleeing for refuge into the nearest cottage, or, 
 if that was an impossibility, she would open her 
 umbrella and cower behind it, pressed tightly 
 up against the hedge, her eyes shut, faintly 
 hoping for the best, but quite prepared for the 
 worst. 
 
 Until the arrival of Mr. Tidd, motors in 
 Diddlebury had been of sufficient rarity to 
 gather together a crowd if one stopped, as it oc- 
 casionally did, for petrol (which, by the by, was 
 not obtainable), but now even the once safe 
 road up to the Heath was turned into what 
 Euphemia pathetically described as 'a railroad 
 without rails, and engines shootin' about as the 
 fancy takes 'em, without let or 'indrance.' 
 
 Euphemia, in fact, regarded motors as a kind 
 of iron monsters with a decided will of their own, 
 and the driver as a modern Mazeppa bound to 
 the back of an animate mechanical steed, to be
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 117 
 
 borne wherever it might choose to take him in 
 spite of whatever he might wish to the contrary. 
 Small wonder therefore that her imagination 
 jibbed at the mere idea of Miss Lavender adven- 
 turing her person inside one of these damnable 
 contrivances ! 
 
 ' You're never goin' ? ' she inquired with a 
 tactlessness which years of service with her mis- 
 tress had never cured her of. 
 
 ' Certainly I am,' replied Miss Lavender 
 loftily, who, until the moment she scented oppo- 
 sition, had been in two minds about accepting 
 the invitation. Then, after a moment's pause: 
 
 ' Why not ? ' she added injudiciously. 
 
 ' Why not ! ' exclaimed Euphemia. 'I should 
 have thought you'd more sense than to sit there 
 with sech a question upon your lips, that I 
 should. It puts me out of patience people 
 runnin' in the face of providence the way they 
 do. I'd as lief sit on a boilin' kettle as go for a 
 ride on one o' them engines o' destruction.' 
 
 1 Stuff and nonsense, Euphemia,' said Miss 
 Lavender crossly. 'A motor car is as safe as
 
 118 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 as an armchair. I shall enjoy the experience 
 very much, I'm quite sure.' 
 
 Euphemia could be heard to mutter something 
 about ' 'ardly respectable at your age to go flyin' 
 round the country 'undreds of miles an hour,' 
 but Miss Lavender made no sign of having 
 noticed. 
 
 * I'll get you to take a note round to Mr. Tidd 
 presently, Euphemia,' she said; but here she 
 reckoned without her host, for Euphemia flatly 
 refused to be the bearer of any missive 
 whatsoever. 
 
 ' I won't be party to it,' she declared impres- 
 sively. 'I'd never forgive myself if 'arm came to 
 you and I'd lifted so much as a finger to bring it 
 about.' 
 
 ' But what harm can happen to me, Euphe- 
 mia ? ' asked Miss Lavender impatiently. 
 
 ' 'Ow can I tell ? ' snapped Euphemia, whose 
 nerves were all on edge. 'Anything's liable to 
 'appen on one o' them infernal machines dealin' 
 out death and destruction wherever they go, not 
 to mention dust enough to choke anybody. Not 
 only dangerous but disgustin' I call 'em.'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 119 
 
 ' But you don't mind going in an express train, 
 and an express train goes much faster than a 
 motor,' Miss Lavender pointed out; but Euphe- 
 mia utterly declined to argue upon that issue. 
 
 ' A train's different,' was all she would vouch- 
 safe, and no further explanation could be got 
 out of her. 
 
 ' Well, if you won't take the note, I suppose 
 I must go round myself and tell Mr. Tidd that 
 I should like to go,' said Miss Lavender at last, 
 enduring with as good a grace as she could 
 muster what it was evident she could not cure. 
 
 ' At any rate I shan't 'ave anything on my 
 conscience,' Euphemia said. 
 
 ' I'll go up and get ready,' went on Miss 
 Lavender. 
 
 1 All right,' said Euphemia distantly. 
 
 c Are are my boots upstairs ? ' 
 
 * I expect so,' replied Euphemia, who had her- 
 self taken them up, as usual, while Miss Lav- 
 ender was at her breakfast. 
 
 ' I don't think I need take an umbrella. It 
 doesn't look like rain,' observed Miss Lavender,
 
 120 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 getting up and going to the window in a vain 
 endeavor to appear quite at her ease. 
 
 c I'm sure I couldn't say what it's going to do/ 
 was Euphemia's rejoinder in tones of studied 
 disinterest. 
 
 ' I wonder what the glass is doing,' continued 
 Miss Lavender, who pinned her faith to a very 
 aged and out of repair weather-glass which hung 
 in the hall, and which was a thorough-going pes- 
 simist, never having been known to rise above 
 'much rain' even in a prolonged drought. 
 
 * I wonder,' said Euphemia laconically. 
 
 Miss Lavender, feeling that nothing was to be 
 gained by prolonging the discussion, retired to 
 the fastness of her bedroom to put on her boots, 
 an operation which Euphemia generally per- 
 formed for her, but which to-day she was evi- 
 dently to be left to do for herself as a mark of 
 the disgrace into which she had fallen, and when 
 she had done so and arrayed herself in her out- 
 door things, she stole downstairs and let herself 
 out of the house without returning to the dining- 
 room.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 121 
 
 1 I'm not a child. I'm not a child,' she kept 
 on repeating to herself as she went along the 
 road. 'I will not allow Euphemia to treat me 
 like a child.' But all the same she could not help 
 feeling very much like a naughty child who has 
 run away from her nurse, though the feeling, in- 
 stead of inducing her to alter her decision about 
 accepting Mr. Tidd's offer of a drive, only made 
 her the more determined to carry out her inten- 
 tion of going with him. 
 
 All the time she was waiting upon her mistress 
 at lunch Euphemia preserved a stony and osten- 
 tatious silence with regard to the great event of 
 the afternoon, which only tended to aggravate 
 Miss Lavender, who was burning to discuss it in 
 all its bearings, and if the former wept salt tears 
 into the shepherd 's-pie on its journey from the 
 dining-room to the kitchen, it was a secret be- 
 tween her and the pie-dish, and did not in the 
 least tend to diminish her righteous indignation 
 against those who had beguiled her mistress into 
 such a foolhardy undertaking as a drive in a 
 motor.
 
 122 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Directly she had cleared away the remains of 
 lunch, she shut the door of the kitchen with a 
 loud bang which was intended to convey the 
 warning to Miss Lavender that the lamb had 
 better not labour under the delusion that the 
 time had arrived when the leopard was prepared 
 to let it lie down beside it. 
 
 The pip-pip of the motor horn outside the 
 front gate at three o'clock elicited a groan of 
 anguish from Euphemia, but she made no at- 
 tempt to leave the kitchen to see Miss Lavender 
 safely out, as she would ordinarily have done, 
 and did not reply when her mistress called out, 
 'I'm going now, Euphemia, I shall be in to tea.' 
 
 It was only when the front door slammed to, 
 and the whirr of machinery told her that the car 
 was really under way with her beloved Miss 
 Lavender on board, that she came to her senses 
 and tore like one demented out of the kitchen 
 and into the front garden, to catch if it were only 
 a glimpse of the departure, but not even that 
 was granted her, for it was already out of sight 
 and only a fault pip-pip borne back upon the
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 123 
 
 breeze fell on her ears to assure her that it was 
 grim reality, and not some horrible nightmare. 
 
 Persephone, borne away in the arms of Pluto 
 to the nether regions, could not have left behind 
 her more consternation than did Miss Lavender, 
 borne away in the arms of the luxurious 
 Siddeley, in the breast of poor Euphemia, who 
 returned disconsolately to the kitchen, a prey to 
 every kind of horror which her imagination could 
 conjure up. 
 
 The afternoon dragged its weary length along, 
 and after centuries of torment, during which 
 Euphemia knitted innumerable rows of a gray 
 woollen stocking which never got any longer, 
 the hands of the clock pointed to twenty minutes 
 past four, and with a sigh of relief she put down 
 her work, and, filling the kettle, set it on the fire 
 to boil, while she proceeded to cut some thin 
 slices of bread and butter. 
 
 She took extra pains to have everything as 
 dainty as possible, for she was just a little 
 ashamed of her behaviour of the morning, and 
 even put an additional cup and saucer on the
 
 124 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 tray in case her mistress should bring Mr. Tidd 
 in to tea. 
 
 Five o'clock came, and no sign of the return- 
 ing wanderers. Half-past five, and they were still 
 absent. 
 
 Euphemia became more and more frenzied 
 with each moment that passed, and spent her 
 time running from the kitchen to the front 
 door and back again. When six o'clock struck 
 and they had not yet returned she could bear it 
 no longer. With one ear cocked to catch the 
 first sounds of the motor if it should happen to 
 arrive while she was upstairs, she ascended to 
 her bedroom, and snatching her hat and jacket 
 out of the cupboard came downstairs again, put- 
 ting them on as she went in order to save time. 
 The consequence was that her headgear rested 
 over her left ear in a manner suggesting scenes 
 of revelry by night, while her jacket, buttoned 
 up crookedly, as far as it was buttoned at all, 
 hung one dejected point between her knees. 
 
 She was not perfectly clear in her own mind 
 what her object was in starting off on a search
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 125 
 
 expedition at this late hour, especially as she had 
 not the ghost of an idea which direction they 
 had gone in, but she felt that anything was better 
 than sitting at home knitting gray stockings, 
 while all the time for aught she knew to the 
 contrary, Miss Lavender was being raced head- 
 long about the country in a motor car which 
 refused to listen to reason. 
 
 Caroline Brill was standing at the door of her 
 cottage as Euphemia came pounding down the 
 hill, and stared, open-mouthed, at the unwonted 
 spectacle of that usually staid and decorous 
 person running. 
 
 ' Whatever ' she began, but Euphemia, with- 
 out pausing in her headlong flight, merely waved 
 an arm wildly and screamed something over 
 her shoulder of which Caroline only caught the 
 words, 'Miss Lavender three o'clock motor 
 accident.' 
 
 She was a second or two in taking in the full 
 meaning of the words, but when she did, she 
 very naturally jumped to an entirely wrong con- 
 clusion. 'Elsie,' she shrieked excitedly, 'see
 
 126 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 to father's tea if I ain't in 'fore 'e comes back. 
 Pore Miss Lavender's met with an accident out 
 o' one o' them nasty motor cars.' Then, without 
 waiting to explain further, she seized up an old 
 tweed cap belonging to her husband, which for 
 some inscrutable reason she generally reserved 
 for hanging-out-the-washing wear, and started 
 off in pursuit. 
 
 Euphemia was of heavier build than Caroline, 
 and though she had a fair start, the latter soon 
 caught her up and, side by side, they panted 
 along in silence. 
 
 At the bottom of the hill there was a check. 
 The main road ran at right angles across, and 
 it was impossible to say in which direction that 
 particular Hades lay whither Persephone had 
 been carried off. 
 
 ' Which way?' asked Caroline eagerly, under 
 the impression that Euphemia was personally 
 conducting her to the scene of an actual and 
 authenticated accident, and in consequence, be- 
 ing morbidly anxious to arrive on the spot ahead 
 of her neighbours, if possible.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 127 
 
 If Euphemia had had anybody else as a 
 companion but the despised Caroline she would 
 have broken down at this juncture and wept. 
 As it was, she would have died sooner than let 
 the object of her scorn see her in chastened 
 mood, and since her overwrought nerves were 
 denied the luxury of tears, she sought an outlet 
 for her feelings by rounding upon her unfortu- 
 nate companion and, metaphorically speaking, 
 rending her in pieces. 
 
 1 If you'd talk a bit less and do more it might 
 be some 'elp,' she said furiously. 
 
 ' But what d'you want me to do?' inquired 
 Caroline, meekly bowing before the storm. 
 
 1 Run and ask,' shouted the exasperated 
 Euphemia, giving her a smart push off in the 
 direction of the village. 
 
 Poor Caroline, from sheer nervousness, ran 
 two or three steps before realising that she not 
 only had no notion of where she was to run to, 
 but also had not the ghost of an idea as to what 
 it was she was to ask when she had arrived at her 
 unknown destination. That Euphemia wanted
 
 128 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 to learn whether Mr. Tidd's car had been seen 
 going through the village never so much as 
 entered her head. 
 
 She paused in her flight, trying to come to 
 some conclusion as to what was required of her; 
 but 'Run,' said an admonitory voice behind her, 
 and she started off once more on her chimerical 
 search, her elastic-sided boots slapping the 
 path at every step with quite a vicious sound. 
 She ran from side to side in much the same 
 state of agitated flurry that a hen displays when 
 overtaken in the road by a vehicle of any sort, 
 but she eventually reached the village, and see- 
 ing Mrs. Critchett, the proprietress of the 'Co- 
 operative Stores,' standing in the door of her 
 shop, made a bee-line for her. 
 
 ' Oh, Mrs. Critchett! Oh dear!' she exclaimed 
 directly she was within earshot. 'There's bin an 
 accident.' 
 
 ' You've been and scalded one o' the childern,' 
 said Mrs. Critchett accusingly. 'I allays knew it 
 was bound to 'appen one o' these fine days, 
 pouring water straight out o' the kettle into the
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 129 
 
 bath, with the pore little dears sitting in it so 
 trustful and confident. If you'll give me 'alf 
 a minute I'll call to mind what I did with that 
 sample box o' ointment I 'ad.' 
 
 ' 'Tisn't the children,' Caroline gasped ; ' though 
 well it might be, sech little turkeys as they are, 
 always on the 'op-scotch, and minding what I 
 say no more than if I was a blot of stone, and not 
 so much.' 
 
 'Brill's fallen off a ladder,' Mrs. Critchett 
 suggested next. 
 
 ' 'E wasn't on one,' said his wife mournfully. 
 
 1 What then?' asked Mrs. Critchett, restrain- 
 ing a strong desire to shake the information out 
 of Caroline. 
 
 ' It's Miss Lavender,' announced Mrs. Brill 
 with melancholy triumph. 'She's bin turned 
 out o' that nasty motor of Mr. Tidd's, and for 
 all anybody knows to the opposite she's lying in 
 a ditch with both 'er legs broke off under 'er.' 
 
 ' There now. Wasn't I allays saying some- 
 body was bound to get 'urt one o' these days with 
 them 'orrid machines,' exclaimed Mrs. Critchett,
 
 130 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 dramatically clasping her heart with both hands. 
 ' Where did it 'appen?' 
 
 Caroline shook her head. 
 
 ' I couldn't say,' she answered vaguely. 
 
 1 Couldn't say!' echoed Mrs. Critchett. 'Then 
 'ow d'you know?' she demanded suspiciously. 
 
 1 Euphemia come and fetched me,' replied 
 Caroline, stretching a point. 'She's standing 
 at the bottom of the 'ill like one distorted.' 
 
 1 Pore dear! ' exclaimed the kind-hearted shop- 
 woman. 'I'll come to 'er this instant minute.' 
 
 ' But what about the shop?' inquired Caroline, 
 who did not altogether relish the idea of Mrs. 
 Critchett 's company, since it inevitably meant 
 her own relegation to the background. 
 
 ' Oh, the shop must look after itself,' was the 
 hasty reply, as Mrs. Critchett picked up at 
 random a hat lying on the counter intended for 
 sale. 'I've not time to fetch a bonnet,' she 
 explained. 
 
 As the hat in question happened to be a child's 
 one of white straw with a wreath of forget-me-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 131 
 
 nots round the crown, the effect can be better 
 imagined than described. 
 
 ' Whatever's the to-do, ma'am?' inquired Mr. 
 Perkins, the butcher, with pardonable curiosity, 
 as the two women lumbered past the row of 
 meat hanging outside his premises. 
 
 Mrs. Critchett insensibly slackened her steps 
 at this opportunity of imparting a really exciting 
 bit of gossip to her neighbour. 
 
 ' It's pore Miss Lavender,' she explained over 
 her shoulder. 'She's bin run over and killed by 
 one of them treacherous motor cars.' 
 
 1 Well, I'm damned' said Mr. Perkins. 
 
 ' Perkins ! ' said a warning voice from the little 
 glass-fronted cupboard where Mrs. Perkins spent 
 her days in company with an important-looking 
 green ledger. A staunch teetotaller, she held 
 strong language only second in abhorrence to 
 strong drink, and considered the two to be in 
 close alliance. 
 
 * Sorry, my dear, forgot myself in the excite- 
 ment of the moment,' apologised Mr. Perkins. 
 
 ' You forgot me, I should think,' replied his
 
 132 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 wife starchily. 'You'd better go along and see 
 if you can't be of use, being accustomed to un- 
 pleasant sights by reason of your calling.' 
 
 ' Certainly I will, my dear,' said Mr. Perkins 
 conciliatingly, removing his striped apron and the 
 sharpener which hung round his waist. 'Would 
 you kindly 'and me my coat out of the office.' 
 
 Mrs. Perkins did as requested and then, some- 
 what markedly, pulled down the little window 
 which shut her off in splendid isolation from 
 the rest of the shop and returned to the study 
 of the ledger, plainly intimating that she took 
 no further interest in the matter, while her 
 husband started off in pursuit of the two agitated 
 females who were already half-way back to the 
 spot where Caroline had left Euphemia. 
 
 ' Me pore dear, I've 'card the dreadful news,' 
 exclaimed Mrs. Critchett commiseratingly, as 
 soon as she had recovered her breath sufficiently 
 to speak, clutching Euphemia by the arm with 
 one hand, and the white straw hat on to her 
 head with the other. 
 
 Euphemia, supposing from this greeting that
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 133 
 
 her worst fears were well grounded, and that 
 Mrs. Critchett had definite news of an accident 
 about which she herself was still in ignorance, 
 gave vent to a shriek of anguish. * Where is 
 she? Let me go to 'er,' she besought wildly. 
 
 ' D'you mean to tell me you don't know where 
 she is? queried Mrs. Critchett, slightly taken 
 aback. 
 
 ' In the 'ospital,' sobbed Euphemia, who 
 gathered from the tone of her friend's voice 
 that she really knew all the time, and was merely 
 parrying the question in order to break the news 
 gently. 
 
 ' Or the mortary,' added Caroline, feeling 
 rather resentful at the prominence into which 
 Mrs. Critchett had thrust herself. 'I 'ad an aunt 
 'oo fell out of one o' them spring-boats at Black- 
 heath on a Bank-'oliday and twisted 'er neck 
 right round till she was looking straight be'ind 
 'er over 'er shoulder, and they took 'er to the 
 mortary, though too late to save 'er life. Eighteen 
 years old she was, and walking out with a most 
 respeckful young man in the plumbing line, and
 
 134 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 if only she'd confided 'erself to walking and not 
 'ad ambitions of soaring above the 'eads of the 
 crowd, she might be alive and well to this very 
 day.' 
 
 1 Allow me to drive you over to Frippon in 
 the cart, miss,' suggested Mr. Perkins, who had 
 joined the group before this but who, with a 
 proper respect for the female tongue, had hitherto 
 forborne from taking part in the conversation. 
 'With the little mare between the shafts I'll 
 get you over in less than half an hour.' 
 
 * I'm sure I'd be very much obliged, Mr. 
 Perkins,' said Euphemia gratefully, who on 
 ordinary occasions would have died cheerfully 
 sooner than be seen driving in a butcher's cart. 
 
 ' Not at all, miss, not at all,' said Mr. Perkins 
 genially. 'I've supplied your lady with too many 
 joints in the past not to be proud and glad to 
 supply 'er with what 'elp I can now she's in 
 extremes, as the saying is. I'll pop up and 'arness 
 the little mare and be back again before you've 
 'ad time to miss me.' 
 
 ' Ah, Mr. Perkins, it's trouble that brings out
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 135 
 
 the milk of 'uman kindness when all's said and 
 done,' observed Mrs. Critchett sententiously. 
 'I'll wait 'ere with the pore dear till you return. 
 There ain't no need for you to stay unless you 
 care, Mrs. Brill,' she went on, turning to Caroline 
 as Mr. Perkins hurried off on his errand. 'I 
 dessay Brill's waiting 'is tea, and I know what a 
 man's like when 'is stomach is crossed.' 
 
 ' Thank you kindly for your thoughtfulness, 
 Mrs. Critchett,' said Caroline with a stately 
 inclination of the head, the effect of which was 
 rather marred by the tweed cap falling off and 
 having to be retrieved. 'My daughter is quite 
 culpable of getting 'er father's tea, and seeing 
 Euphemia specially invited me to be present. 
 I could 'ardly desert the pore dear in 'er 
 affliction.' 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Lavender, bowling swiftly 
 along in the direction of home, after a very 
 pleasant tea at a farmhouse some miles the other 
 side of little Frippon, was thoroughly enjoying 
 herself. 
 
 ' Euphemia will have guessed we stopped some-
 
 136 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 where for tea,' she was saying complacently to 
 Mr. Tidd, in blissful ignorance of the true state 
 of Euphemia's feelings. 
 
 ' Enjoyed your drive?' inquired Mr. Tidd 
 kindly. 
 
 ' Oh yes. So much. It's been such a novel 
 experience/ Miss Lavender replied flutteringly. 
 She paused; then, with the precision of a small 
 girl bidding her hostess good-by at a children's 
 party, added shyly, 'Thank you very much for 
 asking me.' 
 
 Mr. Tidd looked down at her with rather an 
 amused twinkle in his eyes. 'There's a polite 
 little girl,' he said quizzingly. 
 
 Miss Lavender drew herself up with an absurd 
 air of offended dignity which sat ill upon her 
 homely little person. In the inmost recesses of 
 her being she could not help a certain feeling of 
 gratification at the very familiarity of the speech, 
 but it would never do to let it pass without a 
 protest. 
 
 ' Really, Mr. Tidd,' she forced herself to say, 
 and when the protest had been made, blushed
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 137 
 
 hotly, a horrible suspicion suddenly springing 
 to birth in her mind that perhaps after all she 
 was behaving like a prudish schoolgirl. 'I'm an 
 old woman/ she added excusingly. 
 
 ' Are you? I don't know. I can never get 
 out of my mind, somehow, that you were born to 
 be looked after and protected. Perhaps that's 
 why you always seem young to me,' Mr. Tidd 
 said musingly. 
 
 * I'm nearly sixty,' said Miss Lavender a little 
 regretfully, and instantly wondered what had 
 prompted her to tell him her age. 
 
 * Pooh! What are years?' Mr. Tidd said con- 
 temptuously. 'I've known children of eighty and 
 upwards, and old men and women still in their 
 teens.' 
 
 ' I don't think I've ever been very different to 
 what I am now/ Miss Lavender confessed. 'I 
 suppose I was always old.' 
 
 'Or always young/ amended Mr. Tidd. ' 'Ullo, 
 what's the excitement?' 
 
 They had come within sight of the turning up
 
 138 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 to Starr Cross, and a knot of people, one of 
 whom was Euphemia, was plainly visible. 
 
 Miss Lavender caught hold of him by the 
 arm, nearly causing him to lose control of the 
 wheel. 
 
 ' Something's happened,' she cried. 'The 
 house is burnt down. I always knew it would 
 be one of these days.' 
 
 ' Steady, steady,' said Mr. Tidd soothingly. 
 'Don't go meeting trouble half-way. We'll see 
 what it is in a minute.' 
 
 The car stopped just in front of the little 
 group, and Euphemia, detaching herself from it, 
 ran forward with an hysterical sob. 
 
 ' Thank God you've got back,' she said. 
 
 ' Have you sent for the fire-engine?' Miss 
 Lavender inquired anxiously. 
 
 Euphemia stared stupidly. 
 
 ' The what?' she asked. 
 
 * The fire-engine,' repeated Miss Lavender 
 with feverish haste. 'Don't tell me you've done 
 absolutely nothing. How did it happen? When 
 did it begin? Oh, for goodness' sake, Euphemia,
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 139 
 
 don't stand there with your mouth open saying 
 nothing. Can't anybody speak?' 
 
 Mrs. Critchett stepped forward majestically, 
 the juvenile, forget-me-not trimmed hat on the 
 back of her head, a look of stern disapproval on 
 her usually good-natured face. 
 
 ' Euphemia got into 'er 'ead that you'd met 
 with an upset,' she said in dignified accents. 
 'I'm sorry we've assembled 'ere under a mis- 
 appre'ension.' 
 
 1 You did say you'd be back to tea, and the 
 kettle was boilin' and all, and you never came, 
 and I thought I thought ' but here Eu- 
 phemia's feelings got the better of her and, not 
 caring who saw her, she broke down and wept. 
 'And I 'adn't even come out to see the last of 
 you,' she sobbed. 
 
 1 It's my fault, Euphemia,' said Mr. Tidd, 
 leaning forward and addressing her across Miss 
 Lavender. 'I didn't think you'd be getting 
 anxious.' 
 
 ' And it was so lovely out, Euphemia,' added 
 Miss Lavender apologetically.
 
 140 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' Look here, pop in behind and I'll have you 
 home before you can say knife/ suggested Mr. 
 Tidd, seeking to recompense her for her woes, 
 but Euphemia only drew back shudderingly. 
 
 ' No thank you, sir,' she said, with a swift 
 glance of aversion at the car. 'I've lived 
 through too many imaginary accidents this 
 afternoon to risk a real one. I may be 'ome 
 before you yet.' 
 
 Mrs. Critchett and Caroline, left alone to- 
 gether on the pathway, looked at one another 
 blankly. 
 
 ' I shouldn't 'ave thought it of Euphemia,' 
 said the former, shaking an incredulous head. 
 'Whatever induced 'er to carry on that way?' 
 
 ' She's a more feeling 'eart than you'd give 'er 
 credit for to look at,' Caroline said handsomely. 
 
 ' But there's no call to feel what ain't 'ap- 
 pened,' Mrs. Critchett said, a trifle indignantly. 
 Not only had she been balked of a sensation, but 
 she had been made to look a fool into the bargain. 
 
 'It was all the same to 'er as if it 'ad 'appened. 
 That comes of 'aving an imaginary mind,' ex-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 141 
 
 plained Caroline. 'I'll say good evening to you, 
 Mrs. Critchett. My 'usbent's waiting 'is tea, if 
 'e 'asn't already 'ad it.' 
 
 Saying which she departed hastily just in time 
 to escape the return of Mr. Perkins with 'the 
 little mare,' thus avoiding the awkwardness of 
 telling him that the cart would not now be 
 required to take Euphemia to Miss Lavender's 
 death-bed.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Miss LAVENDER and Euphemia had both come 
 downstairs with the edges of their tempers a little 
 frayed: the former, because she had received 
 by that morning's post an invitation to Bobbie's 
 wedding; the latter, because she was suffering 
 from what she termed 'my indigestion.' 
 
 ' As if I should dream of going to see that 
 creature married,' Miss Lavender exclaimed, 
 slapping the offending document down on the 
 table, on which Euphemia had already placed the 
 Bible from which her mistress was accustomed 
 to read a few verses each morning before family 
 prayers. 'If she was being buried, I might go 
 and enjoy myself!' she added viciously. 
 
 * I'm surprised to 'ear you talk so, and you 
 just about to read a chapter,' said Euphemia 
 reprovingly. Any bodily ailment always lifted 
 her up to hitherto unsuspected heights of virtue. 
 There's worse things to put up with than losin'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 143 
 
 friends by marriage, and that's losin' 'em by 
 death, and it ain't the thing to make a joke 
 upon.' 
 
 Miss Lavender wriggled her shoulders im- 
 patiently. She had felt a little ashamed of the 
 observation herself and, if she had not been 
 forestalled, had meant to recant, but Euphemia's 
 rebuke had only had the effect of hardening her 
 heart. 
 
 ' You'd hardly expect me to sit down and 
 cry about it, I suppose?' she said tartly. 
 
 Euphemia's only reply was to get up from the 
 chair on which she was sitting, waiting for the 
 reading to commence, and walking solemnly to 
 the table to pick up the Bible and return it to 
 the bookshelf. 
 
 ' You ain't in the right mood for reading' 
 she remarked dispassionately. 'And I don't 
 know as I'm in the right mood to hear, for I 
 can't attend to anythin' with this gnawin' pain 
 inside me.' 
 
 ' Really, Euphemia! ' protested Miss Lavender, 
 completely taken aback by this unexpected move.
 
 144 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 'I think it is for me to judge whether I am in 
 the right mood or not.' 
 
 Euphemia brought the Bible once more back 
 to the table. 
 
 ' Then you can read to yourself,' she said. 'I 
 ain't goin' to stop and listen, that's flat.' 
 
 ' I think you had better see Dr. Cruickshank,' 
 said Miss Lavender severely. 
 
 She used the threat much as a parent threatens 
 a dose of medicine to a fractious child, but, to 
 her intense surprise, Euphemia fell in with the 
 suggestion quite readily. 
 
 ' I think so too,' she agreed. 'I'll go down 
 after breakfast. 'E's at the surgery till ten.' 
 
 ' You aren't really feeling ill, are you?' asked 
 Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' Well, I ain't goin' to inquire after 'is 'ealth, 
 you may be quite sure,' was the sole response, 
 and not another word could be got out of 
 Euphemia on the subject of her distemper. 
 
 As soon as she had cleared away the breakfast 
 things, she went upstairs and arrayed herself in 
 her best clothes, preparatory to her forthcoming
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 145 
 
 visit to the doctor's, and before she started, put 
 her head in at the dining-room door. 
 
 1 I'm just off,' she announced. 'I shan't be 
 gone long; not more'n 'arf an hour, I don't 
 suppose.' 
 
 ' I'm quite able to take care of myself, thank 
 you, Euphemia,' replied Miss Lavender, a trifle 
 distantly. She had not altogether recovered 
 from the fracas of before breakfast. 
 
 Directly she heard the front door shut, Miss 
 Lavender went into the drawing-room, as was 
 her wont, and getting a silk handkerchief out of 
 a drawer, set to work to dust the various orna- 
 ments scattered about, and when that was done, 
 remembered that it was Friday, the day ap- 
 pointed for cleaning the knick-knacks on the 
 silver table, so, fetching the necessary imple- 
 ments from the pantry, she drew a chair up to 
 the table and, with a duster spread over her 
 knees, polished away for dear life, forgetting in 
 the absorbing task that the day had started awry. 
 
 So engrossed was she that she never noticed 
 how the time was slipping away, until the clock
 
 146 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 on the mantelpiece struck eleven, causing her 
 to stop short in her work and wonder why 
 Euphemia had not returned. 
 
 ' She's a very long time/ she thought. 'Dr. 
 Cruickshank starts on his rounds at ten o'clock, 
 and she can't possibly take an hour getting back. 
 What can have happened to her, I wonder. 
 She surely can't have come in without my 
 noticing?' 
 
 She laid down the things she had in her hand 
 and trotted off to the kitchen to investigate, but 
 the back regions were deserted, and she had 
 barely reached the drawing-room again, when 
 she heard the gate click and Euphemia's step on 
 the path. 
 
 ' Here she is at last,' she said to herself. Then 
 added, 'But how slowly she's walking!' 
 
 The front door opened and shut again and she 
 waited expectantly, for she felt sure Euphemia 
 would come and tell her what Dr. Cruickshank 
 had said, but to her astonishment, nothing 
 happened, nor could she hear any sound in the 
 hall. She began to get a little nervous. Some
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 147 
 
 one had certainly entered the house, and if not 
 Euphemia, who was it? 
 
 ' Euphemia,' she called out. 
 
 Heavy footsteps advanced up the passage 
 and stopped outside the door, as if hesitating to 
 proceed any further, but after a pause which 
 seemed at least five minutes, but which was 
 probably not as many seconds, the handle was 
 turned and Euphemia came into the room, look- 
 ing so strangely unlike herself that Miss Lavender 
 exclaimed aloud at the sight of her. Her face was 
 the colour of putty save where, on either cheek, 
 a splotch of red, about the size of a florin, stood 
 out vividly against the ashen-gray of her com- 
 plexion, and she was shaking from head to foot. 
 
 ' Oh! Whatever is the matter? Whatever 
 is it, Euphemia?' Miss Lavender cried out, 
 startled by the strangeness of her appearance. 
 
 Euphemia swallowed down something in her 
 throat. 
 
 1 I've seen Dr. Cruickshank.' 
 
 'Yes?' 
 
 * I've seen Dr. Cruickshank,' she repeated
 
 148 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 dully. ' 'E says ' She stopped as though 
 she were a child who had been entrusted with a 
 message and had forgotten it. 
 
 ' Well?' Then, as a hideous doubt came to 
 her, 'It's nothing serious.' 
 
 Miss Lavender had risen to her feet, knocking 
 on to the floor, as she did so, some of the silly 
 little silver trinkets which lay on the table at her 
 elbow. She made no attempt to pick them up, 
 but stood there staring at Euphemia, trying to 
 read in her averted face the truth she dreaded. 
 
 ' Euphemia,' she said sharply, striving to recall 
 her to herself, and at the peremptory tones, 
 Euphemia with an effort raised her eyes to her 
 mistress's face and jerked her head forward. 
 
 * 'E's comin' to see me again this afternoon, 
 and goin' to bring Mr. Guy, the surgeon from 
 Little Frippon, with 'im. 'E's afraid it means an 
 operation,' she said with mechanical precision. 
 
 The two women stared at one another for some 
 minutes in silence, and into Miss Lavender's 
 eyes crept a reflection of the terror in Euphe- 
 mia's. It was the latter who spoke first.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 149 
 
 ' I could 'ave stood an illness; I could 'ave 
 stood bein' in bed and 'avin' to be fussed over 
 and nursed, but an operation! That takes all 
 the courage out of me. Why can't they let me 
 die in peace, without that?' She stretched out 
 a pair of trembling old hands to her mistress as 
 though demanding a reply, and with a supreme 
 effort Miss Lavender pulled herself together 
 and heroically rose to the occasion. 
 
 'Who's talking of dying?' she said, with a 
 lightness she was far from feeling. 'Don't be so 
 conceited, Euphemia. Plenty of people have 
 operations without dying, so why you should 
 think yourself singled out for it, I don't know. 
 I call it downright egotism.' 
 
 Euphemia smiled forlornly. 
 
 * 'E took me so aback. I s'pose that's what it 
 is. I never thought but what it was nothin' 
 more than indigestion. There! I 'aven't time to 
 waste thinkin' about what mayn't never 'appen,' 
 
 She untied her bonnet strings and threw them 
 back over her shoulders, then looked curiously 
 round the room.
 
 ISO A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' It's queer 'ow different things can look, 
 when you feel different yourself, ain't it!' 
 
 ' I'm sorry I was cross this morning, Euphemia.' 
 
 c That's all right, my dear. That sofa cushion's 
 torn. I'll bring a needle and thread, and mend 
 it when I 'ave a spare five minutes.' 
 
 It was pitiful to notice how she fell back upon 
 the everyday triviality, as though trying to 
 resume her normal position and prevent her 
 mind dwelling on graver issues. If, against her 
 will, she was forced to take a place in the front 
 row of the chorus, she would, at least, steer clear 
 of the limelight! 
 
 ' You must rest this morning. I'll send down 
 and see if Caroline can come up.' But this 
 Euphemia jibbed at. 
 
 ' I did my work yesterday when I didn't know, 
 so I reckon I can do it to-day when I do,' she 
 said with something of her old spirit. 
 
 1 I'm sure you oughtn't to.' 
 
 ' I couldn't sit down, with my 'ands folded in 
 my lap, and watch that Caroline do everything 
 different to my methods. It 'ud drive me crazy.'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 151 
 
 She turned and went out of the room before 
 Miss Lavender could say anything more, leav- 
 ing the latter standing there trying to realise the 
 situation. It was so many years since Euphemia 
 had spent even a day in bed, that it was well- 
 nigh impossible to imagine her laid up. By 
 lunch-time she had worked herself up into such 
 a state of nervous apprehension that Euphemia, 
 who had recovered from her agitation and was 
 almost her old self again, had to turn comforter. 
 
 ' I dessay I've made it out worse than it is,' 
 she said consolingly. 'Dr. Cruickshank's a nice 
 enough little man, but 'e can't see what's 'appen- 
 in' inside of one, 'owever anxious to do so 'e 
 may be. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Mr. 
 Guy didn't give 'im a piece of 'is mind for fetch- 
 in' 'im over for no thin'.' 
 
 When Mr. Guy did come, however, and he 
 and Dr. Cruickshank had thoroughly overhauled 
 Euphemia, he came down looking so grave that 
 Miss Lavender's heart sank. 
 
 1 One can never quite say for certain,' he re- 
 plied, in answer to her anxious inquiries as to the
 
 152 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 result of the operation which he declared must 
 be performed without delay. 
 
 ' But Euphemia has always been so strong,' 
 she urged, as though pleading 'extenuating 
 circumstances.' 
 
 1 She's no longer a young woman,' was the 
 only reply the surgeon would vouchsafe. 
 
 Miss Lavender wished the operation to take 
 place in her house, but the doctors were strongly 
 opposed to this plan, pointing out how it was 
 to the patient's own interests to be moved to 
 the Cottage Hospital at Little Frippon, where 
 all the appliances for nursing were ready at 
 hand, and when Euphemia herself added her 
 voice in favour of the alternative, she reluctantly 
 consented. 
 
 It was settled that Euphemia should be driven 
 over to the hospital the following afternoon, 
 and then the vital question arose as to Miss 
 Lavender's welfare during her absence. 
 
 Euphemia was anxious that a girl should be 
 obtained through the medium of a registry office, 
 but this Miss Lavender steadily declined.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 153 
 
 1 A little hussy with streamers to her cap, 
 who has the butcher boy to tea in the kitchen, 
 and no more manners than a Red Indian! I 
 shan't dream of it. I'll have Caroline Brill, if 
 I must have anybody, though I'm perfectly 
 capable of managing by myself.' 
 
 ' She can't look after the house, let alone you,' 
 objected Euphemia, ignoring the last part of 
 Miss Lavender's statement. 
 
 ' I shall order Caroline this afternoon, to come 
 in to-morrow,' said Miss Lavender resolutely, 
 rather as though Mrs. Brill were a ton of coals, 
 and Euphemia, who knew that there was a time 
 to speak and a time to keep silence, let the 
 matter drop.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Miss LAVENDER woke up next morning with a 
 vague sense of something disagreeable about to 
 happen, though what it might be she could not 
 at first recollect, until her eyes fell upon Euphe- 
 mia standing by her bedside. Then she 
 remembered. 
 
 In the background hovered a second figure, 
 half-hidden by Euphemia's ample form, bearing 
 in its hands a tray. 
 
 Miss Lavender blinked and rubbed her eyes, 
 and, as the figure still remained, drew up the 
 bed-clothes round her neck. 
 
 * Who is that ? ' she demanded. 
 
 * It's just Caroline,' explained Euphemia 
 easily. 'I sent for 'er to come first thing. If she's 
 goin' to do for you the next few weeks, she'd
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 155 
 
 better learn 'er duties from the start. Put the 
 tray down 'ere, Caroline.' 
 
 Thus adjured, Caroline, looking a melancholy 
 object in a print dress of Euphemia's, a great 
 deal too large for her, with a small cap perched 
 on the top of her head, advanced, and deposited 
 the tray on the table beside the bed, making a 
 futile endeavour, as she did so, to drop a curtsy, 
 the result of the combined effort being that she 
 overturned the milk jug, the contents of which 
 poured out on the tray. 
 
 ' Teh, tch, tch,' she clicked, darting an abject 
 glance at her taskmaster, who scowled back. 
 
 ' If ever I did ! ' exclaimed that irate body, 
 throwing her hands up in a mute appeal to 
 heaven. 
 
 ' Seems as though it must be top 'eavy,' said 
 the miserable Caroline, vainly attempting to 
 repair the damage by mopping up the spilt milk 
 with a very dirty handkerchief, which she after- 
 wards wrung out into the cup. 
 
 1 As if I 'adn't enough to bear without you! 
 'Ere, give me the tray.'
 
 156 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Euphemia snatched it away from Caroline's 
 ministrations and stalked out, leaving her 
 planted there. 
 
 ' You had better get my bath water,' said Miss 
 Lavender at last, uncomfortably aware that 
 Caroline's gaze was riveted upon the little bald 
 patch on the top of her head, which, in the day- 
 time, was concealed from view by a black velvet 
 bow. 
 
 * Bath water ? ' repeated Caroline vaguely, as 
 though it was the first time she had ever heard 
 of such a thing. 
 
 ' Yes. Bath water,' said Miss Lavender 
 sharply. 
 
 ' Bath water,' repeated Caroline once more, 
 walking across to the washstand and looking 
 feebly around. 
 
 1 Not there,' said Miss Lavender. c ln the 
 housemaid's closet.' 
 
 Caroline tilted towards the door and dis- 
 appeared, only to shove her head in again the 
 next minute. 
 
 ' Where was it you said ? ' she inquired.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 157 
 
 * Never mind; Euphemia will get it.' 
 
 ' I don't mind if you'll tell me where.' 
 
 ' The housemaid's closet,' said Miss 
 Lavender slowly, dwelling on each word, in 
 order that it might sink into Caroline's thick 
 brain. 'Where the brooms and cans are 
 kept.' 
 
 1 I'll try and find it,' Caroline made reply, 
 though as one without hope. 
 
 At this juncture, happily, Euphemia arrived 
 upon the scene with a clean tray. 
 
 * Take Caroline to the housemaid's closet, and 
 show her the hot- water tap,' commanded Miss 
 Lavender, rather as if the housemaid's closet 
 was a museum, and the hot-water tap an exhibit 
 under a glass case. 
 
 1 I've got your can outside the door,' volun- 
 teered Euphemia. 'Caroline only wants to bring 
 it in.' 
 
 Whether Caroline wanted to or not, she did 
 not dare disobey, and presently staggered in 
 under the weight of a large can, which she 
 lumped on to the carpet with such vehemence
 
 158 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 that part of its contents ran over the edge and 
 formed a pool at her feet. 
 
 1 The bath's against the wall yonder,' said 
 Euphemia, nodding in its direction. 
 
 Caroline gazed at it with an air of interest, 
 but apparently decided to take no further steps 
 in the matter, for she continued to stand where 
 she was, and made no movement either to fetch 
 the bath or remove herself out of the stream of 
 water flowing round her prunellas. 
 
 ' See if it'll come if you whistle,' suggested 
 Euphemia in exasperation. 
 
 ' D'you want it out of there ? ' asked Caroline 
 in mild surprise. 
 
 Miss Lavender, listening to the foregoing 
 dialogue from the shelter of the bed-clothes, 
 marvelled. Here was no new, chastened Euphe- 
 mia, as she had half expected, but the same old 
 one, with the same sarcasms, the same dry 
 humour, the same impatience at poor Caroline's 
 shortcomings. She had not grasped the fact that 
 self, like water, finds its own level. 
 
 She said as much when Caroline, harried out
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 159 
 
 of the room by Euphemia to start preparing 
 breakfast, left them alone together. 
 
 Euphemia, who was employed in removing 
 the traces of the havoc wrought by Caroline, 
 looked up and gave a short laugh. 
 
 ' I suppose you think I ought to be down on 
 my knees prayin' instead of wipin' up water,' she 
 said. 'Well, p'raps I ought, but that ain't my 
 way. I've 'ad to work 'ard all my life, and get 
 my prayin' in when I could, and it seems to me 
 as the Almighty'll take reckonin' o' that when 
 it comes to the Day of Judgment, so long as the 
 work's been honest. I've no patience with folks 
 who talk as if the Lord didn't know anythin' 
 about the work which 'E created. Don't it say, 
 "In the sweat of thy brow thou shalt eat 
 bread " ? Not as I'm one as perspires freely 
 though,' she concluded rather regretfully. 
 
 1 But there was Martha,' said Miss Lavender 
 anxiously. 'You remember about Martha ? ' 
 
 1 There was Martha certainly,' Euphemia 
 conceded grudgingly, but in a minute she 
 brightened up.
 
 160 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' But then,' she added, 'she fussed over 'er 
 work after it was done, and kept on thinkin' 
 'ow she might a' done it better, I dessay, and if 
 she'd done 'er best at the start-off, she couldn't 
 do no more, and was just wastin' 'er time.' 
 
 This novel reading of Martha's character 
 somewhat startled Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' I never thought of it in that way,' she said. 
 
 ' Ah! People don't think as much as they 
 ought,' rejoined Euphemia. 'I've generally got 
 a thought like that in the back of my mind, to 
 bring out when I'm brushin' the stairs.' 
 
 ' Why when you are brushing the stairs ? ' 
 inquired Miss Lavender wonderingly. 
 
 ' Because if there's one bit o' work I'm 
 tempted to scamp more than another it's that, 
 so I says to myself, "Now directly you've done 
 the last stair, you'll 'ave to put that thought 
 (whatever it may 'appen to be) away," so when 
 it's some thin' I want to get 'old of, I keep on 
 brushin' till I've fixed it to my fancy.' 
 
 But in spite of the fact that Euphemia put 
 such a good face on the matter, it was a trying
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 161 
 
 moment when half-past two came, and the fly 
 stood at the door waiting to carry her off to the 
 hospital. 
 
 In front of the glass, in the little bedroom over 
 the kitchen which had sheltered her for so many 
 years, she tied the strings of her Sunday bonnet 
 with fingers that trembled stupidly, and when 
 she was quite ready and there was no longer any 
 excuse for delay, she took a last look round at all 
 the familiar objects the truckle bed; the 
 painted washstand with its set of chipped 
 crockery; the pictures on the wall, gleaned for 
 the most part from Christmas Numbers, and 
 fastened up with tacks; the white mug on the 
 mantelpiece, with a view of the chain pier at 
 Brighton, which Miss Lavender had brought 
 her back after a visit she had paid there some- 
 thing like thirty years ago and bravely 
 swallowed down the lump which rose in her 
 throat as she bade each and all a mute farewell, 
 walked resolutely to the door and, opening it, 
 passed out, without so much as a single glance 
 backward.
 
 162 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 In the hall Miss Lavender was waiting, 
 dreading the leave-taking, yet feverishly anxious 
 to get it over and done with, while at the end 
 of the passage leading to the kitchen hovered 
 Caroline, prepared, at the first available oppor- 
 tunity, to give utterance to her feelings in the 
 manner usual to her class. 
 
 The tin box containing a great deal of un- 
 necessary raiment was already outside the fly, 
 and the driver stood with his hand on the door, 
 as if hinting that it was time to be off; at the 
 gate, a small crowd, consisting of two diminutive 
 boys and a baby in a perambulator, blocked 
 the path in a state of subdued expectancy, 
 taking their chance, as it were, of being the wit- 
 nesses of some enthralling scene. 
 
 Euphemia, at the bend of the stairs, paused 
 impressively. For the first time in her life she 
 dimly realised how intoxicating limelight can be, 
 and what it means to be the central figure of 
 a drama. 
 
 She descended the rest of the way with a 
 slightly overdone air of nonchalance, paying
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 163 
 
 minute care to the buttoning of her gloves, as 
 though that was the only thing that really 
 mattered; but when she reached the spot where 
 Miss Lavender was standing, she forgot every- 
 thing save that she was parting from the mis- 
 tress who had dominated her every thought and 
 deed since first, as a girl, she had entered the 
 house which she was now leaving, perhaps for 
 the last time. 
 
 The poor little lady's composure had entirely 
 given way and the tears were streaming down 
 her face. Both women, though they dared not 
 put it into words, had an intuition that the 
 moment had been reached when the quiet back- 
 water down which they had glided side by side 
 must be exchanged for the swift-flowing current 
 of the river whose outlet is the sea, and the 
 prospect filled them with nameless terrors. 
 
 With a gallant effort Euphemia screwed her 
 trembling lips into a smile. 
 
 1 Now, my dear,' she said, as a nurse might 
 talk to a troubled child, Til be back again almost 
 before you know I'm gone. Don't you get
 
 164 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 fretting else I shall fret too. Caroline '11 take 
 care of you while I'm away.' 
 
 Even when mentioning Caroline she managed 
 to infuse some warmth into her voice. Not for 
 worlds would she have left Miss Lavender with 
 any doubts of the future to worry or perplex her. 
 Everything, at this moment of parting, must be 
 made to appear rosy and bright. 
 
 ' Oh, Euphemia! Whatever shall I do without 
 you? You will come back, won't you? You -will 
 come back ? ' she sobbed, as though with Euphe- 
 mia lay the power of choice. 
 
 ' Eh, I'll come back, my lamb, never fear,' said 
 Euphemia bravely, and somehow the endear- 
 ment did not sound in the least silly or out of 
 place. 
 
 For the time they ceased to be mistress and 
 maid, and became simply two old women who, 
 after years of trudging together along the road- 
 way of life, were being separated, possibly never 
 to meet again. 
 
 For an instant Euphemia bent and, folding the 
 other in her arms, held her very tightly, as
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 165 
 
 though she were trying to shield her from some 
 unseen foe, then, kissing her with infinite tender- 
 ness, let her go and turned to Caroline. 
 
 ' You'll look after 'er,' she said fiercely, almost 
 theateningly. 'You won't let 'er go out without 
 'er woollen spencer, and you'll see the sheets are 
 properly aired; and don't forget the 'ot : water 
 bottle at nights.' 
 
 ' Not if I can remember I won't,' answered the 
 poor silly creature; then, 'Oh, Euphemia,' she 
 went on, 'supposing you don't come back ? ' 
 
 ' Why should I suppose any such rubbish ? ' 
 demanded Euphemia, trying to frown her into 
 silence. 
 
 ' I was only thinking ' began the tactless 
 Caroline falteringly, but Euphemia interrupted 
 before she could proceed. 
 
 ' Then don't, unless you can think sensible,' 
 she said; then, with one more embrace of her 
 mistress, she was gone, and the last they saw of 
 her as the fly rolled off down the hill was a bright 
 yellow kid glove waving a handkerchief out of 
 the window.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE news of Euphemia's departure for the 
 Cottage Hospital at Little Frippon came as a 
 welcome diversion to Diddlebury, whose in- 
 habitants had not experienced such a thrill since 
 the poisoning of Mrs. Critchett's cat the pre- 
 vious autumn, and who were getting rather tired 
 of hearing what her sensations had been on dis- 
 covering the corpse half-buried under Mr. Per- 
 kins's manure heap, and the verbatim report of 
 her subsequent interview with the parish 
 constable. 
 
 Quite a number of people appeared at the 
 cottage the following day to glean information, 
 and among them Mrs. Bowers in a state of such 
 tremulous agitation that a stranger might well 
 have been pardoned for jumping to the con- 
 clusion that Euphemia was a close and dearly- 
 loved relative . She ran into the room, when an-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 167 
 
 nounced by Caroline, with flurried short steps, 
 and clasped Miss Lavender, who had risen to 
 receive her, tightly to her breast, as though 
 defying Fate to proceed to any further lengths 
 now that there was a protectress at hand. 
 
 1 My poor dear ! ' she exclaimed in tones of 
 deep emotion. 'What sad, sad news.' 
 
 1 You mean about Euphemia ? ' said Miss 
 Lavender, extricating herself from her visitor's 
 embrace, and hurriedly seating herself upon the 
 sofa to avoid any repetition of it. 
 
 ' What else,' Mrs. Bowers said, sinking on to 
 the vacant place beside her, and possessing her- 
 self of one of Miss Lavender's unwilling hands, 
 which she then kneaded softly by way of ex- 
 pressing her sympathy. 
 
 ' Such a shock ! ' she continued in the same 
 deep tones, shaking her head slowly from side to 
 side. 
 
 ' Yes, it it was dreadfully sudden. I had no 
 notion. I I can hardly realise that it is not 
 some horrible nightmare.' 
 
 ' I know, dear,' said Mrs. Bowers. 'I've not
 
 168 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 forgotten what I went through before the 
 RECTOR had his operation.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! I don't think I ever heard of that,' 
 remarked Miss Lavender in some surprise. 
 ' Was it a serious one ? ' 
 
 * An abscess, dear,' said Mrs. Bowers, in a 
 voice which forbade any further discussion on 
 the subject and made Miss Lavender feel that 
 she had been very nearly guilty of an impro- 
 priety. As a matter of fact, the abscess had been 
 situated in the rector's lower jaw and not in any 
 obscure portion of his anatomy, but it would 
 have marred the effect to have told her so; con- 
 sequently Mrs. Bowers preferred to leave her 
 with the impression that the operating table and 
 not the dentist's chair had been the scene of 
 bloodshed. 
 
 ' But what about you ? ' inquired Mrs. 
 Bowers after an impressive pause. 'Who is 
 taking care of you meanwhile ? ' 
 
 ' Caroline Brill is with me until until one 
 knows more definitely about things,' replied Miss 
 Lavender.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 169 
 
 Mrs. Bowers sniffed contemptuously. 
 
 ' Oh, Caroline Brill ! ' she observed, a world 
 of meaning in her voice. 
 
 ' She's very willing,' said Miss Lavender 
 excusingly. 
 
 Mrs. Bowers, releasing Miss Lavender's 
 hand, dived into a velvet bag which hung at her 
 side and produced therefrom a sheet of paper. 
 
 ' Of course you can't go on with her,' she said 
 decidedly. 
 
 ' Oh, she does very well temporarily,' Miss 
 Lavender assured her hastily. 
 
 1 I've brought a list of girls belonging to my 
 Friendly Society,' went on Mrs. Bowers, paying 
 no attention to the interruption. 'There are two 
 or three of them would come to you only too 
 gladly.' 
 
 ' It's very kind of you, but I really can't 
 decide anything at present,' Miss Lavender said 
 desperately. 
 
 1 Now Anna Richards is leaving her situa- 
 tion on Monday. I should think she would do 
 admirably in a place like yours,' suggested Mrs.
 
 170 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Bowers, not heeding Miss Lavender's remark. 
 'A bit rough, of course, but you can't expect 
 perfection nowadays.' 
 
 1 Thank you, but ' 
 
 1 Or there's Marion Giles/ pursued Mrs. 
 Bowers, silencing the protest with a wave of 
 the hand. 'Such a nice-looking girl, if it wasn't 
 for that unfortunate squint, but as you enter- 
 tain so little that wouldn't matter, would it? 
 Or Florrie Johnson. She's been in quite a good 
 place in Frippon. She's only going because her 
 father came drunk to the house and made such 
 a disturbance they had to call in the police, 
 and that wasn't her fault, of course, poor girl.' 
 
 1 But I've got Caroline,' persisted Miss 
 Lavender, with a horrible dread that if she 
 showed the slightest signs of wavering, one of 
 Mrs. Bowers's nominees would be dumped down 
 upon her in spite of herself. 
 
 Mrs. Bowers folded up the paper and returned 
 it to her bag, which she closed with a vicious 
 snap. 
 
 ' Of course if you're satisfied with Caroline
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 171 
 
 Brill I've nothing more to say,' she remarked 
 rising to her feet. 
 
 1 Oh, but you aren't going,' said Miss 
 Lavender as she saw Mrs. Bowers putting on her 
 gloves, her sense of hospitality overcoming her 
 intense desire to be left alone. 'Won't you stay 
 and have some tea ? ' 
 
 ' Thank you. I have other calls to pay,' said 
 Mrs. Bowers; and from the way she spoke it 
 was obvious that the visit of condolence had 
 been reduced to the level of a mere social duty. 
 
 Miss Lavender, trusting she was successfully 
 concealing the relief she felt, rang the bell for 
 Caroline, who, greatly to her chagrin, presently 
 appeared minus the cap which Euphemia had 
 bestowed upon her as a parting gift, and with a 
 tail of hair hanging down her back. 
 
 1 Yes ? ' she said. 'What is it ? ' 
 
 ' Show Mrs. Bowers out,' said Miss Lavender. 
 
 Caroline stared, uncomprehending. 
 
 ' Open the front door for her,' exclaimed Miss 
 Lavender irritably, feeling that it would be an 
 immense relief to shake her.
 
 172 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' It ain't shut,' remarked Mrs. Brill in matter- 
 of-fact tones. 
 
 1 Kindly do as I bid you,' said Miss Lavender 
 sharply. 
 
 1 But 'ow am I to open a door that ain't 
 shut ? ' inquired Caroline helplessly. 
 
 Before an answer to this pertinent question 
 could be forthcoming a bell rang. 
 
 ' That is the front door bell,' exclaimed Miss 
 Lavender in tones of relief. 'Go and see who it 
 is at once.' 
 
 Caroline, thankful to be spared further mental 
 worry, hastened out of the room to do her 
 bidding, returning in a few minutes to announce 
 Mr. Tidd. 
 
 ' But where is he ? ' asked Miss Lavender 
 wonderingly. 
 
 1 Oh, I've put 'im to wait in the dining-room,' 
 replied Caroline easily. 
 
 Mrs. Bowers smiled sardonically. 
 
 ' How odd,' she remarked. 'Don't bother, 
 dear. I'll find my own way out. Gentlemen 
 don't like being kept waiting, do they ? '
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 173 
 
 With a little nod she was gone, leaving Miss 
 Lavender staring after her with crimson cheeks 
 
 ' Why on earth didn't you show Mr. Tidd 
 straight in here ? ' she demanded, rounding upon 
 Caroline with a fierceness quite out of keeping 
 with her usual self. 
 
 ' 'E wasn't wishful to come,' exclaimed Caro- 
 line unabashed. ' "Anybody with Miss Lav- 
 ender ? " sez 'e. "Only Mrs. Bowers," I sez. 
 Then (if you'll excuse my mentioning it, miss), 
 "Damn," sez 'e, be'ind 'is teeth like, but not so 
 low as to escape me; so, acting according to 'is 
 language, I pops 'im into the dining-room till 
 she was safe out o' the way.' 
 
 * You had no business to do any such thing. 
 Go and fetch Mr. Tidd here immediately.' 
 
 Caroline departed on her errand muttering 
 something below her breath about 'no pleasing 
 some folks. The more you do, the more you 
 may do,' but Miss Lavender turned a deaf ear 
 to her complaints and, when she had left the 
 room, stood there waiting, trying to regain the 
 composure which Mrs. Bowers and Caroline
 
 174 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 between them had succeeded in driving away, 
 before Mr. Tidd appeared. 
 
 When at length he was ushered in she in- 
 stantly noticed a subtle change in him. There 
 seemed a kind of neglected look about him, and 
 his usually dapper dress showed obvious signs of 
 want of attention, as though it was not worth 
 while bothering over. 
 
 ' You don't look well,' she said concernedly 
 as they shook hands. 
 
 ' I'm right enough. I miss the boy, that's all,' 
 he replied wearily. 
 
 ' But isn't he with you ? ' asked Miss Lav- 
 ender in surprise. She had not seen either of 
 them for some days, but that Bobbie was not at 
 home had never occurred to her. She had sup- 
 posed that, during these last few weeks before 
 his wedding, he would have jealously guarded 
 each second of the short time that remained to 
 him of that close companionship which was so in- 
 finitely precious to the old man whom he was 
 leaving. 
 
 1 'E won't be home again now.' The words 
 came out heavily and slowly.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 175 
 
 1 Do you mean he is not coming back here 
 again before his wedding day ? ' 
 
 In spite of her endeavours Miss Lavender 
 could not help the astonishment she felt showing 
 itself in her voice. 
 
 Mr. Tidd nodded. 
 
 ' That's it,' he answered. 'After all, I don't 
 know that it matters much. It 'ad to come soon 
 anyhow, and I've been saved brooding over it. 
 The young don't see eye to eye with the old 
 folks. How should they? Nobody can learn 
 without being taught, and there's but one 
 teacher of sympathy and that's experience. You 
 mustn't blame my boy too much, Miss Lavender. 
 He don't understand, that's all.' 
 
 ' Then he should be made to,' Miss Lavender 
 said severely. 
 
 ' It's but following the laws of nature,' main- 
 tained Mr. Tidd, unwilling to admit that there 
 could be any flaw in his idol. 'Don't we read in 
 the Bible that a man shall leave 'is father and 
 mother and cleave unto 'is wife. ? ' 
 
 ' I have yet to learn that Miss Chalmers is 
 his wife,' observed Miss Lavender tartly. 
 
 Mr. Tidd snapped his fingers.
 
 176 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 f Straw-splitting ! ' he remarked. 'But there, 
 I didn't come 'ere to talk about my affairs. I 
 hear you're in trouble about your old friend. 
 You'll be missing her sorely.' 
 
 The sympathy in his voice proved altogether 
 too much for Miss Lavender. 
 
 ' We've lived with one another so long,' she 
 said, breaking down and sobbing. 'It sounds so 
 silly for an old woman to say it, but I simply 
 don't know how I'm going to manage alone. 
 Ever since I was a girl Euphemia has looked 
 after me, and now, without her, I feel like like 
 a cripple without a crutch.' 
 
 ' I know. I feel that way myself, at times,' 
 Mr. Tidd said. 'You'll get yours back again 
 though,' he added half enviously. 
 
 Miss Lavender fumbled in her pocket for her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 ' Shall I ? ' she said, two big tears overflow- 
 ing and rolling down her cheeks. 'Shall I ? If 
 only I knew.' 
 
 Mr. Tidd produced from an inner pocket an 
 enormous red bandana which he solemnly 
 handed to her.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 177 
 
 * It won't be the first time you've dried your 
 eyes on my hankerchief,' he observed, noticing 
 that she hesitated. 
 
 ' You remember that,' she said, smiling 
 through her tears, a little wintry smile, and hes- 
 itating no longer. 
 
 ' Yes. I remember,' he said gravely. 
 
 ' I always was a coward,' she remarked tremu- 
 lously, mopping her eyes vigorously on the ban- 
 dana. 'You'll always connect me with crying.' 
 
 ' I just happen to have been by,' he answered. 
 'That's all. Seems almost as if as if I was 
 meant to dry your tears.' 
 
 ' I won't be so stupid again,' said Miss Lav- 
 ender, carefully folding up the red handkerchief 
 and laying it on the table beside her. 'I'll have 
 this washed before you have it back.' 
 
 Mr. Tidd stretched out his hand and, picking 
 it up, restored it to his pocket. 
 
 ' It won't be any the worse,' he said. 'Now 
 look here, Miss Lavender, why not pack up your 
 trunks and come and stay at Starr Cross until 
 Euphemia's home again ? '
 
 178 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Miss Lavender looked at him with startled 
 eyes. 
 
 1 Oh, I I don't think I could do that,' she 
 said primly. 
 
 * Why not? You wouldn't be alone. Mrs. 
 Jarvis is coming to pay a long visit to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Who is Mrs. Jarvis ? ' she inquired. 
 
 ' She was Bobbie's governess when he was a 
 little chap. She only left to be married. The 
 man turned out a scamp and left her at the end 
 of a year, and a good riddance too. He's dead 
 now and she tries to keep going by teaching a 
 lot of little brats, but she's broken down lately, 
 and so ' 
 
 He stopped abruptly, but Miss Lavender 
 finished the sentence for him. 
 
 ' And so you're being kind to her, like, it seems 
 to me, you are to everybody.' 
 
 1 Well. Will you come ? ' he asked, switching 
 off the conversation to another line. 
 
 Miss Lavender shook her head. 
 
 ' I can't settle anything definitely until until 
 I know what's going to happen,' she said, and he 
 knew she was referring to the result of the 
 operation.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 179 
 
 { When's it to be ? ' he inquired. 
 
 1 1 don't know for certain. The matron was 
 to write to me to-day, so I shall hear to-morrow 
 morning, I hope.' 
 
 Mr. Tidd crossed to the door, and stood there 
 with his hand on the knob. 'I dessay you'll be 
 wanting to go over to Frippon most days. The 
 car's at your disposal, mind, whenever you want 
 it.' 
 
 Before she could say a word of thanks he had 
 fled, and the next minute she heard the click of 
 the garden gate as he passed out. 
 
 The house suddenly seemed very lonely. A 
 shrill voice from the back regions announced 
 that 'a few more years should roll,' but that was 
 only a vocal effort of Caroline's, and Caroline 
 was one of those people who have the effect of 
 intensifying, rather than diminishing the sense 
 of loneliness. By the time she sat down to her 
 badly-cooked dinner, Miss Lavender had decided 
 that directly she knew how things turned out, 
 whether for good or ill, she would follow Mr. 
 Tidd's advice and pack up her trunks and go 
 round to Starr Cross.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Miss LAVENDER sat by Euphemia's bedside in 
 the small ward of the hospital. There were only 
 two beds in it, and the second one was vacant, 
 so that she had the minor consolation of feeling 
 that the last supreme moments were hers alone. 
 
 For it had come to that. Euphemia was 
 dying! Very soon now she would have left this 
 world behind her, with its joys and sorrows, its 
 loves and hate, its hopes and disappointments, 
 and would have set out on the next stage of the 
 journey across the desert of Time, beyond which 
 lies Eternity and the Peace which passes under- 
 standing. 
 
 She lay so still and motionless that more than 
 once Miss Lavender thought she had already 
 loosed her feeble grasp on life; but though the 
 fires were burning low they were not quite ex- 
 tinguished, for suddenly she opened her eyes 
 and her lips moved, forming words yet uttering 
 no sound.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 181 
 
 ' What is it you want to say ? ' Miss Lavender 
 asked, bending over her. 
 
 Euphemia rallied her forces, and spoke in a 
 weak whisper: 
 
 ' I'm givin' you a lot o' trouble.' 
 
 Miss Lavender stroked the red, work-coars- 
 ened hand which rested outside the bed-clothes. 
 
 ' You've taken care of me for so many years,' 
 she said. 'Don't you think it is my turn to take 
 care of you now ? ' 
 
 ' I 'adn't no thin' else to mother but you,' 
 Euphemia said, the words coming out very 
 slowly and with many pauses in between. 'If 
 a woman misses the best in life, if she never 'as 
 the chance given 'er of bein' a wife or of 'avin' 
 little ones, it leaves a big gapin' 'ole in 'er 'eart 
 which 'as to be filled some'ow.' Her dim eyes 
 looked back rather wistfully over the long 
 stretch of years which lay behind. 
 
 ' You've been 'usband and child to me,' she 
 went on, screwing her mouth up into the faint 
 ghost of a smile. ' I suppose that's why I used 
 sometimes to speak my mind out to you, though
 
 182 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 I was always sorry for it afterwards. It's a queer 
 thing, ain't it.' 
 
 * What is ? ' 
 
 ' Why, that the more one cares for a body, 
 the easier it is to lose one's temper with 'em. 
 It some'ow don't seem worth while to get angry 
 with ordinary folks.' 
 
 ' You ought not to talk.' 
 
 1 It won't make no difference. There's some- 
 thin' I want to tell you.' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' 
 
 ' You remember George Green ? ' 
 
 Miss Lavender searched her memory in vain. 
 
 ' I'm afraid I don't,' she said at last. 
 
 ' Not the red-'eaded young fellow 'oo drove 
 Wigley's cart ? ' 
 
 * Wigley, the baker's cart! But that must be 
 thirty years ago, Euphemia.' 
 
 ' Thereabouts. I've often tried to tell you, 
 but I could never pluck up courage. I used to 
 'ave 'im to supper in the kitchen, unbeknownst 
 to you ! ' 
 
 ' Never mind that now.'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 183 
 
 ' I didn't think, at the time, as it wasn't my 
 own food 'e was eatin,' but I've 'ad it on my con- 
 science since. There! I've told you anyway.' 
 
 ' As if it mattered ! As if anything matters 
 but you.' 
 
 For a long time there was silence, then Euphe- 
 mia spoke again. 
 
 t If Caroline comes to the funeral,' she said, 
 'don't let 'er wear that black 'at with the crepe 
 bow, for I can't bear it. You can give 'er my 
 bonnet with the black currants in, if come she 
 must.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't talk in that way,' cried Miss 
 Lavender piteously. 
 
 ' My dearie, where 's the 'arm? It won't be me 
 you're buryin'; only my poor old, ugly body. 
 I never took much account o' that, as far as 
 looks went, not but what it's unbecomin' in me 
 to find fault with the Almighty's 'andiwork. I 
 don't doubt 'E 'ad 'Is purpose in makin' me 
 plain. Per'aps 'E foresaw you'd 'ave need of 
 me all these years, and if I'd been personable, 
 the chances are I'd 'ave got took in by some
 
 184 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 worthless chap. Look at that Caroline ! Though 
 to be sure, she can never 'ave been much to 
 boast of in the way o' looks.' 
 
 The nurse bustled in at this juncture, and 
 shook an admonitory finger. 'I thought talking 
 was forbidden,' she said. 'How do you expect 
 us to get you mended if you go on like this? 
 You're a naughty old woman.' 
 
 " You get along with you,' retorted Euphemia 
 with a faint return of her former spirit. 'I'm 
 neither an idiot nor a child, and I've still got the 
 breath in my body to tell you so. My Miss 
 Lavender ain't 'ere at this time o' night for no 
 reason, and I know well enough what the reason 
 is.' 
 
 ' I never knew such a one to argue,' the nurse 
 said, darting a hasty glance at the figure seated 
 beside the bed. 'You drink this milk, and don't 
 you open your mouth again, else we shall have 
 to ask your Miss Lavender to go.' 
 
 'I'll lie quiet, if you'll see Miss Lavender 'as 
 something too. She ain't used to sittin' up and 
 she's got plenty to go through with presently.'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 185 
 
 So the kindly nurse went away, and returned 
 in a few minutes with a cup of beef-tea in which 
 was a large spoonful of brandy, and insisted on 
 Miss Lavender drinking it down. 
 
 ' She'll probably sleep now, if you'd like me 
 to tuck you up on the other bed,' she said. 'I 
 promise to wake you if there's any change.' 
 
 But Miss Lavender would not hear of that, 
 and, when Euphemia fell into a heavy doze, sat 
 on, not daring to stir for fear of disturbing her. 
 
 One by one the leaden hours dragged them- 
 selves away, and still Euphemia slept. The 
 darkness and silence of the outside world gave 
 place to the gray, ghostly light of early dawn 
 and the soft twittering of newly wakened birds. 
 A whispering breeze rustled the tree-tops, and 
 stealing in through the open window gently 
 stirred the blind. 
 
 Miss Lavender very, very cautiously withdrew 
 her hand from Euphemia's clasp and, tiptoeing 
 across the room peeped out. 
 
 Behind the distant ridge of hills the sky was 
 ablaze with glory which every second increased.
 
 186 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Golden, and violet, and delicate rose-pink were 
 mixed together in inextricable confusion on a 
 slate-blue background until she could almost 
 fancy that they were the colours on the palette, 
 waiting there ready for the Master-hand to use 
 in His work. 
 
 She stood there for some minutes, drinking 
 in the beauty of the scene, and when she had 
 steeped her soul in the dew of the morning, 
 turned back refreshed and soothed, to resume 
 her post beside the dying woman. 
 
 Euphemia was awake now, her gaze fixed 
 upon her beloved mistress as though she would 
 carry with her into the valley of death itself the 
 lineaments engraven on her mind of the dear, 
 familiar face. 
 
 { Is there anything I can do for you? Any- 
 thing that you want ? ' Miss Lavender asked, 
 bending over her. 
 
 ' The blind,' Euphemia whispered, so low that 
 Miss Lavender could barely hear the words. 
 
 1 Do you want it up ? ' 
 
 'Up.' 
 
 Miss Lavender went again to the window and,
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 187 
 
 drawing up the blind, flooded the room with 
 the dazzling splendour of the eastern sky, which 
 touched even the bare, white-washed walls with 
 fairy fingers and transformed them into mellow 
 gold. 
 
 Euphemia, as the radiance fell upon her, 
 turned her head so that her failing eyes might 
 take their last look at the beauty of the world 
 which soon would know her no more. 
 
 For a minute or two she lay there, with an 
 expression of such perfect contentment on her 
 face that Miss Lavender, watching her, mar- 
 velled, then she gave a little sigh of satisfaction, 
 as though the last doubt had been solved in her 
 mind. 
 
 1 Ain't that proof enough for anybody ? ' 
 she said, then her eyes closed again. 
 
 Miss Lavender, kneeling by the bedside, saw 
 her lips move at intervals, and once she smiled, 
 as though her thoughts were pleasant ones, but 
 gradually even those faint signs of animation 
 ceased and, but for the scarcely perceptible rise 
 and fall of her breast, she might have been dead 
 already, so still did she lie.
 
 188 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 The nurse came in and stood at the other side 
 of the bed, keenly watching, but she did not 
 disturb the dying woman with useless minis- 
 trations. The time for that was past. 
 
 How long they remained thus Miss Lavender 
 never quite knew, but she was dimly conscious 
 that presently the nurse leant down and laid her 
 hand on the breast of the figure lying so strangely 
 still between them, then came round to where 
 she knelt, and touched her gently on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 Without any words, she knew what that 
 touch meant, and, rising quite steadily to her 
 feet, bent over and kissed Euphemia's forehead, 
 a long, lingering, farewell kiss. 
 
 ' Good-by, dear friend. Sleep well, after the 
 hard day's toil,' she whispered, so softly that 
 not even the nurse heard her, then without 
 another word, another look, she turned and 
 walked quietly out of the room. 
 
 ' Let me get you a cup of tea,' the nurse said 
 anxiously, following her out, but Miss Lavender 
 shook her head. Even tea, that panacea for
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 189 
 
 most of the ills to which feminine flesh is heir to, 
 could not ease a desolate heart. Like a stricken 
 animal, her one and only idea was to creep away 
 out of sight, to hide herself in some dark corner 
 where nobody could see her, and there try and 
 piece together the puzzle which has perplexed 
 poor humanity ever since the day when the 
 Cherubim with the flaming sword mounted 
 guard over the Tree of Life. 
 
 1 1 don't want anything, except to get home,' 
 she answered. 
 
 ' But have you any conveyance to take you? 
 It's only six o'clock. The livery stables won't 
 be open yet,' said the nurse doubtfully. 'Why 
 shouldn't you lie down on the sofa in the 
 matron's sitting-room for an hour or two ? ' 
 
 1 1 must get home,' Miss Lavender repeated. 
 'I'll walk round and knock them up. It'll be 
 something to do.' 
 
 * Well, if you're sure.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes.' 
 
 They passed down the dark staircase, where 
 the blinds still shrouded the windows, and across
 
 190 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 the hall, where a feeble jet of gas struggled 
 against the light which filtered in through the 
 ivy-covered fanlight above the front door, which 
 the nurse opened, letting in a rush of cool sweet 
 air. 'I don't want to worry you at such a mo- 
 ment,' she said apologetically, 'but there are 
 arrangements to be made.' 
 
 ' I'll come over later,' Miss Lavender replied, 
 with a desperate feeling that the nurse would 
 try to keep her against her will if she did not 
 hurry away. So eager was she to be gone that 
 she pulled the door to behind her, and it was not 
 until she was on the path outside that she noticed 
 a car standing a little way along the street. 
 
 The driver's back was towards her but it 
 somehow looked familiar, and even as she 
 paused, uncertain whether to advance or retire, 
 he turned and she saw that it was Mr. Tidd. 
 
 At sight of her he clambered out of the seat 
 and came down the path to meet her, looking 
 very shy and uncomfortable. 
 
 * You ! ' she exclaimed. 
 
 ' I 'ope you don't think I've taken a liberty ? '
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 191 
 
 he said anxiously, carefully refraining from 
 meeting her eye. 
 
 ' I I don't understand. How do you happen 
 to be here? I'm in great trouble. I want to get 
 home.' The words came tumbling out of her 
 mouth incoherently. She felt the necessity of 
 saying something and spoke out what was upper- 
 most in her mind through sheer inability to 
 choose what she would say. 
 
 ' I'll drive you home.' 
 
 She felt grateful to him for the brevity of the 
 remark; he sought no explanation and she 
 offered none. There would be time for that in 
 the future. At present she was thankful to 
 crawl into the motor and realise that all need for 
 exertion was at an end. That he had been there 
 was sufficient. The why and wherefore of his 
 appearance at the precise moment when he 
 could be of service to her seemed of hardly any 
 importance beside the fact that he was there. 
 
 It was not until later that she dragged from 
 him the unwilling confession that he had been 
 there all night, in case she wanted him.
 
 192 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' But how did you know I was there ? ' she 
 asked wonderingly. 
 
 1 1 found out/ he replied evasively. 
 
 ' But how ? ' she insisted. 
 
 ' I made Mrs. Brill promise to come round 
 and tell me if you were sent for in a hurry,' he 
 said as shamefacedly as if he had been caught 
 committing some awful crime, and failing to add 
 that Caroline was half a sovereign to the good 
 over the transaction. 
 
 ' Then then you were there all night ! ' said 
 Miss Lavender accusingly. 
 
 Mr. Tidd wriggled miserably. 
 
 ' It's it's getting nice and warm o' nights 
 now,' he responded in tones of exculpation. To 
 hear him one would think he had been accused 
 of some heinous offence! 
 
 ' And you didn't even ask questions! Didn't 
 you want to know ? ' 
 
 1 It wasn't so difficult to guess, and any'ow, 
 you'd 'a' told me if you'd wanted, without my 
 bothering you,' he said simply. 
 
 ' I think,' said Miss Lavender slowly, 'that 
 you are the truest gentleman I have ever met.'
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THERE was no doubt that Caroline enjoyed a 
 certain amount of reflected glory from Euphe- 
 mia's death. She sprang from a class which re- 
 gards such an event as, in some extraordinary 
 manner, redounding to the credit of all who 
 happen, in however remote a degree, to be 
 affected by it. It is true she shed abundant 
 tears ; indeed, every time she met Miss Lavender 
 about the house she started off a fresh bout of 
 weeping, but that was partly etiquette. Occupy- 
 ing as she did, even though temporarily, the 
 place of the deceased, she considered it her duty 
 and privilege to display a corresponding emo- 
 tion, and she entirely failed to understand Miss 
 Lavender's calm acquiescence in the decrees of 
 Providence. She felt that her employer was not 
 exacting her full measure of enjoyment out of 
 the situation, and was hard put to it to answer 
 the sympathetic inquiries of the tradespeople
 
 194 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 who called for orders, until she hit upon a reply 
 which satisfied her, both on account of its di- 
 plomacy and its sentiment. 
 
 'Ah, she's taking it 'ard, poor dear,' she would 
 say on such occasions. 'If she could only cry it 
 'ud do 'er good, but there she sits like a stoned 
 image, paying 'eed to neither 'er food nor what 
 anybody sez to 'er.' 
 
 Perhaps, if anyone could have seen Miss 
 Lavender in the privacy of her bedroom, with the 
 door locked to prevent the incursions of Caro- 
 line, who followed her about with little basins of 
 greasy-looking beef-tea, he would have thought 
 differently, for it was only then that she allowed 
 herself to think, and the brave front she showed 
 to the world gave place to the helpless tears of 
 loneliness and self-pity. She never pretended, 
 even to herself, that the tears were for Euphemia, 
 Her faith was strong enough to assure her 
 that, whatever the change which had come to 
 her faithful old friend, it was one for the better. 
 If she wept, it was for herself, and her house 
 left to her desolate.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 195 
 
 She had decided that Euphemia should be laid 
 to rest in the quiet little graveyard at the foot of 
 the hill, where her own father and mother were 
 buried, and where the violets and primroses 
 grew thick among the grassy mounds and white 
 tombstones which clustered round the small gray 
 church in which so many broken hearts had 
 poured out their complaints before their God 
 and showed Him of their trouble. 
 
 So the tired old body was brought home, and 
 once more, though now in death, slept in the 
 little room above the kitchen, surrounded by all 
 the familiar objects which it had loved in life, 
 to the shocked surprise of Caroline, who looked 
 upon it as a slur cast upon Euphemia's memory. 
 
 If Caroline could have had her way, the coffin 
 would have been placed on the spare-room bed, 
 and accorded a sort of lying-in-state to which 
 neighbours and friends might be bidden, with 
 herself as cicerone, and she went so far as to 
 hint that Miss Lavender was behaving shabbily 
 in acting otherwise. 
 
 Miss Lavender, however, knew very well that
 
 196 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 if Euphemia was able to look back across the 
 great gulf fixed between them, she would desire 
 nothing better than that the body from which 
 she had been set free should lie in the chamber 
 which had once been its own. 
 
 So to her own room she was carried, and Miss 
 Lavender took good care to lock the door and 
 keep the key in her pocket, to Caroline's intense 
 disgust, a disgust which was not in the least 
 degree mitigated by the fact that she herself 
 was put to occupy the best bedroom. 
 
 ' I ain't a guest and I ain't a corpse,' she com- 
 plained to the milkman, the first morning after 
 she slept there. 'I'm neither one thing nor the 
 other, yet feeling a bit of both.' 
 
 ' More like some one 'oo's died while on a 
 visit,' suggested the milkman, who was a humor- 
 ist in his own estimation, and consequently had 
 a reputation to live up to. 
 
 ' Ye-es. More like that I s'pose,' replied 
 Caroline doubtfully, afraid to agree too cordially 
 lest there might be more in the remark than met 
 the eye.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 197 
 
 1 When's the funeral?' the milkman inquired. 
 He always liked to gather stray items of in- 
 formation, to deliver with the milk on his 
 rounds. 
 
 ' Thursday,' responded Caroline gloomily. 
 'Though it don't 'ardly amount to a funeral. 
 It's just a burying, if you understand.' 
 
 The milkman did understand and nodded 
 comprehendingly. 
 
 ' Not a soul invited to the church, let alone to 
 the 'ouse,' went on the scandalised Caroline, 'and 
 but a single- 'orse brougham from 'Obbes's to 
 follow the 'earse! She couldn't 'ave been done 
 with less style if she'd been left to the parish.' 
 
 ' You'll be going though, I take it?' queried 
 the milkman. 
 
 * You can take it from me,' Caroline in- 
 formed him. 'I'm not the sort to cast a slur on 
 them 'oo are dead and gone and unable, in a 
 manner o' speaking, to defend theirselves, and 
 though the poor dear may 'ave 'ad a sharp tongue 
 in the flesh, as well I know she 'ad to my cost, 
 I'm sure I'm the last to bring it up against 'er
 
 198 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 now, and though per'aps it's 'ardly becoming in 
 me to say so, she thought a wonderful lot of even 
 me, Mr. Gage. Why, almost the last words 
 she uttered, before she left this 'ouse never to 
 return, showed the trust she deposited in me. 
 "Caroline'll take care of you," she sez to Miss 
 Lavender. Those were 'er very words, and I 
 'card 'er with my own ears. "Caroline'll take 
 care of you," she sez.' 
 
 There was an impressive pause to allow 
 Euphemia's last words to sink into the milkman's 
 brain, then Caroline, with a preoccupied air, 
 gazing over his shoulder at some distant object, 
 remarked: 
 
 1 I'm to drive down in 'Obbes, along with 
 Miss Lavender.' 
 
 * Well, that'll be a nice treat for you,' said 
 Mr. Gage. 
 
 ' I'm not saying I ain't gratified in a way o' 
 speaking,' acknowledged Mrs. Brill. 'But it 'ud 
 'ave seemed more like riding be'ind a corpse to 
 'ave 'ad plumes nodding in front of one, and silk 
 scarves round the men's 'ats. I only 'ope 'Obbes
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 199 
 
 'ull 'ave the respeck not to send a driver in a 
 cock-eyed 'at.' 
 
 1 You can't expect the respect from a livery- 
 stables as you get from an undertaker,' was the 
 opinion of Mr. Gage, and Caroline agreed with 
 him. 
 
 1 It ain't in reason they should 'ave the good 
 conduck of a funeral at their finger-tips, same as 
 them whose lives are spent in the midst o' death,' 
 she remarked concedingly. 
 
 The day of Euphemia's funeral was one of 
 those rare ones which seem to have dropped 
 straight out of heaven. 
 
 The blue sky was flecked with tiny, feathery 
 white clouds, which floated on the light warm 
 breeze like thistle-down, and the shower which 
 had drenched the earth the previous night had 
 brought out of it that clean, fresh scent of wet 
 soil which only those who love the country can 
 appreciate properly. 
 
 Everything seemed so full of the promise of 
 life that it was hard to attune the mind to the 
 thought of death.
 
 200 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 The bonnet trimmed with black currants had, 
 in accordance with Euphemia's wishes, been duly 
 assigned to Caroline, who, by removing the 
 strings and filling in the aperture at the back 
 with a rusty black crepe bow, had converted it 
 into what she called a 'tock.' Taking time by the 
 forelock, as a woman nearly always does when 
 she has to go out in other than her everyday 
 clothes, she appeared in it at lunch-time, causing 
 Miss Lavender, who was in a state of nervous 
 tension, to collapse into a fit of hysterical giggling 
 which would not be suppressed. 
 
 Caroline stood in the doorway, a dish of 
 potatoes in her hand, and the undescribable 
 'tock' on her head (from which a bunch of 
 currants had detached itself and hung pendent 
 from her back hair, making her look, for all the 
 world, like a Bacchante who had seen better 
 days), and surveyed Miss Lavender with open 
 mouth. There was no doubt in her mind that 
 her brain had given way under the shock. 
 
 ' I'd better step down and ask Dr. Cruickshank 
 to call in,' she said, advancing cautiously into the
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 201 
 
 room and sliding the potatoes on to the table at 
 the opposite end to where Miss Lavender sat. 
 
 With a tremendous effort Miss Lavender re- 
 covered her composure, and sat up trying to look 
 as if nothing unusual had occurred. She knew 
 she had disgraced herself for ever in Caroline's 
 eyes, but it was no use trying to explain how near 
 akin laughter is to tears sometimes, and how, if 
 one does not want to cry, one is bound to laugh 
 on the flimsiest pretext. 
 
 ' There is no need to trouble Dr. Cruickshank,' 
 she said, carefully avoiding even a glance in 
 Caroline's direction. 'And you need not wait,' 
 she added, as the latter still hesitated in the 
 doorway. 
 
 It is useless to deny that Mrs. Brill thoroughly 
 enjoyed her drive to the church. She sat well 
 forward, grasping a handkerchief with a deep 
 black border in her hand with which she wiped 
 away non-existent tears each time she noticed an 
 acquaintance on the path. Her own cottage had 
 been converted into a kind of miniature Grand 
 Stand, in order that her neighbours might have
 
 202 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 an opportunity of watching her triumphal prog- 
 ress, for though the blinds were vigorously 
 drawn, various female figures could be observed 
 wedged between them and the windows, while, 
 in the garden, a row of infant Brills hung over 
 the low wall in front, and one small boy, evidently 
 confusing the issue of events, raised a shrill cheer, 
 to be punched into silence by an elder sister. 
 
 Caroline did not say much during the drive, 
 for which Miss Lavender was thankful. Once 
 she remarked, with a faint suspicion of regret in 
 her voice, that 'Mother 'ad men walking down 
 each side of 'er coffin/ then, feeling perhaps that 
 the speech savoured of fault-finding, hastened to 
 add, 'But then, o' course, she was a double relic',' 
 which she appeared to consider a satisfactory 
 explanation. 
 
 It seemed an interminable distance to the 
 church, and Miss Lavender, sitting back in her 
 corner of the carriage, would have given anything 
 to put her head out of the window and implore 
 them to go a little faster, but to begin with, she 
 had not the courage, and to go on with, she knew
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 203 
 
 that she would only shock the coachman, without 
 doing any good. 
 
 By the time they reached the lich-gate her 
 nerves were in such a state that she could have 
 screamed aloud, and felt that it would have 
 afforded her infinite pleasure to slap Caroline, 
 who had commenced to sob convulsively the 
 moment she caught sight of the knot of women 
 assembled on the path, without whom no funeral 
 can take place. 
 
 By what right did Caroline make such a to-do? 
 She had not spent the best part of a lifetime with 
 Euphemia. She had not stood side by side with 
 the dead woman and watched the years slip by, 
 girlhood merging into womanhood, womanhood 
 retreating step by step before advancing old age. 
 She was not the one left to grind at the mill 
 alone, now that the other had been taken. 
 
 ' I am the Resurrection and the Life.' The 
 words dimly penetrated her brain, as she fol- 
 lowed the bearers carrying their burden with slow 
 heavy tread. Was that the answer to the riddle? 
 Was it that that which men called Life was
 
 204 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 nothing after all but the prelude to Life; that 
 this world, which seemed so ridiculously import- 
 ant, was merely the womb of Eternity, and that 
 the men and women who strutted about on it 
 giving themselves airs were only children yet to 
 be born? 
 
 1 The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
 away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.' What 
 was it Euphemia had said an hour or two before 
 she died? 'Perhaps He foresaw you'd have need 
 of me all these years.' If she could regard her 
 long faithful service as a loan from God, to be 
 repaid how and when He willed, Miss Lavender 
 could too. 
 
 Suddenly it seemed as though the whole point 
 of view shifted itself. She was no longer a poor 
 atom of humanity yielding her inalienable rights 
 to a pitiless God, but a debtor paying a fraction 
 of what she owed to a long-suffering Creditor, 
 and the thought steeled her to face the coming 
 ordeal with courage. 
 
 Caroline, her handkerchief held tightly against 
 her mouth in the manner prescribed by etiquette,
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 205 
 
 could not understand how it was that Miss 
 Lavender watched the coffin lowered into the 
 grave without the shedding of a single tear. 
 Like so many people she was utterly unable to 
 dissociate body from soul, and it was beyond her 
 powers of comprehension to grasp the fact that 
 it was no more Euphemia who lay at her feet 
 than an old dress of hers would have been. 
 
 Miss Lavender turned to leave when the short, 
 simple service was finished, strangely comforted 
 and refreshed. 
 
 The future still loomed ahead, terrific in its 
 loneliness, but she was no longer sorry as one 
 without hope. 
 
 Some words she had once read came into her 
 mind 'When God puts a burden upon us, He 
 lays His hand underneath, so that the burden 
 may not be too heavy for us to bear.' 
 
 God had laid a burden upon her. He would 
 see that the load did not prove beyond her 
 strength to carry.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 WHILE all these things were happening at 
 Diddlebury, Bobbie, in London, was dancing a 
 sorry attendance upon his lady-love. 
 
 One would certainly not have imagined, to 
 look at him, that in three weeks he would be a 
 happy bridegroom, and still less perhaps would 
 one have regarded Marjorie as being within 
 appreciable distance of sharing that happiness. 
 
 It is true that they were to be seen everywhere 
 together, but that was only because, like Mary's 
 lamb, everywhere that Marjorie went, Bobbie 
 was sure to go ; but it would be idle to say that 
 he derived much pleasure or benefit from her 
 society, for she was one of those people who can 
 only enjoy themselves in a crowd, and even a 
 visit to a theatre or music-hall resolved itself 
 into a party of at least half a dozen, and, more 
 often than not, meant for Bobbie a couple of 
 hours' sullen boredom sitting at the end of a 
 row of stalls with four or five people sandwiched
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 207 
 
 in between him and the one individual whose 
 close proximity would have turned the most 
 dreary entertainment into a pageant of pure 
 delight. 
 
 Bobbie was not much given to self-analysis, 
 or he might perhaps have laid his finger on the 
 root of the matter and confessed that his dis- 
 content was grounded, not so much on the fact 
 of being separated from the object of his affec- 
 tions as on the unpalatable truth (to which he 
 deliberately shut his eyes lest he might be 
 shocked at its nakedness) that he was not alto- 
 gether indispensable to her happiness. 
 
 He might perhaps have felt less resentment if 
 she had distributed the favours, which she with- 
 held from him, a little more impartially, but 
 instead she elected to single out one particular 
 person upon whom to confer them, and that 
 person a youth whom Bobbie loathed. 
 
 Moreover, Marjorie's predilection for the 
 youth in question puzzled Bobbie, for he was 
 the last man in whom one could imagine Marjorie 
 taking any interest, and when Bobbie was puzzled
 
 208 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 he was generally inclined to be a little fractious. 
 
 Lord Torpoint was the only son, indeed the 
 only child, of his mother, and she, as she was 
 fond of plaintively reminding him when he 
 threatened to run counter to her wishes, was a 
 widow. 
 
 Lady Torpoint had a large number of stock 
 texts upon which she was accustomed to draw in 
 times of stress, and found them particularly 
 effective in clinching an argument, for nobody, 
 unless a professing atheist, can refute a state- 
 ment backed up by biblical authority, except by 
 countering with an alternative text, and few are 
 capable of that on the spur of the moment. 
 
 Lord Torpoint always reminded Bobbie of an 
 owl driven out from its dark shelter into bright 
 sunshine. He had a round vacuous face with 
 a small but prominent nose, and blinked at 
 the world through large tortoise shell-rimmed 
 spectacles. He always seemed to be on the 
 point of making some profound remark, but it 
 never got any further than that, and for the 
 most part he maintained a solemn silence.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 209 
 
 Marjorie had only met him, for the first time, 
 after her engagement to Bobbie had been pub- 
 licly announced, and when she discovered that 
 his income was at least double that which Bobbie 
 would eventually possess (in what might quite 
 possibly be a dim distant future), she felt she 
 had been hardly dealt with by Fate. But Miss 
 Chalmers was a young woman who, having made 
 up her mind what she wanted, went straight for 
 her objective, brushing aside any obstacles which 
 stood between her and it with a ruthless deter- 
 mination that challenged Providence itself to 
 intervene. 
 
 She was much too cool to trouble to deceive 
 herself as to her own motives, and never at- 
 tempted to gloss over with a veneer of false 
 sentiment the reasons for which, in her opinion, 
 matrimony had been ordained. She had not the 
 shadow of a doubt that, in her case at any rate, 
 it had been ordained for the help and comfort 
 her husband might be to her in prosperity. Ad- 
 versity never entered into her calculations at all. 
 She was ready to have and to hold anybody for
 
 210 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 richer and the richer the better but most 
 certainly not for poorer. 
 
 Therefore she felt distinctly defrauded when 
 Torpoint arrived upon the scene, and she 
 realised that, were it not for her engagement to 
 Bobbie, she might reasonably have expected to 
 net him. However, she was not unduly ham- 
 pered by scruples of conscience where her own 
 interest was concerned, and she determined at 
 all hazards to hold him in reserve 4n case.' The 
 past was past, but the future hadn't yet come to 
 pass, and often turned out differently to what 
 had been planned, especially with a little ex- 
 traneous help. At the same time, she was too 
 worldly-wise to be off with the old love before 
 she was on with the new. There must be no 
 space between the two stools through which 
 she might fall. 
 
 So she promptly proceeded to educate Lord 
 Torpoint in the way in which she intended him 
 to go, and had him well in hand before his 
 mother, who had once met and thoroughly 
 disliked Miss Chalmers, had sensed the danger,
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 211 
 
 and when, aroused to it, she had entered the 
 lists, armed with an entirely new sheaf of texts 
 suitable to the occasion, she was too late. Mar- 
 jorie had quietly gone behind her back, and 
 surreptitiously cut the apron strings to which 
 her son had been tied since he was short-coated. 
 All his life long he had literally never left her 
 side, for schools, both private and public, she 
 looked upon as mere sinks of iniquity, and as 
 for either of the Universities well! Babylon in 
 its latter days was a kindergarten compared to 
 them. So poor Torpoint was dragged up by a 
 series of incompetent but servile tutors, who 
 patted him on the back in adulation when they 
 should have done so in admonition, and he 
 naturally grew to man's estate about as well 
 fitted to go out and fight against the world, the 
 flesh and the devil, as a chicken is to escape from 
 the talons of a hawk. In Marjorie's skilful hands 
 he was putty to be moulded at will (her will!), 
 and she took very good care to see that she alone 
 carried out her design. No outside busybody 
 must be allowed to mar her handiwork,
 
 212 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Bobbie, though he was too honest himself to 
 doubt Marjorie, nevertheless had an uneasy 
 feeling that he was being made to look slightly 
 ridiculous, and about this time one or two in- 
 cidents occurred which led him to believe that 
 the feeling was not confined to himself. Lady 
 Torpoint, for instance, who watched her son's 
 growing intimacy with Miss Chalmers in suspi- 
 cious alarm, bore down upon him at a garden 
 party at which they both happened to be (neither 
 Marjorie nor Torpoint were present on this 
 occasion), and having introduced herself to him, 
 practically, though not in so many actual words, 
 told him he was a fool, and, after firing off several 
 texts, recited a verse or two from 'Locksley 
 Hall,' which appeared to Bobbie to have no bear- 
 ing on the situation, but seemed to afford the 
 excited lady a certain amount of satisfaction, 
 especially at that point where she spoke of some- 
 body as a clown. Bobbie rather gathered she 
 meant him, but was not certain. Anyhow she 
 displayed considerable annoyance that Marjorie 
 was not with him, demanded to know where her
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 213 
 
 son was, and when Bobbie informed her he had 
 not the slightest idea, snorted in his face and 
 stalked away, leaving him gasping for breath. 
 
 And when, later on, an earnest but indiscreet 
 friend drew him into a quiet corner of the Club 
 and hinted the same thing, though without the 
 aid of texts or Tennyson, Bobbie for once lost 
 his temper, cursed the earnest friend to his face 
 as a tatler and busybody, loudly asseverated 
 his entire belief and confidence in his fiancee, 
 and inquired why the devil if he didn't mind 
 the present situation anybody else should. The 
 only fault he had to find with Marjorie was 
 that she was a darned sight too good-natured, 
 and allowed every twopenny-ha'penny whipper- 
 snapper to take advantage of that fact. Torpoint 
 bored her to idle tears. She had told him so, 
 only she was sorry for him with that awful 
 woman for a mother. 
 
 He left the earnest friend shaking an uncon- 
 vinced head, and flung himself out of the Club in 
 a fury, not appeased by the fact, which he re- 
 fused to admit even to himself, that he was a fool
 
 214 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 not to put his foot down and insist on Marjorie 
 behaving herself in such a manner as not to make 
 him look ridiculous. Not that his loyalty to her 
 wavered for a single second. He clung tena- 
 ciously to his faith in her, only he hated that she 
 should give other people the opportunity of 
 criticism and fault-finding. Bobbie had arranged 
 to meet Marjorie at Rumpelmayer's for tea on 
 the afternoon following, and when she turned 
 up with Torpoint in tow as usual, he for the 
 first time, stirred up thereto by the two foregoing 
 incidents, voiced his resentment. 
 
 ' I can't think what on earth you see in that 
 little owl,' he said with unaccustomed ferocity. 
 'What does he want here?' 
 
 Lord Torpoint was, at the moment, very 
 slowly and deliberately choosing cakes at the 
 counter, peering closely into each plate of them 
 as if he expected to find a caterpillar lurking 
 there. 
 
 Marjorie stared at Bobbie in cold disdain, and 
 gave a little shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 * My dear Bobbie, you can't expect always to 
 have me to yourself,' she remarked.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 215 
 
 Bobbie laughed a little bitterly. 
 
 'Always!' he exclaimed. 'Do I ever nowa- 
 days? Why do you encourage that miserable 
 little cur to be for ever trotting at your heels?' 
 
 ' Please don't speak of my friends in that way,' 
 she answered sharply. 'I invited Lord Tor- 
 point to come.' 
 
 c And it was like his dam' cheek to accept,' 
 was the thought in Bobbie's mind. 
 
 1 Besides,' went on Marjorie frigidly, 'it's 
 so out of date to be seen about everywhere alone 
 with one's fiance. Do try and remember we're 
 not a chemist's assistant and his young woman.' 
 
 She deliberately picked out the words in order 
 to be as offensive as she could. It was intended 
 to be a sly hit at his father, but Bobbie never 
 noticed. He was busy wishing with all his heart 
 that he and Marjorie were in a stratum of society 
 where honest love is considered no shame, and 
 was thinking enviously of some of the couples 
 he had seen in the parks, clasping hot hands in 
 an ecstatic bliss which made speech superfluous. 
 They, at any rate, were in the happy position of
 
 216 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 being able to disregard the opinion of the out- 
 side world, if indeed the outside world had any 
 existence for them, which, to judge by their in- 
 difference to the gaze of passers-by, it had not. 
 
 ' People are talking,' he said doggedly. 
 
 1 Are they ? ' said Marjorie indifferently, 
 'What about ? ' 
 
 1 Of course I know the poor little blighter 
 can't help admiring you,' he said quickly. 'All 
 the same, darling, I'd give him a hint not to be 
 always sitting in your pocket.' 
 
 A hard glint came into Marjorie's eyes. She 
 didn't care a straw about public opinion, but she 
 wasn't going to have her plans upset by busy- 
 bodies. She glanced across at Torpoint hesi- 
 tating uncertainly between a chocolate eclaire 
 and a pink sugar cake, then back at Bobbie as 
 though comparing them. She must get at the 
 root of the matter. 
 
 * Who's been talking ? ' she asked abruptly. 
 
 ' Well, old Lady Torpoint swooped down on 
 me at the Altringhams' show yesterday ' 
 
 So it was to be a duel between her and Tor-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 217 
 
 point's mother, was it? Well! The old lady 
 was a formidable adversary, worthy of her steel, 
 and appeared to have taken her measure pretty 
 accurately. It would be wiser not to be off with 
 the old love yet. In the short time left she 
 might easily fail to bring her plans to fruition. 
 It behoved her to walk warily. 
 
 ' Don't you trust me, Bobbie ? ' she said 
 reproachfully. 
 
 ' Of course I do, darling,' said Bobbie, all con- 
 trition in a second. 'But you see, I know you, 
 and other people don't, and I hate to hear you 
 blackguarded for no reason. That's the only 
 reason I said anything about it.' 
 
 And he really believed what he said. 
 
 Marjorie smiled a little contemptuously. How 
 easy it was to whistle a man back to heel. 
 
 Bobbie, in repentant mood, was quite genial 
 to Torpoint when he reappeared at the table 
 with the cakes, and even, when they had finished 
 tea, proposed his driving out to Richmond with 
 them in Bobbie's car. 
 
 It was as they were getting into the car that
 
 218 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Lady Torpoint drove by. Bobbie was bending 
 over the starting handle, so she only saw her 
 son and Marjorie and, after one glare, ostenta- 
 tiously lowered her parasol on that side. 
 
 Torpoint stopped dead with his foot on the 
 step, perturbation written on every line of his 
 countenance. 
 
 ' I say! That was my mother!' he exclaimed 
 in tones of alarm. 
 
 ' Then she doesn't know you're out,' Marjorie 
 said involuntarily, then laughed right into his 
 agitated face. 
 
 Little beads of perspiration stood out on Tor- 
 point's forehead. 'She'll be awfully angry,' he 
 said despairingly. 
 
 ' Why ? ' asked Marjorie sharply, with sudden 
 change of front. 
 
 Lord Torpoint, looking the picture of misery, 
 made no reply. He was no diplomat, and could 
 do nothing except summon up a sickly grin, 
 which she met with an icy stare. 
 
 1 Perhaps you'd better go after her,' she said 
 freezingly. 'Don't let me detain you.' She held
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 219 
 
 out a hand as she spoke. It was a daring exper- 
 iment she was trying, but it meant she was 
 several up on Lady Torpoint if it succeeded, and 
 she was fairly sure of her ground, added to 
 which there was always Bobbie to fall back upon 
 in case of failure. 
 
 Torpoint wiped his heated brow, but other- 
 wise made no movement. 'I shouldn't think of 
 such a thing. I shouldn't think of it,' he said 
 as determinedly as his state of mind would allow, 
 and Marjorie permitted a little smile of triumph 
 to hover on her lips. She'd scored a distinct vic- 
 tory over Lady Torpoint and made her own posi- 
 tion very nearly impregnable, come what might. 
 
 1 Let's go and see my wedding-dress,' she sug- 
 gested. 'Is there time, Bobbie ? ' 
 
 ' No, there isn't,' said Bobbie decidedly. He 
 had no intention, if he could possibly prevent 
 it, of letting Lord Torpoint see it before the 
 wedding-day. 
 
 1 Bother,' said Marjorie. 'I wanted Torry to 
 see me in it.'
 
 220 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Lord Torpoint beamed on her adoringly. She 
 had never called him 'Torry' before. 
 
 1 Why can't we go to-morrow morning ? ' he 
 proposed. 
 
 'No.' Bobbie almost shouted the mono- 
 syllable. 'It's it's so damned unlucky to wear 
 it before the day,' he concluded lamely as Mar- 
 jorie stared at him in amazement. 
 
 ' My dear Bobbie/ she said, 'you're as super- 
 stitious as any little servant girl. Perhaps you've 
 looked up in Old Moore or Zadkiel, or whatever 
 it is those people read, to see if the wedding- 
 day's a lucky one.' 
 
 Bobbie coloured hotly. As a matter of fact 
 he had come across a copy of Old Moore when 
 he was down at Starr Cross, and glancing 
 through it idly had, half in fun, turned to the 
 date fixed for the wedding. 
 
 ' You have! Torry, he has ! ' exclaimed 
 Marjorie delightedly. 'Tell me the worst. 
 Bobbie. Do!' She clasped her hands in mock 
 entreaty.. 
 
 ' Oh, do shut up, Marjorie. I hate chaffing
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 221 
 
 about it,' Bobbie besought, but she paid no 
 attention. 
 
 ' I believe it's an unlucky day,' she declared. 
 'What are we to do about it? Tony! you 
 don't seem to realise the tragedy going on under 
 your very nose. Do do something, propose some- 
 thing, for goodness' sake.' 
 
 ' I I don't think I quite understand what 
 you're driving at,' Torpoint said, blinking 
 rapidly. He wasn't equal to these mental gym- 
 nastics, and was still ruminating over what he 
 should say to his mother when he got home. 
 
 ' Why! Bobbie's discovered the wedding-day 
 is an unlucky one. Can't you think of anything 
 to save us ? ' 
 
 ' Be married the day before instead,' sug- 
 gested Lord Torpoint with unaccustomed 
 brilliancy. 
 
 Marjorie looked at him with a speculative air. 
 
 ' Quite a good idea, Torry,' she said. 'I'll 
 think it over.'
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 CAROLINE BRILL was one of those happily 
 constituted people who labour under the delu- 
 sion that without them the whole machinery of 
 the world would fall to pieces. 
 
 The entire time she was with Miss Lavender 
 she spent a great portion of it in wondering how- 
 ever Brill was managing without her, varied by 
 moments in which her imagination boggled at 
 the prospect of what was going to become of 
 Miss Lavender when she finally returned home. 
 Once the excitement of the funeral was over and 
 she paled into comparative unimportance, her 
 thoughts flew homewards to her deserted hus- 
 band and children with a commiseration quite 
 uncalled for. Brill was having an exceedingly 
 good time of it in his capacity of grass- widower 
 His eldest daughter at the age of fourteen was a 
 far better housekeeper than his feckless wife, 
 and had the additional merit of retiring to bed
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 223 
 
 long before closing time, which saved all possi- 
 bility of the recriminations and reproaches which 
 greeted him on his return home under Mrs. 
 Brill's regime. It was certainly annoying to be 
 told that he was 'no better than a beast of the 
 field/ just after he had been expounding the 
 superiority of the working-man over the dis- 
 solute race of peers, and on the top of boasting 
 that it was he and his like who were the main 
 supports of the British Empire, it was humiliat- 
 ing to be reminded that, so far from that being 
 the case, he was not even capable of supporting 
 his own family properly. 
 
 Caroline, imbued with this sense of her own 
 importance, had determined that she must not 
 announce her impending departure too suddenly. 
 News of that sort wanted to be broken gently! 
 
 She therefore seized the opportunity of Miss 
 Lavender being in the kitchen for the purpose 
 of ordering dinner to prepare her mind for the 
 reception of the impending calamity. 
 
 1 You may give me a little Irish stew for lunch, 
 Caroline,' said Miss Lavender. 'I think there
 
 224 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 was some mutton left from that neck, wasn't 
 there ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, miss, Irish stew,' repeated Caroline, a 
 far-away look in her eyes. 'Brill's very fond of 
 stew,' she added inconsequently. 
 
 ' Is he really ? ' said Miss Lavender, feeling 
 rather as if it was a hint that Brill should be 
 invited to partake of it. 
 
 ' Ah, that 'e is,' Caroline remarked with 
 fervour. ' 'E'll not be getting it now like I give 
 it 'im. Elsie's a good gal but not up to a stew 
 yet.' 
 
 ' I don't fancy it is very difficult to make, is 
 it?' 
 
 1 It 'as its secrets like all other dishes. It's the 
 pertaters more than the meat as counts in the 
 cooking, though you can't get a gal to see it.' 
 
 ' Very well then. Lunch Irish stew,' said 
 Miss Lavender in tones of finality, not in the 
 least wishing for a dissertation on the correct 
 way of making it. 'Now what about pudding ? ' 
 she asked. 
 
 * Semmerlina ? ' suggested Carolina with a 
 fine air of originality.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 225 
 
 ' Ye-es. I don't care much for it, but still ' 
 
 ' The 'ouse '11 be more like a pigsty than a 
 'uman 'abitation,' remarked Caroline, pursuing 
 some train of thought of her own. 'Men are 
 'elpless creatures when let alone. If it ain't a 
 button off it's a tear in the trousers to be 
 mended, and all took as a matter o' course, and 
 no thanks for it. You 'aven't lost much, miss, 
 by not being 'ustled into the 'oly state. Once bit, 
 twice shy! That's my motter, and when the 
 blessed release comes I shall know better than 
 to be took in a second time, if so invited. Mean- 
 time, 'aving 'ad a burden put upon me, it ain't 
 my place to rebel. Duty's duty, call it whatever 
 other name you will, and I ain't the one to shirk 
 mine. I'm sure it 'as been a pleasure to be with 
 you, miss, at this melancholy time, but all things 
 come to an end, and I'm afraid I shall 'ave to 
 leave you this day week.' She stopped quite out 
 of breath, and Miss Lavender gasped in 
 sympathy. 
 
 ' Of course, Caroline,' she said. 'Perhaps you 
 would like to go immediately. I can quite under-
 
 226 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 stand your desire to get back to your husband 
 and children. I've no doubt I can manage.' 
 
 Caroline sniffed aggrievedly. This calm ac- 
 quiescence in her departure was not at all what 
 she had bargained for. She had pictured to her- 
 self Miss Lavender begging her, with tears in 
 her eyes, to reconsider her decision and not to 
 desert her in such a hurry, and she had been pre- 
 pared, after due and impressive deliberation, 
 graciously to accede to the request, but this un- 
 ruffled acceptance of her announcement com- 
 pletely took the wind out of her sails, and she 
 began hurriedly to recant. 
 
 * Not but what Elsie does very nicely for 'er 
 father,' she observed. 'And it's good practice 
 for 'er in case I'm taken first, as there's never 
 no knowing but what I may, death being promis- 
 cuous in its 'abits, and not to be depended upon, 
 and Brill 'aving always discomfited me from the 
 start. So, miss, since it's to oblige you, and for 
 the sake of the poor dear 'oo's gone, I won't be 
 the one to leave you in the lurch, not for twenty 
 Brills I won't, so make your mind easy.'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 227 
 
 1 Oh, but it's quite all right, Caroline, really,' 
 Miss Lavender assured her hastily. 'You see, 
 Mr. Tidd has very kindly invited me to pay a 
 visit to Starr Cross whenever I like, and so I've 
 only to send a note round to say I'm coming. 
 I'll arrange to go there the day after to-morrow; 
 that will set you free to return home.' 
 
 Caroline grunted. 
 
 ' And 'oo's to see to the 'ouse while you're 
 away ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' Oh, don't you think it will be safe to lock it 
 up and leave it, if I take the spoons and teapot 
 with me ? ' Miss Lavender said, a little daunted 
 by this aspect of the case which now presented 
 itself to her for the first time. 
 
 < Maybe it will, but then again maybe it 
 won't,' hazarded Caroline. 'One 'ears of such 
 tales that I should never be surprised at what 
 'appened. Only last Tuesday week I was reading 
 in Brill's Sunday newspaper 'ow burglars 'ad 
 driven up, as bold as brass, to an 'ouse at 
 'Ackney when the owner of it was away on 'is 
 'oliday, and 'ad carted off every stick of furni-
 
 228 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ture under the noses of the neighbours, and when 
 the poor gentleman come back there wasn't a 
 bed to sleep in, much less a saucepan to cook the 
 dinner in; which reminds me 'ad we fixed on 
 the semmerlina once and for all ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, I think so ; and for dinner ' 
 
 1 The daring of it, when you come to think! 
 If they'd left a gal in the 'ouse it could never 
 'ave 'appened, but there it was, you see! The 
 'ouse being empty the burglars was able to work 
 at their leisure. Not that I 'old with leaving 
 gals alone in an empty 'ouse; and to go on with, 
 empty it would not be in such a case.' 
 
 ' It is extremely unlikely that anybody would 
 risk breaking in and stealing my furniture even 
 if I did leave the house without a single person 
 in it. No. That will be the best plan, for me to 
 move to Starr Cross the day after to-morrow, 
 and while I'm there I can be looking out for a 
 maid.' Miss Lavender gave a little sigh as she 
 spoke. She knew it was absurd, but she hated 
 the idea of a stranger in Euphemia's place. 
 
 ' I'd be sorry to be at the mercy of one o' the
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 229 
 
 gals one sees nowadays,' said Caroline with 
 gloomy foreboding. Their words are softer than 
 butter, 'aving war in their 'earts, or if it ain't 
 war it's followers. Look at that Eliza of 
 Bowerses! I see 'er go past 'ere Sunday after- 
 noon with the young feller 'oo mends bicycle 
 punkahs in that little shed that looks like a 
 second- 'and fowl 'ouse on the road to Frippon, 
 talking and laughing as free and easy as if she 
 was walking out with 'im instead of 'olding 'im 
 in reserve, like, in case 'er young man in London 
 thinks better of 'er.' 
 
 ' I have not the slightest intention of engaging 
 that sort of a girl,' said Miss Lavender a trifle 
 stiffly. 
 
 ' They're all tarred with the same feather 
 these days,' Caroline observed. "You can't 'elp 
 yourself, and would you mind settling what 
 you'll 'ave for your dinner, miss, then I'll know 
 where I'm standing.'
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MRS. JARVIS was a tall angular lady with a 
 long angular face, which looked even longer and 
 narrower than nature had intended it to be by 
 reason of the dangling jet ear-rings which she 
 affected. She had rather coarse browny-gray 
 hair strained tightly back from her forehead, and 
 done on the top of her head in a small hard knot 
 so exactly like a drawer handle that it was diffi- 
 cult to believe you were not meant to pull it. 
 She had somewhat prominent teeth, and a short 
 upper lip, and she had a habit of making noble 
 but ineffectual efforts to conceal the former with 
 the latter, a habit which, taken in conjunction 
 with the shape of her face, gave her an extra- 
 ordinary resemblance to a horse with an ill- 
 fitting bit. 
 
 She was everlastingly engaged upon some in- 
 tricate piece of knitting or other which involved 
 her in abstruse calculations, and which pro-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 231 
 
 gressed at about the same rate as the historic 
 shroud worked by Penelope, for she was con- 
 stantly going back upon her tracks and unravel- 
 ling yards of wool from whatever garment she 
 happened to be making, and hours of industrious 
 labour were rendered abortive in a few minutes, 
 though it never seemed to discourage her. 
 
 Miss Lavender did not find her exactly an en- 
 livening companion, but she at any rate satisfied 
 the proprieties, and effectually did away with 
 any qualms which might have been felt as to the 
 acceptance of Mr. Tidd's hospitality. And if 
 small-talk flagged, as it too often did, there were 
 always patterns for babies' vests to fall back 
 upon, and 'purls' and 'plains' were as thick in the 
 conversation as bullets on the field of battle, 
 until at the end of a fortnight Miss Lavender 
 felt as though the very flowers in the garden 
 were made of wool, having reached that stage of 
 obsession when even her sleep was disturbed by 
 frantic endeavours to work out impossible 
 designs. 
 
 It was the night before Bobbie's wedding-day.
 
 232 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Mr. Tidd had steadily refused to take part in 
 the family dinner to which he had been invited, 
 and was merely going up for the day itself, re- 
 turning immediately after the reception. 
 
 The sun had set more than an hour ago, but 
 through the belt of trees which skirted the lawn 
 on the left a warm glow still lingered in the 
 western sky, shading off gradually into the deep 
 purple of the summer night, out of which, like 
 some great jewel, shone the evening star, rivalling 
 in its clear cold light the crescent moon which 
 already was dipping down behind the shrubbery. 
 It was so still in the garden that the very flowers 
 seemed to be asleep, and though a faint breeze 
 rustled the tree-tops it was so soft and gentle 
 that one might almost imagine it to be the kiss 
 of a mother upon the forehead of a slumbering 
 child who just stirs under her embrace without 
 waking. 
 
 The only sound which broke the absolute 
 silence was the steady click of the needles with 
 which Mrs. Jarvis was knitting what she called 
 'my guild garment' with feverish energy. She
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 233 
 
 sat bolt upright on a high-back chair and never 
 stopped working for a single instant, except at 
 intervals to count her stitches, and even that 
 she appeared to think a waste of time judging by 
 the hurried manner in which she polished them 
 off three at a go with her thumb nail. 
 
 The other two who sat with her showed no 
 inclination to talk. Perhaps the thoughts which 
 filled the mind of each were too delicate to bear 
 the weight of words, for both were thinking of 
 the future and of what lay beyond. 
 
 Miss Lavender had determined to make the 
 final plunge and bring her visit to an end the 
 following day, though she had not as yet told her 
 host of her decision, for she dreaded argument on 
 the subject. She needed every scrap of courage 
 she possessed to force herself back to the path 
 of loneliness awaiting her, and she was too well 
 aware of her infirmity of purpose to dare risk 
 persuasion. When Mr. Tidd returned the follow- 
 ing evening he would find her gone. 
 
 So they sat, not trusting themselves to speak, 
 drinking in the quiet beauty of the night which
 
 234 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 seems so full of peace, and yet is able to arouse 
 such fierce longings in the breast for we know 
 not what! 
 
 The glow in the western sky died away; one 
 by one the stars came out to join their herald 
 brother; the tree- tops were lost against the 
 darkening heavens, save where the moon, now 
 beginning to set, threw them into relief. A 
 distant church clock struck ten with slow, boom- 
 ing notes. 
 
 ' Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four/ 
 chanted Mrs. Jarvis solemnly, then, digging a 
 temporarily disengaged needle through her knit- 
 ting, she stuffed it into a work-bag, and rose to 
 her feet. 
 
 ' There's ten,' she observed. 
 
 Miss Lavender, seeing what was expected of 
 her, rose also, though reluctant to end the day 
 and so draw a little nearer to an unwished-for 
 morrow, yet having no alternative but to obey 
 the indirect order to retire, since Mrs. Jarvis 
 was, in a manner of speaking, her hostess. 
 
 * You don't want to go to bed ? ' The half-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 235 
 
 question, half-statement of fact, came from Mr. 
 Tidd, and at it Miss Lavender hesitated, torn 
 between a keen desire to eke out the evening and 
 a fear lest she might appear forward if she re- 
 mained. 
 
 It was Mrs. Jarvis who finally clinched the 
 matter. 
 
 ' Then I'll say good-night,' she said in tones 
 which clearly intimated that, though perfectly 
 aware that it was none of her business, she 
 nevertheless disapproved, and gathering up her 
 impedimenta she took her departure bedwards, 
 leaving Miss Lavender with a delightful sense 
 of having, for once in her life, snapped her 
 fingers in the face of Mrs. Grundy. 
 
 A footman entered the drawing-room and, 
 after shutting the windows, drew down the 
 blinds and extinguished the lights, but from the 
 study window a little further along the terrace 
 a lamp threw its beams out into the garden, 
 making a patch of bright yellow on the lawn. 
 Otherwise it was almost pitch dark, for the moon 
 had quite disappeared by now.
 
 236 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 Mr. Tidd helped himself to a cigar from a 
 box which stood on a wicker table at his elbow, 
 and striking a match lit it. 
 
 ' I'll be gone before you're down in the 
 morning,' he said, holding the match out at 
 arm's-length, and watching it slowly flicker out. 
 
 I You should have gone to-day. You'll be so 
 tired,' said Miss Lavender sympathetically. 
 
 He chucked the spent match on to the lawn 
 below the terrace with a jerk of the wrist. 
 
 I 1 expect I shall be tired; I expect I shall,' he 
 said heavily. 'I'll be glad to be 'ome again, and 
 have it over and done with. But you'll be 'ere 
 when I get back,' he added a little more cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 ' I I'm not sure,' said Miss Lavender 
 flurriedly, glad of the prevailing darkness. ' I I 
 think I ought to be getting back home to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 1 You ain't going ? ' Mr. Tidd said blankly. 
 
 ' I I can't stop here for ever,' Miss Lavender 
 replied desperately. 
 
 * Why can't you ? ' asked Mr. Tidd, with such
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 237 
 
 sudden fierceness that Miss Lavender fairly 
 jumped. 
 
 ' What what an absurd question to ask,' she 
 said, beginning to wish most heartily that she 
 had kept her presence of mind sufficiently to 
 refrain from breaking the news to him of her in- 
 tention to bring her visit to a close. 
 
 1 Is it so absurd ? ' 
 
 She heard his chair creak, and felt, rather than 
 saw, that he was leaning towards her. His hand 
 sought hers in the darkness and, when it had 
 found what it wanted, rested there for a minute 
 or two. 
 
 ' My dear,' he said earnestly, 'we're two lonely 
 old bodies left to fend for ourselves. Both of us 
 have been called upon to give up the one we 
 loved, and in both our lives there's an ugly gap. 
 Why should it be absurd if we try to fill up those 
 gaps? Are you afraid that people will laugh at 
 us? Why should they? Why should anybody 
 wonder if we shrink from going down into the 
 valley of shadows solitary and alone? There was 
 a line of poetry 1 read once, and a line of it keeps
 
 238 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 on running through my brain all the time: "In 
 lonely places, thou art crowds to me." That's 
 'ow it went, I remember. "In lonely places, thou 
 art crowds to me." My dear, we've both got 
 plenty o' lonely places in our lives. Why 
 shouldn't we try and fill 'em with one another? 
 I'm just a common old man, and you are a lady, 
 miles above me, but if you'd consent to marry 
 me you'd make me very happy, and I'd do my 
 best not to disgrace you/ 
 
 Miss Lavender had managed to free her hand 
 from his clasp long before he had finished speak- 
 ing, but there were tears in her eyes when he 
 stopped, and a curious feeling of triumph in her 
 breast not the triumph of conquest, but a 
 sweeter, saner triumph arising from the knowl- 
 edge that, whatever might be the upshot of this 
 momentous hour, nothing could ever take away 
 from her the consciousness of the fact that there 
 was one person in the world who wanted her. 
 
 It was only for a brief second that this trium- 
 phant feeling lasted; it was succeeded the next 
 by a totally different one. It was pity, not affec-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 239 
 
 tion which prompted this offer of marriage a 
 sudden, overwhelming pity for her forlorn condi- 
 tion. What else could it be? She had nothing to 
 recommend her in the way of cleverness, or 
 beauty, or wealth ; what then remained but com- 
 passion to account for this unexpected proposal? 
 But for her gauche remark about not being able 
 to stop for ever, the idea would never have 
 entered his head. A hot blush dyed her cheeks 
 crimson at the recollection of it. Perhaps he had 
 read a false meaning into it, and fancied she had 
 been leading up to this! 
 
 ' I don't think you realise what you're saying,' 
 she managed to blurt out. 'You forget I'm an 
 old woman.' 
 
 ' I know well enough what I'm saying,' he 
 replied in clear even tones. 'If you imagine I've 
 acted on the spur of the moment you've made 
 a big mistake. Now look here, my dear. Pretty 
 nearly the whole of my life I've had to calculate 
 ahead. I've taught myself to weigh the future 
 in the balance of my own two hands, and I've 
 learned that one can't afford to put mere senti-
 
 240 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ment into the scales, so don't run away with the 
 notion that this is a sudden thought which has 
 come into my 'ead. I won't deny I've spoken a 
 bit sooner than I intended, but that's neither 
 'ere nor there. It was just selfishness made me 
 do it. I wanted so badly to 'ave the right to 
 turn to you for comfort when I got back to- 
 morrow, but I see now as I was wrong. I ought 
 to have waited a bit. Don't be in a hurry to 
 give me an answer. Take time to think it over. 
 Take a week, or a month, if you like, and then, 
 if you feel you can, give me the answer I want 
 and make me very proud.' 
 
 ' You're asking me out of pity,' Miss Lavender 
 said, the tears overflowing and running down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 ' Am I ? ' he said. 'Perhaps I am, but if so 
 it's pity for myself.'
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Miss LAVENDER sat by the open window of 
 her bedroom trying to collect her thoughts and 
 restore them to some semblance of order from 
 the chaos into which they had been thrown by 
 the amazing scene through which she had just 
 passed. 
 
 To say that she had been surprised by the pro- 
 posal of marriage which she had received was to 
 put it mildly! She was fifty-eight years old and 
 nobody had ever wanted to marry her before, 
 and that anybody should now, made her feel as 
 if some elaborate practical joke was being played 
 upon her. Marriage belonged to youth and love, 
 and she was an old woman. Love had turned 
 his face away from her when she was young. 
 Was it likely he would recognize her now that 
 she was young no longer? 
 
 Her first sensation had been one of incred- 
 ulous dismay, but dismay had quickly given 
 place to a kind of half-hearted resentment.
 
 242 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 She was only being asked out of pity! If there 
 had been anything lovable in her she would not 
 have had to wait all these years without some- 
 body discovering it. Was she so poor-spirited 
 a creature that she was to submit to being given 
 a home like any starving dog out of the gutter? 
 Yet what had been his answer when she had 
 taxed him with that very reason for asking her 
 to be his wife? 
 
 ' You're asking me out of pity,' she had cried. 
 
 ' Perhaps I am, but if so it's pity for myself.' 
 
 If he had spoken the truth when he said that, 
 why should her own foolish pride be brought to 
 bear upon the matter at all? She was the grantor 
 of pity, not the recipient of it. It rested with her 
 to grant or to withhold. 
 
 * Pity for myself.' 
 
 Those had been his actual words, and, at the 
 remembrance of them, a sudden wave of tender 
 longing swept over her. 
 
 There is not a woman who does not, deep 
 down in the bottom of her heart, look upon man 
 as a species of child to be spoilt or scolded,
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 243 
 
 cosseted or slapped, according to the mood of 
 the moment, and at all times requiring to 
 have his buttons sewn on for him! So it was 
 with Miss Lavender. In one blinding flash of 
 light it was borne upon her that here was an op- 
 portunity offered such as would never occur 
 again, and that if she refused it there would not 
 be a single moment in her life in which she would 
 not bitterly regret it, and with the knowledge 
 came a strange sense of well-being. It was as 
 if she had been battling with a heavy sea, striv- 
 ing to reach the shore and being slowly but 
 surely carried further and further away, and 
 just as she was at her last gasp and about to 
 give up hope, realising that a rope had been 
 thrown to her and that she was being drawn in 
 to safety. 
 
 How sweet it would be to feel that there was 
 one whose name she had the right to bear, whose 
 arm would be always ready for her to lean upon 
 when the way was rough and stony, to whom she 
 might look for help and counsel in perplexities, 
 and who, in his turn the thought was there in
 
 244 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 the back of her mind though she did not give it 
 definite expression would look to her to per- 
 form all those duties which seem so trivial, but 
 which a man is so helpless over even to the 
 sewing on of buttons! In the first agitation of 
 the proposal she had refused to give a decided 
 answer, for she had been too confused to weigh 
 the question properly. Now that she had had 
 time to think it over she wondered why she had 
 ever hesitated, it seemed so obvious that there 
 was but one course for her to pursue. She could 
 almost fancy that her whole life had been leading 
 up to this hour. 
 
 She had hesitated but she would hesitate no 
 longer. She had made up her mind and there 
 should be no more foolish shilly-shallying. He 
 should have his answer before he left for London 
 the next morning. 
 
 Crossing over to the writing-table she lit a 
 candle and, sitting down, took a sheet of paper 
 from the case in front of her. 
 
 It was some time before she could concoct a 
 letter which met the requirements of the situa-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 245 
 
 tion, and she made two or three false starts, but 
 at last she just wrote these words, the line which 
 he had quoted to her only an hour ago, 'In lonely 
 places, thou art crowds to me.' That was all, 
 except that at the bottom she signed her name. 
 She knew that he would understand without 
 anything further, and a proper letter was beyond 
 her powers. 
 
 Slipping it into an envelope she fastened and 
 directed it, then propped it up on the mantel- 
 piece against a vase of flowers. She could send it 
 in the morning by one of the maids, before he 
 left the house. 
 
 That he was still downstairs in his study she 
 knew, for she could see the light of his lamp 
 streaming out on to the lawn, and if she leaned 
 out of her window she could hear his pen scratch- 
 ing on the paper and smell the scent of his cigar, 
 but she had not the courage to go down to him. 
 Although she had written the words which bound 
 her to him, her old-maidish prejudices forbade 
 the impropriety of a personal interview with him 
 in his study at half-past eleven at night, when
 
 246 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 the rest of the household had long ago retired to 
 bed. 
 
 Carrying the lighted candle to the dressing- 
 table she went to the window to pull down the 
 blind preparatory to undressing, but before she 
 did so she leaned out to listen once more to the 
 sound of his pen travelling rapidly over the 
 paper, and catch a whiff of the aroma of his 
 cigar. It seemed to speak of comfort and com- 
 panionship, and gave her a pleasing foretaste of 
 the future. 
 
 She was just about to withdraw her head when 
 her ears caught another sound, that of the gravel 
 crunching on the drive beneath the weight of an 
 unmistakable footstep. 
 
 Instantly her thoughts flew to a diamond 
 necklace which Mr. Tidd had been showing her 
 only that afternoon, and which she knew was 
 locked up in the safe in the study where he was 
 sitting at this very moment with the window 
 open on to the terrace. It was intended for to- 
 morrow's bride, but he had refused to send it, 
 and meant to take it up to town with him when
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 247 
 
 he travelled thither the next morning. What 
 more likely than that some thief had heard of it, 
 and was coming to get possession of the valuable 
 piece of jewellery! If that was the case, he 
 would probably not stick at any means by which 
 he might secure it. Hastily she blew out the 
 candle and stood at the window, her heart beat- 
 ing to suffocation, uncertain how to act. She 
 listened intently, peering out into the darkness, 
 and was beginning to think she must have made 
 a mistake after all, when her eyes, growing ac- 
 customed to the gloom, detected the figure of a 
 man crossing the lawn towards the house. Before 
 she had time to call out or raise any alarm, the 
 figure advanced into the ring of light which 
 shone from the study window, and she saw with 
 relief, not unmixed with surprise, that it was 
 Bobbie, but a Bobbie so changed that she could 
 scarcely restrain from exclaiming aloud. He 
 walked with slow heavy steps and his shoulders 
 were bent and bowed like those of an old, old 
 man, while his face was so white and set that but 
 for the bright staring eyes it might have belonged
 
 248 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 to a corpse. What could he be doing here, slink- 
 ing up to his father's house like a thief in the 
 night, when in less than twenty-four hours he 
 was to be married? 
 
 As if it were almost too much of an effort for 
 him, he stepped up on to the low terrace which 
 was raised a couple of feet from the level of the 
 lawn and made his way across to the open 
 window immediately below. 
 
 ' Father,' she heard him say in dull expression- 
 less tones, then there was the sound of a chair 
 being pushed sharply back and Mr. Tidd's voice 
 exclaiming in astonishment: 
 
 ' Bobbie! Why, what are you doing here ? ' 
 
 Miss Lavender leaned out of the window until 
 she was in imminent danger of falling headlong. 
 It was perfectly easy to hear every word spoken 
 in the room below, and it was not till long after- 
 wards that she realised with a blush of shame 
 that she had been guilty of deliberate eaves- 
 dropping. At the moment the frantic desire to 
 know what had happened and what Bobbie was 
 doing here at such an hour the very night before
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 249 
 
 his wedding outweighed every other consid- 
 eration. 
 
 She saw Bobbie lurch into the room and heard 
 him say in the same even monotonous tones, 
 'I've come home.' 
 
 ' You're ill ! ' The staccato note of anxiety 
 reached her where she stood. 
 
 ' No, I'm not ill, only tired. I I shall be all 
 right in the morning.' 
 
 1 1 don't understand. What has happened? 
 Why are you not in London? Have you for- 
 gotten that to-morrow's your wedding-day ? ' 
 
 ' My wedding-day! Ha-ha-ha-ha-Aa/ That's 
 awfully funny. My wedding-day! Ha-ha-ha- 
 ha-ha!' Each time he laughed it ended in a kind 
 of high falsetto scream, and from the sound she 
 could tell that he was not far off a fit of hysterics, 
 and evidently his father thought the same, for he 
 bade him quite sharply to be quiet, and she 
 heard the clink of a glass as if something was 
 being poured out, then Mr. Tidd's voice saying: 
 
 ' Drink this and pull yourself together. All 
 right, boy, I'll 'old it for you. Now then. What's 
 up?'
 
 250 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' She Marjorie ' 
 
 1 Well ? ' 
 
 ' She's gone.' 
 
 ' Gone! Gone where ? ' 
 
 ' What's it matter where? She's gone. That's 
 all that matters.' 
 
 ' D'you mean she's run away?' Apparently 
 Bobbie nodded, for the next thing Miss Lav- 
 ender heard was Mr. Tidd's voice again, saying: 
 
 * Did she was there someone else ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. There was. Damn him, damn him, 
 damn him ! ' 
 'Who?' 
 
 * A man called Torpoint. A worm who's been 
 crawling after her for the last two months. A 
 thing who's not worthy to to breathe the same 
 air as her. My God! If I could only get hold 
 of him I'd slash his poisonous carcase to ribbons, 
 and I will too, I will.' 
 
 It was not a pretty speech, but he was not in a 
 pretty mood. There is very little to choose be- 
 tween the most highly civilised man and a 
 savage, in a quarrel which concerns a woman.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 251 
 
 Even Miss Lavender, though she shuddered at 
 the naked brutality of it, recognised that here 
 lay something beyond her powers of comprehen- 
 sion, something which she instinctively shrank 
 from but dared not condemn because behind it 
 all was the impulsion of nature itself. 
 
 ' Are they married ? ' the question came 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 ' This morning. I I didn't get her note till 
 five o'clock though. She was careful not to let 
 me know till they were safely out of the way. 
 That shows she knew what I should do.' 
 
 ' You came to me at once ? ' There was an 
 exultant ring of gladness in the demand. 
 
 * Why, of course! There was no one else to go 
 to. Don't you want me ? ' 
 
 ' Want you! There's not been a minute since 
 you went away that I've not wanted you.' No 
 faithful lover greeting his mistress could have 
 put more longing into the simple words, and 
 they proved apparently too much for the 
 wounded soul of the boy who had been so cruelly 
 used, because the next second there rose a
 
 252 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 sound which Miss Lavender had never heard 
 before and which she prayed she might never 
 hear again, the sound of a man crying as if his 
 heart would break, and there are not many 
 worse things than that to hear in the world, for 
 a man does not give way to tears unless he is 
 pretty far along the road to despair, and then 
 not in front of another man if he can help it, 
 even though it be his own father. Each heav- 
 ing sob seemed like a physical blow striking her 
 in the face and, though she was not conscious 
 of it, two big tears forced their way from her 
 eyes and rolled unheeded down her cheeks, in 
 silent sympathy with a suffering she was power- 
 less to relieve. 
 
 For a while she could hear nothing but that 
 uncontrollable storm of weeping, but gradually 
 the sobs grew less, until they finally died away 
 altogether and she was able to distinguish once 
 more what was being said. It was the older man 
 who was speaking. 
 
 * We'll go back, shall we ? ' he was saying. 
 'We'll go back and try and make everything as 
 it used to be.'
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 253 
 
 * One can't go back. Nothing can ever be the 
 same as as it used to be.' 
 
 ' Can't it, Bobbie, can't it? Won't you try? 
 I I've been very lonely since you went away. 
 You you mean a lot to me, Bobbie. Let's try 
 and go back to the old days, shall we ? ' 
 
 * I'll I'll try, then. You're good to me, 
 Father. I I've thought a lot of you too while 
 I've been away. I I've felt a bit lonely too, 
 just lately.' 
 
 ' Why didn't you tell me ? ' 
 
 ' I I couldn't very well, and besides ' 
 
 ' Besides what ? ' 
 
 ' I I thought things would be better after 
 we you know.' 
 
 * We'll talk things over in the morning. You'll 
 be glad to get to bed.' 
 
 ' I couldn't sleep. I think if you won't 
 think me awfully silly I'd like to go for a long 
 walk. I feel as if I want to be moving. I I 
 couldn't stop still.' 
 
 ' I understand, boy.' 
 
 ' You won't sit up for me, will you? I daresay 
 I shan't be back till breakfast time.'
 
 254 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 ' You you are coming back ? ' There was a 
 new shade of anxiety in the old man's voice. 
 
 * Why, of course I am. And, Father ' 
 
 1 My boy ? ' 
 
 1 You've been the best pal a chap could wish 
 for. I I've been rather a beast lately. I 
 didn't mean to be.' 
 
 1 That's all right, my boy.' 
 
 'And, Father ' 
 
 1 Well ? ' 
 
 ' You you shan't ever be lonely again, if I 
 can help it.' 
 
 ' God bless you, boy. I'll leave this window 
 unfastened in case you want to come in early.' 
 
 Miss Lavender saw Bobbie's figure step out on 
 to the terrace and disappear once more into the 
 darkness, then the light in the study was ex- 
 tinguished, and a few minutes later a heavy tread 
 passing her door told her that Mr. Tidd was 
 on his way to bed, but she remained where she 
 was without stirring, trying to recall as much as 
 she could of the conversation she had recently 
 overheard and dovetail it in with what had taken 
 place previously.
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 255 
 
 One sentence particularly stood out from 
 among the rest with startling vividness. 
 
 ' You shan't ever be lonely again/ Bobbie had 
 said, and it was the recollection of these words 
 which filled Miss Lavender with searchings of 
 heart. 
 
 Was not that the reason why Mr. Tidd had 
 asked her to be his wife that she might fill the 
 lonely places? And if they were already filled, 
 what excuse had she for accepting him? Clearly 
 none! If she became his wife, she would be 
 deliberately putting herself into a false position, 
 ensuring her own future at the expense of an- 
 other. So her conscience told her, but all the 
 same she was sorely tempted. It would be so 
 easy to let things take their natural course. She 
 had only to carry out her original intention and 
 send the note she had written by the maid who 
 called her in the morning, and no one need ever 
 know that she had even been aware of the altered 
 circumstances of the case. Was she, who had 
 been offered bread, to thrust it aside and con- 
 tent herself with a stone in order that another's
 
 256 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 hunger might be appeased? Had she no rights 
 to contend for? 
 
 So she tried to argue with herself, but in her 
 heart of hearts she knew that there was but one 
 answer to all these questions she asked herself. 
 The verdict was given against her, and there 
 could be no appeal. 
 
 The first streaks of daylight were brightening 
 the eastern sky before she moved from the spot 
 where she had crouched by the open window, 
 and her limbs were stiff and cramped. She un- 
 dressed and got into bed, but sleep did not visit 
 her weary eyelids. All through what remained 
 of the night she tossed and turned, first this side 
 then that, peering out into the future and seeing 
 nothing there but the menacing spectre of utter 
 loneliness, a loneliness more terrific now than it 
 had been before, because of that brief respite 
 which had been granted her. 
 
 When at last, after what seemed hours, the 
 clock on the stairs struck six, she felt she could 
 lie there and think no longer. She understood 
 now what Bobbie had meant when he said he
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 257 
 
 wanted to be moving. An insatiable longing to 
 get out into the cool fresh air, away from the 
 four stifling walls which closed her in, seized 
 upon her. She would go out just for half an 
 hour, and be back before the household was 
 stirring. 
 
 She huddled on her clothes anyhow, dressing 
 almost mechanically, for her brain felt heavy and 
 stupid, and her head ached so badly that she 
 could hardly see out of her eyes. Perhaps that 
 was the reason why she failed to notice a small 
 square white envelope directed to Mr. Tidd, 
 propped against one of the vases on the mantel- 
 piece, or perhaps her senses were so numbed and 
 dulled that the sight of it conveyed no meaning 
 to her mind. It may even have been that she had 
 forgotten she had ever written it, for last night 
 seemed a hundred years ago, and her memories 
 of it were dim and confused. She stole out of the 
 room and downstairs, and on the mantelpiece 
 stood the note untouched, unheeded. 
 
 She made her way out through the study 
 window, which was still unshuttered and un-
 
 258 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 fastened, as it had been left the night before 
 
 A soft breeze fanned her feverish cheeks as she 
 hurried down the drive, anxious to get out of 
 view of the house as quickly as possible, and 
 everything had that appearance of having just 
 been furbished up which is only to be seen by 
 those who take the trouble to rise early on a fine 
 morning in June. 
 
 She turned her footsteps in the direction of the 
 Heath when she reached the corner of the lane, 
 knowing that there she would be safe from pry- 
 ing eyes, and presently found herself ankle-deep 
 in the dew-brushed heather, with the already 
 busy bees darting from flower to flower in search 
 of honey, while on every side could be heard that 
 low hum which can hardly be described as a 
 sound, but is more a vibration of the air, as 
 when a chord is struck on the piano with the 
 loud pedal down so that it gradually dies away 
 into nothingness. 
 
 In the middle of the open space stood a small 
 clump of silver birches on a sloping ridge of 
 ground, and thither Miss Lavender betook her-
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 259 
 
 self. Arrived there, she seated herself on the 
 bank, leaning her back against a convenient 
 trunk, too. weary to go further. 
 
 For a while she sat there, the same thoughts 
 that had tormented her all night still revolving 
 round and round in her tired brain, but by 
 degrees the peace and beauty of the quiet spot 
 acted as a healing lotion her limbs relaxed their 
 tension; her eyes closed; she slept. 
 
 It was two hours later that she woke with a 
 start, and gazed around her wonderingly. For 
 a second or so she could not imagine where she 
 was, but recollection quickly came to her. She 
 hurriedly pulled out her watch and looked to see 
 what the time was, then uttered an exclamation 
 of dismay. She must hasten back if her absence 
 was to pass unobserved, though in any case the 
 maid must know who had been to her room to 
 call her. She got back to the house without 
 meeting any one until she reached her own door, 
 but there she ran across the housemaid, who 
 looked at her curiously. 
 
 ' It was such a lovely morning,' Miss Lavender 
 said apologetically.
 
 260 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 'Yes, miss,' returned the woman dutifully. 
 'I gave your note to the master.' 
 
 ' Wh-what note ? ' asked Miss Lavender 
 faintly, clutching at the handle of the door for 
 support. 
 
 ( The one you left on your mantelpiece, miss,' 
 answered the maid, unable to keep the surprise 
 she felt out of her voice. 'Didn't you mean me 
 to?' 
 
 ' It's it's all right, thank you,' replied Miss 
 Lavender, falling rather than walking into her 
 room. 
 
 Once safely in there, with the door locked 
 behind her, she sat down on the nearest chair 
 and gave way to despair. 
 
 Here was an anticlimax in very truth ! What 
 imp of mischief had caused her to overlook that 
 fatal letter! Why had she not destroyed it the 
 very moment she had altered her decision? She 
 tried to excuse herself on the plea that Bobbie's 
 dramatic return had driven all recollection of it 
 out of her head, she tried to be philosophic and 
 tell herself that it was done now and could not
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 261 
 
 be undone, but neither excuse nor philosophy 
 altered the dreadful fact that her letter was in 
 Mr. Tidd's possession. 
 
 There was obviously but one thing to be done. 
 She must go boldly to him and tell him she had 
 changed her mind. No other course lay open 
 to her. 
 
 The gong rang for breakfast, and she went 
 downstairs with faltering feet and a heart sick 
 with dread. 
 
 He was alone in the dining-room when she 
 walked in, and at sight of her he came forward 
 with hands outstretched and a smile on his face. 
 
 Poor Miss Lavender! She was evidently not 
 born to be an intrigante, for she entirely forgot to 
 express her surprise at seeing him there instead 
 of in the train on his way to London, but the 
 omission passed unnoticed. He supposed she 
 had been told of Bobbie's misfortune by one of 
 the servants. 
 
 1 1 got your note,' he said. 
 
 'No, no. It's a mistake,' she said, putting 
 out her hands as though to ward him off.
 
 262 A VAGRANT TUNE 
 
 The smile died away from his lips. 
 
 ' A mistake,' he repeated stupidly. 'Do you 
 mean you didn't write this?' He pulled her note 
 out of his pocket, and held it out for her to see. 
 
 ' Yes, I wrote it, but it's a mistake,' she 
 reiterated dully. 
 
 'You mean you've altered your mind?' 
 
 She nodded, afraid to trust herself to speak. 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 The question rang out sharply and peremp- 
 torily. 
 
 ' Oh, be kind to me,' she cried. 'I'm worn out 
 with thinking.' 
 
 ' Why?' he asked again, this time more gently. 
 'I've the right to know.' 
 
 ' You know without my telling you,' she burst 
 out. 'You've no right to question me like this.' 
 
 ' No right! No right, when it concerns me 
 so vitally! I've all the right in the world. Come, 
 my dear, be honest with me. It means so much 
 to me.' 
 
 ' It means nothing to you. It's you who've 
 altered since I wrote that, not I. You only
 
 A VAGRANT TUNE 263 
 
 wanted me to fill the lonely places, and now 
 there won't be any. You've got Bobbie back. 
 You don't need me as well,' she sobbed, throwing 
 pride and discretion and everything else to the 
 winds, and blurting out the truth, which she had 
 fully intended should never pass her lips, in the 
 agitation of the moment. 
 
 The smile came back to his lips, but now there 
 was as much tenderness as gladness about it. 
 
 ' So that's all it is, is it?' he said. 'You 
 think there won't be any more lonely places! 
 As if a man ain't always lonely without the one 
 woman in the world, just as a woman is without 
 the one man. My dear, you can't look deep 
 down into my heart, but look into my face and 
 tell me what you see there.' 
 
 He drew her to him, and almost as though his 
 will forced hers to bend to it, she lifted her eyes 
 to his and, reading in them the message from his 
 soul, knew for a blessed certainty that there were 
 still lonely places which she might fill.
 
 A 000 042 226 1