Madame Prince

Chapter One

T HE first cable tramcars, with their muffled groaning over an arduous task, arrived at the top of the hill at half-past seven o’clock, but sounds came to High Street on the July morning at an earlier hour. Delivery of milk was accompanied by a rare turmoil, clatter and argument between man and boy ; newspapers came into letter-boxes with a certain commotion; the postman seemed to be giving his alarming double knock at nearly every house. Blinds in windows over shops went up, either with a spring as though by magic, or in the old-fashioned manner, becoming twisted and awry and thus opening the day inauspiciously for the maid in charge, causing her to say, “Bother!” and “Dash it!” and to make other ejaculations of regret. Some of the business establishments in the short street had a bulging frontage, unashamed of the corpulence of middle age; the two or three inns possessed carriage entrances indicating high importance on days that were days not quite forgotten by ostlers, now elderly and retired. Youths on their road to the City went at a trot, if no car happened to be waiting, down towards Holloway and the Archway Tavern where conveyances could be found in plenty; one 7 or two as they passed by the closed dentist’s establishment and the open door at the side lifted hats to the tall girl who was rubbing with chamois leather the plate which held the announcement “MADAME PRINCE”; they gave this signal with shyness not, apparently, quite certain whether she desired to be recognised whilst engaged in a menial occupation.

“Eth — el!” called someone from the landing.

“Rich — ard!” she answered.

The lad upstairs had scarcely passed the stage when the male voice changes ; he chanted an announcement in recitative form. “Breakfast, I am happy to inform you. After a slight delay. For which, believe me, I am in no way. Responsible. Is at last ready for your. Consider — ation!” In trying high notes with the last word, his voice cracked, and sounds of diversion could be heard from the floor above. “Frivolous geese!” he commented. Ethel, giving to the brass plate a final polish, sang her answer, also in the operatic style.

“Kind sir, your news. Has filled me with contentment. I trust to take my place. At the hospitable board. In less than half a. Sec — ond !”

Her two younger sisters were seated at the table when she, after rinsing hands, entered the sitting-room on the second floor. She said, briskly :

“Morning, Georgina, Phyllis, I’ve seen you already; where’s mother, why do you girls let her do all the work?”

“We offered to help,’’ answered Georgina, mildly, “and she said she was in too much of a hurry this morning.”

“The fact remains — ” began Ethel, in the correcting way of an eldest sister. “Richard,” to the boy who came in, “not quite so much noise, please.”

“Richard is in capital voice this morning,” said the youngest girl. “Reminded me of a man I heard down in Holloway last Saturday evening.”

“You want me to ask,” said the boy, acutely, “what he was doing, and then, Phyllis, you’.ll answer ‘Selling coals.' ”

“Wrong,” she declared. “Geraniums.”

Clamorous argument ensued on the question of whether this could be reckoned a point to Phyllis or one to Richard. The mother appeared, carrying a tray; at a surprised look from her, Richard subsided. Ethel went at once, and assisted. The shining dish cover being removed, the boy remarked that he wished the day were Sunday, and the meal, in consequence, sausages; the mother said a few words on the subject of gratitude in relation to poached eggs on toast, and issued an order. Heads were bowed over plates whilst Richard said grace in an abbreviated style.

“Amen,” he said, and went on, “some of us were talking the matter over in the playground the other day, and we came to the conclusion that, excepting with people brought up in the country, this sort of business was going out of fashion. Religion, I mean, and grace, and prayers, and going to church and chapel.”

“Do all of you men with advanced ideas,” asked his youngest sister, “feel it necessary to talk with your mouth full ?”

“Clever kid,” remarked the boy.

“Correct description,” admitted Phyllis. “Mother, you have helped everybody but yourself.”

“Trust me for not forgetting Number One,” she said, good-temperedly. “And let Richard talk on. We get a lot of conversation here through the day from our own sex; at times, I get almost tired of the sound of women’s voices.”

“There are some very clear-headed chaps at our school,” declared the boy. “Fellows who argue matters out for themselves without relying on other people.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be possible,” inquired the youngest girl, “either by arrangement or by chance, to make the acquaintance of any of these distinguished philosophers? A privilege, I know, granted only to the few.”

“The few,” retorted the boy, “doesn’t include you, my caustic friend.” A brief, heated discussion took place on the grammar of this remark. The mother did not take part, but glanced occasionally at the clock on the mantelpiece with the air of one accustomed to watch carefully the progress of time. Ethel’s decision was taken as final. “In the first place,” said Richard, coming back to his subject, “they would talk far above your heads. In the second place ” He hesitated, and looked at his mother.

“This is too beautiful for anything,” declared Phyllis, amusedly. “What the precious lad wants to say is that he would be chaffed about the occupation his people carry on.”

“All very well,” he contended, “but you don’t know how sarcastic they can be when they like. Of course,” to the mother, “it might be worse.”

“May Heaven,” said his youngest sister, “in its infinite mercy, protect me from ever making close acquaintance with any man.”

“That’s enough,” remarked the mother. She used her rights of command but rarely, and the effect of this interruption was immediate and notable. “We’ll have no more of this, please. One of you girls can clear the table.” Ethel, taking charge of this duty, found the small crumb brush and wooden tray. “Richard, get your books together. Georgina and Phyllis, come down with me and open the windows.” The boy followed his parent out of the room.

“Not cross with me, mother, are you?” he inquired, anxiously.

“No, boy,” she said, “that’s all right. Only we must draw the line somewhere.” She bent and kissed the top of his head. “And you needn’t ever be ashamed about the business. It’s sometimes a worrying one, but it’s enabled me to bring all four of you up decently, and I’m thankful for it. Give these finger-nails of yours another go with the brush before you start off.”

In the showroom, she, with the assistance of the two girls, began the work of the day. A costume was taken from the shelf of a cupboard, two skirts that had slept behind a curtained space against the wall were aroused, blouses fitted upon stands, the tall mirror received careful attention from a duster. Hats, brought out, found themselves set, some upon white wooden knob stands, one on a waxen head that represented smiling evenness of temper which, in certain surroundings and circumstances, proved irritating, and was in consequence, going out of fashion. The square carpet was of green with no pattern; the edges had been covered with a linoleum that gave a close imitation of parquet flooring. Tissue paper having been picked up and folded for future use, Georgina and Phyllis moved to the workroom. The boy shouted a farewell from the landing, and the mother gave back a cheery acknowledgment; immediately afterwards sibilant whispering was heard from the staircase. “Did you notice how he coloured up?” and “Oh, don’t be so silly; you’re for ever taking notice of nothing at all.” The two apprentices, stemming a fit of giggles, came into the workroom.

“Morning, Madame,” they said, in respectful duet.

“Good morning, girls. Nice fine weather you’ve brought with you.”

"Warm, walking up the hill,” they remarked.

"Exercise,” she said, "is good for young people. Off with your hats and coats, and set to. Otherwise the morning will be gone before anything is done.”

Her deportment towards them was parental; before they started their tasks at the deal table, that was covered with white calico, and whilst sewing machines came out of cases, and the floor received an effective sweeping, and pins were collected and put through canvas, she asked concerning relatives, expressed a proper sympathy for misfortunes, listened to the apprentices’ news regarding encounters with former school-fellows, allowed one to describe a play seen the night before at The Marlborough. Ethel came to announce that domestic duties were over, and to take a share in industry. From her the two young learners received, when they talked too freely, words of reprimand, and later instruction if one was required to go down to Holloway to do some matching, or take the larger journey to Oxford Street. The apprentices did the simple work — putting bones in, fixing hooks and eyes and buttons. Georgina was reckoned as an improver; Phyllis, an assistant; Ethel, a hand. Aside, Ethel asked her mother for leave to prepare the midday meal.

"Is my sense of observation failing,” whispered Phyllis to Georgina, "or am I right in detecting, on the part of our admirable sister, a notable eagerness?”

"Hadn’t noticed anything special.”

"Great events,” said Phyllis, "are looming in the near distance. She is going to beg a special favour of some kind, before the day’s out. Mark the words of the wise, my child, and see if what I say doesn’t come true.”

They were a well-occupied group, with sewing machines rattling, hats in course of trimming taken to the window that effects might be judged in a good light, when a sharp ring came from the bell which guarded the door of the showroom. Madame started up, glanced at her reflection in the cheval mirror, gave a touch to her hair, put on her reception manner, and went to the larger apartment. Ethel, commanding silence, made an announcement with a dramatic gasp, for which the others could find no reason.

“Mrs. Hilborough !”

Talk in the workroom was suspended, and sounds of business modified whilst the interview took place. They heard Madame speaking in what Phyllis called her West End voice; it was not precisely an accent but a method of speech with a touch of caution as one choosing, with deliberation, the coming word. Preliminaries in the showroom appeared to deal with the extreme height of the neighbourhood. Madame, agreeing, believed that we were on a level with the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral. The customer suggested that this quality, good enough in itself, and doubtless an assistance to health, made the place difficult of access; she offered a comparison between Highgate Village, and her own district of Tufnell Park; you could get so easily, she declared, from Tufnell Park to anywhere, and from anywhere to Tufnell Park. These new motor omnibuses, she considered, were a boon to many: for herself, she was, as yet, afraid to trust them, for which reason her son laughed at her, calling her out of date, and mid-Victorian. Coming to more important matters, Mrs. Hilborough said there was a special reason just now why she wished to smarten herself up, and not look any older than she had need to do; she confessed, in a burst of candour, that she had come to ask Madame’s advice. Grave consultation followed in undertones. A stage of early perplexity on the part of the customer with unfinished comments of “Yes, but ”

and “What I’m afraid of is ” and “Well, I really

don’t know what to say.” Presently, Madame touched a bell as a summons to the workroom.

“I can’t go,” cried Ethel, distressedly. “I can’t possibly go. Phyllis, be a dear darling.”

“Woman,” said Phyllis, rising from her chair, “thou art passing strange in thy manner. More of this anon.”

In the workroom, the others heard the customer’s exclamation of delight that came so soon as she saw the hat placed upon the girl’s head; they knew the customer had persuaded herself that a hat which became Phyllis so admirably would surely prove equally attractive when worn by herself. Ethel, listening, pinched her under-lip and murmured agitatedly, “Why doesn’t she go, oh why doesn’t she go?” Phyllis returned, and announced, in her mock heroic way, that the foul deed was done. Another ring, and this meant a new customer had arrived, and that Ethel’s services were now imperatively required; despite a hint from her sisters, she did not move until evidence came that Mrs. Hilborough was, at last, taking her departure. “Your son is keeping well, I hope,” Madame was saying, and the customer replied, “He’s right enough so far as regards his health, but he seems to have something on his mind,” and Madame expressed the polite hope that this would soon disappear. A third caller arrived, and to the busy workroom came the entertainment of hearing exchange of familiar remarks on the subject of holidays at Westcliff, not Southend; at Frinton, not Walton-on-the-Naze. The east coast was most invigorating. Calculated to set one up, as it were, for the autumn and the winter. One lady said, in a voice of considerable power, that what she liked was a seaside town sufficiently refined, but not too refined, if Madame understood what was meant by that, and Madame hastened to declare she fully comprehended the intention of the statement; the lady, encouraged, communicated the fact that her husband had a peculiar desire for a quiet holiday, whilst she preferred to mix with lively society; Madame, without in any way blaming the lady’s husband for holding his own views, certainly thought the lady had a right to express an opinion, and, if possible, to carry that opinion into effect. The lady mentioned that, on this point, Madame need have no fears. A future appointment was made: Thursday, four o’clock sharp. Ethel, when stress of traffic became relaxed, looked in at the workroom, and, after inspection of the clock, announced that she was now about to devote herself to the kitchen. Phyllis urged that life being precious to us all, her mother should superintend the proceedings there.

“I want to get more domestic experience,” remarked Ethel, in going.

“A brain wave,” said Phyllis to Georgina, “has just occurred to me. I’ll wager you a cool thousand we have company at supper this evening.”

The meal at half-past twelve proved to be one that extorted compliments from Madame. The boy Richard cleared his plate with remarkable celerity, and the general verdict was that, although Ethel could not perhaps yet reckon herself a perfect cook, she might be depended upon so far as a veal and ham pie was concerned. (The two apprentices went out for their hour, part of which they usually gave to a confectioner’s; there followed a stroll in Waterlow Park, an open space less attractive to them at this hour, because of the absence of admiring young men who were to be found there of an evening.) Before the rice pudding was finished, Madame had been twice called to the showroom. The first time, the visitor proved to be no one more important than the dentist from the ground floor. He brought a large spray bunch of Marechal Niels which he tendered, with some confusion of manner, on behalf of his sister and himself; Miss Warland, it appeared, was too busy, at the moment, to come up and take a share in the presentation. He asked after the health of Miss Ethel.

“You’ll miss her, Madame, when she goes.”

“Goes? Goes where?” Madame spoke surprisedly.

“Leaves the home nest, I mean.”

“Bless the man!” cried Madame to the roses; “whatever on earth is he talking about ? Why, Ethel is my right hand. I couldn’t possibly rub along without Ethel. What have you got in your thoughts, Mr. Warland?”

“Nothing,” he declared. “Absolutely nothing. I only mentioned it for the sake of something to say.”

“Do be more careful in future.”

“I will,” promised the dentist, eagerly. “And I’m very sorry if any remark I’ve made has tended, in any way whatsoever, to upset you. I’ve had a worrying morning with one or two difficult men patients ; otherwise, perhaps, I should be more tactful.”

“Now that you are here, you may as well take the cheque for the rent.”

Mr. Warland contended that there existed no need for hurry in this payment, and begged Madame not to do him the injustice of suspecting that his visit had this object; the sum was scarcely a month overdue, and surely between friends, a matter of small importance could be allowed to stand over. Madame, remarking that friendship was friendship, and that business was business, and to mix them invariably proved fatal to both, went to her desk, wrote out a cheque.

“Thank you very much indeed,” said Mr. Warland, gratefully. “I count myself fortunate in the possession of such a good tenant. Now, is there anything you want done?” Madame shook her head negatively. “Think again,” he pleaded. “Fresh papering. Coat or two of paint here and there. Repairs. Well,” with resignation, “if you won’t, you won’t. What time do you start your midday meal? I mustn’t keep you from that.” The dentist, on finding that he had called Madame from the table, apologised profoundly, and, in going, begged pardon of a dress stand for knocking it down. Madame reported the whole incident in the sitting-room, and chaff was directed against Ethel ; the advantages likely to accrue to the family in being placed upon the dentist’s free list were, not for the first time, pointed out. Hitherto, the eldest girl had accepted the form of rallying with composure; on this occasion, she exhibited restiveness, and her mother interfered. Richard was to take part in a cricket match; the mother went to his room to search for the white flannel suit and Ethel’s offer to accompany her —

“There again!” remarked Phyllis, under her breath.

— Was not accepted. As the chest of drawers was opened, and the garments laid tenderly upon the counterpane, one had proof of the high place the boy occupied in Madame’s heart.

The four, later, stood at the windows of the showroom in order to see him go, and to convey, by waving of hands, their wishes for good luck; Madame remained until the straw-hatted youth turned the corner, and then, with a sigh of contentment, turned to work. The apprentices came back on extremely aloof terms with each other. Miss Lilley brought the charge that Miss Bushell had, near the Roman Catholic Church, made a remark that was an unkind remark; Miss Bushell, in defence, said she had been misunderstood. A statement intended to be general was taken to have a particular reference ; Miss Bushell admitted that she, on the spur of the moment, said, “Oh, well, if the cap fits you can wear it!” whereupon Miss Lilley retorted, “I shall jolly well tell Madame, anyway.” Madame, having listened to the evidence, said that life was much too short to permit of quarrels, that the best plan would be for each to speak no word to the other until four o’clock. Ten minutes afterwards, Miss Bushell in the workroom, unable to endure the punishment of silence, begged Madame to exercise mercy, and allow her to apologise to Miss Lilley, and Miss Lilley claimed the fault to be entirely hers, and on this, peace was restored.

A well-occupied afternoon, with now and then a caller, and, at times, the showroom making a spirited attempt to rival the parrot house at the Zoological Gardens. Impending holidays still formed the main subject for conversation, but to Madame’s private ear were now and again given more intimate confidences. Of husbands showing a tendency to return late from the City, of servants who were beginning to answer back, of strange behaviour on the part of a member of a lawn-tennis club, of some new people who had come to live in West Hill and their deportment and especially the deportment of their visitors on Sunday afternoons, of a son who was growing too big for his boots, or a daughter who appeared to consider herself entitled to do almost as she pleased. Certain of the ladies insisted on the conference as though it were something charged for in Madame’s bill, and if she happened to be engaged when they desired her attention, they waited their turn, ignoring Ethel’s attempts to act as deputy confessor. With those not pressed for time, departure was a leisurely act. Madame, in listening to their statements, edged towards the door, and they were compelled to follow her; it was on the landing that they took up a more definite position, refusing to go down so much as one stair until they had imparted information which obsessed them. They continued talking as they made slow descent of the staircase. Arrival at the pavement did not always mean perfect relief; it was possible even then for a talkative customer to climb again, and re-enter the showroom.

“Oh, Madame! I meant to have told you, only it quite slipped my memory, something that I think you’ll be interested to hear. You remember my sister-in-law, the one who used to be dark. Well, whatever do you imagine she’s been and done to herself now?”

The even temper of Madame gave the note to the whole establishment, and not infrequently communicated itself to customers; all the same, the task of dealing with them was exhausting, and the staff gave no signs of regret when tea-time came. Ordinarily, Georgina was entrusted with the preparations for this ; a simple duty counted well within her limited powers; to-day, Ethel, carrying out the new method of determined industry, took the work from Georgina, and presently recommended that herself and her mother should, as a special and conspicuous treat, enjoy the meal apart from the others at the open windows that looked upon the roadway.

“You’ve something to say to me, my dear.”

“Mother,” cried Ethel, the contents of her cup imitating the behaviour of the Bay of Biscay in contrary mood, “however did you guess?”

“Tell me what it is.”

“Supposing — I only say supposing — supposing ”

“There’s more than that, surely.”

“Supposing someone should call here this evening to see me, may I ask him ” Madame happened

to drop her spoon, and Ethel hurried to restore it.

“ May I ask him to come upstairs, and will you

invite him to stay on to supper? He’ll probably not want to do so, but I think he’d liked to be asked.”

“I’d better know his name, dear.”

“Mr. Hilborough. His mother was here this morning. He’s in the cycle business.” The agitated girl went on rapidly. “And he’s doing well. And he’s really a very nice fellow. And I’m sure you’ll like him.”

“I’m sure I shall try to like him.”

“It’s a difficult business,” said Ethel, looking out of the window, “this sort of introduction. I believe plenty of girls remain single all their lives because they haven’t the nerve to go through it. You can never tell whether the young man is going to show off at his best, or not. A good thing for me, mother, that you are so helpful.” Madame nodded. “How did you manage to get over the difficulty, in your young days?”

“Your father came down for his holiday into the country where I lived. We used to let rooms. He stayed at our house.”

“That was lucky.”

“I wish he hadn’t died when Richard was a baby. I’ve been able to bring up my girls all right — at least, I hope so — I’m not sure but that a boy needs a man to look after him.”

“My opinion, is,” said Ethel, with emphasis and admiration, “that you’re simply extraordinary.” ,

“You’d be saying the same thing,” smiled Madame, “but in a different tone of voice, if I had decided that Mr. Hilborough was not to come to supper, this evening.”

There were callers after six o’clock (by which hour the strong incandescent light over the table in the workroom had been turned on), and two ran up the staircase just before the hour for closing; these offered a number of apologies, and brought parcels of material to be made into costumes. Madame was content with the plea that they had been delayed at office, and gave to them and to their requests her full attention, but it seemed that her earlier manner of bright interest had become slightly dulled; she glanced more than once across at Ethel, and checked a sigh. The City customers left with many expressions of thanks to Madame for giving a decision on some nice point of fashion and suitability. The apprentices went at seven o’clock. By a quarter past the hour everything in the two rooms was cleared and packed away. At twenty-past Madame, in the kitchen,

engaged on the task of making rissoles out of the remains of a joint of beef, and Ethel tried her

hand on a blancmange; Georgina and Phyllis, now

acquainted with news of the impending event

“The circumstance which I desire to impress upon your undeveloped intelligence,” said Phyllis

to her young sister, “is that I am rarely, if ever, wrong.”

— These prepared themselves at the toilet table in their room, so that in the case of the visitor arriving early, someone should be fitted to receive him. Richard, home from cricket, and flushed with the triumph

of scoring twelve, obtained leave to refrain from changing his white flannel suit; his further appeal in connection with the washing of face and hands met with a quick answer, and he proceeded, with reluctance, to the bathroom. It appeared, on inquiry, that he had home lessons to do: nothing, he pointed out, of more importance than a brief essay on Highgate and its past, and he urged that half an hour earlier in rising the following day would meet the case: the other members of the family said, acutely, they knew him too well to be put off with that. So Richard was in the sitting-room writing swiftly in his exercise book, and Georgina and Phyllis were nearly ready but not quite, when young Mr. Hilborough climbed the second staircase, and knocking at the door, cried, “What ho, everybody!”

It was evident from the first that the visitor had determined to make a good impression. Richard, describing the incident later to Phyllis, confessed that he had, in the face of so much politeness and such generous compliment, found himself completely knocked off his perch. Hilborough asked for permission to inspect the literary task upon which the boy was engaged. Richard knew that essay writing was his own strong point, but he had no idea it could be the subject of acute admiration; he sat and listened spellbound whilst the other, after begging for leave to express a blunt, candid, and straightforward opinion —

“Saves a lot of misunderstanding, later on,” remarked Hilborough.

— Had no sooner read one-half of the first page — with its references to Coleridge, and Landseer, and Florence Nightingale, and Constable, and other notable folk, to Lauderdale House and Cromwell House, and the old Gate House Hotel — than he began to walk up and down the sitting-room, declaring Richard was a born journalist; that Fleet Street was the one and only place for Richard; that, on leaving school, Richard ought to start upon the career indicated with the least possible delay. Hilborough was setting Richard on the editor’s chair at Printing House Square, when Phyllis came in ; Georgina had gone to watch the kitchen whilst the other two decked themselves out to receive company. A slight check occurred. Hilborough was delighted to find Miss Phyllis looking so amazingly well, and Miss

Phyllis mentioned that since an attack of mumps at the age of six, she had never been in anything but perfect health. The visitor detected resemblances between the features of Richard and his sister; recital of these failed to give satisfaction to either of the two parties. Shifting tactics, Hilborough expressed a confident assurance that Miss Phyllis found an enormous amount of interest in her daily work: Miss Phyllis replied that she hated and loathed the business, and was prepared to look upon the day that released her from it as the happiest of her life. On Hilborough offering some gallant remark concerning the probability of young men of Highgate showing good taste in making a choice — “Phyllis is their only joy, sort of thing” — she stared at him in a perplexed way, thereby reducing him to a state of confusion, from which he was rescued by the entry of Ethel.

“Hullo, old girl,” he cried. “And how’s the world using you by this time? As well as you deserve, I s’pose. Eh, what ?”

At the familiarity of the salutation, Richard flushed with annoyance and with astonishment : Phyllis took him to the window, and spoke privately. The boy shifted from one foot to another, looking over his shoulder in an aggressive way at the intruder.

Georgina came with a clean table-cloth, and received the introduction in a shy manner that increased when the visitor, taking up again his methods of earnestness, asked to be allowed to help; it was when he had upset the salt from the cruet stand that Ethel suggested he might abstain from interference, and occupy a seat near the window.

“Mr. Hilborough, mother,” said Ethel, presently, in a voice not quite under control. “Peter, this is my mother.”