Book: Uncle Max

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'How do you mean,--accounts for a good deal, Max?'

'Why people say that Hamilton doesn't always get on with his sisters,'
he returned reluctantly: 'there are often misunderstandings in
families,--want of harmony, and that sort of thing. Mind, I do not
say it is true.'

'But you are so often at Gladwyn, you ought to know, Max.'

'Yes, of course; and now and then I have seen Hamilton a little stern
with his sisters; he is rather irritable by nature. I don't quite
understand things myself, but I have got it into my head that they would
be happier without Miss Darrell; she is a splendid manager, but it puts
Miss Hamilton out of her right place.'

'But she is an invalid, you say?'

'No, not an invalid, only very delicate, and a little morbid; not
quite what a girl ought to be. You could do some good there, Ursula,'
rather eagerly. 'Miss Hamilton has no friends of her own age; she is
reserved,--peculiar. You might be a comfort to her; you are sympathetic,
sensible, and have known trouble yourself. I should like to see you use
your influence there.'

'I will try, if you wish it, Max. And her name is Gladys?'

'Yes, Gladys, of Gladwyn,' he returned, with a smile, but I thought he
said it with rather a singular intonation, but it had a musical sound,
and I repeated it again to myself,--'Gladys, of Gladwyn.'




CHAPTER VIII

NEW BROOMS SWEEP CLEAN


We were interrupted just then by Mrs. Drabble, who came in for the
tea-things, and, as usual, held a long colloquy with her master on sundry
domestic affairs. When she had at last withdrawn, Uncle Max did not
resume the subject. I was somewhat disappointed at this, and in spite
of my strong antipathy to Mr. Hamilton I wanted to hear more about his
sisters.

He disregarded my hints, however, and began talking to me about my work.

'Do you know anything about the family Mr. Hamilton mentioned?' I asked,
rather eagerly.

'Oh yes; Mary Marshall's is a very sad case; she has seven children,
not one of them old enough to work for himself; and she is dying, poor
creature, of consumption. Her husband is a navvy, and he is at work at
Lewes; I believe he is pretty steady, and sends the greater part of his
wages to his wife, but there are too many mouths to feed to allow of
comforts; his old blind mother lives with them. I believe the neighbours
are kind and helpful, and Peggy, the eldest child, is a sharp little
creature, but you can imagine the miserable condition of such a home.'

'Yes, indeed.' And I shuddered as I recalled many a sad scene in my
father's home.

'I have sent in a woman once or twice to clean up the place; and Mrs.
Drabble has made excellent beef-tea, but the last lot turned sour from
being left in the hot kitchen one night, and the cat upset the basin of
calf's-foot jelly,--at least the children said so. I go there myself,
because Tudor says the air of the place turns him sick: he looked as
white as a ghost after his last visit, and declared he was poisoned with
foul air.'

'I daresay he was right, Max; poor people have such an objection to open
their windows.'

'I believe you there. I have talked myself nearly hoarse on that subject.
Hamilton and I propose giving lectures in the schoolroom on domestic
hygiene. There is a fearful want of sanitary knowledge in women belonging
to the lower class; want of cleanliness, want of ventilation, want of
whitewashing, are triple evils that lead to the most lamentable results.
We cannot get people to understand the common laws of life; the air of
their rooms may be musty, stagnant, and corrupt, and yet they are
astonished if their children have an attack of scarlet fever or
diphtheria.'

I commended the notion of the lectures warmly, and asked with whom the
idea had originated.

'Oh, Hamilton, of course: he is the moving spirit of everything. We have
planned the whole thing out. There is to be a lecture every Friday
evening; the first is to be on household hygiene, the sanitary condition
of houses, ventilation, cleanliness, etc. In the second lecture Hamilton
will speak of the laws of health, self-management, personal cleanliness,
to be followed by a few simple lectures on nursing, sick-cookery, and
the treatment of infantile diseases. We want all the mothers to attend.
Do you think it a good idea, Ursula?'

'It is an excellent one,' I returned reluctantly, for I grudged the
praise to Mr. Hamilton. He could benefit his fellow-creatures, and give
time and strength and energy to the poor sick people, and yet sneer at me
civilly when I wanted to do the same, just because I was a woman. Perhaps
Max was disappointed with my want of enthusiasm, for he ceased talking
of the lectures, and said he had some more letters to write before
dinner, and during the rest of the evening, though we discussed a hundred
different topics, Mr. Hamilton's name was not again mentioned.

Uncle Max walked with me to the gate of the White Cottage, and bade me a
cheerful good-night.

'I like to feel you are near me, Ursula,' he said, quite affectionately;
'an old bachelor like myself gets into a groove, and the society of a
vigorous young woman, brimful of philanthropy and crotchets, will rub me
up and do me good; one goes to sleep sometimes,' he finished, rather
mournfully, and then he walked away in the darkness, and I stood for a
minute to watch him.

It seemed to me that Max was a little different this evening. He was
always kind, always cheerful; he never wrapped himself up in gloomy
reserve like other people, however depressed or ill at ease he might be;
but Mrs. Drabble was right, he was certainly thinner, and there was an
anxious careworn look about his face when he was not speaking. I was
certain, too, that his cheerfulness and ready flow of conversation were
not without effort. I had asked him once if he were quite well, and he
had looked at me in evident astonishment.

'Perfectly well, thank you,--in a state of rude health. Nothing ever ails
me. Why do you ask?' But I evaded this question, for I knew Max hated to
be watched; and, after all, what right had I to intrude into his private
anxieties? doubtless he had plenty of these, like other men. The
management of a large parish was on his shoulders, and he was too
conscientious and hard-working to spare himself; but somehow the shadow
lying deep down in Max's honest brown eyes haunted me as I unlatched the
cottage door.

I heard Nathaniel's voice in the kitchen, and went in to bid him and his
mother good-night. Mrs. Barton was not there, however, but, to my
chagrin, Mr. Hamilton occupied her seat. He looked up with a rather
quizzical glance as I entered: he and Nathaniel had the round table
between them, strewn with books and papers; Nathaniel was writing, and
Mr. Hamilton was sitting opposite to him.

'I beg your pardon,' I said hurriedly. 'I thought Mrs. Barton was here.'

'She has gone to bed,' returned Mr. Hamilton coolly: 'my friend Nathaniel
and I are hard at work, as you see. Do you know anything of mathematics,
Miss Garston?--no, you shake your head--' I do not know what more he
would have said, but I escaped with a quick good-night.

As I went upstairs I made a resolution to avoid the kitchen in future:
I might at any moment stumble upon Mr. Hamilton. I had forgotten that he
gave Nathaniel lessons sometimes in the evening. What a ubiquitous mortal
this man appeared, here, there, and everywhere! It had given me rather a
shock to see him so comfortably domiciled in Mrs. Barton's cosy kitchen;
he looked as much at home there as in Uncle Max's study. How bright
Nathaniel had looked as he raised his head to bid me good-night! I was
obliged to confess that they had seemed as happy as possible.

It was very late when he left the cottage; I was just sinking off to
sleep when I heard his voice under my window. Tinker heard it too, and
barked, and then the gate shut with a sudden sharp click and all was
still. Nathaniel must have crept up to bed in his stocking-feet, as they
say in some parts, for I never heard him pass my door.

I was glad to be greeted by sunshine the next morning; the day seemed to
smile on my new work like an unuttered benison, as I went down to my
solitary breakfast. I resolved that nothing Mr. Hamilton could say should
damp or put me out of temper, and then I sat down and read a sad rambling
letter from Jill, which was so quaint and original, in spite of its
lugubriousness, that it made me smile.

I was standing by the door, caressing Tinker, who was in a frolicking
mood this morning, when I saw Mr. Hamilton cross the road; he wore a dark
tweed suit and a soft felt hat,--a costume that did not suit him in the
least; he held open the gate for me, and made a sign that I should join
him. As I approached without hurrying myself in the least, he looked
inquiringly at the basket I carried.

'I hope you do not intend to pauperise your patients,' was his first
greeting.

'Oh no,' was my reply, but I did not volunteer any information as to the
contents of the basket. There was certainly a jar of beef-tea that Mrs.
Drabble had given me, and a few grapes; but the little store of soap,
soda, fine rags, and the two or three clean towels and cloths would have
surprised him a little, though he might have understood the meaning of
the neat housewife.

'I am glad you wear print dresses,' was his next remark; 'they are proper
for a nurse. Stuff gowns that do not wash are abominations. I am taking
you to a very dirty place, Miss Garston, but what can you expect when
there are seven children under thirteen years of age and the mother is
dying? She was a clean capable body when she was up; it is hard for her
to see the place like a pig-sty now. Old Mrs. Marshall is blind, and as
helpless as the children,' He spoke abruptly, but not without feeling.

'The neighbours are good to them, Uncle Max tells me.'

'Oh yes; they come in and tidy up a bit, that is their expression; now
and then they wash the baby or take off a batch of dirty clothes, but
they have their own homes and children. I tell my patient that she would
be far more comfortable in a hospital; but she says she cannot leave the
children, she would rather die at home. That is what they all say.'

'But the poor creatures mean what they say, Mr. Hamilton.'

'Oh, but it is all nonsense!' he returned irritably. 'She can do nothing
for the children; she cannot have a moment's quiet or a moment's comfort,
with all those grimy noisy creatures rushing in and out. I found her
sitting up in bed yesterday, in danger of breaking a blood-vessel through
coughing, because one of the imps had fallen down and cut his head and
she was trying to plaster it.'

'Her husband ought to be with her,' I said, somewhat indignantly.

'He is on a job somewhere, and cannot come home; they must have bread
to eat, and he must work. This is the house,' pointing to a low white
cottage at the end of a long straggling street of similar houses; two or
three untidy-looking children were playing in the front garden with some
oyster-shells and a wooden horse without a head. One little white-headed
urchin clapped his hands when he saw Mr. Hamilton, and a pretty little
girl with a very dirty face ran up to him and clasped him round the knee.

''As 'oo any pennies to-day?' she lisped.

'No nonsense; run away, children,' he said, in a rough voice that did not
in the least alarm them, for they scampered after us into the porch until
an elder girl, with a year-old baby in her arms, met us on the threshold
and scolded them away.

Mr. Hamilton shook a big stick at them.

'I shall give no pennies to children with dirty faces. Well, Peggy, how
is mother? Have the boys gone to school, both of them? That is right.
This is the lady who is coming to look after mother.'

Here Peggy dropped a courtesy, and said, 'Yes, sir,' and 'yes please,
mum.'

'Mind you do all she tells you. Now out of my way. I want to speak to
your grandmother a moment, and then I will come into the other room.'

I followed him into the untidy, miserable looking kitchen. An old woman
was sitting by the fire with an infant in her arms; we found out that it
belonged to the neighbour who was washing out some things in the yard.
She came in by and by, clattering over the stones in her thick clogs,--a
brisk, untidy-looking young woman,--and looked at me curiously as she
took her baby.

'I must be going home now, granny,' she said, in a loud, good-humoured
voice. 'Peggy can rinse out the few things I've left.'

Granny had a pleasant, weather-beaten face, only it looked sunken and
pale, and the poor blind eyes had a pathetic, unseeing look in them. To
my surprise, she looked neat and clean. I had yet to learn the slow
martyrdom the poor soul had endured during the last few months in that
squalid, miserable household. To her, cleanliness was next to godliness.
She had brought up a large family well and thriftily, and now in her old
age and helplessness her life had no comfort in it. I was rather
surprised to see Mr. Hamilton shake the wrinkled hand heartily.

'Well, Elspeth, what news of your son? Is he likely to come home soon?'

'Nay, doctor,' in a faint old treble: 'Andrew cannot leave his job for
two or three months to come. He is terrible down-hearted about poor Mary.
Ay, she has been a good wife to him and the bairns; but look at her now!
Poor thing! Poor thing!'

'We must all dree our weird. You are a canny Scotch-woman, and know what
that means. Come, you must cheer up, for I have brought a young lady with
me who is going to put your daughter-in-law a little more comfortable and
see after her from time to time.'

'Ay, but that is cheering news,' returned Elspeth; and one of the rare
tears of old age stole down her withered cheek. 'My poor Mary! she is
patient, and never complains; but the good Lord is laying a heavy cross
on her.'

'That is true,' muttered Mr. Hamilton, and then he said, in a
business-like tone, 'Now for the patient, Miss Garston'; and as he led
the way across the narrow passage we could hear the hard, gasping cough
of the sick woman.

Peggy, with the baby still in her arms, was trying to stir a black,
cindery fire, that was filling the room with smoke. The child was crying,
and the poor invalid was sitting up in bed nearly suffocated by her
cough. The great four-post bed blocked up the little window. The remains
of a meal were still on the big round table. Some clothes were drying by
the hearth; a thin tortoise-shell cat was licking up a stream of milk
that was filtering slowly across the floor, in the midst of jugs, cans,
a broken broom, some children's toys, and two or three boots. The bed
looked as though it had not been made for days; the quilt and valance
were deplorably dirty; but the poor creature herself looked neat and
clean, and her hair was drawn off from her sunken cheeks and knotted
carefully at the back of her head. Mr. Hamilton uttered an exclamation
of impatience when he saw the smoke, and almost snatched the poker out
of Peggy's hands.

'Take the child away,' he said angrily. 'Miss Garston, if you can find
some paper and wood in this infernal confusion, I shall be obliged to
you: this smoke must be stopped.'

I found the broken lid of a box that split up like tinder, and Peggy
brought me an old newspaper, and then I stood by while Mr. Hamilton
skilfully manipulated the miserable fire.

'All these ashes must be removed,' he said curtly, as he rose with
blackened hands: 'the whole fireplace is blocked up with them.' And then
he went to the pump and washed his hands, while I sent Peggy after him
with a nice clean towel from my basket. While he was gone I stepped up
to the bed and said a word or two to poor Mrs. Marshall.

She must have been a comely creature in her days of health, but she was
fearfully wasted now. The disease was evidently running its course; as
she lay there exhausted and panting, I knew her lease of life would not
be long.

'It was the smoke,' she panted. 'Peggy is young: she muddles over the
fire. Last night it went out, and she was near an hour getting it to
light.'

'It is burning beautifully now,' I returned; and then Mr. Hamilton came
back and began to examine his patient, professionally. I was surprised
to find that his abrupt manner left him; he spoke to Mrs. Marshall so
gently, and with such evident sympathy, that I could hardly believe it
was the same person; her wan face seemed to light up with gratitude; but
when he turned to me to give some directions for her treatment he spoke
with his old dryness.

'I shall be here about the same time to-morrow,' he finished; and then he
nodded to us both, and went away.

'Mrs. Marshall,' I said, as I warmed the beef-tea with some difficulty in
a small broken pipkin, 'do you know of any strong capable girls who would
clean up the place a little for me?'

'There is Weatherley's eldest girl Hope still at home,' she replied,
after a moment's hesitation, 'but her mother will not let her work
without pay. She is a poor sort of neighbour, is Susan Weatherley, and
is very niggardly in helping people.'

'Of course I should pay Hope,' I answered decidedly; and when the
beef-tea was ready I called Peggy and sent her on my errand. One glance
at the place showed me that I could do nothing for my patient without
help. Happily, I had seen some sheets drying by the kitchen fire, but
they would hardly be ready for us before the evening; but when Mrs.
Marshall had taken her beef-tea I covered her up and tried to smooth the
untidy quilt. Then, telling her that we were going to make her room a
little more comfortable, I pinned up my dress and enveloped myself in a
holland apron ready for work.

Peggy came back at this moment with a big, strapping girl of sixteen, who
looked strong and willing. She was evidently not a woman of words, but
she grinned cheerful acquiescence when I set her to work on the grate,
while I cleared the table and carried out all the miscellaneous articles
that littered the floor.

Mrs. Marshall watched us with astonished eyes. 'Oh dear! oh dear!' I
heard her say to herself, 'and a lady too!' but I took no notice.

I sent Hope once or twice across to her mother for various articles we
needed,--black lead, a scrubbing-brush, some house flannel and soft
soap,--and when she had finished the grate I set her to scrub the floor,
as it was black with dirt. I was afraid of the damp boards for my
patient, but I covered her up as carefully as possible, and pinned some
old window-curtains across the bed. Neglect and want of cleanliness had
made the air of the sick-room so fetid and poisonous that one could
hardly breath it with safety.

Now and then I looked in the other room and spoke a cheerful word to
granny. Peggy was doing her best for the children, but the poor baby
seemed very fretful. Towards noon two rough-headed boys made their
appearance and began clamouring for their dinner. The same untidy young
woman whom I had seen before came clattering up the yard again in her
clogs and helped Peggy spread great slices of bread and treacle for the
hungry children, and warmed some food for the baby. I saw granny trying
to eat a piece of bread and dripping that they gave her and then lay it
down without a word: no wonder her poor cheeks were so white and sunken.

Mrs. Drabble had promised me some more beef-tea, so I warmed a cupful for
granny and broke up a slice of stale bread in it: it was touching to see
her enjoyment of the warm food. The eldest boy, Tim, was nearly eleven
years old, and looked a sharp little fellow, so I set him to clean up the
kitchen with Peggy and make things a little tidier, and promised some
buns to all the children who had clean faces and hands at tea-time.

I left Hope still at work when I went up to the White Cottage to eat some
dinner. Mrs. Barton had made a delicate custard-pudding, which I carried
off for the invalid's and granny's supper. My young healthy appetite
needed no tempting, and my morning's work had only whetted it. I did not
linger long in my pretty parlour, for a heavy task was before me. I was
determined the sick-room should have a different appearance the next
morning.

I sent Hope to her dinner while I washed and made my patient comfortable.
The room felt fresher and sweeter already; a bright fire burned in the
polished grate; Hope had scoured the table and wiped the chairs, and the
dirty quilt and valance had been sent to Mrs. Weatherley's to be washed.
When Hope returned, and the sheets were aired, we re-made the bed. I had
sent a message early to Mrs. Drabble begging for some of the lending
blankets and a clean coloured quilt, which she had sent down by a boy.
The scarlet cover looked so warm and snug that I stood still to admire
the effect; poor Mary fairly cried when I laid her back on her pillow.

'It feels all so clean and heavenly,' she sobbed; 'it is just a comfort
to lie and see the room.'

'I mean granny to come and have her tea here,' I said, for I was longing
for the dear old woman to have her share of some of the comfort; and I
had just led her in and put her in the big shiny chair by the fire, when
Uncle Max put his head in and looked at us.

'Just so,' he said, nodding his head, and a pleased expression came into
his eyes. 'Bravo, Ursula! Tudor won't know the place again. How you must
have worked, child!' And then he came in and talked to the sick woman.

I had taken a cup of tea standing, for I was determined not to go home
and rest until I left for the night. I could not forget the poor fretful
baby, and, indeed, all the children were miserably neglected. I made up
my mind that Hope and I would wash the poor little creatures and put them
comfortably to bed. My first day's work was certainly exceptionally hard,
but it would make my future work easier.

The baby was a pale, delicate little creature, very backward for its age;
it left off fretting directly I took it in my lap, and began staring at
me with its large blue eyes. Hope had just filled the large tub, and the
children were crowding round it with evident amusement, when Uncle Max
came in. He contemplated the scene with twinkling eyes.

'"There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,"' he began humorously. 'My
dear Ursula, do you mean to say you are going to wash all those children?
The tub looks suggestive, certainly.'

I nodded.

'Who would have believed in such an overplus of energy? Hard work
certainly agrees with you.' And then he went out laughing, and we set to
work, and then Hope and I carried in the children by detachments, that
the poor mother might see the clean rosy faces. I am afraid we had to
bribe Jock, the youngest boy, for he evidently disliked soap and water.

Peggy and the baby slept in the mother's room; there was a little bed in
the corner for them. I did not leave until granny had been taken upstairs
and poor tired Peggy was fast asleep with the baby beside her.

The room looked so comfortable when I turned for a last peep. I had drawn
the round table to the bed, and left the night-light and cooling drink
beside the sick woman; she was propped up with pillows, and her breathing
seemed easier. When I bade her good-night, and told her I should be round
early in the morning, she said, 'Then it will be the first morning I
shall not dread to wake. Thank you kindly, dear miss, for all you have
done'; and her soft brown eyes looked at me gratefully.




CHAPTER IX

THE FLAG OF TRUCE


It could not be denied that I was extremely tired as I walked down the
dark road; but in spite of fatigue my heart felt lighter than it had done
since Charlie's death, and the warm glow from the window of my little
parlour seemed to welcome me, it looked so snug and bright. My low chair
was drawn to the fire, a sort of tea-supper was awaiting me, and Mrs.
Barton came out of the kitchen as soon as I had lifted the latch, to ask
what she could do for me.

The first words surprised me greatly. Mr. Hamilton had called late in the
afternoon, and had seemed somewhat surprised to hear I was still at the
cottage, but he had left no message, and Mrs. Barton had no idea what he
wanted with me.

I was half inclined to think that he had another case ready for me, but
I had done my day's work and refused to think of the morrow. The first
volume of _Kingsley's Life_ was lying on the little table: I had brought
it from the vicarage the preceding evening. I passed a delicious hour in
my luxurious chair, and went to bed reluctantly that I might be fit for
the next day's fatigue.

As soon as I had breakfasted the next morning and read my letters, a
chatty one from Sara and an affectionate note from Lesbia, I went down
to the cottage.

I found my patient a little easier; she had passed a better night, and
seemed, on the whole, more cheerful. Hope had arrived, and was scrubbing
the kitchen, as I had enjoined her. Baby seemed poorly and fretful. I
gave her in charge of Peggy, and set myself to the work of putting my
patient and the sick-room in order, after which I intended to wash the
baby and see after granny's and the children's dinner.

I had just brushed up the hearth and put the kettle to boil, when Mr.
Hamilton's shadow crossed the window, and the next moment he was in the
room.

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