'I don't much like biding here listening!' said Picotee.
'O, 'tis how we do all over the West End,' said Joey. ''Tis yer ignorance of town life that makes it seem a good deal to 'ee.'
'You can't make much boast about town life; for you haven't left off talking just as they do down in Wessex.'
'Well, I own to that--what's fair is fair, and 'tis a true charge;but if I talk the Wessex way 'tisn't for want of knowing better;'tis because my staunch nater makes me bide faithful to our old ancient institutions. You'd soon own 'twasn't ignorance in me, if you knowed what large quantities of noblemen I gets mixed up with every day. In fact 'tis thoughted here and there that I shall do very well in the world.'
'Well, let us go down,' said Picotee. 'Everything seems so overpowering here.'
'O, you'll get broke in soon enough. I felt just the same when Ifirst entered into society.'
'Do you think Berta will be angry with me? How does she treat you?'
'Well, I can't complain. You see she's my own flesh and blood, and what can I say? But, in secret truth, the wages is terrible low, and barely pays for the tobacco I consooms.'
'O Joey, you wicked boy! If mother only knew that you smoked!'
'I don't mind the wickedness so much as the smell. And Mrs.
Petherwin has got such a nose for a fellow's clothes. 'Tis one of the greatest knots in service--the smoke question. 'Tis thoughted that we shall make a great stir about it in the mansions of the nobility soon.'
'How much more you know of life than I do--you only fourteen and me seventeen!'
'Yes, that's true. You see, age is nothing--'tis opportunity. And even I can't boast, for many a younger man knows more.'
'But don't smoke, Joey--there's a dear!'
'What can I do? Society hev its rules, and if a person wishes to keep himself up, he must do as the world do. We be all Fashion's slave--as much a slave as the meanest in the land!'
They got downstairs again; and when the dinner of the French lady and gentleman had been sent up and cleared away, and also Ethelberta's evening tea (which she formed into a genuine meal, making a dinner of luncheon, when nobody was there, to give less trouble to her servant-sisters), they all sat round the fire. Then the rustle of a dress was heard on the staircase, and squirrel-haired Ethelberta appeared in person. It was her custom thus to come down every spare evening, to teach Joey and her sisters something or other--mostly French, which she spoke fluently; but the cook and housemaid showed more ambition than intelligence in acquiring that tongue, though Joey learnt it readily enough.
There was consternation in the camp for a moment or two, on account of poor Picotee, Ethelberta being not without firmness in matters of discipline. Her eye instantly lighted upon her disobedient sister, now looking twice as disobedient as she really was.
'O, you are here, Picotee? I am glad to see you,' said the mistress of the house quietly.
This was altogether to Picotee's surprise, for she had expected a round rating at least, in her freshness hardly being aware that this reserve of feeling was an acquired habit of Ethelberta's, and that civility stood in town for as much vexation as a tantrum represented in Wessex.
Picotee lamely explained her outward reasons for coming, and soon began to find that Ethelberta's opinions on the matter would not be known by the tones of her voice. But innocent Picotee was as wily as a religionist in sly elusions of the letter whilst infringing the spirit of a dictum; and by talking very softly and earnestly about the wondrous good she could do by remaining in the house as governess to the children, and playing the part of lady's-maid to her sister at show times, she so far coaxed Ethelberta out of her intentions that she almost accepted the plan as a good one. It was agreed that for the present, at any rate, Picotee should remain.
Then a visit was made to Mrs. Chickerel's room, where the remainder of the evening was passed; and harmony reigned in the household.
