Susan, Amy Walton [most read books in the world of all time TXT] 📗

and my brother relates to her his vain attempts to find employment. She listens with pity; she gives encouragement. Finally, before they part she forces upon his acceptance two pounds of fillet steak. He returns to me with the meat enveloped in a cabbage leaf, and that night we satisfy our hunger with appetising food, and our hearts are full of gratitude to Heaven and this good Madame Jones. And from that time," finished Mademoiselle holding up one hand with the sock stretched upon it, "things mend. Madame Jones recommends Adolphe to Madame, your aunt; she again tells others of him, and he has now, enough to do. We are hungry no longer. It is not very gay in the appartement; the sun does not shine much, but we are together. Some day, who knows? we may be able to return to our dear Paris. One must have courage." She stooped and kissed Susan's upturned face, which was full of sympathy.

"If she knew how badly I've always behaved to Monsieur she wouldn't have done that," thought Susan penitently.

"There now rests one great wish in Adolphe's heart," continued Delphine, "and that is, to be able some day to reward Madame Jones for her goodness. Strangers, and without money, she fed and cheered us, and it is to her we owe our success. Never could either of us be so basely ungrateful as to forget that if we are again blessed by prosperity. Often has Adolphe, who is a fine English scholar, repeated to me the lines of your poet, Shakespeare:--

"Freeze, freeze thou winter sky; Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot."

Susan had remained wide awake in spite of great fatigue during the whole of Mademoiselle's story; but now, when she came to the poetry, which she repeated with difficulty and very slowly, there seemed to be something lulling in her voice. The room was warm too, and presently the sounds in it got mixed up together. The crackling of the fire, the bubbling of the saucepan, and Delphine's tones, joined in a sort of lullaby. Susan's eyelids gently closed, and she was fast asleep. So fast that the next thing she knew was that Buskin had somehow arrived and was carrying her upstairs; that Monsieur was in attendance with a candle, and that a cab was waiting at the door. But having noticed this, it was quite easy to go to sleep again, and she scarcely awoke when they arrived at Aunt Hannah's and she was put to bed.

So it was not till broad daylight the next morning that she began to think over her adventures, and to remember all the wonderful things that had happened the day before. And in particular all the details of Delphine's story came back to her, and the earnest gratitude with which she had talked of Mrs Jones' kindness. "`Strangers, and without money, she fed and cheered us.' Now that is just exactly what Monsieur did for me when I first saw him," thought Susan; "and all I've done in return is to laugh at him and give him trouble. I haven't been grateful at all." The more she considered her conduct the more ashamed she began to feel, and she could not help wondering what Mademoiselle Delphine would think of her if she knew. "At any rate," she resolved, "I won't do it any more. I never will laugh at lesson-time, and I'll learn everything quite perfectly and be as good as ever I can, whatever Sophia Jane likes to say." Sophia Jane, that naughty, badly behaved child! After all, it was her fault that Susan had done wrong, she went on to think, and it was also her fault that she had lost herself yesterday, because she had been so disagreeable about the Enemy and the basket. It was a comfort to be able to shift the blame on Sophia Jane's shoulder, for Susan liked to think well of herself, and she began to feel more cheerful and satisfied as she dressed and went down-stairs. Here Nanna and Margaretta were prepared with all manner of questions about Monsieur, his house, and his sister, but Susan was quite determined to tell them very little. She repeated gravely, "They were very kind, and I like them very much;" and this was most unsatisfactory to her listeners, who craved for the tiniest details of her adventure. Sophia Jane alone sat mute, but sharply attentive to all that passed, hunching up her shoulders and fixing her blue eyes on each speaker in turn. She was, as usual, in disgrace Susan and, and had been forbidden to speak at meals; but as soon as breakfast was over she made the best use of the hour before lessons began, and examined her companion narrowly:

"Whatever makes you look so solemn?" she asked at last.

"I'm not going to laugh at Monsieur La Roche ever again," said Susan solemnly. "I've made a good resolution."

"What for?" asked Sophia Jane.

"Because he's been very kind, and it's wrong to laugh at him," answered Susan.

Sophia Jane made a face that Susan very much disliked, it was so full of contempt.

"He hasn't been kind to me, and I don't care if it is wrong," she said. "I shall do as I like."

"But I want you not to either," said Susan.

"I don't care a bit. Why should I?" asked Sophia Jane, who was evidently in one of her most reckless moods.

Susan was silent. There was not much reason certainly that Sophia Jane should wish to please her; then a bright idea came into her head.

"If you'll promise not to laugh at French lessons," she said, "I'll give you a new head for your doll as soon as I've got enough money."

Sophia Jane considered this offer with her head on one side; then she asked:

"What price?"

"Half-a-crown," answered Susan, "and that will buy the very best you can get."

"Well," said Sophia Jane slowly, "I promise."

"But if you whisper, or make faces, or nudge me with your elbow you won't have it," added Susan hastily.

"You didn't say all that at first," said Sophia Jane; "but I _will_ promise."

So the agreement was made, and moreover written down in Susan's best printing hand, and signed by Sophia Jane. Even then Susan felt by no means sure of the result, for it was so much more natural to her companion to be naughty than good.

Thursday came, and Monsieur La Roche also at his usual hour; Susan put on her most discreet behaviour, and kept anxious watch over Sophia Jane. But there was no need for anxiety, her conduct was perfect, and she not only preserved the strictest gravity, but also showed the most marvellous quickness in learning her lessons. Though she might be a naughty child, no one could accuse her of being a dull one; she grasped the meaning of anything like lightning, and while Susan was steadily bringing her mind to bear on a French verb, Sophia Jane knew it already, and could repeat it without a mistake. She showed indeed such zeal and attention throughout the lessons, that it had a sobering effect even upon Nanna and Margaretta, who were so employed in wondering at her that they did not giggle nearly so much as usual.

Monsieur himself was not less surprised at this sudden improvement in his class, and above all in Sophia Jane, who had, without question, been his worst and most backward pupil. When his lesson was finished he beamed kindly at her and said, "It is _tr-res_ bien, mademoiselle. I am much pleased with you to-day."

It was such a new thing for anyone to be much pleased with Sophia Jane that it hardly seemed possible, and everyone stared at her. Aunt Hannah turned round from her chair at the fireside to see who had deserved this praise. Sophia Jane! It was an unheard-of thing. The child herself was so unused to the sound of kindness and approval, that it startled her as though she had received a blow. She reddened, gave all her features a sudden twist, and blinked her eyes at Monsieur for an answer.

"Sit straight, Sophia Jane, and don't make faces," said Aunt Hannah, and the well-known accents of blame at once restored her to her usual state. The moment Monsieur was gone she was the old Sophia Jane again, tiresome and disobedient as ever. And Susan, remembering the compact about the half-crown, was not surprised at this, for, she thought to herself, "she's not really doing it because she wants to be good, but because she wants a new head for the doll." It was quite possible, therefore, still to feel that she was much better than her companion, and this was not unpleasant.

Meanwhile she was much looking forward to seeing Mademoiselle Delphine again, for Aunt Hannah intended to pay her a visit soon to thank her for her kindness, and she had promised to take both the little girls with her. Grace, the doll, must also be fetched home, for Susan had been too sleepy to remember her, and had left her behind. Monsieur's house was found with some difficulty, but at length Sophia Jane's sharp eyes spied a dusty card in a window with "Monsieur La Roche, Professor of French," written on it, and they knew that this must be the right one. Susan wondered whether Mademoiselle would quickly open the door herself as she had done before, but this time a very untidy maid-servant appeared with smudges on her face. There were many other lodgers in the house beside Monsieur and his sister, who had the cheapest rooms of all, an underground one which Susan had thought to be the kitchen, and two tiny attics in the roof. They found Mademoiselle waiting to receive them with a yellow ribbon at her neck, and a manner full of gracious affability. Gambetta sat on the hearth, and the room was perfectly neat and clean, but by daylight; it wanted the air of snugness and comfort which Susan remembered. There was a very tiny fire, and it all looked bare and cold, for the window was so placed that the sunlight could not possibly enter. Mademoiselle partly made up, however, for the dreariness of her lodging by smiles and pleasant conversation. She was delighted to see them all, and to renew her acquaintance with Susan, chattering so fast that Sophia Jane had plenty of time to notice everything, and presently fixed her eyes, full of admiration, on Gambetta, who sat with rather a vexed look on his face by the small fire.

Presently he rose, stretched himself, humped his back, and then jumped up on his mistress' lap.

"Fi donc!" said she, settling her knees more comfortably for him.

"That is a fine cat," remarked Aunt Hannah; "a great pet, no doubt?"

"You say truly, Madame," replied Delphine gently rubbing Gambetta under the chin; "but above all with my brother. I may say that Gambetta is the pupil of his eye. How often have I made him reproaches because he will leave the best of his potage, and pour it in the saucer for this cat! And that in the days when there was not too much potage, look you, for either of us. On his side the animal adores Adolphe.