CHAPTER XX
The Shilling Seats
Jean owed a great debt to Isobel for having told her of Slavska, andacknowledged it extravagantly in every letter. Now there was thedifficulty of finding a piano teacher; but here Mabel explained to Jeanas nearly as she could why she could not seek the advice of Isobel.Isobel, if they knew, already lamented that she had given away Slavska,it was such an opening to the girls for being independent of herexperience. Herr Slavska would recommend no one in London.
"They all play for the stupids," he declared. At last in a better mood,he remembered a certain "Monsieur, Monsieur--Green."
Mabel laughed at the drop to a plain English name.
"Ah no! Smile not," said Herr Slavska. "His mother, of the Latin race,and his father, mark you, a Kelt! What wonder of a result! I willintroduce you to the Sir, Herr, Monsieur Green. He is young, but ofLeschetitzky. I recommend him."
There seemed nothing more to be said, except that two girls in the clubknew Mr. Green's playing and said that no one else really existed inLondon. A great deal underlay Herr Slavska's "I recommend him."
Mabel met one of the keenest enthusiasts of her life when she met Mr.Green.
"Isn't it queer," said Jean afterwards, who, in spite of egg flips andmethods, was in a dejected mood that day, "isn't it queer that an oldboy like Herr Slavska and a young one like Mr. Green should both havethe same delusions. About music, I mean, being so keen on it."
"You can't call that voice of Herr Slavska's a delusion."
Mabel had been much impressed by what Mr. Green had said.
"Mark you, at such an age, there is no voice like Slavska's inexistence. Your sister is fortunate in learning his method."
"That's what Mr. Slavska said," Jean had answered amiably, and it hadstarted Mr. Green off on his lessons with Mabel in a cheerful mood.
"The Herr is not sparing of his compliments when it is himself that isconcerned," he said, laughing loudly. "But he can afford to tell thetruth."
It seemed lovely to Mabel, this tribute from one man to another.
"More than your old Slavska said of my man," she told Jean.
Mr. Green was a distracting teacher. He pulled Mabel's playing down todecimals. Where she had formerly found her effects by merely feelingthem, he subtracted feeling until she imagined she could not play pianoat all. Then he began to build up her technique like a builder addingbricks to a wall.
"You must imagine that you have eaten of the good things of life untilyou are a little ill, so that good or bad taste very much alike. Thenyou come to me for the cure. I diet you with uninteresting things,which you do not like, and you imagine I am hard because I do not allowyou to eat. Then one day I give you a little tea and toast. Now, MissLeighton, you have worked to curve the third finger a trifle more thanyou did. Will you play that study of Chopin which you once performed tome."
Mabel had practised dry technique and had kept cheerfully away from all"pieces" as directed. She played the study.
"Bravo," said Mr. Green. It was his first encouragement.
"Why," said Mabel, "how nice it is to be able to play it like that."
"It is your tea and toast," said Mr. Green.
Into their hard-working life came delightfully Adelaide Maud. Theirenthusiasm carried her into scenes she had never visited. She attendedconcerts in the shilling seats, and took tea once at an A.B.C. Theshilling seats fascinated Adelaide Maud. The composite crowd of girls,with excited interest; of budding men musicians, groomed and ungroomed,the latter disporting hair which fell on the forehead in Beethovennegligence, the dark, lowering musician's scowl beneath--what pets theyall were! Pets in the zoological sense some of them, but yet what pets!She caught the infection of their ardour when a great or a new performerappeared. Had any crowd ever paid such homage to one of her set, never!Fancy inflaming hearts to that extent. Adelaide Maud could feel herpulses responding.
"Oh," she said after one of these experiences when they were in Fuller'sand ate extravagantly of walnut cream cake, "it's as much fun to me togo to these concerts, as it would be for you to--to.----" It dawned onher that any comparison might not be polite.
"To go to court," said Mabel.
"Oh, _have_ you ever been presented?" asked Jean of Adelaide Maud.
Mabel stared at her. All their life they had followed Adelaide Maud'scareer, and Jean forgot that she had been presented. Adelaide Maudherself might have been a little hurt, but she was only amused.
"I was--in Queen Victoria's time. I'm an old stager, you know," shesaid.
"Wasn't it lovely," asked Jean, who had once called her past.
"I don't think so," said Adelaide Maud. "At least I happened to enjoythe wrong part, that was all. I loved going out with the sunshinepouring into the carriage and everybody staring at us. It was very hotand the windows had to be down, and I heard things. One girl said 'Oh,lollipops, look at 'er 'air. Dyed that is.' Another quite gratified meby ejaculating in an Irish voice, 'Oh, the darlint.' 'You mustn't,'said her friend, 'she'll 'ear you.' 'I mean the horses, stupid,' saidthe girl. She had her eye on the Life Guards. Mamma was disgusted. Butin the palace it was not nearly so distinguished. Nobody admired one atall, just hustled one by. I think we were cross all the time."
"I think it would be lovely to be cross in Buckingham Palace," sighedJean.
They all laughed. Adelaide Maud in particular seemed to be thinkingabout something which interested her.
"Would it be fun for you to see some of the people who are going to thegreat ball," she asked. "I don't mean to go to the ball, but Lady Emilyis to be at home for the early part of that evening and some people arecoming in on the way. I asked her if I might have you to dinner--andshe's quite pleased about it."
Mabel and Jean sat in a blissful state of rapture. ("Lady Emily! Thegorgeous and far-away Lady Emily!")
"Oh," said Jean, "Elma would say, 'I should be terrified.'"
"And I should say we'll be perfectly delighted," said Mabel.
It cost her no tremor at all to think of going. This reminded AdelaideMaud of Miss Grace's prophecy that there was no sphere in life whichMabel could not enter becomingly.
"Put on that pretty pink thing you wore in Ridgetown, lately," she said.
The name of Ridgetown brought them closer to realities. This was MissDudgeon of The Oaks with whom they ate cream cake. Jean said, "I'm sureto give the wrong titles. You don't mind I hope."
"No," said Adelaide Maud. At the same time she was dying with thedesire that they should do her infinite credit. Carefully she thoughtover the matter and then spoke. "In any case it's so much a matter ofone's manner in doing it. I remember when Lady Emily was ill once, shehad a very domineering nurse, who tossed her head one time and said tome, 'I suppose she wants me to be humble and "my lady" her, but not abit of me.' Then one of the most distinguished surgeons in England wascalled in, and his first words were, 'And how d'ye do, my lady.' Hecalled her 'my lady' throughout, quite unusual you know, and yet in sodignified and kind a manner, as though he were saying, 'I know, but Iprefer my own way in the matter.'"
"What a drop to the nurse," said Mabel.
Jean looked reflective.
"Do you know, you've told me something I didn't know," she said. "Inever quite knew how one ought to address Lady Emily. It's so differentat Ridgetown," she exclaimed.
Adelaide Maud seemed a little confused, but answered heartily.
"Oh, none of it's a trouble when you really meet people. They are somuch simpler than one would think."
Mabel saw that Adelaide Maud had given them her first tip. It wassweetly done, but then----! Anyhow, they had given Adelaide Maud plentyof tips about getting in early to seats in the Queen's Hall and minoraffairs of that sort. Why shouldn't the benefits work both ways?
It was about the time of Elma's ball, when they sent the white roses,and Adelaide Maud said she would help them to c
hoose.
"I should like to send little Elma a crown of pearls, but I daren't,"said she with a sigh. "She's such a pet, isn't she!"
"Timorous, but a pet," said Jean with a broad smile.
"She is holding the fort just now at any rate," responded Mabel.
They thought it would be all right to tell Adelaide Maud something ofwhat Elma had written.
"I trembled, of course," Elma had said; "but the thing had to be done.I wouldn't for a moment let you think that you couldn't come home andslip in to the places that belong to you. Isobel would have possessedthe whole house if I hadn't played up. I don't know why she wants to.It must be so much nicer not to have to bother about servants and tablecentres. But she has never squeaked since I spoke about it. In fact,she won't even speak to me unless some one is about, passes me without aword."
"Poor darling," said Adelaide Maud; "what a worm your cousin must be."
"No, I don't think she's that," said Mabel; "it's just that she simplymust rule, you know. She must have everything good that is going."
"H'm," answered Adelaide Maud. "Why doesn't that brother of yours goslashing about a little, and keep her from bullying Elma."
"Oh, Elma would never tell Cuthbert. Don't you see it mightn't be fairto prejudice him against Isobel. Isobel thinks such a lot of Cuthbert."
"Oh."
A long clinging silence depreciated the conversational prowess ofAdelaide Maud.
"Well," she said, in a conventional voice, "We've had a lovely day. Letme know when you are going to another concert. And I shall send youfull particulars about Lady Emily."
They were walking along Regent Street to find their shop for theflowers. It seemed that Adelaide Maud was about to desert them. Shebeckoned for a hansom and got inside. Mabel and Jean felt that theysaid good-bye to Miss Dudgeon of The Oaks. In another second they hadgone on and Adelaide Maud had had her hansom pulled up beside themagain.
"Jean, Jean," she called, quite radiant again. "I forgot the mostimportant thing. It's about lessons. Do you think that yourSplashkaspitskoff would condescend to give me some?"
It was rather mad of Adelaide Maud, but she got out and paid off thehansom.
"It isn't so late as I thought it was," she said lamely. But Mabel knewthat she came to make up.
Jean only thought of the lessons.
"You will find him so splendid," she said, "and such a gentleman."
"I like that," said Mabel. "Why--he talks about the most revoltingthings."
"It's his manners that are so wonderful," said Jean in a championingmanner. They had found their shop by this time and were looking atwhite roses. When Mabel said, "Do you think these are nice?" Jean mightbe heard explaining, "It's the method you know that is so wonderful."
And when at last they had decided about roses and arranged about thelessons, Adelaide Maud thought she must immediately buy a hat.
"I quite forgot that I wanted a hat," she said gravely.
They went to one of the best shops, and sat in three chairs, withAdelaide Maud surrounded by mirrors. Tall girls sailed up like swans andlaid a hat on her bright hair and walked away again. Adelaide Maudturned and twisted and looked lovely in about a dozen different hats.After looking specially superb in one, she would say. "Take that oneaway, I don't like it at all."
Occasionally the swans would put on a hat and sail about in order toshow the effect. Then Adelaide Maud would look specially languid andappear more dissatisfied than ever. At last she fixed on one whichcontained what she called "a dead seagull."
"Why you spoil that pretty hat with a dead bird, I can't think," sheexclaimed to the attendant. "Look at its little feet turned up."
Then, "You must take this bird out, and give me flowers."
She began pinning on her own hat again. In a second the bird was gone,and the swanlike personages sailing over the grey white carpet, broughtcharming bunches of which they tried the effect "for modom."
"Oh, do get heliotrope," said Mabel. "It's so gorgeous with your hair."
Adelaide Maud swung round.
"And I've been making up my mind to white for the last half-hour. Howcan you, Mabel!"
She chose a mass of white roses, "dreaming in velvet."
Adelaide Maud rose, gave directions about sending, and prepared toleave.
"Don't you want to know the price?" asked Mabel in great amazement.
"Oh, of course."
Adelaide Maud asked the price.
The total took Mabel's breath away.
"You must never marry a poor man," said she as they passed out.Adelaide Maud stopped humbly in a passage of grey velvet and silvergilt.
"Well, I never," she said. Then walking on, she asked in a very humble,mocking tone, "Will you teach me, Mabs, how to shop so that I may marrya poor man."
Mabel laughed gaily.
"Thank you," said she. "That sounds as though you think that I ought toknow. Am I to marry a poor man?"
Adelaide Maud laughed outright, and took her briskly by the arm.
"I didn't mean that. I believe you will marry a duke. But you see--youthink me so extravagant, and I might have to be poor."
"That dead seagull going cost you a guinea alone," said Mabelaccusingly.
"And they kept the seagull," said Adelaide Maud. "How wanton of me!"
"I've had a very nice hat for a guinea," said Mabel, with a smirk ofsuppressed laughter.
"And yet you won't marry a poor man," said Adelaide Maud. "How unjustthe world is."
They parted in better form than they had done an hour earlier.
"Wasn't she queer," said Jean, "to go off like that?"
"Queerer that she came back," said Mabel. "Do you know what I think? Ibelieve Adelaide Maud bought that hat simply--simply----"
"To kill time," said Jean.
"No. To stay with us a little longer," said Mabel.
"It's more than any of the Dudgeons ever thought of doing before--ifit's true!" said blunt, robust Jean.
"But I don't believe it is," said she. "Let's scoot for that bus orwe'll lose it."
So they scooted for the bus.