CHAPTER IX
A REASONABLE PROPOSITION
"You'll come, too, Georgiana dear?" Jeannette, furrily clad for a walkwith James Stuart, stood in the doorway looking back. "Please do."
"Come, George;--you need a good tramp," Stuart urged at Jeannette'selbow.
He looked the picture of anticipation. He had undertaken getting thevisitor into training by increasingly long daily walks, and the resultwas proving eminently satisfactory. At the end of the first half of thevisit Jeannette was looking wonderfully well and happy--hardly the samegirl who had come to the little village to try if she could endure suchlife as was likely to be offered her there.
"Thank you, my dears, nothing could persuade me. Run along and leave meto diversions of my own," answered Georgiana gayly.
So they had gone, Jeannette wafting back a kiss, Stuart waving anenthusiastic arm. Georgiana had smiled at them, had closed the doorsoftly behind them--and had immediately banged to another convenientlynear at hand, one opening into a small clothespress under the stairlanding.
"Diversions of my own!" she repeated with emphasis. "Happy phrase! Iwonder what they think my diversions are--with this family to lookafter. Well, you got yourself into it, George Warne. You can stick itout if it kills you."
She deliberately thumped one door after another all the way along herprogress through the empty rooms and up the stairs to the second floor.Her father was away for the afternoon on a rare visit to a neighbour whohad sent for him, an old parishioner, who, falling ill, longed for thegentle offices of his friend and long-time minister. As for Mr.Jefferson, this was the time of day when he was always away on his usuallong walk. It was a comfort to be alone in the quiet house--and tobang and thump.
In her room Georgiana arrayed herself in a heavy red sweater, thenascended to the attic and stood eying the great hand loom of antiquepattern, a relic of an earlier century. It was equipped with a blackwarp, upon which a few rows of parti-coloured woof had been woven.
"Diversions!" she repeated, and shook her round fist at the lumberingobject.
Then she sat down on the old weaver's bench and began to weave withheavy, jarring thuds which shook the floor, as with strong arms shepulled and pushed and sent her clumsy shuttle flying back and forth.The attic was very cold; but she was soon warm with the violent exerciseand presently had discarded the sweater and was working away with mightand main.
"Go at it--go at it!" she was saying to herself. "Jealous idiot that youare! Jealous of Jeannette, of her clothes, her money, her beauty, her powerto attract--jealous because Jimps likes her so well--because Father Davylooks at her with the eyes of an appreciative uncle--because Mr. E. C.Jefferson talks to her as if he enjoyed it. Pound--pound--pound away atthe old loom till your arms ache, and see if you can get the nonsenseout of you!"
"I beg your pardon," said a deep voice at the top of the narrow stairsnot far away.
The loom stopped with a jerk as the weaver flashed round upon the headand shoulders protruding above the rafters. "Oh! I'm sorry! Did Idisturb you?" cried Georgiana, fire in her voice. She did not look inthe least sorry. "I thought you were out, too. And I'm just over yourhead. Of course you came up to----"
"No, I didn't," replied Mr. Jefferson. He ascended two steps more,looking curiously at the loom "I came up because I thought somethingextraordinary had happened up here and I ought to find out about it."
"Nothing extraordinary, merely something very ordinary. I do thiswhenever I have time and the coast is clear. You usually go out at thishour," she said accusingly.
"So I do. I came back just now, when I saw Miss Crofton and Mr. Stuartstarting off alone, in hopes that you might consent to go with me. It'sa great day. Won't you?"
"Thank you, no," the girl replied. "I'm behind with my work. These rugsare orders very much overdue. I've been rather delayed lately, since mymachine is so noisy I can't work when anybody is on the second floor."
"Please never mind me," urged her visitor. "I can time my work to fit inwith yours, if you need to make haste. But that must be a ratherstrenuous business. It's a very old affair, isn't it? Do you mind if Ilook at it? I never saw one of just that pattern."
"I mind very much," replied Georgiana crisply, moving off the bench andstanding on the floor. "But that's no reason why you shouldn't examinethe Monster if you like. That's what I call it. I'll run down and beback when you are through."
And this she would have done, but that he barred her way.
"But I won't," he said gravely, "if you prefer that I should not. Comeback, please! I'm intruding, and I'll apologize and go."
The light from a dusty attic window fell full on her face as she stood,and he saw that in it which made him look again.
"Miss Warne," he said gently, "something is wrong, I'm afraid. Can't Ibe of use to you in some way? The reason I wanted to look at this loomwas that I saw your last two strokes with the bar as I came up, and Irecognized what a tremendous push you had to give. I'm something of amechanic and I wondered if I couldn't do a bit of oiling, perhaps, tomake it easier. I'm afraid it's tiring you unduly."
"I need to be tired," she said, low but vehemently. "I'm in a blackmood, and the more I tire myself the quicker I shall get the better ofit. Now you know. I suppose you never have black moods."
"Do I not? So black that I could grind myself under my own heel. Do youhave them, too? I might have known by the look of you."
"You don't look as if you ever had them," she said rather curiously, hereyes on his quiet face.
"Ah, you can't always tell--luckily. It's pretty cold up here. Are yousure you wouldn't do better to take a run in the wind with me? You knowsomehow heavy tasks look lighter after a breath of outdoor air."
"So you know what heavy tasks are?" For the life of her she could notresist the question.
He looked steadily back at her, smiling a little. His eyes were veryclear in their quiet scrutiny. She felt as if he saw much that she wouldprefer to conceal. "I have known a few that seemed to me fairly heavy atthe time," he said. "Afterward, I was thankful to have had them--toprepare me for heavier ones."
"Oh--but they weren't the same dismal round----"
"Weren't they? Most tasks are. But I never had one quite like this. I amconcerned for you, lest this prove too heavy. Now that I am here--do youreally mind so very much if I look the machine over?"
She permitted it, and she did not run away as she had meant to do.Presently he asked for a screw-driver and a can of oil, and when she hadprocured them he did a number of things to the cumbersome loom, theresult of which, when she attacked it once more, proved that he hadrelieved to a certain extent the hardest of her efforts.
"But it is still much too severe for any woman," he said seriously,standing, oil can in hand, a little lock of hair, shaken down by hislabours, straying across his forehead. "Please tell me, and don't thinkme merely curious--is there no way in which you can add to yourresources except this? You have a college training----"
"And no way whatever to make use of it," she exclaimed with somebitterness. "But I can weave, and I have a feeling for colour and formand can work out effects which find a market. Hand-woven rugs bringtheir price these days. Really, Mr. Jefferson, I am no subject for pityand----"
"You don't want it. Let me assure you that I don't feel a particle. Tobe young and strong and fit for hard work is no cause for pity. But--Ihave reason for persisting in my inquiry. You see, I happen to know ofsome one in need of such training as you undoubtedly have. Would youconsider giving a few hours daily to one who needs a copyist andcritic?"
Georgiana scanned his face with intent, incredulous eyes. Then, "Do youmean yourself?" she questioned.
"I mean myself. I hesitate to mention that I am the candidate, knowingthat that admission must instantly create a prejudice against me." Hewas smiling a little. "But I state an actual fact. I have reached apoint in my labours where I need a copyist. Do you think it possiblethat I may secure one without sending away for her?"
"I mus
t suspect you," she said slowly and with rising colour, "ofmanufacturing a need. It is very, very kind of you, Mr. Jefferson--but Ithink I must continue to weave my rugs."
"But I am not manufacturing a need," he insisted. "I declare to you thatI have been on the point of consulting you for some time. If it had notbeen that your days seemed very full with your guest and yourhousewifery, I should have put it to you before now. I am in earnest,Miss Warne. Won't you, as a matter of everyday business, lend me youreyes and your hand--and your critical judgment? If you can't do it whileMiss Crofton is here, may I engage your spare time after she goes?Please don't deny me." He began to descend the stairs. "I won't stay foran answer," he said. "Think it over, will you? And please don't refuseuntil you have consulted your father."
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because I know he will look at it as any man would, withoutunreasonable prejudice against accepting a business proposition simplybecause it happens to come from a temporary member of the household. Ittakes a woman to bother about that."
With this straight shot he left her, laughing back at her as hedescended in a way that went far toward disarming her, though she wouldnot at once admit it. Instead, she went back to her loom, putting intothe next section of weaving a quite unnecessary amount of force purelyfrom tension of mind over the possibilities opened up by this mostunexpected offer. There was no denying that it was precisely the sort ofthing which she had often longed to do, and for which, she knew, as hehad suggested, she was more than ordinarily well fitted. It wasimpossible, as she had said, not to suspect the lodger of creating awant to fit her need of earning money, yet there could be no doubt ofthe fact that any writer of books who draws upon all manner of collectednotes and reference books for his material must be able to make valuableuse of an assistant in a variety of ways.
Why should she not take him at his word? Well, she would think of it.And meanwhile--suddenly--the black mood was gone!