service, and Fanny, sweet blossom! by mingling her
fragrance with that of a florist’s shop in Brixton;
but on their father’s death both forsook their
employment, and came to live with Mrs. Peachey.
Between them, these two were the owners of house-property,
which produced L140 a year. They disbursed, together,
a weekly sum of twenty-four shillings for board and
lodging, and spent or saved the rest as their impulses
dictated.
Ada brooded over her wrongs; Beatrice glanced over
The Referee. Fanny, after twirling awhile
in maiden meditation, turned to the piano and jingled
a melody from ‘The Mikado.’ She broke
off suddenly, and, without looking round, addressed
her companions.
’You can give the third seat at the Jubilee
to somebody else. I’m provided for.’
‘Who are you going with?’ asked Ada.
‘My masher,’ the girl replied with a giggle.
‘Where?’
‘Shop-windows in the Strand, I think.’
She resumed her jingling; it was now ‘Queen
of my Heart.’ Beatrice, dropping her paper,
looked fixedly at the girl’s profile, with an
eyelid droop which signified calculation.
‘How much is he really getting?’ she inquired
all at once.
’Seventy-five pounds a year. “Oh where,
oh where, is my leetle dog gone?"’
‘Does he say,’ asked Mrs. Peachey, ’that
his governor will stump up?’
They spoke a peculiar tongue, the product of sham
education and mock refinement grafted upon a stock
of robust vulgarity. One and all would have been
moved to indignant surprise if accused of ignorance
or defective breeding. Ada had frequented an ’establishment
for young ladies’ up to the close of her seventeenth
year; the other two had pursued culture at a still
more pretentious institute until they were eighteen.
All could ‘play the piano;’ all declared—and
believed—that they ‘knew French.’
Beatrice had ‘done’ Political Economy;
Fanny had ‘been through’ Inorganic Chemistry
and Botany. The truth was, of course, that their
minds, characters, propensities had remained absolutely
proof against such educational influence as had been
brought to bear upon them. That they used a finer
accent than their servants, signified only that they
had grown up amid falsities, and were enabled, by
the help of money, to dwell above-stairs, instead
of with their spiritual kindred below.
Anticipating Fanny’s reply, Beatrice observed,
with her air of sagacity:
’If you think you’re going to get anything
out of an old screw like Lord, you’ll jolly
soon find your mistake.’
‘Don’t you go and make a fool of yourself,
Fanny,’ said Mrs. Peachey. ‘Why,
he can’t be more than twenty-one, is he?’
‘He’s turned twenty-two.’
The others laughed scornfully.
‘Can’t I have who I like for a masher?’
cried Fanny, reddening a little. ’Who said
I was going to marry him? I’m in no particular
hurry to get married. You think everybody’s
like yourselves.’
