The Captives [191]
brother spoke, and the clear steady candour of Maggie's eyes and her calm acceptance of all that the little man said must have been reassuring.
"Now. Jim," she said, "don't bother Mrs. Trenchard. You can't expect her to tell us her history when she's calling for the first time."
"Why not expect me to?" said Maggie. "I've got no history. I lived in Glebeshire most of my life with my father, who was a clergyman. Then he died and I lived with two aunts in London. Then I met Paul and he married me, and here I am!"
"That's not history," said Mr. Toms a little impatiently. "However, I won't bother you now. You're only a child, I see. And I'm very glad to see it. I don't like grown up people."
"How do you like Skeaton?" asked Miss Toms, speaking more graciously than she had done.
"Oh I shall like it, I expect," said Maggie. "At least I shall like the people. I don't think I shall ever like the place--the sand blows about, and I don't like the woods."
"Yes, they're greasy, aren't they?" said Mr. Toms, "and full of little flies. And the trees are dark and never cool--"
They talked a little while longer, and then Maggie got up to say good-bye. When she took Mr. Tom's hand and felt his warm confident pressure, and saw his large trusting eyes looking into hers, she felt a warmth of friendliness, also it seemed to her that she had known him all her life.
Miss Toms came with her to the door. They looked out into the dark. The sea rustled close at hand, far on the horizon a red light was burning as though it were a great fire. They could hear the wave break on the beach and sigh in the darkness as it withdrew.
"I shall come again," said Maggie.
"Don't you be too sure," said Miss Toms. "We shall quite understand if you don't come, and we shan't think the worse of you. Public opinion here is very strong. They don't want to be unkind to Jim, but they think he ought to be shut up . . .Shut up!" Maggie could feel that she was quivering. "Shut up!"
Maggie tossed her head.
"Anyway, they haven't shut me up yet," she said.
"Well--good-night," said Miss Toms, after a little pause in which she appeared to be struggling to say more.
She told Grace and Paul at supper that night that she had been to see the Toms. She saw Grace struggling not to show her disapproval and thought it was nice of her.
"Do you really think--?" said Grace. "Oh, perhaps, after all--"
"Paul," said Maggie, "do you not want me to see the Toms?"
Paul was distressed.
"No, it isn't that . . .Miss Toms is a very nice woman. Only--"
"You think it's not natural of me to take an interest in some one who's a little off his head like Mr. Toms."
"Well, dear, perhaps there is something--"
Maggie laughed. "I'm a little off my head too. Oh! you needn't look so shocked, Grace. You know you think it, and every one else here thinks it too. Now, Grace, confess. You're beginning to be horrified that Paul married me."
"Please, Maggie--" said Paul, who hated scenes. Grace was always flushed by a direct attack. Her eyes gazed in despair about her while she plunged about in her mind.
"Maggie, you mustn't say such things--no, you mustn't. Of course it's true that you've got more to learn than I thought. You ARE careless, dear, aren't you? You remember yesterday that you promised to look in at Pettits and get a reel of cotton, and then of course Mr. Toms is a good little man--every one says so--but at the same time he's QUEER, you must admit that, Maggie; indeed it wasn't really very long ago that he asked Mrs. Maxse in the High Street to take all her clothes off so that he could see what she was really made of. Now, that ISN'T nice, Maggie, it's odd--you can't deny it. And if you'd only told me that you hadn't been to Pettits I could have gone later myself."
"If it isn't one thing," said Maggie, "it's another. I may be a child and careless, and not be educated, and have strange ideas, but if you thought, Grace, that it was going to be just the same after Paul was married as before you were mistaken. Three's a difficult number to
"Now. Jim," she said, "don't bother Mrs. Trenchard. You can't expect her to tell us her history when she's calling for the first time."
"Why not expect me to?" said Maggie. "I've got no history. I lived in Glebeshire most of my life with my father, who was a clergyman. Then he died and I lived with two aunts in London. Then I met Paul and he married me, and here I am!"
"That's not history," said Mr. Toms a little impatiently. "However, I won't bother you now. You're only a child, I see. And I'm very glad to see it. I don't like grown up people."
"How do you like Skeaton?" asked Miss Toms, speaking more graciously than she had done.
"Oh I shall like it, I expect," said Maggie. "At least I shall like the people. I don't think I shall ever like the place--the sand blows about, and I don't like the woods."
"Yes, they're greasy, aren't they?" said Mr. Toms, "and full of little flies. And the trees are dark and never cool--"
They talked a little while longer, and then Maggie got up to say good-bye. When she took Mr. Tom's hand and felt his warm confident pressure, and saw his large trusting eyes looking into hers, she felt a warmth of friendliness, also it seemed to her that she had known him all her life.
Miss Toms came with her to the door. They looked out into the dark. The sea rustled close at hand, far on the horizon a red light was burning as though it were a great fire. They could hear the wave break on the beach and sigh in the darkness as it withdrew.
"I shall come again," said Maggie.
"Don't you be too sure," said Miss Toms. "We shall quite understand if you don't come, and we shan't think the worse of you. Public opinion here is very strong. They don't want to be unkind to Jim, but they think he ought to be shut up . . .Shut up!" Maggie could feel that she was quivering. "Shut up!"
Maggie tossed her head.
"Anyway, they haven't shut me up yet," she said.
"Well--good-night," said Miss Toms, after a little pause in which she appeared to be struggling to say more.
She told Grace and Paul at supper that night that she had been to see the Toms. She saw Grace struggling not to show her disapproval and thought it was nice of her.
"Do you really think--?" said Grace. "Oh, perhaps, after all--"
"Paul," said Maggie, "do you not want me to see the Toms?"
Paul was distressed.
"No, it isn't that . . .Miss Toms is a very nice woman. Only--"
"You think it's not natural of me to take an interest in some one who's a little off his head like Mr. Toms."
"Well, dear, perhaps there is something--"
Maggie laughed. "I'm a little off my head too. Oh! you needn't look so shocked, Grace. You know you think it, and every one else here thinks it too. Now, Grace, confess. You're beginning to be horrified that Paul married me."
"Please, Maggie--" said Paul, who hated scenes. Grace was always flushed by a direct attack. Her eyes gazed in despair about her while she plunged about in her mind.
"Maggie, you mustn't say such things--no, you mustn't. Of course it's true that you've got more to learn than I thought. You ARE careless, dear, aren't you? You remember yesterday that you promised to look in at Pettits and get a reel of cotton, and then of course Mr. Toms is a good little man--every one says so--but at the same time he's QUEER, you must admit that, Maggie; indeed it wasn't really very long ago that he asked Mrs. Maxse in the High Street to take all her clothes off so that he could see what she was really made of. Now, that ISN'T nice, Maggie, it's odd--you can't deny it. And if you'd only told me that you hadn't been to Pettits I could have gone later myself."
"If it isn't one thing," said Maggie, "it's another. I may be a child and careless, and not be educated, and have strange ideas, but if you thought, Grace, that it was going to be just the same after Paul was married as before you were mistaken. Three's a difficult number to