Good Mrs Hypocrite/Chapter 13

by Eliza Margaret Jane Humphreys

That night Tibbie Minch did manage to light a fire in the visitor's room, and Margaret Weimar, after wishing her father good night, went up stairs, and commenced to put her things together. She felt very ill. Her cough grew worse each moment, and a racking pain in her side gave her no peace. She went downstairs at last, and found Catherine toast- ing her feet before the dining-room fire, and sipping whisky toddy.

Margaret made no observation. It mattered little to her now what her aunt did. She recognized her in her true colors, and saw the utter uselessness of argument or objection.

"Aunt Macpherson," she said, "I came down to say that I really feel very poorly. My cold gets worse and worse. I want a hot bath and some mustard. I'll put a mustard plaster on my chest; perhaps that will do me good."

Catherine Macpherson's face took upon it its blackest look. She hated sickness in a house. It was a trouble and an expense. It meant self-denial and helpfulness. These were virtues that she only cared to exact from others — not bestow on them.

"Hot baths!" she repeated. "What next nonsense? Just hap yourself with a warm shawl, and tie your stocking round your throat, and get into your bed. You've got a fire in your room, though it's quite against my principles. But there's no satisfying some folk."

"I want a hot bath," repeated Margaret.

"Can I have it taken up to my room in half an hour? I know there's a good supply of water always in the boiler — or used to be. Perhaps that has also undergone some alteration under your management?"

"If you want a bath, you'll have to take it in the kitchen," snapped her aunt. "Tibbie will not be carrying water up two flights o' stairs for any one!"

"What!" exclaimed Margaret.

A paroxysm of coughing shook her. She leant against the table, unable to speak. "Do you mean to say," she gasped at last, " that you allow a servant to dictate to you in this fashion? Won't take up water! . . . I never heard of such a thing — never! It only proves, Aunt Catherine, that you are utterly incapable of managing a house; I regret that I ever asked you to attempt it. Anything like the rudeness, the discomfort, and the alteration here, I never could have credited."

She crossed over to the fireplace and rang the bell.

"What for are ye doing that?" demanded her aunt.

"You will soon see," answered Margaret, panting with indignation.

Catherine Macpherson coolly finished her glass, and awaited results.

These were stirring times truly; but she did not dislike the din of warfare. There were godly women and pious women of old who had mixed in the fray, and even slain an enemy. Who was she that she should shrink from profiting by example?

Tibbie Minch appeared in answer to the summons, and saw in a moment that contention was again the order of the day.

"Tibbie," said Margaret quietly, "I want a hot bath; my cold is very bad. Will you take a can of hot water and some mustard to my room, in half an hour's time?"

"I'm nae used to carrying heavy cans up and doon the stairs," said Tibbie shortly. "The mistress there aye takes her bath in the kitchen after I've gone to bed. I'll put it there for ye, and ye need one ; but deed, bed is the best place for ye, gin ye'U tak' my advice. Gang awa' there, and I'll bring ye a cup o' gruel and some mustard."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Margaret desperately, "was ever heard anything like it? Don't you know your place, woman ? I tell you I want a bath, and I'll have a bath, if I have to carry up the water myself,"

"Ye'll hae to carry it then," said Tibbie coolly, " I winna do for a stranger what I hae refused, to the mistress. It wouldna be consistent, and I'm aye strong for principle. Ye're a young thing, and headstrong like, Mistress Weimar, but gin yell tak' a word o' advice that's weel meant and sensible, ye'U juist — "

"If you don't choose to obey orders," interrupted Margaret, " I'll thank you to keep your place, and your advice also. In half an hour I shall come down for that hot water. Is the bath up-stairs in its old place?"

"Deed no, it's not," said Tibbie frankly. "It's doon-stairs in the passage by the kitchen. I aye keep it there, to be handy when your aunt thinks o' washing hersel'."

"And am I expected to carry that upstairs to my room, as well as the water?" demanded Margaret, looking from her aunt's triumphant face to Tibbie Minch's dogged one.

"I wouldna advise it," said that agreeable domestic, " nor would I do it for my ainsel'. I'd just tak' my bath where it was, and where the water was handy. But young folk hae nae sense, and ye canna mak' them see things in a richt way, if they're na minded to. So I'll juist mak' up the fire, mem, and ye can aye please yersel' aboot the manner o' yer bath, sin' ye're too prood to be advised."

"Well I " exclaimed Margaret as the door closed, "for downright discourtesy and inhospitality I shall in future place my own nation in the first rank. Never in the whole course of my life, never among strangers or foreigners, have I ex- perienced such treatment. It — it defies description I "

Aunt Catherine gave a fierce sniff.

"I don't know," she said, "why you should be setting yourself up here as if you were everybody in the house. This last year has been comfortable enough for your father and myself. We understand each other perfectly well, and it's only since interference and grand notions came in, distracting our quiet ways, that the house has been in an upset."

With a strong effort Margaret controlled herself. She felt that she was getting the worst of the combat in every way.

" Aunt Catherine," she said quietly, "I cannot understand why you should show such animosity towards me. I certainly did you a service once, and they say that is the surest way to make an enemy. But I should like to know if you consider yourself a Christian, as well as profess to be one?"

"A Christian!" exclaimed Catherine Macpherson, bristling from head to foot with outraged feeling. "I'd have ye know, Margaret, that I'm one of the elect vessels of the Lord. I have received the assur- ance ; I know my calling and election are sure. How dare you question it ! You — a graceless vessel — a papist almost — living in a land where there's no observance of the Lord's Day!"

"I am not questioning your own convictions," said her niece. " But as you are fond of texts, I will just remind you of one that says, ' By their fruits ye shall know them.'"

Then she left the room and went upstairs.

She closed the door, and sat down before the fire. She felt ill and wretched, and vexed, too, that she had lost her temper, even under such provocation. It was so useless and so undignified, this family squabbling.

Sbe had come over to England, at great personal inconvenience, to see her father, only to discover that she was both unwel- come and unwanted. Everything was changed, and the change had carried him also on its tide.

She leant her aching head on her hand, and revolved in her mind what was best to do.

A knock at the door roused her at last, and to her surprise, Tibbie Minch walked in, with a cup of gruel in her hand and a canister of mustard.

"I've kept my word," she said; " but I canna do more for ye than this. It would be a preecedent, ye ken, and Mistress Macpherson would be expectin' the like. But, Lord sakes, mem, ye do look ill. Be sensible like, and get ye into yer bed.

That way o' breathing is nae richt. It's a threetening o' broncheetis ye're getting. I ken it weel. My blither Jock at hame, he had it, and a sair time we had wi' him, the puir callant."

"I really do feel very ill," said Margaret hopelessly. " Oh, dear I " and she sighed as she dragged her heavy limbs across the room. " I hope and pray I won't be laid np here. Whatever should I do?"

" Weel, weel," said Tibbie penitentlyj " you've no had a warm welcome, I'm thinkin' ; but gin ye're to be ill, I'll aye do my best for ye. I'm no unfeelin', whatever ye may think. There's doggies whose bark is waur than their bite ; and, perhaps, Tibbie Minch is ane o' them."

She had been bustling about all this time, had turned down the bed-clothes, put ready a warm dressing-gown, and then commenced to make the mustard poultice with a piece of linen she had brought up with her.

Neither she nor Margaret mentioned the bath. The one from sheer inability to fulfil her threat; the other from the standpoint of a principle which made the going back upon her word a real sin in her eyes.

The gruel and the mustard did give Margaret some relief, and Tibbie made up a good fire, and then bade her goodnight, with a kindly hope that she would be better in the morning.

"But yell no' be fit to travel; put that out o' yer mind, mem," she added; "and if ye escape the broncheetis, it will just be a special maircy o' Providence. I'll gi'e ye a look in the last thing, and slack up yer bit fire. It's on my conscience now that I didna put ye in one the nicht ye came, in spite o' the mistress's orders."

Margaret said nothing. A dull confused noise was in her ears, and her temples throbbed painfully. She felt that all hope of getting away the next day was vain. It was most unfortunate. Here she would have to lie, rendered grudging service ; no kindly word or look, no loving care. Only this terrible woman, with her grim face, and her bigoted speech, and forbidding manner!

Her coughs and colds were always severe. Her lungs had always been deli- cate, and the winter a time of trial and peril to her since she had left the mild, lovely Australian climate.

She heard the clock strike the hours. She listened to the shutting up of the house, the bolting and barring of doors. She heard her aunt go to her own room.

Catherine did not deem it necessary to inquire after her niece, or see if she needed anything.

That text was rankling in her mind. She did not approve of her own weapons being turned against her.

Tibbie Minch kept her word, and looked in, and built up the fire. Mar- garet assured her that she was better, and she left her, promising to bring in a cup of hot tea at seven o'clock the next morn- ing.

But by seven o'clock Margaret was in a high fever, and Tibbie was alarmed at her appearance.

She knocked up Catherine Macpherson, and told her of her niece's condition, and that good lady fumed " above a bit " as she heard it.

"It's nae use to talk like that," said Tibbie sharply. " The puir leddie is very sick, and it's a' your ain fault that she is; nae warmth and nae decent food, and you and the master quarrelin' wi' the puir thing from mom till nicht. It's just a judgment on ye baith. And ye'd better get up and see her yoursel', and come doon and help wi' the breakfast, for I'm just goin' roond for the doctor-mannie. It's mair responsibeelity than I'll under- take, wi'out a proper opeenion."

"Don't you be bringing Dr. Buchie here before breakfast," exclaimed Catherine, getting hurriedly out of bed, and looking a most unsightly object in a flannelette night-dress, and dank, hanging locks.

"Deed, then, I'll be telling him to mak' all the speed he can," said Tibbie maliciously;" so you need nae be dressing yoursel' up, for he'll no want to see you at all the mom."

And with that parting shot she departed on her mission.

Dr. Buchie said he would be round immediately. When he came he was met in the passage by a stately person in a crimson, Paisley-patterned morning- gown, and with a black lace scarf thrown over her hair. Her manner was anxious, her greeting of him a touching combination of gratitude and relief. She took him into her niece's room, and detailed symptoms as if she had been an eye-witness, instead of a hearer of them.

The little man felt the invalid's pulse, and listened to her breathing, and took her temperature.

"Influenza!" he said; "and a sharp touch, too. She'll need careful nursing, or it'll turn to pneumonia before we know where we arel Shall I send you in a nurse? Maybe I'd better."

"How provoking — I mean unfortunate!" exclaimed Catherine; "and my brother so weak, and requiring all my care and attention. . . .Well, perhaps you had better send in a nurse, doctor, for I fear it would be too great a tax on me to mind two patients ; and influenza is very catching isn't it?" she added hastily.

"Very," said the pompous little doctor, putting his watch back in his pocket. "But if she has a nurse you needn't run any risks ; and be sure you keep your brother out of the room. I'm glad you lost no time in sending for me. A few hours' delay would have made a serious difference."

Then they went down-stairs, and he wrote a prescription, and promised to call again later in the day.

"She will require plenty of good, light nourishment," he said as he drew on his gloves in the hall. " I shouldn't think she'd much of a constitution by the look of her. But she is in good hands, I know. We'll pull her through, Miss Macpherson, never fear."