CHAPTER LXXXI

THE NEW BONNET

THE day after our hero’s former visit to Privett Grove, Mrs. McDermott thought it her duty to go to Mayfield and tell Mrs. Goldspink what had happened. They had been such old friends, and the young people had always been so intimate that she would not like Mrs. Goldspink to hear of anything likely to affect her daughter’s happiness from any one but herself. At the same time she could not go open-mouthed as though she thought they had achieved a great triumph, but just drop in in a quiet neighbourly way and broach the subject carelessly in the course of conversation.

People wanting to see the real essence of diplomacy should watch two discreet matronly ladies trying to outwit one another. They approach with all the caution of chess-players, and go quite as much upon looks as they do upon words. It is here that the people who dabble in ink-shed fail. They can’t see the effect of their observations, insinuations, aggravations—or whatever they indulge in. It is no uncommon thing to hear ladies say, “I would give anything to see So-and-so’s face when she reads this,” which shows the importance they attach to a view. Of course the invading party has the advantage, being ready primed for the occasion, with plenty of time for conning and calculating contingencies, and considering what they shall say if things take an unexpected turn. Upon this sort of mission Mrs. McDermott proceeded to visit her good friend Mrs. Goldspink.

As the weather was cold, and Miss Rosa now worked her white pony severely, Mrs. McDermott drove into Mayfield in her brougham, Gaiters assuming a gaudy, many-buttoned, livery-coat for the purpose of piloting the ewe-necked mare, who looked much better in harness than she did when under the saddle. Of course Mrs. McDermott did not drive direct to the object of her mission, but hovered about the market-place, calling at the tinner’s, the glazier’s, the butcher’s, the baker’s,— the bonnet-shop. Our watchful banker, however, was on the look on.

“Sivin and four’s elivin, and sivin’s twenty-one—here’s Mrs. McD.,” said our friend to himself, as through his little peephole in the bank window he saw her draw up and dart into the milliner’s—“and sivin’s twenty-eight —what a go it would be if she should happen to buy the bonnet Mrs. G.’s been barginin’ for.”

The visit to the bonnet-shop occupied more time than all the other calls put together, and “sivin and four” was interrupted in his peeping by a clerk coming in with a bill that he did not altogether approve of, for, though it had a good many names to it (Cordey Brown’s among the number), there was not one that they were particularly fond of. So, after twisting, and turning, and considering it, the clerk at length returned with it from the little den, and passing behind the counter, handed it back to the old farmer who brought it, saying, “it was not quite convenient to do it just then.”

“Wy, wy,” replied the ancient, nothing daunted— “wy, wy—ar’ll call again in hafe an oour or so.”

Just as the clerk had got rid of the customer, the quiet rolling hum of a carriage was heard round the corner, which was quickly followed by a knock and a ring at the banker’s front door.

“That’s her!” said old Goldspink to himself, “that’s her—let’s see if she’s got the new bonnet.” So saying, he whipped up his clotty old pewter inkstand, and telling the junior clerk to replenish it, passed on through the bank into the parlour beyond, and was presently in command both of the street door and the house passage. He heard the quiet foot-fall of the maid, the opening of the front door, the enquiry and answer; saw the touch of the hat repetition at the brougham side, the turn of the plated-handle, and the falling open of the door— when out came a hat and feather.

“That’s it! green with a bunch of tiger lilies inside!” exclaimed he. “That’s it! green with a bunch of tiger lilies inside! Was there ever such luck as that?” And our banker’s heart smote him when he remembered how he had advised Mrs. Goldspink to hold off, thinking to get the hat for something less than was asked.

Meanwhile Mrs. McDermott, very well pleased with her purchase, followed the maid up stairs, thinking that in all probability the discussion would open with a dissertation on the new head gear. But Mrs. Goldspink, who had seen the brougham meandering about the market-place and finally draw up at Mrs. Muslin’s, had her misgivings as to what might happen, and a very hasty glimpse as Mrs. McDermott alighted confirmed her worst fears. If Mrs. Muslin hadn’t got two bonnets exactly alike, which was not probable, she really believed Mrs. McDermott had bought hers. However she would soon see.

“Please, Mam, Mrs. McDermott,” now announced Sairey the maid, ushering the visitor into the low heavy-ceilinged apartment of the old house; whereupon Mrs. Goldspink, though perfectly aware who was coming, arose and greeted her with well-feigned surprise. She was “so glad” to see her—“quite charmed”—and thereupon she gave her a second squeeze, and then backed her down into an indifferently stuffed easy chair. Sure enough there was the coveted bonnet, looking all the more tempting from now being in the possession of another.

“Well and how are all here?” asked Mrs. McDermott.

“Pretty much as usual—pretty much as usual,” a something swelling in Mrs. Goldspink’s throat that nearly choked her. “How’s Rosa?”

“Oh, Rosa’s quite well—Rosa’s quite well—had an unexpected visit from a gentleman she met at Roseberry Rocks.”

“Indeed,” replied Mrs. Goldspink, wondering if her visitor had bought the new bonnet to come and tell her of it in. However, she would not gratify her vanity by asking her any questions either about the beau or the bonnet. Coming in this sort-of-way looked rather like adding insult to injury, and Mrs. Goldspink was not a lady to be put upon. If Mrs. McDermott did not know Jasper’s worth, she did, and there was no occasion for any subserviency to her. Let Rosa take the gentleman she had met at Roseberry Rocks if she liked.

So contenting herself with the simple “Indeed,” she rose and rang for the conversation-stopping cake.

Mrs. McDermott was fairly posed; baffled upon two points, either of which would be enough to engage the undivided attention of most women. What could it mean? Somebody must have told. Her evil genius Mrs. Simey—that woman was always thwarting her. She would sound Mrs. Goldspink on the subject. “Had she seen their friend Mrs. Simey lately?”

No; Mrs. Goldspink hadn’t seen her she didn’t know when—certainly not since the autumn.

Then thought Mrs. McDermott it will be Mrs. Wedderburn; and she immediately transferred her stock of envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness to her. Had Mrs. Goldspink seen Mrs. Wedderburn lately?

No; she hadn’t seen her either.

Mrs. McDermott was posed, for she could not think of any one else who owed her a good turn. So she sat mute, wondering what it meant. At length she took her departure, feeling assured that Jasper had fallen in with some one he liked better than Rosa, and thinking it was fortunate Mr. Bunting had come down. So the reader will understand the favourable circumstances under which our hero paid his second visit to Privett Grove.