<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>II</h2>
<h3>ELSIE'S MOTIVE</h3>
<p>There was only one exit from the T. T. Riceyman premises—through the
shop. Once a door had given direct access to King's Cross Road, but so
long ago that the new bricks which had bricked it up were now scarcely
distinguishable from the surrounding bricks. No one could have guessed
at a glance that the main façade of the building had been shifted round,
for some reason lost in antiquity, from King's Cross Road to Riceyman
Steps; or that the little oblong, railing-enclosed strip of grass, which
was never cut nor clipped nor trodden by human foot, had once been a
"front garden." The back parts of T. T. Riceyman's provided no escape
save through a little yard, over high brick walls, into the back parts
of other properties inhabited by unknown and probably pernickety persons
and their children.</p>
<p>As there was only the shop exit from the T. T. Riceyman premises, it
could not be concealed from the powers that Elsie went forth that same
afternoon dressed in her best. Unusual array, for the girl generally
began half-holidays by helping her friends, to whom she was very
faithful, in Riceyman Square, either by skilled cleansing labour in the
unclean dirty house or, as occasion might demand, by taking children out
for an excursion into the more romantic leafy regions of Clerkenwell up
towards the north-east, such as Myddelton Square, where there was room
to play and opportunity for tumbling about in pleasant outdoor dirt.
Mrs. Earlforward nodded to Elsie as she departed, and Elsie blushed,
smiling. But Mrs. Earlforward asked no curious question, friendly or
inquisitive. She knew her place, as Elsie knew Elsie's.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</SPAN></span> She knew that
it was not "wise" to meddle. Servants must do what they liked with their
own; they were mighty independent, even the best of them, these days.
Not a word, save on household matters, had passed between the two women
since the scene of the morning. Mr. Earlforward was still dealing with
customers in the office; his voice, rather enfeebled, seemed blander
than ever.</p>
<p>"I hope it will be fine for you," Violet called after Elsie at the
shop-door. Wonderful, the implications in the tone of that
briefly-expressed amiability! It was as if Violet had said: "I know
you're up to something out of the ordinary. I don't know what it is, and
I don't seek to inquire. I believe in people minding their own business.
But you might have given me a hint, and anyhow I can see through you,
though you mayn't think it. Anyhow, in spite of the cold wind and the
big moving clouds, I hope you won't be inconvenienced in your very
private affairs by the weather."</p>
<p>Elsie comprehended all that Violet had not said, and her blushes flared
out again.</p>
<p>No sooner had she turned the corner into the King's Cross Road than she
ceased to be the "general" at T. T. Riceyman's, and became the image of
the wife of a superior artisan with a maternal expression indicating a
small family left at home, a sense of grave responsibilities, an ability
to initiate and execute, considerable dignity. She had put her gloves
on. She carried her umbrella. She had massiveness, and looked more than
her age; indeed, she looked close on thirty. If she had blushed to
Violet, it was because of her errand, which, had Violet known of it,
would have set up serious friction. Elsie was going to see Dr. Raste
about the state of health of T. T. Riceyman's. An impossible errand, of
course! Fancy a servant interfering thus in the most intimate affairs of
her employers. But the welfare of her employers was as dear to Elsie as
her own. Her finest virtue was benevolence, and she was quite ready to
affront danger to a benevolent end. At the same time it has to be<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</SPAN></span>
admitted that Elsie's motive in going to Myddelton Square, without a
train of children, to see Dr. Raste, was not a single motive. Probably
in human activity there is no such a thing as a single motive. For Elsie
this day was not chiefly the day on which Mrs. Earlforward had so
piteously broken down before her as to Mr. Earlforward's physical and
mental condition—it was chiefly the anniversary of Joe's disappearance.
The fact of the anniversary filled all the horizon of Elsie's thoughts,
and at intervals it surged inwards upon her from every quarter of the
compass and overwhelmed her—and then it would recede again. Joe had
been in the service of Dr. Raste. He had lived at Dr. Raste's.
Therefore, it would be natural for him, if he reappeared, to reappear
first at Dr. Raste's. He would not reappear; it was inconceivable that
he should reappear. This anniversary notion of hers, as she had often
said to herself, was ridiculous. Much more likely that Joe had married
some other girl by this time, for Elsie knew that he was not a man
capable of doing without women. He had probably settled down somewhere.
Where? Where could he be?... And yet he <i>might</i> reappear. The
anniversary notion might not be so ridiculous after all. You never knew.
And herein was part of her motive for going to Dr. Raste's.</p>
<p>The doctor's house—or, rather, the house of which he occupied the lower
part—was one of the larger houses in the historic Myddelton Square, and
stood at the corner of the Square and New River Street. The clock of St.
Mark's showed two minutes to the hour, but already patients had
collected in the ante-room to the surgery in the side-street. Elsie
hesitated exactly at the corner. From detailed and absorbing talks about
nothing with Joe, she knew the doctor's habits pretty well. The doctor
was due to be entering his surgery for the afternoon session. And there
he was—it seemed almost a miracle—approaching from the eastward! A
little girl, all thin legs and thin arms, was trotting by his side, and
the retinue consisted of a fox-terrier, who was joyfully chasing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</SPAN></span> a few
selected leaves among the thousands blown across the square by the
obstreperous wind. The doctor and his little girl stopped at their
front-door.</p>
<p>"Very well," Elsie heard the doctor say, "you can give Jack his bath,
but you must change your frock first, and if there's any mess of any
sort I shan't take your part when mummy comes home."</p>
<p>The dog stood still, listening, and the doctor turned to him and
ejaculated loudly and mischievously:</p>
<p>"Bath! Bath!"</p>
<p>Jack's tail dropped, and in deep sulks he walked off towards the
railings in the middle of the square.</p>
<p>"Come here, sir" commanded the doctor firmly.</p>
<p>"Come here, sir!" shrieked the little girl in imitation.</p>
<p>Jack obeyed, totally disillusioned about the interestingness of dead
leaves, and slipped in a flash down the area steps, the child after him.
Dr. Raste moved towards the surgery, and saw Elsie in his path.</p>
<p>"No! No!" he said to her, kindly, humanly, for he had not yet had time
to lose his fatherhood. "This won't do, you know. You must take your
turn with the rest." He raised his hand in protest. He was acquainted
with all the wiles of patients who wanted illicitly to forestall other
patients.</p>
<p>"It isn't for myself, sir," said Elsie, with puckered brow, very
nervous. "It's for Mr. Earlforward—at least, Mrs. Earlforward."</p>
<p>"Oh!" The doctor halted.</p>
<p>"You don't remember me, sir. Mrs. Sprickett, sir. Elsie, sir."</p>
<p>"Yes, of course." He ought to have proceeded: "By the way, Elsie, Joe's
come back to-day." It would have been too wonderful if he had said that.
But he didn't. He merely said: "Well, what's it all about?" somewhat
impatiently, for at that moment the clock struck.</p>
<p>"Mr. Earlforward's that bad, sir. Can't fancy his food. And Mrs.
Earlforward's bad too——"</p>
<p>"Mrs. Earlforward? Is he married, then?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yes, sir. He married Mrs. Arb, as was; she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</SPAN></span> kept that
confectioner's shop opposite in the Steps. But she sold it. And I'm the
servant, sir, now. It'll soon be a year ago, sir."</p>
<p>"Really, really! All right. I'll look in—some time before six. Tell
them I'll look in."</p>
<p>"Well, sir," said Elsie, hesitating and blushing very red, "missis
didn't exactly send me, in a manner of speaking. She says master won't
have a doctor, she says. But I was thinking if you could——"</p>
<p>"Do you mean to say you've come up here to tell me about your master and
mistress without orders?"</p>
<p>"Well, sir——"</p>
<p>"But—but—but—but—but," Dr. Raste spluttered with the utmost
rapidity, startled for once out of his inhuman imperturbability by this
monstrous act of Elsie's. He had no child nor dog now. He was the medico
chemically pure. "Did you suppose that I can come like that without
being called in? I never heard of such a thing. What next, I wonder?"</p>
<p>"He's very bad, sir, master is."</p>
<p>The slim little man stood up threateningly against Elsie's mighty
figure.</p>
<p>"What do I care? If people need a doctor, they must send for him."</p>
<p>Dr. Raste walked off down New River Street, but after a few steps turned
again.</p>
<p>"Haven't they got any friends you could speak to?" he asked in a tone
still hard, but with a touch of comprehending friendliness in it. This
touch brought tears to Elsie's silly eyes.</p>
<p>"No, sir."</p>
<p>"No friends?"</p>
<p>"No, sir."</p>
<p>"Nobody ever calls?"</p>
<p>"No, sir."</p>
<p>"And they never go out?"</p>
<p>"No, sir."</p>
<p>"Not even to the cinema, and so on?"</p>
<p>"Oh, never, sir."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Well, I'm very sorry, but I can't do anything." He left her and leapt
up his surgery steps.</p>
<p>Not a word about Joe. Not a word, even, of inquiry! And yet he knew that
Joe and she had been keeping company! And he had been so fond of Joe. He
had thought the world of Joe. He might, at least, have said: "Seen
anything of poor Joe lately?" But nothing! Nothing! Joe might never have
existed for all the interest the doctor showed in him. It was
desolating. She was a fool. She was a fool to try to get the doctor to
call without a proper summons, and she was thrice a fool to have hoped
or fancied that Joe would turn up again, on either the anniversary of
his vanishing or any other day. The reaction from foolish hope to
despair was terrible. She had known that it would be. The whole sky fell
down on her and overwhelmed her in choking folds of night, and there was
not a gleam anywhere. No glimmer for T. T. Riceyman's. No glimmer for
herself. ... And then she did detect a pin-point of light. The day was
not yet finished. Joe might still ... Renewal of utter foolishness!</p>
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