Chapter V: Margerie's Adventure

IT was on a bright, changeful April afternoon—a half-holiday, by the way—that Margerie Grace was sent by her mother to order a parcel of groceries.

The shop was a large and popular one, and several customers, both grown-up and juvenile, were waiting to be attended to. Margerie had been taught that it is unfair (and therefore unladylike) to attempt to get served out of one's turn, so she stood aside for a while, and amused herself by looking at the gay picture advertisements, and ornamental arrangements of pickle jars and jam-pots, with which the walls were lined.

She was just gazing with wonder and admiration at a gorgeously-coloured show-card, which set forth the merits of a new baking-powder by representing a procession of very small children, each bearing aloft some marvellous achievement in the way of tart or cake—how lovely if 'she' could buy a packet and make a dear little loaf for father's tea!—when someone rather imperatively pushed her out of the way with a rolled-up umbrella, and went past her to the counter.

The umbrella was somewhat remarkable, bearing in shape a striking resemblance to a "Cos" lettuce, and Margerie naturally turned to look at its proprietor.

She was a little old lady in a dark cloak—so little that she was really not much taller than the child herself, and so upright that Margerie could not help being reminded of a china extinguisher in the form of a tiny woman which graced their bed-room mantelpiece at home. She, moreover, wore a very big black velvet bonnet, which viewed from behind—so large and round was the crown—looked like one end of an old-fashioned sofa-pillow. Margerie felt moved by an unaccountable curiosity to see the face inside, and presently managed to get into a position whence she could catch a sideway peep.

It was scarcely an attractive countenance. Perhaps, without being unkind—as none of my readers actually know the lady—I may admit that it was rather the reverse, being decidedly large for the size of the figure it surmounted, very yellow, very much wrinkled, and very thin. Thick iron-gray hair was plastered down "window-curtain" fashion close to the corners of the eyes, the very pronounced nose was inclined to a reddish-purple hue at the tip, and quite a moustache of gray hair hung about the long, hard-set upper lip. A greater contrast to the faces Margerie was accustomed to see about her in her home could scarcely be imagined. She always felt sorry for people who were very plain, and unconsciously heaved a real sigh.

The old lady looked sharply round. Her hollow eyes were large, black, and mournful-looking.

Margerie, knowing what her own thoughts had been, coloured beneath their gaze. She was quite glad that the bulgy umbrella at that moment falling down gave her an opportunity of hiding her face as she stooped to pick it up, and also of doing something to make up for thinking the poor old lady ugly. She wiped the sawdust from its dingy folds with her own little handkerchief before restoring it to the owner.

"Thank you, child," said the old lady rather brusquely, and stared at the little girl with her great owl-like eyes until the latter felt as if she were going to be swallowed up.

Margerie gave her order while the old lady was counting her change, which seemed to take her a long time, and they left the shop almost together.

It was then that a rather strange thing happened, or rather began happening. Mrs. Grace had told Margerie that she need not hurry back, but, as it was such a fine day, might take "a run round" before going home. So she thought she would return by way of the Park, which was near at hand.

But though she skipped about, ran back and forth, loitered to watch the swans fed, and stood for some time to look at the tennis-players, that strange old lady kept always in sight. She actually seemed to be following her, and the idea made Margerie rather uncomfortable. She was not exactly frightened; one does not generally feel afraid in broad daylight under a sunny sky. But her pursuer was very peculiar-looking—not unlike a witch in a fairy-tale—and it was not nice. So she resolved to go home. She would run all the way, she thought, and leave the old lady far behind.

But how it was I cannot tell; perhaps, once in the streets again, the gay shop-windows tempted the little girl to linger, but so it was that when she by and by glanced backward once more, there was the odd figure in the long cloak and big bonnet just coming round the corner.

Margerie had a halfpenny to spend, and a thought struck her. She would go into a sweetmeat shop that was close at hand, and not come out again until the old lady had gone past, so she would not be able to follow her any more. This plan she contrived to carry out, and when she emerged from the shop, she had the satisfaction of seeing the ancient dame walking before her instead of behind.

The road they were in was one of those thoroughfares one sometimes finds in the suburbs of London, where shops and places of business alternate in strange contrast with villa-residences of bygone days, sitting far back from the rattle and noise amid the bowery seclusion of their own fine old trees.

For some distance Margerie followed in the steps of her former pursuer. Then they had to cross another road. The old lady had just stepped off the curb-stone when a heavy two-horse van came rattling round the corner. She started back in affright, slipped, and fell upon her right arm on the edge of the pavement.

A man who was near assisted her to rise, and Margerie, who was only a few paces behind, instantly forgetting her fear in sympathetic concern, ran forward to pick up the old umbrella once more, and say in her own pretty way, "I do hope you are not hurt!"

"I can manage to get home," answered the old lady, though evidently in great pain, "if you'll carry my parcel. I live close by."

Kind little Margerie gladly complied, and somewhat imperiously dismissing other offers of help, her new acquaintance went limping independently on her way.

"Will you take my arm?" ventured Margerie timidly, but full of desire to help.

"No, child, no! You look after my things, that's enough for you to do," was the decisive reply.

Presently they stopped before a rusty, ramshackle iron gate in a high, blank wall. It had once been a rather grand-looking gate, and a pair of broken-nosed griffins still guarded it on either side.

"Open it!" commanded the old lady in a voice sharp with pain.

Margerie did so, and a large grass-grown garden was shown within, all wild, neglected and weedy, with a tangle of bushes surrounding a broken statue in the centre. Far back stood a strange-looking house, old and dilapidated, most of the windows of which were curtainless and many of them broken.

"Feel in my pocket for a latch-key!" groaned the old lady, whose suffering increased every moment.

Full of wonder at the strangeness of her adventure, Margerie obeyed, and accompanying her companion up the long, moss-covered path, was next directed to open the weather-beaten front door, which, by the way, was shaded by a blackened and crumbling porch. Such a forsaken, forgotten-looking house and grounds she had never seen before. One could fancy that all the people who ever lived there had gone miles and miles away, years and years ago, and that the house had sat waiting for them to come back until it had grown hopeless and stupid, and fallen fast asleep.

Margerie was afraid the old lady would ask her to go inside, and had it been so, I have no doubt that, in spite of the peculiar shrinking which the "uncanny" appearance of the house and its occupant inspired, a desire to be of use would have urged her to comply. But as soon as the door was opened, revealing an interior shabby and comfortless in the extreme, the old lady took the umbrella and grocery parcel in her uninjured hand, saying, "That will do. Now go home."

"Can't I do anything more for you?" asked Margerie, half sorry and half relieved to get her dismissal.

"No, no! I never want anybody to do anything for me," replied the old lady in a haughty and repellent tone, quite ignoring the service which our little girl had already performed. "You make haste home!"