Lady Sweetapple; or, Three to One, Chapter L [pp. 263-265]

1872~] LADY SWB~TA~~Lkj Ol?, Tff~BE TO O~E.
263
cordin~ly. The hotels had no "ladies' entrance," but all passed in and out the same
door, and commonly met and mingled in the
same room, and the place was as much for
one as for the other. It was no more a masculine monopoly than it was a feminine. Indeed, in the country towns and villages the
character of the inns is unmistakably given
by woman; hence the sweet, domestic atmosphere that pervades and fills them is balm
to the Spirit. Even the larger hotels of
Liverpool and London have a private, cosy,
home character that is most delightful. On
entering them, instead of finding yourself
in a sort of public thoroughfare or political
cau(~s, amid crowds of men talking, and
smoking, and spitting, with stalls on either
side, where cigars and tobacco, and books
and papers, are sold, you perceive you are in
something like a larger hall of a private house,
with perhaps a parlor and coffee-room on one
side, and the office, and smoking~room, and
stairway, on the other. You may leave your
coat and hat on the rack in the hall, and
stand your umbrella there also, with full assurance that you will find them there when
you want them, if it be the next morning or
the next week. Instead of that petty tyrant
the hotel-clerk, a young woman sits in the
office with her scwing or other needlework,
and quietly receives you. She gives you your
number on a card, rings for a chambermaid to show you to your room, and directs
your luggage to be sent up; and there is
something in the look of things, and the way
they are done, that goes to the right spot at
once.
At the hotel in London where I stopped,
the daughters of the landlord, three fresh,
comely young women, did the duties of the
office; and their presence, So quiet and domestic, gave the prevailing hue and tone to
the whole house. I wonder how long a young
woman could preserve her self-respect and
sensibility in such a position in New York or
Washington?
The English regard us as a wonderfully patient people, and there can be no doubt but
we put up with abuses unknown elsewhere.
If we have no big tyrant, we have ten thousand little ones, who tread upon our toes at
every turn. The tyranny of corporations and
of public servants of one kind and another,
as the ticket-man, the railroad-conductor, or
even of the country stage-driver, seem to be
features peculiar to American democracy. In
England, the traveller is never snubbed, or
made to feel that it is by somebody's sufferance that he is allowed aboard or to pass on
his way~
If you get into an omnibus or a railroad or
tramway carriage in London, you are sure of
a seat Not another person can get aboard
after the seats are all full. Or, if you enter a
public ball, you know you will not be required
to stand up unless you pay the standing-up
price. There is everywhere that system, and
order, and fair dealing, which all men love.
The science of living has been reduced to a
fine point. You pay a sixpence, and get a
sixpence worth of whatever you buy. There
are all grades and prices, and the robbery
and extortion so current at home appear to
be unknown.
I am not contending for the superiority
of every thing English, but would not disguise from myself or my readers the fact of
the greater humanity and consideration that
prevail in the mother-country. Things here
are yet in the green, but I trust there is no
good reason to doubt that our fruit will mellow and ripen in time like the rest.
JOHN BURROUGHS.
LADY SWEETAPPLE; OR,
THREE TO ONE.
CllAPTER L
HARRY FORTES CUE AND LADY SwEETAPPLE
MAKE UP THEIR MINDS TO GET EDITH A
SITUATION.
As soon as Harry For&scue got back to
Mrs. Boffin's, he made Edward Vernon happy
by telling him that Lady Charity had asked
him to the races, and then he astonished him
by saying that he had a great mind not to go
to the races at all.
"In fact, old fellow, if it were not for
you, I wouldn't go down at all."
"What has Lady Sweetapple said to
you?" asked Edward.
"Nothing worth speaking of," said Harry. "But I may tell you I should not go to
Ascot for her sake."
"Then you'll go for Florry Canton's sake,"
said Edward.
"I am not so sure of that," said Harry;
and then he bounced out of the room and ran
up to his bedroom and threw himself on his
bed.
And then Edward Vernon sat in his armchair, thinking of Alice, and counting the
days to Ascot; while Harry Fortescue lay on
his bed and sulked, thinking of Edith Price.
And was Edith Price thinking of Harry
Fortescue at all? That is a more difficult
question to answer, as the minds of young
women at that age are very dark. They are
not nearly so transparent in their love-affairs
as young men. Still, we may venture to say
that if Edith Price had not the slightest notion in the world that Harry Fortescue was
fast falling in love with her, there could be
no doubt that she felt flattered by his attention and the evident17]interest he took in her
and her affairs. Once or twice, therefore,
after that interview on the Monday, she
caught herself Saying:
"How kind it was of Mr. Fortescue to
come and take Mary and me to church, and
how much more than kind to come and show
such interest in getting me a situation! I
wonder whether he will come again, and tell
me that he has heard of one to suit me?"
As for Amicia, it cannot be said that she
was very happy. For once in her life she
was completely puzzled. She could not tell
whether Edith Price or Florry Canton was
most to be dreaded. When she heard from
Mrs. Crump, on the authority of the green~
grocer, that Edith Price was so respectable
that she lived in lodgings with a bed-ridden
mother, and even went to church, she was
quite shocked. It was a great blow to find
that Edith Price was not what she called a
Ilow-lived person; but when Mrs. Crump de clared that Mr. Leek called her a real lady,
she was in downright despair. In this state
she had gone to the Opera, when her mortifi cation was great to find that Harry left the
house without coming near her. When she
waited for him and he never came. she grew
more desperate; and at last, when they were
on the verge of a quarrel, it was only her
fear of losing him altogether that induced her
to restrain her feelings.
But when he was gone her despair returned. She now cared nothing for Florry
Carlton; Edith Price was her real rival, and
how she was to be got rid of was the next
question. We know there are many writers
who would not scruple to let their creations
betake themselves to the nearest chemist's
shop disguised in a black beard and false
nose, and then, having obtained prussie acid
on pretence of poisoning a dog, to put it into
half a dozen of dry champagne, and send it
in as a present to the Prices from an admiring wine - merchant. Or they would have
watched her to a refreshment-room, and when
she was in the act of eating a Bath bun they
would have sprinkled arsenic over it; and so,
in one way or another, have got her out of
the way. But we are not as such writers of
fiction; we prefer to dispose of our victims,
if we have any, by natural means; and this
is how we mean Amicia, if she can, to dispatch Edith Price-not into another world,
but into the country. She thought if she
could only get both her rivals out of the way,
she could easily manage Harry Fortescue.
As she sat and thought, it occurred to her
that Mrs. Crump had been very clever in finding out so much yesterday from the greengrocer, and that she might as well send her
out on the like mission again. The bell was
rung, and in due time Mrs. Crump appeared.
"Crump," said Lady Sweetapple, "I don't
think I shall wear that violet-velvet jacket
again. It does not fit me, and it can't be altered. I will givb it to you."
"Oh, so many thanks, my lady!" said
Mrs. Crump; and she was just about to run
up-stairs and take possession of the coveted
piece of attire, which she thought would just
suit her complexion.
"And, Crump," said Amicia, "there is
something else I want to Say. You know
Lupus Street?"
"Of course, my lady," said Mrs. Crump,
rather aghast; "which it was the same street
I was in yesterday."
"Very true," said Amicia; "and to that
street I want you to go to-day. You had better see your friend the green-grocer again, and
find out all you can about the Price family."
"Very well, my lady," said Mrs. Crump.
And away she went, first to secure her jacket, and then she put on her things, and made
herself tidy, as she called it, and then she
sallied out to Lupus Street, which, after all,
is not such a very long way from Lowndes
Street.
All the while she was away Amicia sat
and waited, for she could think of nothing
but her rival; and it was a curious thing
that there sat Harry Fortescue at the
club, and Amicia in Lowndes Street, both
thinking of Edith Price. If they had only