Copyright. P.G.’S AND PETER.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLV, Issue 4, 27 July 1910, Page 55

Copyright. P.G.’S AND PETER.

By

CHRISTABEL, COLERIDGE.

Author of “ Lady Betty/* “Miss L>ucj}, 99 “Juliet and Romeo,” Etc.

g DU,GATED woman desires to find suitable board, or to share strictly moderate expenses. Vegetarianism and latchkey essential. Bohemian proclivities preferred.” “Good gracious! That won’t suit us!” “Elderly gentlewoman would like to be received in quiet and cheerful, but refined family, South aspect, near church and post. Where her little dog would receive a kind welcome.” “That’s more like it! Except the dog. What would Peter say?” “If Peter takes paying guests he must make up his mind to it. 'Well, here’s another ” “Young lady of artistic tastes, longing for congenial friends, would like to board in a family where she would be kindly welcomed, where her peculiar tastes would find sympathy.” “That might do. You see Annie ie fond of drawing.” “And here’s a letter from Mr. Marehmont —■ “Dear Miss Winkworth, —Understanding ypu are willing for a time to enlarge your family circle, I am wondering if you could find quarters for my new clerk—Harold Williamson, a nice, steady young fellow, who would appreciate the advantage of a good home.— “Yours very faithfully, R. Marchmont.” “A young man. Oh —we could never manage a young man! I don’t feel as if 1 could answer any of them.” The three Miss Winkworths were sitting round the table in a comfortable, though well-worn dining-room in a goodsized, old-fashioned house on the outskirts of the rapidly-developing watering place of Seahaven. Two were rather more than middle aged, the eldest,, who must have been an uncommonly pretty girl, had a soft round face, and blue eyeo just now slightly distressed ami puzzled. The second had marked and handsome features, set at present into an expression of fierce determination. The third, who had been reading out the letter and advertisements was a brownhaired, fair-skinned young woman of twenty-five, with steady brown eyes anil a humorous mouth. The fourth member of the party was a large black eat, who sat on the edge of the table, waving his bushy tail with a displeased air. “I don’t feel as if I could answer any of them!” exclaimed Miss Winkworth. ; “Well, Mary, I have answered them! They came last night while you and Harriet were away, and I’ve asked them all to call.” “Goodness, Annie! Suppose they all come together.” “We’d better have the worst at once,” said Harriet grimly. "Come, sisters!” said Annie in an abrupt voice. "We have made up our minds, and whoever comes, they can't eat us up.” . . . . “If Robert was only here—he would know if they were respectable and not frauds.” “Well, we can have references. At any rate, Mr. Marchmont’e young man will be all right.” “He’ll smoke,” said Harriet. “Let him,” said Annie, but like the others, she started as a brisk ring sounded at the hall door. The Misses Winkworth had possessed small but sufficient means, till the failure of an investment had confronted them with the choice of leaving their nice house, or, as their friend put it, “adding to their family circle.” Their brother Robert was in a London bank, independent of them, but unable to help them to any great extent, and as the least of two evils, they made up their minds to the latter alternative. Misrs Winkworth was shy and afraid of strangers, ami had fears of injuring the prospects of her young half-sister lAnnie by the step. Miss Harriet had a profound distrust of her fellow creatures,

and disliked meeting anyone with views she did not agree. But Annie, reviewing the situation, felt that at twenty-five, with no particular training, she would find it difficult to get anything profitable to do on her own account, and being a girl of pluck and spirit, voted for the P.G.’s, and carried her point. “Now, Harriet,” she said rather crisply, “whoever it is don’t—don’t begin by asking her about her religious opinions ” “Misa Lilian Hardcastle,” announced the maid, and a tall girl in a brown coat and skirt, and a red Tam o’ Shanter cap pinned on to very curly, dark hair, came into the room. She had a pretty face, and the voice of a lady, though her manner was decided and abrupt. “Miss Wink worths? Oh—you answered my advertisement. I want a nice bed-sitting-room, but I couldn’t pay more than five and twenty shillings a week.” “Would you like a large attic, nicely furnished,” said Annie in tones, which Harriet said afterwards made her blood run cold; they were so like a landlady’s.

“Oh, yes, I daresay that would do. You see 1 want to develop myself, and to have friends of my own. 1 live with my married brother. We haven't quarrelled, but my sister-in-law wants to cut me down to a pattern, and I won’t be cut. 1 want room to —to form my future in my own way. 1 “Perhaps—references?” said Mis»s Winkworth faintly. “Oh? Yes. My brother’s the Vicar of Sancroft, in Kent, and my sister-in-law’s uncle is a canon of Hadminster—(.'anon Lane. It’s all right. But 1 must have a latch-key.” “We all have them,” said Annie quietly. ‘Mt’s convenient.” “Oh? Yci<- you see 1 don’t want to be conventional. And I want to work on modern lines, and to be free. Are you vegetarians?” “By no means,” said Miss Harriet. “We live on wholesome meat. But we have potatoes.” “Oh, I don’t mind sitting down with a joint. But you know corn and nuts — and and the food of primitive man is so much better for the development of one’s higher being!” “Do you like your nuts plain in flu l shells—or prepared in any way?” said Annie. “Oh,” said Miss Hardcastle, who dealt in this “1 —1 should like a variety.”

“I daresay we can manage,” said Annie. “I’ve got a cooking certificate. Of course, you smoke’ “Oh—yes*—certainly.- You’ve no objection?” “We shall arrange a little smokeroom,” oaid Annie coolly. “But,” said Miss Wink worth with a gasp, “if—if we should enter on any arrangement—how about your means. Does your brother ” “Oh, no, I’m of age, ami I’ve £l2O a year of my own. It’s all right.” “Don’t you want to see the room?” said Annie. “Oh, no—l can sleep anywhere—l say, what a splendid cat! I love animals.” This remark went far bo soften Miss Winkworth. She murmured something about writing her decision if Miss Hardcastle herself thought—and Miss Hardcastle said cheerfully—“Oh, I’ll come the day after to-mor-row. I’ll tell Herbert, that’s my brother, all about you—l came from Sancroft this morning, and I’m going back by the 2.50 train.” “1 think she’s a lady, but I hope she’s not queer in her head,” said Miss Winkworth doubtfully. “My dear Mary,” said Annie, “I don’t believe she ever smoked or lived on nuts in her life! 1 expect she has been tied up too tight, and is trying her wings.” “Another ring;” said Miss Harriet grimly. “Perhaps this one will be a Suffragette.” This one, announced as Miss Mervyn, proved to be an elderly lady in a bonnet, carrying in her arms a very small black Pomeranian, at which Peter immediately began to swear violently, while the Pom barked with indescribable sharpness. However, after the insulted cat had been removed by Annie, the interview proceeded on normal lines. References were demanded and produced, two south rooms inspected, the character of the drains and water inquired into, the distance, and, very delicately, the character of the

church, ascertained, and assurances given that Peter should be bound over to keep the peace, the arrangement was concluded, and Miss Wink worth felt quite capable and businesslike. K When the three sisters sat down to one of the last dinners they would eat in privacy, Miss Harriet remarked gloomily that she had rather live alone on bread and cheese than on salmon and venison with P.G.’s. Annie encouraged her with the idea of separate afternoon teas, and chats in the little sitting room they would kbep to'themselves and Peter. • The next arrival was the you-ng lady who required sympathy for her peculiar tastes. Miss Nora Smith. She was not a very young lady, and was attir'd in a flowing green gown with a blue scarf round her neck, not very becoming to her sallow complexion. “My family are so unsympathetic,” she said, “that I have decided to seek a home elsewhere. I live for Art I shall give you no trouble; what I eat is a matter of indifference to me, but 1 require svmpat hy.” “ There's an art school here, and very pretty views to sketch,” said Annie, cheerfully. ‘ “Oh I ran study in peace!” said Miss Smith, with a sigh, and as she produced proofs of being able to pay her way, the arrangement was concluded. The only other event was a rail from Mr Harold Williamson, a well-bred and

good-looking young : man, who profe:>t»e4 himself pleased Wivh the roowi offered', to him, ami had met Robert Winkworth at a Ixmdon chib. After-that agreement was easy, and the four P.G.’s were acquired. , Then ensued a short period of confusion, shifting of furniture and settling of plans, which was spent by Peter in the depths of a cupboard under the stairs, ami by his mistresses in hard work. They had plenty of nice furniture, and were able to make all their rooms attractive, and at last the day arrived when everyone’s boxes were in their rooms, and all were assembled for the first late dinner. The two elder Miss Wink worths were good women, and made up their minds to a step they heartily disliked, but Annie, although she had had to retire to the smallest bedroom, did not find the work and bustle uncongenial. She liked to be busy, and she liked her fellowcreatures and their odd ways. She noticed everything as, rather still’ and very polite, they sat round the table. She had provided Miss Hardcastle with some poached eggs, some nuts and some bananas. Miss Hardcastle confined herself strictly to the food provided for her, but Annie was convinced that she looked at the boiled cod and roast mutton with longing eyes. She was by far the most prominent of their guests. She dashed about the house and sang on the stairs, and Miss Smith eaid she disturbed her in the process of composition, while Miss Mervyn declared that her afternoon siesta was impossible. She was always wanting Annie to go to walk or to bathe with her, spent .much time out of doors, and evidently was at a lotss for occupation. She usually rushed out of the house after dinner, and let herself in with her latch-key about ten minutes alter everyone but Annie had gone to bed. She . talked

much and loudly at meals, and aired most violent opinions, but Annie noted that she never aimed them at their one young man. nor troubled her head about him at all. Whil? Nora Smith was always asking hi<s advice, ; nd glancing timidly at him. or meeting him accident ly. on the* stairs, which, as she told Annie, “was so embarrassing.” Peter had decided never to be happy again, and sat alone on the roof, but if he did encounter Fritz, the Pomeranian, his language was eueh that Miss .Mervyn thought he was a traction engine pas-ing in the street, and Mr. Williamson's first contribution to the gaiety of the establishment was a vigorous pen and ink sketch of the two animals when Peter was refusing to let Fritz come upstairs. Then Nora Smith claimed him as a kindred spirit, and was always bringing out -tud’. 's to show him. ; Still Annie was of opinion that, in spite of Lilian Hardcastle’s views and Nora Smith’o art, ami Miss Mervyn’s nerves, which were very sensitive, things might have been much worse. The garden was a great resource : n the summer weather, and Miss Mervyn took drives, and often asked Miss Wink worth to «share them. Annie worked very hard, but she was not unhappy, ami found time occasionally to enjoy a new book introduced by Mr.

Prisoner at the bar: 1 plead guilty, your honour, with extenuating crciimstaiiees.

Williamson, who was al wave cheerful •nd did not appear to find himself dull. One rainy evening, after the establishment had been open for about a mouth, the ladies were all sitting in the drawingroom. Miss Hardcastle was reading an article about votes for women—and yawning over it. Miss Smith was “improvising” at the piano—that is to say, •he was playing little bits of familiar ‘airs rather incorrectly and never finishing one of them. She said they “blendVd,” but Miss Harriet, who had an ear for -music, ground her teeth. Miss Mervyn had gone up to her room !to fetch a knitting pattern to show Miss Winkworth, when suddenly a series bf wild shrieks resounded from the Upper landing. Everyone rushed upstairs, and Miss Mervyn fell into Annie’s sirmg gasping out that there was a man ■ln her bedroom . ’‘A burglar!” cried Miss Winkworth. ''Ohl Where’s Mr. Williamson?” ''iWJiere is he?” said Annie. “Let into look,” and followed eagerly by (Lilian, she went into the room, which Was nearly dark, with the window open, don’t see anyone,” she said. “Ihe wardrobe! He moved in the Iwafdrobe!” gasped Miss Mervyn—and as lAnma looking in, saw nothing, Norah £>mith exclaimed: psychical experience; it’s Astral. How delightful!” "§uj-ely your house isn’t haunted!” %ried Miss Mervyn, turning fiercely upon A ijark form loomed through the dusk, >hd 4 pair of eyes like green fire caught » fay of light from the street lamp. “It’s Peter! He’s up on the top,” Cried Annie. ' *TU get him down,” said Miss Hardcastle. “I can climb anything,” and Setting her foot on one of the shelves, felxe sprang up and seized on Peter. There hras 4 great crash, a roar from Peter, 4nd yepewed screams,, as the wardrobe, tn affair of boards and curtains, fell with Lilian’s weight, burying cat and girls in an avalanche of skirbs, cloaks and cur,tains, as Mr. Williamson rushed upstairs crying out, “What on earth’s the matter, ladies? Has the ceiling fallen down?”

Nora Smith fell into his arms. Lilian (Hardcastle laughed aloud, Mias Mervyn sat sobbing on the sofa, and Fritz barked incessantly. Mr. Williamson unwound Miss Smith’s arms, and seated her on a chair. I 11 light the gas,” he said, composedly, suiting the action to the word, pnd then looking round the circle, he said, “Jladn t you better all go downstairs? And let the servants pick up the pieces?” He gave his arm to Miss Mervyn, and conducted her back to the drawingroom, while the- elder Miss Winkworths fol lowed also Nora Smith—while Lilian ran after them laughing and calling out: — “Fancy being frightened by Peter! But I’m awfully sorry 1 broke the wardrobe— I 11 pay for it being mended —unless vou sell Peter!” “I—l can never—l don’t think I can live in the house with that terrible beast,” faltered Miss Mervyn; “and otherwise I am so comfortable. Oh. I shall never get over the shock!” “Well, it's not so bad as a burglar, or ft ghost,” said Lilian. ’’l don’t know,” said Nora mysteriously. “I'm a sensitive of a high order, and I’ve always felt there was an atmosphere about Peter. If his body were inhabited by a Poltergeist—it would be a .very ptrango experience.” “Oh, no!” said Miss Winkworth. “We’ve had him from a kitten, and he’s as gentle as a lamb.” “I think he is a most commonplace and ordinary eat,” said Mr. Williamson, “and I’ve known hundreds like him. T never heard of an animal having anything to do with a Poltergeist.” Everyone began to tell terrible stories of burglars and apparitions till Harold .Williamson, thinking their fears would work off by this outlet, went upstairs, and started as he saw Annie sitting on the top step. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, moving, “but Peter has got under the big linen cupboard, and I am waiting to get Jiini when ho comes out. I’m afraid he’ll got into somebody’s bedroom and hide. He’s frightened.” “Shall I poke him out with a stick?” “I don’t think he’d come, and he would mow so.” “Couldn’t you tempt him with soma milk or something?” “Well —perhaps a sardine ” “I’ll watch him. while you go and get Mxe,” said Harold, and Annie ran down-

stairs, returning with a sardine on a plate. “lie’ll come, if we don’t notice him,” said she, while Harold, noticing her voice, said:— “I’m afraid you were frightened, too, Miss Annie.” “Oh, no, but I don’t want Miss Mervyn to be upset. She’s very kind —and a lady—and my sisters like her, and I hope she’ll settle permanently. Somehow I don’t feel as if those girls would stay long, and we’re all very fond of Peter—if she thinks she can’t live with him—ah, here’s his nose; don’t go him, or he’ll hide again!” The gentle lamb crawled cautiously out, and attacked the sardine. Annie, stretching over, seized him in her arms, and held him fast, while the two young people laughed together. “I’m ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Williamson, said Annie. “I will shut him up in my bedroom and then see what they are about downstairs.” “Take the sardine for him,” said Harold, as with a new sense of intimacy and fellow feeling he handed her the plate. Things were not very comfortable after this exciting episode. Miss Mervyn’s nerves were, as she said, “shaken,” and she imagined every kind of horror. Miss Smith declared that she had “experiences,” and felt “presences,” and though she seemed to enjoy them very much—she had a way of staring into space,

which was not pleasant. Miss Hardcastle was evidently becoming dreadfully bored, and Annie was always wondering where Peter was. It was a distinct relief when Robert Winkworth wrote to say that he had his annual holiday, and would come and see his sisters if they still had room for him. A corner was found, and matters improved. A gentleman at the bottom of the table made everything agreeable, the sisters were all cheered up by the sight of “deaf Bob,” and the P.G.’s wore their nicest blouses—and were less inclined to fall foul of each other or of Peter. Bob Winkworth was polite, but he told Annie that he hated the whole thing. Williamson was well enough, a good fellow, but he could not stand that little, chattering minx, Miss Hardcastle, and as fpr Miss Smith, they ought to give her notice at once. “Do be nice to them, Bob,” said Annie, “we don’t mind them.” In pursuance of this request. Mr Winkworth took up Lilian Hardcastle’s wild speeches, contradicted her, and argued with her through every meal. She was good-tempered, and when she was shown to be silly she did not mind owning it. Robert held up the gentle, submissive, domestic woman as the ideal. Miss Smith brought o-ut some fancy work, but Lilian actually smoked the cigarette, which she had never yet produced in public. Mr Winkworth had been with them for about a week, when one night, just as they were gone to bed, Miss Mervyn. knocked at Annie's door. “Miss Annie,” she said, “I'm not nervous. Your brother is such a protector, but there really ia a ladder up against

the house. That can't be the work of Peter.” “Where is it? Oh, the men were cleaning -the gutter,” said Annie. She ran into Miss Mervyn’s room and saw on the dark garden side a ladder reared against the house. “Oh, that’s all right, Miss Mervyn ” she began, when she became aware that something or someone was moving in the dark at the foot of the ladder. “I’ll just call Bob to look,” she said, running to the little back room where the two young men were smoking together. “Something dark moving? Of course, it’s Peter,” said Bob. “It’s not. He’s in my room. Do look out.” Harold Williamson meanwhile had moved softly to the window, which was open behind the blind, and with a sign of silence looked out. Bob followed him, and, surely enough, in the darkness —there was no moon—someone was slowly mounting the ladder. As the form approached the window, by the side of which the ladder was placed, Bob leaned forward and shouted out, “What are you about?” A suppressed shiek answered him, and the figure began rapidly to descend, to slip, and finally to slide rapidly down till it rolled over into the darkness.

“A woman!” cried both young men at once, and Annie flew out of the room, out of the house by the garden door.

“Lilian!” she said, sharply, and was answered by sobs and groans. “Are you hurt? What are you- doing?” “Oh —oh! Oh, don’t let them come! Oh! I thought it was your room! Oh, tell them it’s a burglar.” “Get up and come in. Are you hurt?” “I’m broken to pieces. I—l lost my key,” sobbed the burglar, but she struggled to her feet, and let Annie pull her into the house, and shut her into the drawing room while Annie herself ran upstairs, and by an inspiration of good sense told the exact truth. “Miss Hardcastle had lost her key, and thought she would call in at my window. She doesn’t want to make a fuss. Please don’t say anything about it.” “I suppose she didn’t want to make a fuss when she pulled over the wardrobe,” said Miss Mervyn majestically, as she retired. “Well, I don’t call it respectable.” “Oh, yes, it is,” said Annie, running away. “It’s only silly.” “That girl,” said Williamson, “will be the death of your sister before she has done. She is far worse than the cat.” “There’s something rather straight about her,” said Bob, “and Annie can tackle most things. That is why they all get put upon her.” Meanwhile, Lilian having been dragged up to her bedroom by Annie, and finding herself bruisill all over, but with her bones whole, was sobbing out a general confession. “Oh, Annie, I'll tell you everything. I'm afraid, I’ve been pretending, and you’ve been so kind. I've been getting ashamed of myself. And now I should like to drown myself, it’s so dreadful.” “Well, what is it all!” said Annie. “You had better tell me all about it.”

“I’m not a vegetarian at al!?* •oMfe? Lilian. “I never ate any nut% except out of the hedges, and I never smdfefl~e cigarette. But iny sister-in-law did "sit on me so—and whenever I had a neW book or an idea, they all snubbed it, and so —so when my god-mother left mJ some money, I thought I would have & spree and -begin afresh, and do and go out and come in when I liked* and they were all so angry with me ttsey said I should do as I chose. They weren’t! responsible.” “-Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed it,” said Annie, dryly. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been to some concerts on the pier, -but they were so dull alone, and once a horrid man spoke to me. I suppose you won’t let me stay after this, but I can’t go home, and wy name’s not Lilian, it’s—it’s Jane—but I was so sick of being called Jenny.” “Well, you were a goose,” said Annie. “I was. And when I saw that horrid Miss Smith —I thought if you thought I was like her—l’m not. And when your brother came, I thought if he found me out—l should be miserable, and he has!” “Well, now,” said Annie in the quiet calm way which was yet not unsympathetic, “let me get you to bed comfortably. I’ll fetch you a cup of hot cocoa, and then you’ll go to sleep. And you can have your breakfast in bed to-morrow, for you’ll be very stiff. And I don’t think anything more will be said about it.” And by the influence of the young men nothing more was said • about it, and Miss Smith never knew. When after a day in bed, Miss Hardcastle came down to dinner, everyone was polite and no one even smiled when she said, in an uhwontedly small voice, “I’ll take a little roast beef, if you please.” ■Extract from a letter from Miss Mervyn to her sister in New Zealand, dated twelve months after- the late events: — “We are all settling down, and I do hope I have found a permanent home with the dear Miss Winkworths. We are very comfortable together, and Jenny Hardcastle, who is immensely improved, is very nice and obliging in the house. She is attending courses at the Technical Institute, and really got up my Brussels lace for me beautifully. We don’t miss Nora Smith. .She got a crystal ball, and saw visions, and at last she saw herself in a white veil with Robert Winkworth holding her hand. Then Miss Winkworth gave her notice. “Blit I have a vision, and shouldn’t be surprised if some day we saw Jenny in a white veil under similar circumstances. Miss Winkworth won’t let her other rooms unless some one very nice should turn up—indeed I have taken one of them.

“Of course when Harold Williamson was taken into partnership, the next step was his offer to dear Annie. I always saw how it would be, and now they are settled in a nice little house not far off. Young people should be independent. The only difficulty was Peter. They took him with them, thinking it better for Fritz. But really Fritz missed him, and the poor dear cat came back three times to his old home. Once he cried all night at the garden door. Next I found him curled up in my velvet mantle, and at last he hid in my best bonnet box. So he is re-instated.

“Miss Winkworth often laughs to think how she dreaded taking P.G.’s.! And certainly I never thought I should he so fond of Peter!”