Beggar’s Choice

“Why don’t you open it?” suggested A

“Well,” said Miss Willy, “there’s something fascinating about guessing. I always think I should have made a good detective-you may have noticed that I am very observant. The other day, when I was visiting Mrs. Pratt, I knew at once that Lydia was leaving Mrs. Greenway. I didn’t wait for her to tell me. I walked in and sat down and said straight away, ‘Now what’s all this, Mrs. Pratt?’ And she couldn’t believe that some one hadn’t told me. And I said to her, ‘Well, they haven’t-but when I see a letter from Lydia lying open in your work-box with things like “lots of good places” and “home Thursday week” staring me in the face, I can put two and two together without requiring any one to tell me that they make four. And if I’m to say what I think, Mrs. Pratt,’ I said, ‘Lydia is a bad, ungrateful girl, and she wants a good scolding, and not to be spoilt and made much of the way you’ve always done, and I only hope you won’t live to regret it when it’s too late-and then perhaps you’ll remember that I warned you, Mrs. Pratt.’ ”

“Won’t you open your parcel?” said A

The wrapping had slipped to the floor whilst Miss Willy discoursed. It lay against the table leg. Rollo regarded it with a cocked head and inquisitive eye.

Miss Willy took up a small box in an i

“How extraordinary!” said Miss Willy. She stared at the white paper and the name that was written there. “Car! It’s addressed to Car-to Car Fairfax! How extraordinary!”

Under the table, Rollo extended a cautious claw, closed it on the corner of the fallen wrapper, and began with the help of his beak to drag it away. With an eye on the shelter afforded by the coal-scuttle and a fire-screen, he emerged on A

A

“My dear A

“No, I don’t. It’s-it’s been a complete separation.”

Miss Willy looked up, brightly alert.

“Why, my dear? Why? I’ve always wanted to ask you that. I did ask John-and very rude he was, I consider. Whilst we’re on the subject-what did Car do?”

A

“Don’t ask me-please, Miss Willy. We try to forget about it.”

Miss Willy tossed her head.

“If you ask me, John doesn’t have to try very hard. He wants Car back, doesn’t he? Well, I won’t ask any questions if I’m not to be told anything, though I must say such an old friend-” She tossed her head again, and Augustus backed away until he over-balanced and fell scrambling to the floor.

A

“There, Gussy-there!” Miss Willy’s apology was rather perfunctory. She returned to the little white box. “What in the world am I to do with this, when I don’t know where he is?”

“I thought you wrote to him the other day.”

“Who told you that?” said Miss Willy sharply.

“You told me yourself. You said you were asking him to stay.”

Miss Willy’s florid color deepened unbecomingly. She was wearing a tight jumper of faded pink wool and an old red Cashmire skirt. Her hair was wild. At some time after getting up she had poked a pencil through it; it now stuck out at a rakish angle over her left ear. She wore about her neck a cerise ribbon tied in a bow, a thin steel chain holding a pair of scissors and small brass key, and another chain, of gold with an occasional pearl, from which depended a pair of tortoise shell-rimmed pince-nez. Her short, ugly fingers were covered to the knuckles with old-fashioned and very dirty rings.

“Yes, I asked him,” she said angrily. “Isobel made me ask him. And all the thanks I got for it was a refusal.”

“Then you’ve got his address?”

“Isobel has it,” said Miss Willy-“or I suppose so. I never remember addresses myself.”

A

“If John Carthew had taken my advice-” said Miss Willy.

The telephone bell rang a yard away in the window.

Miss Willy jerked around, took up the receiver, and stood with her back to the room. Over her head on the curtain pole Archibald imitated the bell and the click, and then proceeded to say “Hullo-ullo-ullo-ullo-ullo!” The sound pleased him; he pursued it through various keys.

“Ssh!” said Miss Willy. Then, to the telephone, “What did you say?… Yes, this is two-one-six… Yes, I said so before-Archibald, hush!… Yes, I keep telling you I am. If you’ve got a telegram for me, will you kindly let me have it!”

A

“My good woman, if you’ve got a telegram, let me have it!… No, I can’t hear you. Kindly remember that you’re three miles away and raise your voice a little-Archibald, will you be quiet!”

She turned at last, looking red and determined.

“Talk of the old gentleman! Here’s Car wiring to Isobel to meet him in town this evening!”

A

Miss Willy had taken pencil and paper and was writing the message down, saying each word aloud as she wrote it:

“Meet-me-Olding-Crescent-Putney-eight-thirty- to-night-very-urgent-indeed-Car.”

She jabbed her pencil down on the stop at the end and broke the point.

“Oh,” said A

“Let?” said Miss Willy in a loud offended voice. “Let?”

“Isobel wouldn’t go if you didn’t want her to!” A

“Isobel goes as she likes,” said Miss Willy.

“Against your wishes?”

Miss Willy achieved a masterly change of position.

“And why should it be against my wishes?” she said. She came over to the dining-table and picked up the little white box. “As a matter of fact it will be very convenient. She can spend the night with Carrie, and she can give Car his packet. It will all fit in quite nicely, because Mrs. Messiter is coming down to stay with me for a couple of days, so I shan’t be alone and Isobel can match my violet ribbon and get several other things I forgot last time I was in town.” She turned the box this way and that. “Dear me, what an extraordinary thing! The writing is exactly like Isobel’s.”

A

“Yes-isn’t it? I wonder-” She broke off. “No, of course it couldn’t be. You won’t tell her I said that-will you?”

“Why should I?”

“No-of course you wouldn’t. The whole thing’s so strange-isn’t it? I was just wondering-but it doesn’t do with Isobel-does it? I think your way’s much the best, really. Asking questions might just put her off telling you anything; but if you don’t ask or make anything of it, she’s sure to tell you all about it afterwards. I think it’s very clever of you-but then you are very clever with Isobel- and with every one else too. I often wonder how you do it.”

As she said the last word, a slight hissing sound disturbed the pleasant consciousness of having done a difficult job really well. She turned her head and saw the macaw a foot away. He must have slipped down from his chair back and approached with the greatest caution. He stood now on one leg, both wings extended, his head craned forward, his beak half open showing a horny tongue, and his round glittering eyes fixed maliciously upon her left ankle. A little more self-restraint and he would have achieved his object; but the hiss of triumph had escaped too soon.