Then I saw two people who made me start back in dismay. I recognized them as the butler and housekeeper at the Abbas. Only one purpose could have brought them to the fair and they were making straight for the hiring platform. Now I was beginning to be frightened. It had been a dream of mine that one day I should live at St. Larnston Abbas; I had lived with that dream, because Granny Bee had told me that if you created a dream and did all you could to make it come true, it was almost certain that in time it would. Now I saw this dream of mine could easily come true—I could live at the Abbas—as a servant!
Hundreds of images flitted through my mind. I thought of young Justin St. Larnston haughtily giving me orders; of Johnny jeering at me, reminding me I was a servant; of Mellyora coming to drink tea with the family and myself standing by in cap and apron to serve them. I thought of Kim there. There was another thought too. Ever since Granny had confided in me that day in the woods, I had thought a good deal about that Sir Justin who was the father of the present one. They were very much alike and I was like Granny. There was a possibility that what had happened to Granny might happen to me. I burned with rage and shame at the thought.
They were coming nearer, talking earnestly, then scrutinizing one of the hiring girls who was about my age. What if they should pass along the line? What if they should choose me?
I was wrestling with myself. Should I leap from the platform and run home? I pictured myself explaining to Granny. She would understand. Hadn't it been my suggestion—not hers—that I should come at all?
Then I saw Mellyora—dainty and fresh in mauve gingham, with a flounced skirt and a neat close-fitting bodice, neck and sleeves edged with lace; with white stockings and black walking shoes with straps; and her fair hair showing from under her straw bonnet.
The moment I saw her she saw me, and in that second I was unable to hide my apprehension. She came over swiftly, her eyes troubled, and she stood right before me.
"Kerensa?" She said my name softly.
I was angry because she had seen me in my humiliation, and how could I help hating her, standing there neat, clean, fresh, so dainty—and free.
"You're hiring yourself?"
"It would seem so," I answered truculently.
"But ... you haven't before."
"Times are hard," I muttered.
The pair from the Abbas were coming nearer. The butler already had his eyes on me and they were shining in a warm and speculative manner.
A look of excitement came into Mellyora's face; she caught her breath and started to speak in a hurry as though the words wouldn't come out quickly enough.
"Kerensa, we're looking for someone. Would you come to the parsonage?"
It was like a reprieve. The dream was not turning sour on me. I was not going to St. Larnston Abbas by way of the back door. If I did that, I felt the real dream would never come true.
"To the parsonage!" I stammered. "So you are here for the hiring?"
She nodded eagerly. "Yes, we need ... someone. When will you be ready to start?"
Haggety the butler was close to us now; he said: "Morning, Miss Martin."
"Good morning."
"Nice to see you. Miss, at the fair. Mrs. Rolt and myself s here to find us a pair of girls for the kitchens." He was looking at me now, his little eyes shining.
"This looks a likely 'un," he said. "What's your name?"
I lifted my head haughtily. "You're too late," I said. "I'm hired."
There was a feeling of unreality in the air that day. I had the impression that this really wasn't happening to me, that soon I would wake up and find myself on the talfat, dreaming as always or laughing with Granny Bee.
I was actually walking along beside Mellyora Martin; and she had engaged me to work at the parsonage—she, a girl of my own age.
Mr. Haggety and Mrs. Rolt had looked so astounded that they had only gaped when Mellyora said a gracious good-bye. They stared at us as we walked away and I heard Mrs. Rolt murmur: "Well, did 'ee ever see the like!" I glanced at Mellyora and I felt a vague alarm; I sensed that she was beginning to regret a rash action. I was certain then that she had not come to the fair to hire anyone, that she had acted on an impulse to save me from going to work at the Abbas, just as she had tried to save me from the mockery of the boys when she had found me in the wall.
I asked: "Is it all right?"
"What?"
"For you to hire me?"
"It'll be all right."
"But ..."
"We'll manage!" she said; she was very pretty when she smiled and the sparkle and defiance in her eyes made her prettier.
People turned to look at us as we went through the crowds, past the cheap-Jack who was shouting the merits of his wares, how a bottle of this or that would cure all the ills in the world; past the roasting goose and the stall of fairings. We were such a contrast—she so fair, myself so dark; she so neat, and myself, though clean, for I had washed my smock and my hair the day before, so poorly dressed; she in her black shining shoes, myself barefoot. And it wouldn't occur to anyone that she had hired me.
She led me to the edge of the field in which the fair was set up and there was the pony and trap which I knew belonged to the parsonage: in the driving seat was the middle-aged governess whom I had seen often in Mellyora's company.
She turned as we approached and said: "Good gracious, Mellyora! What does this mean?"
I presumed the "this" referred to me, so my head shot up and I gave the governess my haughtiest stare.
"Oh, Miss Kellow, I must explain ..." began Mellyora in an embarrassed flutter.
"Indeed you must," was the answer. "Pray do."
"This is Kerensa Carlee. I've hired her."
"You've ... what?"
I turned to Mellyora, reproach in my eyes. If she had been wasting my time ... if she had been playing some game of pretense ... if this was supposed to be some amusing sort of game... .
She shook her head. Again that disturbing habit of reading my thoughts.
"It's all right, Kerensa," she said. "Leave this to me."
She talked to me as though I were a friend, not a hired girl; I could have liked Mellyora if I could only rid myself of this bitter envy. I had imagined her foolish, meek, quite dull. It wasn't true though. There was a great deal of spirit in Mellyora, as I was to discover.
Now it was her turn to be haughty, and she managed this very well. "Get in, Kerensa. Miss Kellow, pray drive us home."
"Now, Mellyora ..." She was a dragon, this Miss Kellow; I judged her to be in her early forties, her lips were tight, her eyes alert. I felt an extraordinary sympathy for her because she, in her superior way, was after all only a servant.
"This," retorted Mellyora, still the haughty young lady, "is a matter between myself and my father."
We clop-clopped along the road back to St. Larnston, and none of us spoke as we passed the cottages and the blacksmiths' shops and came to the gray church with its tall tower and the graveyard with its toppling tombstones. Beyond was the parsonage.
Miss Kellow drew up at the door and Mellyora said: "Come along, Kerensa."
I alighted with her and Miss Kellow drove the trap to the stables.
I said: "You hadn't any right to hire me, had you?"
"Of course I had a right," she retorted. "If I hadn't you would have gone to the Abbas, and you would have hated that."
"How did you know?"
She smiled. "I guessed."
"How do you know I won't hate it here?"
"Of course, you won't. My father is the best man in the world. Anyone would be happy in this house. I have to explain to him, though." She hesitated, uncertain what to do with me. Then she said: "Come with me."