Lord Kidrodstock - Stays and gloves

Great Heavens! My own clothes once more! Those I had worn eight months ago! Am I going to wear again?

Such were the thoughts that coursed through my brain. In reply to all my questionings and doubtings, I found that Mrs. Eagle was helping me to put on these clothes, my clothes, instead of those hated one I had just taken off. The shoes are a little short, as the abominable narrow, high-heeled boots have lengthened my foot. But no matter! The knickerbockers no longer reach to my knees. But again, what matters, that? What too does it matter, if the sleeves of the little jacket no longer cover my wrists?

Ah, what joy!

Mrs. Eagle becomes momentarily more bustling and excited and her tongue wags faster and faster. It is "dear Jimmy, my darling little Jimmy," my own name repeated so frequently that I begin once more to recognise it as my very own. There is no fear of my being addressed as "Jimmy" and forgetting to answer now. But why? Oh, why?

I decide that Mrs. Eagle is, after all, a good sort. I feel disposed to kiss her, but dare not. She, however, guesses my thoughts and imprints loud, smacking kisses first upon one cheek and then on the other, such kisses as our maid had given me long ago when my father was still alive.

At length my dressing is finished. I find the sailor cap uncomfortable, and think it must have shrunk or else that some paper has been inserted in the lining to make it smaller. But how stupid I am! My head has grown! Great C?sar! And I laugh heartily as I pull with both hands the obstinate cap and only succeed in exposing the back of my head when I manage to cover the front. Mrs. Eagle also laughs and remarks:

"Little Jimmy, you are going to be even happier presently. A pleasant surprise is in store for you."

But this piece of news has the effect of immediately damping my high sprits. I know the pleasant surprises of Lady Flayskin only too well. They always finish disagreeably.

Mrs. Eagle can make nothing of my sudden change of mien.

"Ah, no! Not by any means! I can't have you going into the drawing-room with that sad face. Oh! certainly not, It's not to be thought of. Why, you must look happy, very happy!"

But happiness cannot be produced to order, and my step, so unpleasantly apprehensive of the promised surprise, became more and more laggard. I finish by coming to a dead stop near the drawing-room.

Mrs. Eagle, however, hurries me forward and adds to my astonishment by neglecting a most important detail of the etiquette of the establishment.

She enters Lady Flayskin's august presence and that lofty person's magnificent drawingroom, without previously knocking at the door and waiting for an invitation to enter. She pushes me in front of her and closes the door.

With a great sigh of joy, I found that my dear mother was there. Almost fainting with delight, I rushed into her arms and covered her dear face with kisses. She returned my kisses with interest and we both of us cried. She hugged me to her breast with almost feverish delight. Then suddenly she held me at arm's length from her and, looking at me earnestly, cried;

"Goodness!" How pale you are!"

Lady Flayskin intervened in honeyed tones.

"It is very natural, dear Madam; a result to be expected from emotion and joy at seeing his mother. You love your mother dearly, don't you, Jimmy?"

"Yes! Oh! Yes!"

I plucked at my mother's dress to take her away with me outside those dreadful walls. I kissed her again and murmured in her ear before removing my mouth:

"You will take me away, won't you? Oh, promise! You will not leave me here?"

She replied aloud:

"Certainly, I shall not leave you. I have come to take you home."

A second time she held me from her and said, as though talking to herself:

"He had such bonnie big cheeks, and now they are hollow. His eyes are burning with fever. You have been ill, my poor mite!"

I burst into sobs and Lady Flayskin hastened to anticipate a possible reply on my part.

"Why, Madam, you surely do not imagine he has been deprived of anything he could wish for? The cooking is excellent; the food whole some and abundant. I never let my pupils want for anything. Our dear Jimmy will not tell his mother a story? You have always eaten as much as you liked, haven't you, Jimmy?"

"Oh, yes!"

But covertly I pulled my mother's skirt and looked at her with imploring eyes.

She understood me. The dear angel! She has always understood what I have said to her in the dumb language of the eyes:

She rose and took s somewhat ceremonious farewell of Lady Flayskin. Meanwhile, I also turned critic but said nothing. I was none the less astonished and grieved to find my poor mother looking much older. The corners of her lips drooped and her eyelids were swollen and lined as though she had cried a great deal. She also had lost her full, plump, pretty cheeks. It was another and a thinner Mamma I was looking at.

It seemed to me that she would never come to the end of her somewhat cold, but none the less elaborate thanks and compliments. For my part, I should have preferred giving Lady Flayskin a good beating and I pulled at my mother's skirt in a frenzied way.

She turned and smiled.

"Yes! we are going! Say good-bye, Jimmy! Never forget your manners."

"Precisely!" rejoined the horrid old cat. "That is what we always tell our pupils. Jimmy, you do not kiss me?"

How much rather would I have strangled her? Nevertheless, I managed to kiss her and weleft the room. The affectation and ceremony of our leave-taking continued, however, until we reached the front door, where at the bottom of the steps a cab awaited us.

It was a hansom cab. Again I have before my eyes, as on that never-to-be-forgotten day, the honest-looking, stout driver with his red whiskers. Again I see him touching his hat as we appear, when he took his short clay pipe from his mouth.

How delightful it was to be in that hansom, nestled against my mother's heart. It gave me a certain feeling of satisfaction and security, too, to think of our stout goodnatured coach man perched up there behind us. Whould Lady Flayskin try to take me back? In that case, I thought our cabby will not let her. He will make but a mouthful of her and her whole crew of whipping women and stay-lacers.

What joy to breath the pure air without having to be apprehensive of bones and steel busks sticking into one's stomach and stifling one's lungs!

And how delightful to visit again old scenes and think of the happy rambles and merry games of days past!

Such were my thoughts when, though I hardly know why, I burst into sobs and told my mother everything. The corset, the girl's dress, the high heels, the long tight gloves, all the diabolical "discipline" of glazed black kid, everything was told. Nor did I, the reader may be sure, omit to mention that my name had been "Alice".

My mother cried too, but suddenly laughed, and clapping her hands, told me that Mr. Baker had died eight days before and left her his en entire fortune. Consequently, we were very rich. Then, for the first time, I noticed that she was in mourning.

Her face became thoughtful. A world of sorrow was reflected in her beautiful eyes, but she cried no more.

I detested even the memory of Mr. Baker, the cruel stepfather who had been the cause of all my troubles, and I felt inclined to shout with joy at the knowledge that he was dead. But my mother, I thought, must miss him 260

sadly, so I respected her pensive looks and sat back silently in my corner, always however keeping hold of her hand.

Grown-up people so frequently misinterpret each other's sentiments that there is nothing surprising in a child making a similar error. It was only later that I fully understood the reason of those painful reveries which I had mistaken for sorrow.

My poor dear mother did not mourn in her heart for Mr. Baker, although she wore black clothes. She had suffered more at the hands of that monster than I had myself in my horrid school.