The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

idea as to a better precaution struck Mrs. Pipkin’s mind. Ruby had been careless⁠—had left her lover’s scrap of a note in an old pocket when she went out with the children, and Mrs. Pipkin knew all about it. It was nine o’clock when Ruby went upstairs⁠—and then Mrs. Pipkin locked both the front door and the area gate. Mrs. Hurtle had come home on the previous day. “You won’t be wanting to go out tonight;⁠—will you, Mrs. Hurtle?” said Mrs. Pipkin, knocking at her lodger’s door. Mrs. Hurtle declared her purpose of remaining at home all the evening. “If you should hear words between me and my niece, don’t you mind, ma’am.”

“I hope there’s nothing wrong, Mrs. Pipkin?”

“She’ll be wanting to go out, and I won’t have it. It isn’t right; is it, ma’am? She’s a good girl; but they’ve got such a way nowadays of doing just as they pleases, that one doesn’t know what’s going to come next.” Mrs. Pipkin must have feared downright rebellion when she thus took her lodger into her confidence.

Ruby came down in her silk frock, as she had done before, and made her usual little speech. “I’m just going to step out, aunt, for a little time tonight. I’ve got the key, and I’ll let myself in quite quiet.”

“Indeed, Ruby, you won’t,” said Mrs. Pipkin.

“Won’t what, aunt?”

“Won’t let yourself in, if you go out. If you go out tonight you’ll stay out. That’s all about it. If you go out tonight you won’t come back here any more. I won’t have it, and it isn’t right that I should. You’re going after that young man that they tell me is the greatest scamp in all England.”

“They tell you lies then, Aunt Pipkin.”

“Very well. No girl is going out any more at nights out of my house; so that’s all about it. If you had told me you was going before, you needn’t have gone up and bedizened yourself. For now it’s all to take off again.”

Ruby could hardly believe it. She had expected some opposition⁠—what she would have called a few words; but she had never imagined that her aunt would threaten to keep her in the streets all night. It seemed to her that she had bought the privilege of amusing herself by hard work. Nor did she believe now that her aunt would be as hard as her threat. “I’ve a right to go if I like,” she said.

“That’s as you think. You haven’t a right to come back again, any way.”

“Yes, I have. I’ve worked for you a deal harder than the girl downstairs, and I don’t want no wages. I’ve a right to go out, and a right to come back;⁠—and go I shall.”

“You’ll be no better than you should be, if you do.”

“Am I to work my very nails off, and push that perambulator about all day till my legs won’t carry me⁠—and then I ain’t to go out, not once in a week?”

“Not unless I know more about it, Ruby. I won’t have you go and throw yourself into the gutter;⁠—not while you’re with me.”

“Who’s throwing themselves into the gutter? I’ve thrown myself into no gutter. I know what I’m about.”

“There’s two of us that way, Ruby;⁠—for I know what I’m about.”

“I shall just go then.” And Ruby walked off towards the door.

“You won’t get out that way, any way, for the door’s locked;⁠—and the area gate. You’d better be said, Ruby, and just take your things off.”

Poor Ruby for the moment was struck dumb with mortification. Mrs. Pipkin had given her credit for more outrageous perseverance than she possessed, and had feared that she would rattle at the front door, or attempt to climb over the area gate. She was a little afraid of Ruby, not feeling herself justified in holding absolute dominion over her as over a servant. And though she was now determined in her conduct⁠—being fully resolved to surrender neither of the keys which she held in her pocket⁠—still she feared that she might so far collapse as to fall away into tears, should Ruby be violent. But Ruby was crushed. Her lover would be there to meet her, and the appointment would be broken by her! “Aunt Pipkin,” she said, “let me go just this once.”

“No, Ruby;⁠—it ain’t proper.”

“You don’t know what you’re a’ doing of, aunt; you don’t. You’ll ruin me⁠—you will. Dear Aunt Pipkin, do, do! I’ll never ask again, if you don’t like.”

Mrs. Pipkin had not expected this, and was almost willing to yield. But Mr. Carbury had spoken so very plainly! “It ain’t the thing, Ruby; and I won’t do it.”

“And I’m to be⁠—a prisoner! What have I done to be⁠—a prisoner? I don’t believe as you’ve any right to lock me up.”

“I’ve a right to lock my own doors.”

“Then I shall go away tomorrow.”

“I can’t help that, my dear. The door will be open tomorrow, if you choose to go out.”

“Then why not open it tonight? Where’s the difference?” But Mrs. Pipkin was stern, and Ruby, in a flood of tears, took herself up to her garret.

Mrs. Pipkin knocked at Mrs. Hurtle’s door again. “She’s gone to bed,” she said.

“I’m glad to hear it. There wasn’t any noise about it;⁠—was there?”

“Not as I expected, Mrs. Hurtle, certainly. But she was put out a bit. Poor girl! I’ve been a girl too, and used to like a bit of outing as well as anyone⁠—and a dance too; only it was always when mother knew. She ain’t got a mother, poor dear! and as good as no father. And she’s got it into her head that she’s that pretty that a great gentleman will marry her.”

“She is pretty!”

“But what’s beauty, Mrs. Hurtle? It’s no more nor skin deep, as the scriptures tell us. And what’d a grand gentleman see in Ruby to marry her? She says she’ll leave tomorrow.”

“And where will she go?”

“Just nowhere. After this gentleman⁠—and you know what that means! You’re going to be married yourself, Mrs. Hurtle.”

“We won’t mind about that now, Mrs. Pipkin.”

“And this’ll be your second, and you know how these things are