Miss Cayley's Adventures. Allen Grant

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       Grant Allen

      Miss Cayley's Adventures

      Published by Good Press, 2021

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664638618

Table of Contents

       I

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE CANTANKEROUS OLD LADY

       II

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE SUPERCILIOUS ATTACHÉ

       III

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE INQUISITIVE AMERICAN

       IV

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE AMATEUR COMMISSION AGENT

       V

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE IMPROMPTU MOUNTAINEER

       VI

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE URBANE OLD GENTLEMAN

       VII

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE UNOBTRUSIVE OASIS

       VIII

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE PEA-GREEN PATRICIAN

       IX

       THE ADVENTURES OF THE MAGNIFICENT MAHARAJAH

       X

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE CROSS-EYED Q.C.

       XI

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE ORIENTAL ATTENDANT

       XII

       THE ADVENTURE OF THE UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE

I

       Table of Contents

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CANTANKEROUS OLD LADY

       Table of Contents

      On the day when I found myself with twopence in my pocket, I naturally made up my mind to go round the world.

      It was my stepfather's death that drove me to it. I had never seen my stepfather. Indeed, I never even thought of him as anything more than Colonel Watts-Morgan. I owed him nothing, except my poverty. He married my dear mother when I was a girl at school in Switzerland; and he proceeded to spend her little fortune, left at her sole disposal by my father's will, in paying his gambling debts. After that, he carried my dear mother off to Burma; and when he and the climate between them had succeeded in killing her, he made up for his appropriations at the cheapest rate by allowing me just enough to send me to Girton. So, when the Colonel died, in the year I was leaving college, I did not think it necessary to go into mourning for him. Especially as he chose the precise moment when my allowance was due, and bequeathed me nothing but his consolidated liabilities.

      'Of course you will teach,' said Elsie Petheridge, when I explained my affairs to her. 'There is a good demand just now for high-school teachers.'

      I looked at her, aghast. 'Teach! Elsie,' I cried. (I had come up to town to settle her in at her unfurnished lodgings.) 'Did you say teach? That's just like you dear good schoolmistresses! You go to Cambridge, and get examined till the heart and life have been examined out of you; then you say to yourselves at the end of it all, "Let me see; what am I good for now? I'm just about fit to go away and examine other people!" That's what our Principal would call "a vicious circle"—if one could ever admit there was anything vicious at all about you, dear. No, Elsie, I do not propose to teach. Nature did not cut me out for a high-school teacher. I couldn't swallow a poker if I tried for weeks. Pokers don't agree with me. Between ourselves, I am a bit of a rebel.'

      'You are, Brownie,' she answered, pausing in her papering, with her sleeves rolled up—they called me 'Brownie,' partly because of my dark complexion, but partly because they could never understand me. 'We all knew that long ago.'

      I laid down the paste-brush and mused.

      'Do you remember, Elsie,' I said, staring hard at the paper-board,' when I first went to Girton, how all you girls wore your hair quite straight, in neat smooth coils, plaited up at the back about the size of a pancake; and how of a sudden I burst in upon you, like a tropical hurricane, and demoralised you; and how, after three days of me, some of the dear innocents began with awe to cut themselves artless fringes, while others went out in fear and trembling and surreptitiously purchased a pair of curling-tongs? I was a bomb-shell in your midst in those days; why, you yourself were almost afraid at first to speak to me.'

      'You see, you had a bicycle,' Elsie put in, smoothing the half-papered wall; 'and in those days, of course, ladies didn't bicycle. You must admit, Brownie, dear, it was a startling innovation. You terrified us so. And yet, after all, there isn't much harm in you.'

      'I hope not,' I said devoutly. 'I was before my time, that was all; at present, even a curate's wife may blamelessly bicycle.'

      'But if you don't teach,' Elsie went on, gazing at me with those wondering big blue eyes of hers, 'whatever will you do, Brownie?' Her horizon was bounded by the scholastic circle.

      'I haven't the faintest idea,' I answered, continuing to paste. 'Only, as I can't trespass upon your elegant hospitality for life, whatever I mean to do, I must begin doing this morning, when we've finished the papering. I couldn't teach' (teaching, like mauve, is the refuge of the incompetent); 'and I don't, if possible, want to sell bonnets.'

      'As a milliner's girl?' Elsie asked, with a face of red horror.

      'As