"Whatever put such an idea into your head, Vina?" asked poor Miss
Frost.
"I don't know," said Alvina, still more archly and brightly.
"Of course you don't mean it, dear," said Miss Frost, quailing.
"Yes, I do. Why should I say it if I don't."
Miss Frost would have done anything to escape the arch, bright,
cruel eyes of her charge.
"Then we must think about it," she said, numbly. And she went away.
Alvina floated off to her room, and sat by the window looking down
on the street. The bright, arch look was still on her face. But her
heart was sore. She wanted to cry, and fling herself on the breast
of her darling. But she couldn't. No, for her life she couldn't.
Some little devil sat in her breast and kept her smiling archly.
Somewhat to her amazement, he sat steadily on for days and days.
Every minute she expected him to go. Every minute she expected to
break down, to burst into tears and tenderness and reconciliation.
But no--she did not break down. She persisted. They all waited for
the old loving Vina to be herself again. But the new and
recalcitrant Vina still shone hard. She found a copy of _The
Lancet_, and saw an advertisement of a home in Islington where
maternity nurses would be fully trained and equipped in six months'
time. The fee was sixty guineas. Alvina declared her intention of
departing to this training home. She had two hundred pounds of her
own, bequeathed by her grandfather.
In Manchester House they were all horrified--not moved with grief,
this time, but shocked. It seemed such a repulsive and indelicate
step to take. Which it was. And which, in her curious perverseness,
Alvina must have intended it to be. Mrs. Houghton assumed a remote
air of silence, as if she did not hear any more, did not belong. She
lapsed far away. She was really very weak. Miss Pinnegar said: "Well
really, if she wants to do it, why, she might as well try." And, as
often with Miss Pinnegar, this speech seemed to contain a veiled
threat.
"A maternity nurse!" said James Houghton. "A maternity nurse! What
exactly do you mean by a maternity nurse?"
"A trained mid-wife," said Miss Pinnegar curtly. "That's it, isn't
it? It is as far as I can see. A trained mid-wife."
"Yes, of course," said Alvina brightly.
"But--!" stammered James Houghton, pushing his spectacles up on to
his forehead, and making his long fleece of painfully thin hair
uncover his baldness. "I can't understand that any young girl of
any--any upbringing, any upbringing whatever, should want to choose
such a--such an--occupation. I can't understand it."
"Can't you?" said Alvina brightly.
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