Gynecocracy

And indeed so much changed was I and so sensible of it, that as I stepped off the hall door steps into the Brougham, I wondered whether I was actually the same Julian Robinson, who, but on the previous Wednesday, had for the first time, alighted in that porch and passed through those massive oak doors.

CHAPTER 7

Sat Upon

Mademoiselle was accompanied by Elise. The carriage door was closed-the girls waved adieux, their graceful figures giving an unusual charm to the grey building. Beatrice looked into my eyes with a slight pout and we dashed down the long avenue to the road for Stowmarket, which was formerly the county-town, and whence Mademoiselle decided to travel to London. Instead of taking the more interesting route for Cambridge.

The horses sped along, and turning out of the gate, jolted me against Elise, who was seated opposite Mademoiselle. Mademoiselle had totally ignored my presence till then. The few remarks she made were addressed to Elise as though no one had been present. She was so angry with what she was pleased to describe as my "idiotic mooning," that for the rest of the way she made me kneel down on the floor of the Brougham, between her and Elise.

It did not, however, last long. The horses were quick trotters and Stowmarket but some five miles distant. In about twenty-five minutes we had reached the railway station.

"Julian," said Mademoiselle, "stay still-let Elise get out first."

I had attempted getting up before the porter, who opened the carriage door, and the stationmaster, who was standing at the entrance to the booking office, could see that I had been kneeling, an effort frustrated by Mademoiselle, to my bitter chagrin.

I hoped however, it might be thought that I was engaged in a search for something which had fallen down, and I endeavoured to retain my composure. If either the stationmaster or the porter observed me, they preserved the most praiseworthy unconsciousness and stolidity. They were absorbed in watching Mademoiselle as she gave her imperious orders and her appearance seemed fairly to bewitch them-they flew 171

about, they changed colour, they trembled before the gaze and the words of this elegant haughty French damsel.

I trembled, glowed with colour one minute, and became ashy pale the next, in rapid succession. I had not a word to say myself-even walking into the station, whither Mademoiselle led me by the hand, was a severe trial to my terrible self-consciousness.

"Elise," said Mademoiselle, "we should have dressed him like a little boy, in knickerbockers; his frilled drawers would have showed then. Why did you not suggest it?"

I am sure some of the bystanders overheard, and I nearly sank down to the ground in shame.

Why did Mademoiselle lead me by the hand instead of allowing me to see to the baggage and get the tickets, as might naturally be expected of a tall youth of my age? She led me by the hand as though I was a helpless idiot anxious to run away. All my sprightliness, presence of mind, and assurance seemed to have vanished.

The idea of the vest and girl's chemise, the corset, drawers, and long stockings, of the flannel petticoat, which I had narrowly escaped having tucked into my trousers, haunted and reduced my mind to silliness and made me perfectly soft. But I felt a substratum of indignation. It was all very well in the precincts of Downlands Hall, in its gardens and in its terraces to be under Mademoiselle's thumb, but here, in public, at a railway station, with numbers of people to observe and to comment, it was quite another thing.

As we walked about the platform, I feared it would certainly be noticed that I had girl's boots on, and high heels, and that I was tightly laced up in a lady's corset, which could easily be noticed under my jacket.

As the light things had been removed from the carriage I had been curiously scanned, but Mademoiselle had given her orders where the luggage was to be labelled for and from that instant all interest in me appeared to have determined. I felt certain it would be noticed that the baggage was all feminine. I had not been permitted the honour of a portmanteau. A dress casket and an imperial; there was nothing else.

"Coachee," I heard one of the men say, "you have left the young gent's box behind."

At length with the bustle usual at places of absolutely no importance, the train ran alongside the platform. It drew up, and the stationmaster who gave me a very search-ink look, came to conduct Mademoiselle to the compartment he had reserved for her. What a relief to escape into the privacy of a railway carriage from the quizzical gazes and the prying eyes of these people. Mademoiselle had spoken to one or two acquaintances, and the amused stare they gave me, a kind of intelligent look, was positively insulting and maddening.

With great deference the stationmaster led Mademoiselle to the carriage, and I had yet bitter dregs to drain in the humiliating cup. She made me jump in first just like a child.