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diff --git a/29295-h/29295-h.htm b/29295-h/29295-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..736d6a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/29295-h/29295-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4637 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Great Uncle Hoot-Toot, by Mrs. Molesworth</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-size: large; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {text-align: center; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; } + hr { width: 100%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 3px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + img.left { float:left; + margin: 0px 8px 6px 0px; } + img.right { float:right; + margin: 0px 8px 6px 0px; } + blockquote { font-size: large; margin-left: 4%; margin-right: 4% } + blockquote.med { font-size: medium; } + table {font-size: large; } + table.sm {font-size: medium; } + table.j {font-size: small; + text-align: justify; } + td.j {text-align: justify; } + td.w50 { width: 50%; } + p {text-indent: 3%; } + p.noindent { text-indent: 0%; } + p.noline { margin-top: 0px; + margin-bottom: 1px; } + .big { font-size: 130%} + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .figleft {float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 0; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center;} + .center { text-align: center; } + img { border: 0; } + .ind1 { margin-left: 1em; } + .ind2 { margin-left: 2em; } + .ind4 { margin-left: 4em; } + .ind6 { margin-left: 6em; } + .ind8 { margin-left: 8em; } + .ind4r { margin-right: 4em; } + .index { margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 8%; font-size: 90% } + ins { text-decoration: none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .poem {margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 8%; text-align: left; font-size: 85%} + .right { text-align: right; } + .small { font-size: 70%; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + .toctitle { font-weight: bold; + font-size: 90%; } + .u { text-decoration: underline; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red; + text-decoration: underline; } + pre {font-size: 75%; } + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Great Uncle Hoot-Toot, by Mrs. Molesworth, +Illustrated by Gordon Browne, E. J. Walker, Lizzie Lawson, J. Bligh, and +Maynard Brown</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Great Uncle Hoot-Toot</p> +<p>Author: Mrs. Molesworth</p> +<p>Release Date: July 3, 2009 [eBook #29295]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT UNCLE HOOT-TOOT***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Paul Dring,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>GREAT-UNCLE HOOT-TOOT.</h1> +<p> </p> +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>MRS. MOLESWORTH,</h3> + +<h6>AUTHOR OF</h6> + +<h6>"THE PALACE IN THE GARDEN," "'CARROTS': JUST A LITTLE BOY,"<br /> +"THE CUCKOO CLOCK," ETC.</h6> +<p> </p> + +<h5>ILLUSTRATED BY GORDON BROWNE, E. J. WALKER, LIZZIE LAWSON,<br /> +J. BLIGH, AND MAYNARD BROWN.</h5> +<p> </p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> + +<h5>PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE<br /> +OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE<br /> +SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.</h5> + +<hr class="narrow" /> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h6>LONDON:<br /> +SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE,<br /> +NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS, W.C.;<br /> +43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E.C.<br /> +BRIGHTON: 135, NORTH STREET.<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">New York</span>: E. & J. B. YOUNG AND CO. +</h6> + +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a> </td><td align="left">THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a> </td><td align="left">"MAYN'T I SPEAK TO YOU, MAMMA?"</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a> </td><td align="left">AN UNLOOKED-FOR ARRIVAL.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a> </td><td align="left">FOOLISH GEOFF.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a> </td><td align="left">A CRISIS.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a> </td><td align="left">GEOFF "WON'T STAND IT."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a> </td><td align="left">A FORTUNATE CHANCE.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a> </td><td align="left">"HALF-A-CROWN A WEEK AND HIS VICTUALS."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a> </td><td align="left">PIGS, ETC.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a> </td><td align="left">POOR GEOFF!</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a> </td><td align="left">"HOOT-TOOT" BEHIND THE HEDGE.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a> </td><td align="left">A LETTER AT LAST</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a> </td><td align="left">THE NEW SQUIRE AND HIS FAMILY.</td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="Frances_and_Elsa"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image003a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image003a.jpg" height="200" + alt="Frances_and_Elsa" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">FRANCES AND ELSA<br /> + Click to <a href="images/image003a.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1>GREAT-UNCLE HOOT-TOOT.</h1> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="noindent"> +"... what we have we prize not to the worth<br /> + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost,<br /> + Why then we rack the value."—<i>Much Ado about Nothing.</i><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h5>THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE.</h5> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image003b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="T" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">hat's Geoff, I'm sure," said Elsa; "I always +know his ring. I do hope——" and she +stopped and sighed a little.</div> + +<p>"What?" said Frances, looking up quickly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing particular. Run down, Vic, dear, and get +Geoff to go straight into the school-room. Order his tea +at once. I <i>don't</i> want him to come upstairs just now. +Mamma is so busy and worried with those letters."</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image003c.jpg" width="150" alt="VICKY" />Vic, a little girl of nine, with long fair hair and long +black legs, and a pretty face with a bright, eager +expression, needed no second bidding. She was off +almost before Elsa had finished speaking.</p> + +<p>"What a good child she is!" said Frances. "What +a clever, nice boy she would have made! And if +Geoff had been a girl, perhaps he would have been more easily managed."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Elsa. "Perhaps if Vicky had been a boy she +would have been spoilt and selfish too."</p> + +<p>"Elsa," said Frances, "I think you are rather hard upon Geoff. He +is like all boys. Everybody says they are more selfish than girls, and +then they grow out of it."</p> + +<p>"They grow out of showing it so plainly, perhaps," replied Elsa, +rather bitterly. "But you contradict yourself, Frances. Just a moment +ago you said what a much nicer boy Vic would have made. All boys +aren't like Geoff. Of course, I don't mean that he is really a bad boy; +but it just comes over me now and then that it is a <i>shame</i> he should be +such a tease and worry, boy or not. When mamma is anxious, and with +good reason, and we girls are doing all we can, why should Geoff be the +one we have to keep away from her, and to smooth down, as it were? +It's all for her sake, of course; but it makes me ashamed, all the same, +to feel that we are really almost afraid of him. There now——" And +she started up as the sound of a door, slammed violently in the lower +regions, reached her ears.</p> + +<p>But before she had time to cross the room, Vicky reappeared.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing, Elsa," the child began eagerly. "Geoff's all right; +he's not cross. He only slammed the door at the top of the kitchen stair +because I reminded him not to leave it open."</p> + +<p>"You might have shut it yourself, rather than risk a noise to-night," +said Elsa. "What was he doing at the top of the kitchen stair?"</p> + +<p>Vicky looked rather guilty.</p> + +<p>"He was calling to Phœbe to boil two eggs for his tea. He says he +is so hungry. I would have run up to tell you; but I thought it was +better than his teasing mamma about letting him come in to dinner."</p> + +<p>Elsa glanced at Frances.</p> + +<p>"You see," her glance seemed to say.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," she said aloud to the little sister, "anything is better than +that. Run down again, Vicky, and keep him as quiet as you can."</p> + +<p>"Would it not be better, perhaps," asked Frances, rather timidly, "for +one of us to go and speak to him, and tell him quietly about mamma +having had bad news?"</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't rest then till he had heard all about it from herself," said +Elsa. "Of course he'd be sorry for her, and all that, but he would only +show it by teasing."</p> + +<p>It was Frances's turn to sigh, for in spite of her determination to see +everything and everybody in the best possible light, she knew that Elsa +was only speaking the truth about Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the two sisters were sitting at dinner with their +mother. She was anxious and tired, as they knew, but she did her +utmost to seem cheerful.</p> + +<p>"I have seen and heard nothing of Geoff," she said suddenly. "Has +he many lessons to do to-night? He's all right, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Frances. "Vic's with him, looking out his words. He +seems in very good spirits. I told him you were busy writing for the +mail, and persuaded him to finish his lessons first. He'll be coming up +to the drawing-room later."</p> + +<p>"I think mamma had better go to bed almost at once," said Elsa, +abruptly. "You've finished those letters, dear, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—all that I can write as yet. But I must go to see Mr. Norris +first thing to-morrow morning. I have said to your uncle that I cannot +send him particulars till next mail."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, darling," said Frances, "do you really think it's going to be +very bad?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tudor smiled rather sadly.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so," she said; "but the suspense is the worst. Once we +really <i>know</i>, we can meet it. You three girls are all so good, and Geoff, +poor fellow—he <i>means</i> to be good too."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Frances, eagerly, "I'm sure he does."</p> + +<p>"But 'meaning' alone isn't much use," said Elsa. "Mamma," she +went on with sudden energy, "if this does come—if we really do lose +all our money, perhaps it will be the best thing for Geoff in the end."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tudor seemed to wince a little.</p> + +<p>"You needn't make the very worst of it just yet, any way," said +Frances, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"And it would in one sense be the hardest on Geoff," said the mother, +"for his education would have to be stopped, just when he's getting on +so well, too."</p> + +<p>"But<span class="norewrap">——</span>" began Elsa, but she said no more. It was no use just then +expressing what was in her mind—that getting on well at school, winning +the good opinion of his masters, the good fellowship of his companions, +did not comprise the whole nor even the most important part of the duty +of a boy who was also a son and a brother—a son, too, of a widowed +mother, and a brother of fatherless sisters. "I would almost rather," she +said to herself, "that he got on less well at school if he were more of a +comfort at home. It would be more manly, somehow."</p> + +<p>Her mother did not notice her hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Let us go upstairs, dears," she said. "I <i>am</i> tired, but I am not going +to let myself be over-anxious. I shall try to put things aside, as it were, +till I hear from Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot. I have the fullest confidence in +his advice."</p> + +<p>"I wish he would take it into his head to come home," said +Frances.</p> + +<p>"So do I," agreed her mother.</p> + +<p>They were hardly settled in the drawing-room before Vic appeared.</p> + +<p>"Elsa," she whispered, "Geoff sent me to ask if he may have something +to eat."</p> + +<p>"Something to eat," repeated Elsa. "He had two eggs with his tea. +He can't be hungry."</p> + +<p>"No—o—But there were anchovy toasts at dinner—Harvey told him. +And he's so fond of anchovy toasts. I think you'd better say he may, +Elsa, because of mamma."</p> + +<p>"Very well," the elder sister replied. "It's not right—it's always the +way. But what are we to do?"</p> + +<p>Vicky waited not to hear her misgivings, but flew off. She was well-drilled, +poor little soul.</p> + +<p>Her brother was waiting for her, midway between the school-room and +dining-room doors.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said, moving towards the latter.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Elsa says you may," replied the breathless little envoy.</p> + +<p>"Elsa! What has she to do with it? I told you to ask mamma, not +Elsa," he said roughly.</p> + +<p>He stood leaning against the jamb of the door, his hands in his pockets, +with a very cross look on his handsome face. But Victoria, devoted little +sister though she was, was not to be put down by any cross looks +when she knew she was in the right.</p> + +<p>"Geoff," she said sturdily, "I'll just leave off doing messages or anything +for you if you are <i>so</i> selfish. How could I go teasing mamma +about anchovy toasts for you when she is so worried?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know she is busy and worried?" said Geoff. "What +do you mean? What is it about?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. At least I only know that Elsa and Francie told me +that she <i>was</i> worried, and that she +had letters to write for the ship that +goes to India to-morrow."</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image007.jpg" width="300" alt="HER_BROTHER_WAS_WAITING_FOR_HER" />"For the Indian mail you mean, +I suppose," said Geoff. "What a +donkey you are for your age, Vic! +Oh, if it's only that, she's writing to +that old curmudgeon; <i>that's</i> nothing +new. Come along, Vicky, and I'll +give you a bit of my toasts."</p> + +<p>He went into the dining-room as +he spoke, and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Harvey'll bring them up. I +said I'd ring if I was to have them. +Upon my word, Vic, it isn't every +fellow of my age that would take things so quietly. Never touching a +scrap without leave, when lots like me come home to late dinner every +night."</p> + +<p>"Elsa says it's only middle-class people who let children dine late," said +Vic, primly, "<i>I</i> shan't come down to dinner till I'm <i>out</i>."</p> + +<p>Geoffrey burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" he said. "Elsa finds reasons for everything that suits her. +Here, Vicky, take your piece."</p> + +<p>Vicky was not partial to anchovy toasts, but to-night she was so anxious +to keep Geoff in a good humour, that she would have eaten anything he +chose to give her, and pretended to like it. So she accepted her share, +and Geoff munched his in silence.</p> + +<p>He was a well-made, manly looking boy, not tall for his years, which +were fourteen, but in such good proportion as to give promise of growing +into a strong and vigorous man. His face was intended by nature to be +a very pleasing one. The features were all good; there was nobility in the +broad forehead, and candour in the bright dark eyes, and—sometimes—sweetness +in the mouth. But this "sometimes" had for long been +becoming of less and less frequent occurrence. A querulous, half-sulky +expression had invaded the whole face: its curves and lines were hardening +as those of no young face should harden; the very carriage of the boy +was losing its bright upright fearlessness—his shoulders were learning to +bend, his head to slouch forward. One needed but to glance at him to +see that Geoffrey Tudor was fast becoming that most disagreeable of +social characters, a grumbler! And with grumbling unrepressed, and +indulged in, come worse things, for it has its root in that true "root of +all evil," selfishness.</p> + +<p>As the last crumbs of the anchovy toasts disappeared, Geoff glanced +round him.</p> + +<p>"I say, Vic," he began, "is there any water on the sideboard? Those +things are awfully salt. But I don't know that I'm exactly thirsty, either. +I know what I'd like—a glass of claret, and I don't see why I shouldn't +have it, either. At my age it's really too absurd that——"</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, Geoff?" said Elsa's voice in the doorway. +"Mamma wants you to come up to the drawing-room for a little. What +is it that is too absurd at your age?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular—or rather everything," said Geoff, with a slight +tone of defiance. There was something in Elsa's rather too superior, too +elder-sisterly way of speaking that, as he would have expressed it, "set +him up." "I was saying to Vic that I'd like a glass of claret, and that I +don't see why I shouldn't have it, either. Other fellows would help themselves +to it. I often think I'm a great donkey for my pains."</p> + +<p>Elsa looked at him with a strange mixture of sadness and contempt.</p> + +<p>"What will he be saying next, I wonder?" her glance seemed to say.</p> + +<p>But the words were not expressed.</p> + +<p>"Come upstairs," she said. "Vicky has told you, I know, that you +must be <i>particularly</i> careful not to tease mamma to-night."</p> + +<p>Geoff returned her look with an almost fierce expression in the eyes +that could be so soft and gentle.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd mind your own business, and leave mother and me to +ourselves. It's your meddling puts everything wrong," he muttered.</p> + +<p>But he followed his elder sister upstairs quietly enough. Down in the +bottom of his heart was hidden great faith in Elsa. He would, had +occasion demanded it, have given his life, fearlessly, cheerfully, for her or +his mother, or the others. But the smaller sacrifices, of his likes and dislikes, +of his silly boyish temper and humours—of "self," in short, he could +not or would not make. Still, something in Elsa's words and manner this +evening impressed him in spite of himself. He followed her into the +drawing-room, fully <i>meaning</i> to be good and considerate.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image009.jpg"> + <img src="images/image009.jpg" height="40" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image010a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image010a.jpg" height="100" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h5>"MAYN'T I SPEAK TO YOU, MAMMA?"</h5> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image010b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="T" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">hat was the worst of it—the most puzzling part of it, rather, +perhaps we should say—with Geoffrey. He <i>meant</i> to be +good. He would not for worlds have done anything that +he distinctly saw to be wrong. He worked well at his lessons, though +to an accompaniment of constant grumbling—at home, that is to say; +grumbling at school is not encouraged. He was rather a favourite with +his companions, for he was a manly and "plucky" boy, entering heartily +into the spirit of all their games and amusements, and he was thought well +of by the masters for his steadiness and perseverance, though not by any +means of naturally studious tastes. The wrong side of him was all +reserved for home, and for his own family.</div> + +<p>Yet, only son and fatherless though he was, he had not been "spoilt" +in the ordinary sense of the word. Mrs. Tudor, though gentle, and in +some ways timid, was not a weak or silly woman. She had brought up +her children on certain broad rules of "must," as to which she was as firm +as a rock, and these had succeeded so well with the girls that it was a +complete surprise as well as the greatest of sorrows to her when she first +began to see signs of trouble with her boy. And gradually her anxiety +led her into the fatal mistake of spoiling Geoffrey by making him of too +much consequence. It came to be recognized in the household that his +moods and humours were to be a sort of family barometer, and that all +efforts were to be directed towards the avoidance of storms. Not that +Geoff was passionate or violent. Had he been so, things would have +sooner come to a crisis. He was simply <i>tiresome</i>—tiresome to a degree +that can scarcely be understood by those who have not experienced such +tiresomeness for themselves. And as there is no doubt a grain of the +bully somewhere in the nature of every boy—if not of every human being—what +this tiresomeness might have grown into had the Fates, or something +higher than the Fates, not interposed, it would be difficult to exaggerate.</p> + +<p>The cloudy look had not left Geoff's face when he came into the +drawing-room. But, alas! it was nothing new to see him "looking like +that." His mother took no notice of it.</p> + +<p>"Well, Geoff?" she said pleasantly. "How have you got on to-day, +my boy?"</p> + +<p>He muttered something indistinctly, which sounded like, "Oh, all +right;" then catching sight of Elsa's reproachful face, he seemed to put +some constraint on himself, and, coming forward to his mother, kissed her +affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Are you very tired to-night, mamma?" he said. "Must I not speak +to you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tudor <i>was</i> very tired, and she knew by old experience what +Geoff's "speaking" meant—an hour or more's unmitigated grumbling, and +dragging forward of every possible grievance, to have each in turn talked +over, and sympathized about, and smoothed down by her patient hand. +Such talks were not without their effect on the boy; much that his mother +said appealed to his good sense and good feeling, though he but seldom +gave her the satisfaction of seeing this directly. But they were very +wearing to <i>her</i>, and it was carrying motherly unselfishness too far to +undertake such discussion with Geoff, when she was already worn out +with unusual anxiety.</p> + +<p>She smiled, however, brightly enough, in reply to his questions. It +cheered her to see that he could consider her even thus much.</p> + +<p>"Of course I can speak to you, Geoff. Have you anything particular +to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Lots of things," said the boy. He drew forward a chair in which to +settle himself comfortably beside his mother, darting an indignant glance +at his sisters as he did so. "Humbugging me as usual about mamma—anything +to keep me away from her," he muttered. But Elsa and Frances +only glanced at each other in despair.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Tudor, resignedly, leaning back in her chair.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," began Geoffrey, "there must be something done about my +pocket-money. I just can't do with what I've got. I've waited to speak +about it till I had talked it over with some of the other fellows. They +nearly all have more than I."</p> + +<p>"Boys of your age—surely not?" interposed Mrs. Tudor.</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image012.jpg" width="310" alt="THERE_MUST_BE_SOMETHING_DONE_ ABOUT_MY_POCKET-MONEY." /> +"Well, <i>some</i> of them are not +older than I," allowed Geoff. +"If you'd give me more, and +let me manage things for myself—football +boots, and cricket-shoes, +and that sort of thing. +The girls"—with cutting emphasis—"are +always hinting +that I ask you for too many +things, and <i>I</i> hate to be seeming +to be always at you for something. +If you'd give me a +regular allowance, now, and let +me manage for myself."</p> + +<p>"At your age," repeated his mother, "that surely is very unusual."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it matters exactly about age," said Geoff, "if one's +got sense."</p> + +<p>"But have you got sense enough, Geoff?" said Frances, gently. "I'm +three years older than you, and I've only just begun to have an allowance +for my clothes, and I should have got into a dreadful mess if it hadn't +been for Elsa helping me."</p> + +<p>"Girls are quite different," said Geoff. "They want all sorts of +rubbishing ribbons and crinolines and flounces. Boys only need regular +necessary things."</p> + +<p>"Then you haven't any wants at present, I should think, Geoff," said +Elsa, in her peculiarly clear, rather aggravating tones. "You were +completely rigged out when you came back from the country, three weeks +ago."</p> + +<p>Geoff glowered at her.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," he said, "will you once for all make Elsa and Frances +understand that when I'm speaking to you they needn't interfere?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tudor did not directly respond to this request.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me, Geoff," she said, "what has put all this into your +head? What things are you in want of?"</p> + +<p>Geoff hesitated. Fancied wants, like fancied grievances, have an +annoying trick of refusing to answer to the roll-call when distinctly summoned +to do so.</p> + +<p>"There's lots of things," he began. "I <i>should</i> have a pair of proper +football boots, instead of just an old common pair with ribs stuck on, you +know, like I have. All the fellows have proper ones when they're fifteen +or so."</p> + +<p>"But you are not fifteen."</p> + +<p>"Well, I might wait about the <i>boots</i> till next term. But I do really +want a pair of boxing-gloves dreadfully," he went on energetically, as the +idea occurred to him; "you know I began boxing this term."</p> + +<p>"And don't they provide boxing-gloves? How have you managed +hitherto?" asked his mother, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, yes—there <i>are</i> gloves; but of course it's much nicer to have +them of one's own. It's horrid always to seem just one of the lot that +can't afford things of their own."</p> + +<p>"And if you are <i>not</i> rich—and I dare say nearly all your schoolfellows +are richer than you"—said Elsa, "is it not much better not to sham that +you are?"</p> + +<p>"Sham," repeated Geoff, roughly. "Mamma, I do think you should +speak to Elsa.—If you were a boy——" he added, turning to his sister +threateningly. "I don't want to sham about anything; but it's very hard +to be sent to a school when you can't have everything the same as the +others."</p> + +<p>A look of pain crept over Mrs. Tudor's tired face. Had she done +wrong? Was it another of her "mistakes"—of which, like all candid +people, she felt she had made many in her life—to have sent Geoff to a +first-class school?</p> + +<p>"Geoff," she said weariedly, "you surely do not realize what you cause +me when you speak so. It was almost my principal reason for settling in +London seven years ago, that I might be able to send you to one of the +best schools. We could have lived more cheaply, and more comfortably, +in the country; but you would have had to go to a different class of school."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish I had, then," said Geoff, querulously. "I perfectly hate +London; I have always told you so. I shouldn't mind what I did if it +was in the country. It isn't that I want to spend money, or that I've +extravagant ideas; but it's too hard to be in a false position, as I am at +school—not able to have things like the other fellows. You would have +made <i>me</i> far happier if you had gone to live in the country and let me +go to a country school. I <i>hate</i> London; and just because I want things +like other fellows, I'm scolded."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tudor did not speak. She looked sad and terribly tired.</p> + +<p>"Geoff," said Elsa, putting great control on herself so as to speak very +gently, for she felt as if she could gladly shake him, "you must see that +mamma is very tired. Do wait to talk to her till she is better able for it. +And it is getting late."</p> + +<p>"Do go, Geoff," said his mother. "I have listened to what you have +said; it is not likely I shall forget it. I will talk to you afterwards."</p> + +<p>The boy looked rather ashamed.</p> + +<p>"I haven't meant to vex you," he said, as he stooped to kiss his mother. +"I'm sorry you're so tired."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment after he had left the room.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid there is a mixture of truth in what he says," said Mrs. +Tudor, at last. "It has been one of the many mistakes I have made, +and now I suppose I am to be punished for it."</p> + +<p>Elsa made a movement of impatience.</p> + +<p>"Mamma dear!" she exclaimed, "I don't think you would speak that +way if you weren't tired. There isn't any truth in what Geoff says. I +don't mean that he tells stories; but it's just his incessant grumbling. He +makes himself believe all sorts of nonsense. He has everything right +for a boy of his age to have. I know there are boys whose parents are +really rich who have less than he has."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, mamma; Elsa is right," said Frances. "Geoff is +insatiable. He picks out the things boys here and there may have as an +exception, and wants to have them all. He has a perfect genius for +grumbling."</p> + +<p>"Because he is always thinking of himself," said Elsa. "Mamma, +don't think me disrespectful, but would it not be better to avoid saying +things which make him think himself of such consequence—like telling +him that we came to live in town principally for <i>his</i> sake?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," said her mother. "I am always in hopes of making +him ashamed, by showing how much <i>has</i> been done for him."</p> + +<p>"And he does feel ashamed," said Frances, eagerly. "I saw it +to-night; he'd have liked to say something more if he hadn't been too +proud to own that he had been inventing grievances."</p> + +<p>"Things have been too smooth for him," said Elsa; "that's the truth +of it. He needs some hardships."</p> + +<p>"And as things are turning out he's very likely to get them," said +Mrs. Tudor, with a rather wintry smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, forgive me! Do you know, I had forgotten all about +our money troubles," Elsa exclaimed. "Why don't you tell Geoff about +them, mamma? It's in a way hardly fair on him; for if he knew, it +<i>might</i> make him understand how wrong and selfish he is."</p> + +<p>"I will tell him soon, but not just yet. I do not want to distract his +mind from his lessons, and I wish to be quite sure first. I think I should +wait till I hear from your great-uncle."</p> + +<p>"And that will be—how long? It is how many weeks since Mr. +Norris first wrote that he was uneasy? About seven, I should say," said +Elsa.</p> + +<p>"Quite that," said her mother. "It is the waiting that is so trying. +I can do nothing without Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's advice."</p> + +<p>That last sentence had been a familiar one to Mrs. Tudor's children +almost ever since they could remember. "Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot" had +been a sort of autocrat and benefactor in one, to the family. His opinions, +his advice had been asked on all matters of importance; his approval had +been held out to them as the highest reward, his displeasure as the +punishment most to be dreaded. And yet they had never seen him!</p> + +<p>"I wish he would come home himself," said Elsa. "I think Geoff +would be much the better for a visit from him," she added, with a slight +touch of sharpness in her tone.</p> + +<p>"Poor Geoff!" said her mother. "I suppose the truth is that very few +women know how to manage boys."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that," said Elsie. "On the contrary, a generous-natured +boy is often more influenced by a woman's gentleness than by a man's +severity. It is just that, that I don't like about Geoff. There is a want +of generous, chivalrous feeling about him."</p> + +<p>"No," said Frances. "I don't quite agree with you. I think it is +there, but somehow not awakened. Mamma," she went on, "supposing +our great-uncle did come home, would he be dreadfully angry if he +found out that we all called him 'Hoot-Toot'?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said her mother, smiling; "he's quite used to it. Your father +told me he had had the trick nearly all his life of saying 'Hoot-toot, +hoot-toot!' if ever he was perplexed or disapproving."</p> + +<p>"What a <i>very</i> funny little boy he must have been!" exclaimed both +the girls together.</p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image016.jpg"> + <img src="images/image016.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image017.jpg"> + <img src="images/image017.jpg" height="90" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h5>AN UNLOOKED-FOR ARRIVAL.</h5> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image010b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="T" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">he next few days were trying ones for all the Tudor family. +The mother was waiting anxiously for further news of the +money losses, with which, as her lawyers told her, she was +threatened; the sisters were anxious too, though, with the bright hopefulness +of their age, the troubles which distressed their mother fell much +more lightly on them: <i>they</i> were anxious because they saw <i>her</i> suffering.</div> + +<p>Vicky had some misty idea that something was wrong, but she knew +very little, and had been forbidden to say anything to Geoff about the little +she did know. So that of the whole household Geoff was the only one +who knew nothing, and went on living in his Fool's Paradise of having +all his wants supplied, yet grumbling that he had nothing! He was in +a particularly tiresome mood—perhaps, in spite of themselves, it was +impossible for his sisters to bear with him as patiently as usual; perhaps +the sight of his mother's pale face made him dissatisfied with himself and +cross because he would not honestly own that he was doing nothing to +help and please her. And the weather was very disagreeable, and among +Geoff's many "hates" was a very exaggerated dislike to bad weather. +About this sort of thing he had grumbled much more since his return +from a long visit to some friends in the country the summer before, when +the weather had been splendid, and everything done to make him enjoy +himself, in consequence of which he had come home with a fixed idea that +the country was always bright and charming; that it was only in town +that one had to face rain and cold and mud. As to fog, he had perhaps +more ground for his belief.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see such beastly weather?" were his first words to +Vicky one evening when the good little sister had rushed to the door on +hearing Geoff's ring, so that his majesty should not be kept waiting an +unnecessary moment. "I am perfectly drenched, and as cold as ice. Is +tea ready, Vic?"</p> + +<p>"Quite ready—at least it will be by the time you've changed your +things. Do run up quick, Geoff. It's a bad thing to keep on wet +clothes."</p> + +<p>"Mamma should have thought of that before she sent me to a day-school," +said Geoff. "I've a good mind just <i>not</i> to change my clothes, +and take my chance of getting cold. It's perfect slavery—up in the +morning before it's light, and not home till pitch dark, and soaked into +the bargain."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you your mackintosh on?" asked Vicky.</p> + +<p>"My mackintosh! It's in rags. I should have had a new one +ages ago."</p> + +<p>"Geoff! I'm sure it can't be so bad. You've not had it a year."</p> + +<p>"A year. No one wears a mackintosh for a year. The buttons are +all off, and the button-holes are burst."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure they can be mended. Martha would have done it if you'd +asked her," said Vic, resolving to see to the unhappy mackintosh herself. +"I know poor mamma doesn't want to spend any extra money just now."</p> + +<p>"There's a great deal too much spent on Elsa and Frances, and all +their furbelows," said Geoff, in what he thought a very manly tone. +"Here, Vicky, help me to pull off my boots, and then I must climb up +to the top of the house to change my things."</p> + +<p>Vicky knelt down obediently and tugged at the muddy boots, though +it was a task she disliked as much as she could dislike anything. She +was rewarded by a gruff "Thank you," and when Geoff came down again +in dry clothes, to find the table neatly prepared, and his little sister ready +to pour out his tea, he did condescend to say that she was a good child! +But even though his toast was hot and crisp, and his egg boiled to perfection, +Geoff's pleasanter mood did not last long. He had a good many +lessons to do that evening, and they were lessons he disliked. Vicky sat +patiently, doing her best to help him till her bedtime came, and he had +barely finished when Frances brought a message that he was to come +upstairs—mamma said he was not to work any longer.</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image019.jpg" width="250" alt="VICKY_TUGGED_AT_THE_MUDDY_BOOTS." /> +"You have finished, surely, Geoff?" she said, when he entered the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"If I had finished, I would have come up sooner. You don't suppose +I stay down there grinding away to please myself, do you?" replied the +boy, rudely.</p> + +<p>"Geoff!" exclaimed his sisters, unwisely, perhaps.</p> + +<p>He turned upon them.</p> + +<p>"I've not come to have you preaching +at me. Mamma, will you speak to them?" +he burst out. "I hate this life—nothing +but fault-finding as soon as I show my +face. I wish I were out of it, I do! I'd +rather be the poorest ploughboy in the +country than lead this miserable life in +this hateful London."</p> + +<p>He said the last words loudly, almost +shouting them, indeed. To do him justice, it +was not often his temper got so completely +the better of him. The noise he was making +had prevented him and the others from +hearing the bell ring—prevented them, too, from hearing, a moment or two +later, a short colloquy on the stairs between Harvey and a new-comer.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the latter; "I don't want you to announce me. I'll +do it myself."</p> + +<p>Geoff had left the door open.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he was just repeating, even more loudly than before, "I hate +this life, I do. I am grinding at lessons from morning to night, and +when I come home this is the way you treat me. I——"</p> + +<p>But a voice behind him made him start.</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot, young man," it said. "Hoot-toot, hoot-toot! Come, I say, +this sort of thing will never do. And ladies present! Hoot——"</p> + +<p>But the "toot" was drowned in a scream from Mrs. Tudor.</p> + +<p>"Uncle, dear uncle, is it you? Can it be you yourself? Oh, Geoff, +Geoff! he is not often such a foolish boy, uncle, believe me. Oh, how—how +thankful I am you have come!"</p> + +<p>She had risen from her seat and rushed forward to greet the stranger, +but suddenly she grew strangely pale, and seemed on the point of falling. +Elsa flew towards her on the one side, and the old gentleman on the other.</p> + +<p>"Poor dear!" he exclaimed. "I have startled her, I'm afraid. Hoot-toot, +hoot-toot, silly old man that I am. Where's that ill-tempered fellow +off to?" he went on, glancing round. "Can't he fetch a glass of water, +or make himself useful in some way?"</p> + +<p>"I will," said Frances, darting forward. Geoffrey had disappeared, and +small wonder.</p> + +<p>"I am quite right now, thank you," said Mrs. Tudor, trying to smile, +when Elsa had got her on to the sofa. "Don't be frightened, Elsa dear. +Nor you, uncle; it was just the—the start. I've had a good deal to +make me anxious lately, you know."</p> + +<p>"I should think I did—those idiots of lawyers!" muttered the old man.</p> + +<p>"And poor Geoff," she went on; "I am afraid I have not paid much +attention to him lately, and he's felt it—foolishly, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" said Uncle Hoot-Toot under his breath. "Strikes me he's +used to a good deal too much attention," he added as an aside to Elsa, +with a quick look of inquiry in his bright keen eyes.</p> + +<p>Elsa could hardly help smiling, but for her mother's sake she restrained +herself.</p> + +<p>"It will be all right now you have come home, dear uncle," Mrs. +Tudor went on gently. "How was it? Had you started before you +got my letters? Why did you not let us know?"</p> + +<p>"I was on the point of writing to announce my departure," said the +old gentleman, "when your letter came. It struck me then that I could +get home nearly as quickly as a letter, and so I thought it was no use +writing."</p> + +<p>"Then you know—you know all about this bad news?" said Mrs. +Tudor falteringly.</p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="Illustration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image021.jpg"> + <img src="images/image021.jpg" height="500" + alt="THE_ARRIVAL_OF_GREAT-UNCLE_HOOT-TOOT" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">THE ARRIVAL OF GREAT-UNCLE HOOT-TOOT.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/image021.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p>"Yes; those fellows wrote to me. <i>That</i> was right enough; but what +they meant by worrying you about it, my dear, I can't conceive. It was +quite against all my orders. What did poor Frank make me your trustee +for, if it wasn't to manage these things for you?"</p> + +<p>"Then you think, you hope, there may be something left to manage, +do you?" asked Mrs. Tudor, eagerly. "I have been anticipating the +very worst. I did not quite like to put it in words to these poor +children"—and she looked up affectionately at the two girls; "but I +have really been trying to make up my mind to our being quite +ruined."</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" said her uncle. "No such nonsense, my dear. +I shall go to Norris's to-morrow morning and have it out with him. +Ruined! No, no. It'll be all right, you'll see. We'll go into it all, and +you have nothing to do but leave things to me. Now let us talk of +pleasanter matters. What a nice, pretty little house you've got! And +what nice, pretty little daughters! Good girls, too, or I'm uncommonly +mistaken. They're comforts to you, Alice, my dear, eh?"</p> + +<p>"The greatest possible comforts," answered the mother, warmly. +"And so is little Vic. You haven't seen her yet."</p> + +<p>"Little Vic? Oh, to be sure—my namesake." For Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's +real name, you must know, was Mr. Victor Byrne. "To be sure; +must see her to-morrow; Vic, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"And Geoffrey," Mrs. Tudor went on less assuredly. "Geoff is doing +very well at school. You will have a good report of him from his +masters. He is a steady worker, and——"</p> + +<p>"But how about the <i>home</i> report of him, eh?" said Mr. Byrne, drily. +"There's two sides to most things, and I've rather a weakness for seeing +both. Never mind about that just now. I never take up impressions +hastily. Don't be afraid. I'll see Master Geoff for myself. Let's talk of +other things. What do these young ladies busy themselves about? Are +they good housekeepers, eh?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tudor smiled.</p> + +<p>"Can you make a pudding and a shirt, Elsa and Frances?" she asked. +"Tell your uncle your capabilities."</p> + +<p>"I could manage the pudding," said Elsa. "I think the days for +home-made shirts are over."</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot, toot-toot!" said Mr. Byrne; "new-fangled notions, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, Great-Uncle Hoot——" began Frances, eagerly. Then +blushing furiously, she stopped short.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, my dear; I'm used to it. It's what they always called +me—all my nephews and nieces."</p> + +<p>"Have you a great many nephews and nieces besides us?" asked +Elsa.</p> + +<p>Mr. Byrne laughed again.</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image023.jpg" width="180" alt="MY_BLACKAMOOR." /> +"That depends upon myself," he said. "I make +them, you see. I have had any quantity in my +day, but they're scattered far and wide. And—there +are a great many blanks, Alice, my dear, +since I was last at home," he added, turning to +Mrs. Tudor. "I don't know that any of them was +ever quite such a pet of mine as this little mother +of yours, my dears."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Elsa, looking rather disappointed; +"you are not our real uncle, then? I always +thought you were."</p> + +<p>"Well, think so still," said Mr. Byrne. "At any +rate, you must treat me so, and then I shall be +quite content. But I must be going. I shall see you to-morrow after +I've had it out with that donkey Norris. What a stupid idiot he is, to +be sure!" and for a moment Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot looked quite fierce. +"And then I must see little Vic. What time shall I come to-morrow, +Alice?"</p> + +<p>"Whenever you like, uncle," she said. "Will you not come and stay +here altogether?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, my dear. I've got my own ways, you see. I'm a +fussy old fellow. And I've got my servant—my blackamoor. He'd +frighten all the neighbours. And you'd fuss yourself, thinking I wasn't +comfortable. I'll come up to-morrow afternoon and stay on to dinner, +if you like. And just leave the boy to me a bit. Good night, all of you; +good night."</p> + +<p> +And in another moment the little old gentleman was gone.</p> + +<p>The two girls and their mother sat staring at each other when he had +disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it like a dream? Can you believe he has really come, mamma?" +said Elsa.</p> + +<p>"Hardly," replied her mother. "But I am very thankful. If only +Geoff will not vex him."</p> + +<p>Elsa and Frances said nothing. They had their own thoughts about +their brother, but they felt it best not to express them.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image024.jpg"> + <img src="images/image024.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image025a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image025a.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h5>FOOLISH GEOFF.</h5> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image025.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="I" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">s he like what you expected, Elsa?" asked Frances, when +they were in their own room.</div> + +<p class="noindent">"Who? Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot? I'm sure I don't +know. I don't think I ever thought about what he'd be like."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I <i>had</i> an idea," said Frances. "Quite different, of course, from +what he really is. I had fancied he'd be tall and stooping, and with a big +nose and very queer eyes. I think I must have mixed him up with the +old godfather in the 'Nutcracker of Nuremberg,' without knowing it."</p> + +<p>"Well, he's not so bad as that, anyway," said Elsa. "He looks rather +shrivelled and dried up; but he's so very neat and refined-looking. Did +you notice what small brown hands he has, and such <i>very</i> bright eyes? +Isn't it funny that he's only an adopted uncle, after all?"</p> + +<p>"I think mamma had really forgotten he wasn't our real uncle," said +Frances. "Elsa, I am very glad he has come. I think poor mamma has +been far more unhappy than she let us know. She does look so ill."</p> + +<p>"It's half of it Geoff," said Elsa, indignantly. "And now he must +needs spoil Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's arrival by his tempers. Perhaps +it's just as well, however. 'By the pricking of my thumbs,' I fancy +Geoff has met his master."</p> + +<p>"Elsa, you frighten me a little," said Frances. "You don't think he'll +be very severe with poor Geoff?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he'll be more severe than is for Geoff's good," replied +Elsa. "I must confess, though, I shouldn't like to face Great-Uncle +Hoot-Toot if I felt I had been behaving badly. How his eyes can +gleam!"</p> + +<p>"And how he seemed to flash in upon us all of a sudden, and to +disappear almost as quickly! I'm afraid there's something a little bit +uncanny about him," said Frances, who was very imaginative. "But if +he helps to put all the money troubles right, he will certainly be like a +good fairy to us."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and if he takes Geoff in hand," added Elsa. "But, Frances, +we must go to bed. I want to make everything +very nice to-morrow; I'm going to +think about what to have for dinner while +I go to sleep."</p> + +<p>For Elsa was housekeeper—a very zealous +and rather anxious-minded young housekeeper. +Her dreams were often haunted by +visions of bakers' books and fishmongers' bills; +to-night curry and pilau chased each other +through her brain, and Frances was aroused +from her first sweet slumbers to be asked +if she would remember to look first thing to-morrow +morning if there was a bottle of +chutney in the store-closet.</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image026.jpg" width="230" alt="ELSA_WAS_HOUSEKEEPER." /></p> + +<p>At breakfast Geoff came in, looking glum and slightly defiant. But he +said nothing except "Good morning." He started, however, a little, +when he saw his mother.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," he said, "are you not well? You look so very pale."</p> + +<p>The girls glanced up at this. It was true. They had not observed it +in the excitement of discussing the new arrival, and the satisfaction +of knowing it had brought relief to Mrs. Tudor's most pressing +anxieties.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma dear. It is true. You do look very pale. Now, you +must not do anything to tire yourself all day. We will manage everything, +so that Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot shall see we are not silly useless +girls," said Elsa.</p> + +<p>Geoffrey's lips opened as if he were about to speak, but he closed them +again. He was still on his high horse.</p> + +<p>"Geoff," said his mother, as he was leaving, "you will dine with us +this evening. Try to get your lessons done quickly. Uncle will wish +to see something of you."</p> + +<p>He muttered an indistinct "Very well, mamma," as he shut the door.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" he said to himself, "I suppose Elsa will want to make him +think I'm properly treated. But <i>I</i> shall tell him the truth—any <i>man</i> +will understand how impossible it is for me to stand it any longer. I +don't mind if he did hear me shouting last night. There's a limit to +endurance. But I wish mamma didn't look so pale. Of course they'll +make out it's all <i>my</i> fault."</p> + +<p>And feeling himself and his grievances of even more consequence than +usual, Master Geoff stalked off.</p> + +<p>Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot made his appearance in the afternoon rather +earlier than he was expected. He found Mrs. Tudor alone in the +drawing-room, and had a talk with her by themselves, and then Vicky +was sent for, to make his acquaintance. The little girl came into the +drawing-room looking very much on her good behaviour indeed—so much +so that Elsa and Frances, who were with her, could scarcely help laughing.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, my dear?" said her great-uncle, looking at her with +his bright eyes.</p> + +<p>"Quite well, thank you," replied the little girl.</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot!" said the old gentleman; "and is that all you've got to +say to me?—a poor old fellow like me, who have come all the way from +India to see you."</p> + +<p>Vicky looked up doubtfully, her blue eyes wandered all over Great-Uncle +Hoot-Toot's queer brown face and trim little figure. A red flush +spread slowly upwards from her cheeks to the roots of her fair hair, and +by the peculiar droop in the corners of her mouth, Elsa, who was nearest +her, saw that tears were not far off.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Vicky dear?" she whispered. "What <i>will</i> he think of +the children? Geoff in a temper, and Vicky crying for nothing!" she +said to herself. "You are not frightened?" she added aloud.</p> + +<p>"No," said Vicky, trying to recover herself. "It's only about Geoff. +I want to ask—<i>him</i>—not to be angry with Geoff."</p> + +<p>"And why should I be angry with Geoff?" said the old gentleman, his +eyes twinkling. "Has he been saying so to you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" the little girl eagerly replied. "Geoff didn't say anything. +It was Harvey and Martha. They said they hoped he'd find his master +now <i>you'd</i> come, and that it was time he had some of his nonsense +whipped out of him. You won't whip him, will you? Oh, please, please +say you won't!" and she clasped her hands beseechingly. "Geoff isn't +naughty <i>really</i>. He doesn't mean to be naughty."</p> + +<p>The tears were very near now.</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" said Mr. Byrne. "Come, come, my little Vic; +I don't like this at all. So they've been making me out an ogre. That's +too bad. Me whip Geoff! Why, I think he could better whip me—a +strong, sturdy fellow like that. No, no, I don't want to whip him, I +assure you. But I'm glad to see Geoff's got such a good little sister, and +that she's so fond of him. He's not a bad brother to you, I hope? You +couldn't be so fond of him if he were."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; Geoff's not naughty to me, scarcely <i>never</i>," said Vicky, +eagerly. "I'm sure he never wants to be naughty. It's just that +he's got some bad habits, of teasing and grumbling, and he can't +get out of them," she went on, with a little air of wisdom that was +very funny.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Uncle Hoot-Toot, nodding his head. "Well, don't +you think it would be a very good thing if we could help him to get +out of them?"</p> + +<p>Vicky looked up doubtfully again.</p> + +<p>"If I think of some plan—something that may really do him good, +you'll trust your poor old uncle, won't you, my little Vic?"</p> + +<p>She gave him a long steady stare.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said at last. Then with a sigh, "I would like Geoff to get +out of his tiresome ways."</p> + +<p>And from this time Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot and Vicky were fast +friends.</p> + +<p>Then he asked Elsa and Frances to go out a little walk with him.</p> + +<p>"Is your mother always as pale as I have seen her?" he said abruptly, +almost as soon as they were alone.</p> + +<p>Elsa hesitated.</p> + +<p>"No," she said at last. "I'm afraid she is not at all well. Geoff +noticed it this morning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed! Then he does notice things sometimes?" said Mr. +Byrne, drily.</p> + +<p>"He's very fond of mamma," put in Frances.</p> + +<p>"He takes a queer way to show it, it strikes me," remarked her +uncle.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's all his temper, I'm afraid," Frances allowed reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"It is that he's spoilt," said Elsa. "He's perhaps not spoilt in one +way, but in another he is. He has never known any hardships or been +forced into any self-denial. Great-uncle," she went on earnestly, "if it's +true that we have lost or are going to lose nearly all our money, won't +it perhaps be a good thing for Geoff?"</p> + +<p>"Who says you're going to lose your money?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly why I feel sure it's not coming right. I know +you said so to mamma—at least you tried to make her happier; but I +can't understand it. If that Mr. Norris wrote so strongly, there must be +something wrong."</p> + +<p>Mr. Byrne moved and looked at her sharply.</p> + +<p>"You don't speak that way to your mother, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Elsa; "I'm only too glad for her to feel happier +about it. I was only speaking of what I thought myself."</p> + +<p>"Well—well—as long as your mother's mind is easier it doesn't matter. +I cannot explain things fully to you at present, but you seem to be sensible +girls, and girls to be trusted. I may just tell you this much—all this +trouble is nothing new; I had seen it coming for years. The only thing +I had not anticipated was that those fools of lawyers should have told +your mother about the crash when it did come. There was no need for +her to know anything about it. I'm her trustee——"</p> + +<p>"But not legally," interrupted Elsa. "Mamma explained to us that +you couldn't be held responsible, as it was only like a friend that you had +helped her all these years."</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot, toot-toot!" he replied testily; "what difference does that +make? But never mind. I will explain all about it to you both—before +long. Just now the question is your mother. I think you will agree with +me when I say that it is plain to me that Master Geoff should leave home?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid mamma will be very much against it," said Elsa. "You +see, Geoff is a good boy in big things, and mamma thinks it is owing to +her having kept home influence over him. He's truthful and conscientious—he +is, indeed, and you must see I'm not inclined to take his part."</p> + +<p>"But he's selfish, and bullying, and ungrateful. Not pretty qualities, +my dear, or likely to make a good foundation for a man's after-life. I'm +not going to send him to a grand boarding-school, however—that I +promise you, for I think it would be the ruin of him. Whatever I may +do to save your mother, I don't see but that Master Geoff should face +his true position."</p> + +<p>"And we too, great-uncle," said Frances, eagerly. "Elsa and I are +quite ready to work; we've thought of several plans already."</p> + +<p>"I quite believe you, my dear," said Mr. Byrne, approvingly. "You +shall tell me your plans some time soon, and I will tell you mine. No +fear but that you shall have work to do."</p> + +<p>"And——" began Elsa, but then she hesitated. "I was going to ask +you not to decide anything about Geoff till you have seen more of him. +If Frances and I could earn enough to keep him at school as he is, so that +mamma could have the comf—— No, I'm afraid I can't honestly say that +having Geoff at home would be any comfort to her—less than ever if +Frances and I were away. Great-uncle, don't you think Geoff should have +some idea of all this?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. But I cannot risk his teasing your mother. We will wait +a few days. I should like to see poor Alice looking better; and I shall +judge of Geoff for myself, my dears."</p> + +<p>They were just at home again by this time. Vicky met them at the +door. She was in great excitement about Mr. Byrne's Indian servant, +who had come with his master's evening clothes.</p> + +<p>"I was watching for Geoff, to tell him!" she exclaimed. "But my tea's +ready; I must go." And off she ran.</p> + +<p>"Good little girl," said Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot, nodding his head +approvingly. "No grumbling from <i>her</i>, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No, never," said Elsa, warmly. "She's having her tea alone to-day. +Geoff's coming in to dinner in your honour."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said the old gentleman.</p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image031.jpg"> + <img src="images/image031.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="GEOFF'S_INTERVIEW_WITH_GREAT-UNCLE_HOOT-TOOT."> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image032.jpg"> + <img src="images/image032.jpg" height="500" + alt="Geoff's_interview_with_Great-Uncle_Hoot-Toot" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">GEOFF'S INTERVIEW WITH GREAT-UNCLE HOOT-TOOT.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/image032.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image033a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image033a.jpg" height="60" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h5>A CRISIS.</h5> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image033.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="M" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">Mrs. Tudor and the two girls had gone upstairs to the +drawing-room. Geoff glanced dubiously at Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot.</div> + +<p class="noindent">"Shall I—shall I stay with you, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Geoff was on his good behaviour.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman glanced at him.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my boy, if you've nothing better to do," he said. "No +lessons—eh?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Geoff replied. "I've got all done, except a little I can do +in the morning."</p> + +<p>"They work you pretty hard, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they do. There's not much fun for a fellow who's at school in +London. It's pretty much the same story—grind, grind, from one week's +end to another."</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot! That sounds melancholy," said Mr. Byrne. "No +holidays, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, I've some holidays," said Geoff. "But, you see, when +a fellow has only got a mother and sisters——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Only</i>," repeated the old gentleman; but Geoff detected no sarcasm +in his tone.</p> + +<p>"And mother's afraid of my skating, or boating on the river, or——"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't she let you go in for the school games?" interrupted Mr. +Byrne again.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; it would be too silly not to do <i>that</i>. I told her at the +beginning—I mean, she understood—it wouldn't do. But there's lots of +things I'd like to do, if mother wasn't afraid. I should like to ride, +or at least to have a tricycle. It's about the only thing to make life +bearable in this horrible place. Such weather! I do hate London!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said Mr. Byrne. "It's a pity your mother didn't consult +you before settling here."</p> + +<p>"She did it for the best, I suppose," said Geoff. "She didn't want to +part with me, you see. But I'd rather have been at a boarding-school in +the country; I do so detest London. And then it's not pleasant to be +too poor to have things one should have at a public school."</p> + +<p>"What may those be?" inquired the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Oh, heaps of things. Pocket-money, for one thing. I was telling +mother about it. I really should have more, if I'm to stay properly +at school. There's Dick Colethorne, where I was staying last holidays—cousins +of ours; he has six times what I have, and he's only two years +older."</p> + +<p>"And—is his mother a widow, and in somewhat restricted circumstances?" asked Mr. Byrne.</p> + +<p>"Oh no," replied Geoff, unwarily. "His father's a very rich man; +and Dick is the only child."</p> + +<p>"All the same, begging Mr. Colethorne's pardon, if he were twenty +times as rich as Crœsus, I think he's making a tremendous mistake in +giving his boy a great deal of pocket-money," said Mr. Byrne.</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, I shouldn't want as much as he has," said Geoff; +"but still——"</p> + +<p>"Geoffrey, my boy," said the old gentleman, rising as he spoke, "it +strikes me you're getting on a wrong tack. But we'll have some more +talk about all this. I don't want to keep your mother waiting, as I +promised to talk some more to <i>her</i> this evening. So we'll go upstairs. +Some day, perhaps, I'll tell you some of the experiences of <i>my</i> boyhood. +I'm glad, by-the-by, to see that you don't take wine."</p> + +<p>"No-o," said Geoff. "That's one of the things mother is rather fussy +about. I'd like to talk about it with you, sir; I don't see but that at my +age I might now and then take a glass of sherry—or of claret, even. It +looks so foolish never to touch any. It's not that I <i>care</i> about it, you +know."</p> + +<p>"At your age?" repeated Mr. Byrne, slowly. "Well, Geoff—do you +know, I don't quite agree with you. Nor do I see the fun of taking +a thing you 'don't care about,' just for the sake of looking as if +those who had the care of you didn't know what they were about."</p> + +<p>They were half-way upstairs by this time. Geoff's face did not wear +its pleasantest expression as they entered the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"He's a horrid old curmudgeon," he whispered to Vicky; "I believe +Elsa's been setting him against me."</p> + +<p>Vicky looked at him with reproachful eyes. "Oh, Geoff," she said, "I +do think he's so nice."</p> + +<p>"You do, do you?" said he. "Well, I don't. I'll tell you what, +Vicky; I've a great mind to run away. I do so hate this life. I work +ever so much harder than most of the fellows, and I never get any thanks +for it; and everything I want is grudged me. My umbrella's all in rags, +and I'm ashamed to take it out; and if I was to ask mamma for a new +one, they'd all be down on me again, you'd see."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't had it long, Geoff," said Vic.</p> + +<p>"I've had it nearly a year. You're getting as bad as the rest, Vicky," +he said querulously.</p> + +<p>He had forgotten that he was not alone in the room with his little +sister, and had raised his tone, as he was too much in the habit of doing.</p> + +<p>"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" said a now well-known voice from the other +side of the room; "what's all that about over there? You and Victoria +can't be quarrelling, surely?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tudor looked up anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Vicky, eagerly; "we were only talking."</p> + +<p>"And about what, pray?" persisted Mr. Byrne.</p> + +<p>Vicky hesitated. She did not want to vex Geoff, but she was unused +to any but straightforward replies.</p> + +<p>"About Geoff's umbrella," she said, growing very red.</p> + +<p>"About Geoff's umbrella?" repeated the old gentleman. "What could +there be so interesting and exciting to say about Geoff's umbrella?"</p> + +<p>"Only that I haven't got one—at least, mine's in rags; and if I say +I need a new one, they'll all be down upon me for extravagance," said +Geoff, as sulkily as he dared.</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, don't talk in that dreadfully aggrieved tone," said his +mother, trying to speak lightly. "You know I have never refused you +anything you really require."</p> + +<p>Geoffrey did not reply, at least not audibly. But Elsa's quick ears and +some other ears besides hers—for it is a curious fact that old people, when +they are not deaf, are often peculiarly the reverse—caught his muttered +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Always the way if <i>I</i> want anything."</p> + +<p>Mr. Byrne did not stay late. He saw that Mrs. Tudor looked tired +and depressed, and he did not wish to be alone with her to talk about +Geoff, as she probably would have done, for he could not have spoken of +the boy as she would have wished to hear.</p> + +<p>A few days passed. Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot spent a part of each +with the Tudor family, quietly making his observations. Geoff certainly +did not show to advantage; and though his mother wore herself out with +talking to him and trying to bring him to a more reasonable frame of +mind, it was of no use. So at last she took Elsa's advice and left the +discontented, tiresome boy to himself, for perhaps the first time in his life.</p> + +<p>And every evening, when alone with Victoria, the selfish boy entertained +his poor little sister with his projects of running away from a home +where he was so little appreciated.</p> + +<p>But a change came, and that in a way which Geoffrey little expected.</p> + +<p>One evening when Mr. Byrne said "Good night," it struck him that his +niece looked particularly tired.</p> + +<p>"Make your mother go to bed at once, Elsa," he said, "I don't like +her looks. If she's not better to-morrow, I must have a doctor to see +her. And," he added in a lower tone still, "don't let Geoffrey go near +her to-morrow morning. Has he bothered her much lately?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma has left him alone. It was much the best thing to do," Elsa +replied. "But all the same, I can see that it is making her very +unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Time something should be done; that's growing very plain," said +Mr. Byrne. "Try and keep her quiet in the mean time, my dear. I +have nearly made up my mind, and I'll tell you all about it to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Elsa felt rather frightened.</p> + +<p>"Great-uncle," she said, "I don't want to make silly excuses for Geoff, +but it is true that he has never been quite so ill-natured and worrying +as lately."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps you have never seen it so plainly," said the old gentleman. +"But you needn't think I require to be softened to him, my dear; +I am only thinking of his good. He's not a bad lad at bottom; there's +good stuff in him. But he's ruining himself, and half killing your mother. +Life's been too easy to him, as you've said yourself. He needs bringing +to his senses."</p> + +<p>Geoff slept soundly; moreover, his room was at the top of the house. +He did not hear any disturbance that night—the opening and shutting of +doors, the anxious whispering voices, the sound of wheels driving rapidly +up to the door. He knew nothing of it all. For, alas! his tiresome, +fidgety temper had caused him to be looked upon as no better than +a sort of naughty child in the house—of no use or assistance, concerning +whom every one's first thought in any trouble was, "We must manage +to get Geoff out of the way, or to keep him quiet."</p> + +<p>When he awoke it was still dark. But there was a light in his +room—some one had come in with a candle. It was Elsa. He rubbed +his eyes and looked at her with a strange unreal feeling, as if he were +still dreaming. And when he saw her face, the unreal feeling did not go +away. She seemed so unlike herself, in her long white dressing-gown, the +light of the candle she was holding making her look so pale, and her eyes +so strained and anxious—<i>was</i> it the candle, or was she really so very pale?</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image038.jpg" width="320" alt="IT_WAS_ELSA." />"Elsa," +he said sleepily, "what are you doing? What is the matter? +Isn't it dreadfully late—or—or early for you to be up?" he went on +confusedly.</p> + +<p>"It's the morning," said Elsa, "but we haven't been in bed all night—Frances +and I. At least, we had only been in bed half an hour or so, +when we were called up."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" asked Geoff, sleepily still. "Was the house on +fire?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Geoff, don't be silly!" said Elsa; "it's—it's much worse. +Mamma has been so ill—she is still."</p> + +<p>Geoff started up now.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to go for the doctor?" he said.</p> + +<p>"The doctor has been twice already, and he's coming back at nine +o'clock," she answered sadly. "He thought her a tiny bit better when +he came the last time. But she's very ill—she must be kept most <i>exceedingly</i> +quiet, and——"</p> + +<p>"I'll get up now at once," said +Geoff; "I won't be five minutes, +Elsa. Tell mamma I'd have got +up before if I'd known."</p> + +<p>"But, Geoff," said Elsa, firmly, +though reluctantly, "it's no use +your hurrying up for that. You +can't see her—you can't possibly +see her before you go to school, +anyway. The doctor says she is +to be kept <i>perfectly</i> quiet, and not +worried in any way."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't worry her, not when +she's ill," said Geoff, hastily.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't help it," said Elsa. "She—she was very worried about +you last night, and she kept talking about your umbrella in a confused +sort of way now and then all night. We quieted her at last by telling her +we had given you one to go to school with. But if she saw you, even for +an instant, she would begin again. The doctor said you were not to go +into her room."</p> + +<p>A choking feeling had come into Geoff's throat when Elsa spoke about +the umbrella; a very little more and he would have burst into tears of +remorse. But as she went on, pride and irritation got the better of him. +He was too completely unused to think of or for any one before himself, +to be able to do so all of a sudden, and it was a sort of relief to burst out +at his sister in the old way.</p> + +<p>"I think you're forgetting yourself, Elsa. Is mamma not as much to +<i>me</i> as to you girls? Do you think. I haven't the sense to know how +to behave when any one's ill? I tell you I just will and shall go to see +her, whatever you say;" and he began dragging on his socks as if he were +going to rush down to his mother's room that very moment.</p> + +<p>Elsa grew still paler than she had been before.</p> + +<p>"Geoff," she said, "you must listen to me. It was for that I came up +to tell you. You must <i>not</i> come into mother's room. I'd do anything +to prevent it, but I can't believe that you'll force me to quarrel with you +this morning when—when we are all so unhappy. I don't want to make +you more unhappy, but I can't help speaking plainly to you. You <i>have</i> +worried mamma terribly lately, Geoff, and now you must bear the punishment. +It's—it's as much as her life is worth for you to go into her room +and speak to her this morning. I cannot allow it."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> allow it!" burst out Geoff. "Are you the head of the +house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Elsa, "when mamma is ill, I consider that I am. And +what's more, Geoff, I have telegraphed to Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot. He +made me promise to do so if mamma were ill. I expect him directly. +It is past seven. Geoff, you had better dress and take your breakfast as +usual. I will come down and tell you how mamma is the last thing +before you go."</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> see mamma before I go to school," he replied sharply. "I +give you fair warning."</p> + +<p>"Geoff," said Elsa, "you shall not."</p> + +<p>And with these words she left the room.</p> +<p>"Humph!" said the old gentleman.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image039.jpg"> + <img src="images/image039.jpg" height="40" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image040.jpg"> + <img src="images/image040.jpg" height="90" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<h5>GEOFF "WON'T STAND IT."</h5> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image040b.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="G" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">eoff hurried on with his dressing. He was wretchedly unhappy—all +the more so because he was furiously angry with +Elsa, and perhaps, at the bottom of his heart, with himself.</div> + +<p class="noindent">His room was, as I have said, at the top of the house. He did not +hear the front-door bell ring while he was splashing in his bath; and as +he rushed downstairs a quarter of an hour or so after Elsa had left him, +he was considerably taken aback to be met at the foot of the first flight +by the now familiar figure of Mr. Byrne.</p> + +<p>"Geoffrey," he said quietly, "your sisters have gone to lie down and +try to sleep for a little. They have been up all night, and they are likely +to want all their strength. Go down to the school-room and get your +breakfast. When you have finished, I will come to talk to you a little +before you go to school."</p> + +<p>Geoff glanced up. There was something in Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's +face which made him feel there was no use in blustering or resisting.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, putting as little expression in his voice as he +could; and as Mr. Byrne turned away, the boy made his way down to the +school-room.</p> + +<p>It looked dreary and strange this morning. It was earlier than usual, +and perhaps the room had been less carefully done, for Mrs. Tudor's +illness had upset the whole household. The fire was only just lighted; +the preparations for Geoff's breakfast were only half ready. It was a very +chilly day; and as the boy sat down by the table, leaning his head on his +hands, he shivered both with cold and unhappiness.</p> + +<p>"They all hate me," he said to himself. "I've known it for a long time, +but I've never been so sure of it before. It is much the best for me to +go away. Mamma <i>has</i> cared for me; but they're making her leave off, +and they'll set her entirely against me. She'll be far better and happier +without me; and when she gets well—I dare say they have exaggerated +her illness—they will have the pleasure of saying it's because I'm gone. +There's only Vic who'll really care. But she won't mind so very much, +either. I'll write to her now and then. I must think how best to do +about going away. I hate the sea; there's no use thinking of that. I +don't mind what I do, if it's in the country. I might go down to some +farmhouse—one of those jolly farms where Dick and I used to get a glass +of milk last summer. I wouldn't mind a bit, working on one of those +farms. It would be much jollier than grinding away at school. And I +am sure Dick and I did as much work as any haymakers last summer."</p> + +<p>He had worked himself up into positively looking forward to the idea +of leaving home. Vague ideas of how his mother and sisters would learn +too late how little they had appreciated him; visions of magnanimously +forgiving them all some day when he should have, in some mysterious +way, become a landed proprietor, riding about his fields, and of inviting +them all down into the country to visit him, floated before his brain. He +ate his breakfast with a very good appetite; and when Mr. Byrne entered +the room, he was surprised to see no look of sulkiness on the boy's face; +though, on the other hand, there were no signs of concern or distress.</p> + +<p>"Is he really <i>heartless</i>?" thought the old man, with a pang of disappointment. +"Am I mistaken in thinking the good material is there?"</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you, Geoff," he said. "You are early this morning. +You need not start for twenty minutes or more."</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand you intend to prevent me seeing my mother, +sir?" said Geoff, in a peculiar tone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Byrne looked at him rather sadly.</p> + +<p>"It is not <i>I</i> preventing it," he said. "The doctor has left his orders."</p> + +<p>"I understand," said Geoff, bitterly. "Well, it does not much matter. +Mother and the others are not likely to see much more of me."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman looked at him sharply.</p> + +<p>"Are you thinking of running away?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Not running away," said Geoffrey. "I'm not going to do it in any +secret sort of way; but I've made up my mind to go. And now that +mother has thrown me over too, I don't suppose any one will care."</p> + +<p>"You've not been going the way to make any one care, it strikes me," +said Mr. Byrne. "But I have something to say to you, Geoff. One +thing which has helped to make your poor mother ill has been anxiety +about money matters. I had not wished her to know of it; but it was +told her by mistake. I myself have known for some time that things +were going wrong. But now the worst has come——"</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image042.jpg" width="280" alt="I_HAVE_SOMETHING_TO_SAY." />"What is the worst?" asked +Geoffrey. "Have we lost everything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Byrne, "I think +that's about it."</p> + +<p>"I think I should have been told +this before," said Geoff.</p> + +<p>"Well," said his uncle, "I'm not +sure but that I agree with you. But +your mother wished to save you as +long as she could. And you have +not borne small annoyances so well +that she could hope for much comfort from you in a great trouble."</p> + +<p>Geoff said nothing.</p> + +<p>"I shall take care of your mother and sisters," Mr. Byrne went on.</p> + +<p>"I am not even to be allowed to work for my mother, then?" said +Geoffrey.</p> + +<p>"At your age it will be as much as you can do to work for yourself," +said the old man. "And as yet, you cannot even do that directly. You +must go on with your education. I have found a school in the country +where you will be well taught, and where you will not be annoyed by not +being able to have all that your companions have, as you have so complained +about."</p> + +<p>"And who is to pay for my schooling?" asked the boy.</p> + +<p>"I," replied Mr. Byrne.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Geoffrey. His tone was not exactly disrespectful, +but it was certainly not grateful. "I know I should thank you, but I +don't want you to pay schooling or anything else for me. I shall manage +for myself. It is much best for me to go away altogether. Even—even +if this about our money hadn't happened, I was already making up my +mind to it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Byrne looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Legally speaking, your mother could stop your leaving her," +he said.</p> + +<p>"She is not likely to do so," replied the boy, "if she is so ill that she +cannot even see me."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," said the old gentleman. "I will send my servant to +you at mid-day, to say how your mother is."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Geoffrey again.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Byrne left the room, and Geoff went off to school.</p> + +<p>He was in a strange state of mind. He hardly took in what he had +been told of the state of his mother's money matters. He hardly indeed +believed it, so possessed was he by the idea that there was a sort of plot +to get rid of him.</p> + +<p>"It isn't mother herself," he reflected. "It's all Elsa and Frances, and +that horrid old Hoot-Toot. But as for going to any school <i>he'd</i> send me +to—no, thank you."</p> + +<p>He was standing about at noon with some of his companions, when the +coloured servant appeared.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir," he said, "I was to tell you that the lady is better—doctor +say so;" and with a kind of salaam he waited to see what the young +gentleman would reply.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Geoff, curtly; and the man turned to go.</p> + +<p>Geoff did not see that at the gates he stood still a moment speaking to +another man, who appeared to have been waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"That young gentleman with the dark hair. You see plain when I +speak to him," he said in his rather broken English.</p> + +<p>The other man nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"I shall know him again, no fear. Tell your master it's all right," he said.</p> + +<p>Geoff had to stand some chaff from his friends on the subject of the +"darkey," of course. At another time he would rather have enjoyed it +than otherwise; but to-day he was unable to take part in any fun.</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image044.jpg" width="280" alt="HE STOOD STILL A MOMENT SPEAKING TO ANOTHER MAN." />"What +a surly humour Tudor's in!" said one of the boys to another.</p> + +<p>Geoff overheard it, and glared at him.</p> + +<p>"I shan't be missed here either, it seems," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>He did not notice that evening, when he went home, that a respectable +unobtrusive-looking man, with the air of a servant out of livery, or something +of that kind, followed him all the way, only turning back when he +had seen the boy safe within his own +door. And there, just within, faithful +Vicky was awaiting him.</p> + +<p>"I've been watching for you such a +time, Geoff dear," she said. "Mamma's +better. <i>Aren't</i> you glad? The doctor's +been again, just about an hour ago, and +he told me so as he went out."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen her?" said Geoff, +abruptly.</p> + +<p>Vicky hesitated. She knew her +answer would vex Geoff, and yet she +could not say what was not true.</p> + +<p>"I've only <i>just</i> seen her," she said. "Elsa just took me in for a +moment. She has to be kept very, very quiet, Geoff. She'll have to +be very quiet for a long time."</p> + +<p>"You may as well speak plainly," said her brother. "I know what +that means—I'm not to be allowed to see her for 'a very, very long time.' +Oh yes, I quite understand."</p> + +<p>He was in his heart thankful to know that his mother was better, but +the relief only showed itself in additional ill-temper and indignation.</p> + +<p>"Geoffrey dear, don't speak like that," said Vicky. "I wish I hadn't +gone in to see mamma if you couldn't, but I didn't like to say so to Elsa. +I know you didn't <i>mean</i> ever to vex mamma, and I'm sure you'll never +do it again, when she gets better, will you? Would you like me just to +run and tell Elsa and Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot how <i>dreadfully</i> you'd like +to see her just for a minute? If you just peeped in, you know, and said +'Good night, mamma; I am so awfully glad you're better!' that would +be better than nothing. Shall I, Geoff?"</p> + +<p>"No," he replied gruffly. "I want to ask nothing. And I'm not sure +that I <i>do</i> want dreadfully to see her. Caring can't be all on one side."</p> + +<p>Vicky's eyes were full of tears by this time.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Geoff!" was all she could say. "Mamma not care for you!"</p> + +<p>Her distress softened him a little.</p> + +<p>"Don't <i>you</i> cry about it, Vic," he said. "I do believe <i>you</i> care for me, +anyway. You always will, won't you, Vicky?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall," she sobbed, while some tears dropped into Geoff's +teacup. They were in the school-room by this time, and Vicky was at +her usual post.</p> + +<p>"And some day," pursued Geoff, condescendingly, "perhaps we'll have +a little house of our own, Vicky, in the country, you know; we'll have +cocks and hens of our own, and always fresh eggs, of course, and strawberries, +and——"</p> + +<p>"Cream," suggested Vicky, her eyes gleaming with delight at the +tempting prospect; "strawberries are nothing without cream."</p> + +<p>"Of course," Geoff went on. "I was going to say cream, when you +interrupted me. We'd have a cream-cow, Vicky."</p> + +<p>"A cream-cow," Vicky repeated. "What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know exactly. But one often reads of a milk-cow, so +I supposed there must be some cows that are all for cream, if some are +for milk. I'll find out all about it when——" But he stopped short. +"Never mind, Vicky. When I have a little farm of my own, in the +country, I promise you I'll send for you to come and live with me."</p> + +<p>"But you'll invite mamma and Elsa, and Francie too, Geoff; I wouldn't +care to come without them," objected Vicky.</p> + +<p>"Mamma; oh yes, if she likes to come. Perhaps Elsa and Frances +will be married, and have houses of their own by then. I'm sure I +hope so."</p> + +<p>He had talked himself and Vicky into quite good spirits by this time. +He was almost forgetting about his plan of running away. But it was +soon recalled to him. Elsa put her head in at the door.</p> + +<p>"Vicky," she said, "you may come up to see mamma for a few minutes. +Come now, quick, before Geoff comes home, or else he will begin about +it again, and he just <i>must</i> not see her for some days. Mamma sees that +he must not."</p> + +<p>Geoff's face grew dark.</p> + +<p>"Elsa," Vicky called out appealingly. But Elsa had already disappeared.</p> + +<p>And then Geoffrey <i>quite</i> made up his mind.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image046.jpg"> + <img src="images/image046.jpg" height="70" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image047a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image047a.jpg" height="70" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<h5>A FORTUNATE CHANCE.</h5> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image047.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="H" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">e was a sensible, practical enough boy in some ways. He +thought it all well over that night, and made what preparations +he could. He packed up the clothes he thought the +most necessary and useful in an old carpet-bag he found in the box-room, +and then he looked over his drawers and cupboards to see that all +was left in order, and he put together some things to be sent to him in +case he found it well to write for them.</div> + +<p>Then he looked at his purse. He had, carefully stowed away, thirty +shillings in gold, and of his regular pocket-money a two-shilling piece, +a shilling, a threepenny bit, and some coppers. It was enough to take +him some hours' distance out of London, where he would be quite as +likely to find what he wanted, employment at some farmhouse, as farther +away.</p> + +<p>He did not sleep much that night. He was so anxious to be off early +that he kept waking up every hour or two. At last, after striking a +match to see what o'clock it was for perhaps the twentieth time, his watch +told him it was past six. He got up and dressed, then he shouldered +his bag, and made his way as quickly as he could downstairs. He could +not resist lingering a moment outside his mother's door; it was slightly +ajar, and there was a faint light within. Elsa's voice came to him as he +stood there.</p> + +<p>"I am <i>so</i> glad you are better this morning, dear mamma," she was +saying. "I hoped you would be when I went to bed, at three o'clock. +You were sleeping so peacefully. I am sure you will be quite well again +soon, if we can manage to keep you quiet, and if you won't worry yourself. +Everything is quite right."</p> + +<p>Geoff's face hardened again.</p> + +<p>"I know what all that means," he thought. "Yes, indeed, everything +is so right that I, <i>I</i>, have to run away like a thief, because I am too +miserable to bear it any more."</p> + +<p>And he lingered no longer.</p> + +<p>He made his way out of the house without difficulty. It was getting +light after a fashion by this time, though it was quite half an hour earlier +than he usually started for school. He felt chilly—chillier than he had +ever felt before, though it was not a very cold morning. But going out +breakfastless does not tend to make one feel warm, and of this sort of +thing Geoff had but scant experience. His bag, too, felt very heavy; he +glanced up and down the street with a vague idea that perhaps he would +catch sight of some boy who, for a penny or two, would carry it for him +to the omnibus; but there was no boy in sight. No one at all, indeed, +except a young man, who crossed the street from the opposite side while +Geoff was looking about him, and walked on slowly a little in front. He +was a very respectable-looking young man, far too much so to ask him to +carry the bag, yet as Geoff overtook him—for, heavy though it was, the +boy felt he must walk quickly to get off as fast as possible—the young +man glanced up with a good-natured smile.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, sir," he said civilly, "your bag's a bit heavy for you. +Let me take hold of it with you, if we're going the same way."</p> + +<p>Geoffrey looked at him doubtfully. He was too much of a Londoner +to make friends hastily.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said. "I can manage it. I'm only going to the +corner to wait for the omnibus."</p> + +<p>"Just precisely what I'm going to do myself," said the other. "I'm +quite a stranger hereabouts. I've been staying a day or two with a +friend of mine who keeps a livery stable, and I'm off for the day to +Shalecray, to see another friend. Can you tell me, sir, maybe, if the +omnibus that passes near here takes one to the railway station?"</p> + +<p>"Which railway station?" said Geoff, more than half inclined to +laugh at the stranger's evident countrifiedness.</p> + +<p>"Victoria Station, to be sure. It's the one I come by. Isn't it the +big station for all parts?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you! no," said Geoff. "There are six or seven as big as it in +London. What line is this place on?"</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image049.jpg" width="200" alt="WALKING ALONG BESIDE GEOFF." />"That's +more nor I can say," said the stranger, looking as if he +would have scratched his head to help him out of his perplexity if he had +had a hand free. But he had not, for he had caught up the bag, and +was walking along beside Geoff, and under his +arm he carried a very substantial alpaca umbrella. +And in the interest of the conversation Geoff +had scarcely noticed the way in which the +stranger had, as it were, attached himself to him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well! never mind. I'm going to Victoria +myself, and when we get there I'll look up your +place and find you your train," said Geoff, +patronizingly.</p> + +<p>He had kept looking at the stranger, and as +he did so, his misgivings disappeared.</p> + +<p>"He is just a simple country lad," he said to +himself. And, indeed, the young man's blue +eyes, fresh complexion, and open expression +would have reassured any but a <i>most</i> suspicious +person.</p> + +<p>"You're very kind, sir," he replied. "You see, London's a big place, +and country folk feels half stupid-like in it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," said Geoff. "For my part, I often wonder any one +that's free to do as they like cares to live in London. You're a great +deal better off in the country."</p> + +<p>"There's bads and goods everywhere, I take it, sir," said the young +man, philosophically.</p> + +<p>But by this time they had reached the corner where the omnibus +started, and Geoff's attention was directed to hailing the right one. And +an omnibus rattling over London stones is not exactly the place for +conversation, so no more passed between them till they were dropped +within a stone's throw of Victoria Station.</p> + +<p>Geoff was beginning to feel very hungry, and almost faint as well as chilly.</p> + +<p>"I say," he said to his companion, "you're not in any very desperate +hurry to get off, are you? For I'm frightfully hungry. You don't mind +waiting while I have some breakfast, do you? I'll look you out your +train for that place as soon as I've had some."</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," said the stranger. "If it wouldn't be making too free, +I'd be pleased to join you. But I suppose you'll be going into the first-class?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Geoff. "I don't mind the second-class."</p> + +<p>And into the second-class refreshment-room they went. They grew +very friendly over hot coffee and a rasher of bacon, and then Geoff laid +out threepence on a railway guide, and proceeded to hunt up Shalecray.</p> + +<p>"Here you are!" he exclaimed. "And upon my word, that's a good +joke. This place—Shalecray—is on the very line I'm going by. I +wonder I never noticed it. I came up that way not long ago, from +Entlefield."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir; that's really curious," said the countryman. "And are +you going to Entlefield to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Geoff, "I fancy so. I've not quite made up my mind, to +tell the truth. I know the country about there. I want to find some—some +farmhouse."</p> + +<p>"Oh, exactly—I understand," interrupted the young man. "You want +somewhere where they'll put you up tidily for a few days—just for a +breath of country air."</p> + +<p>"Well, no; not exactly," said Geoffrey. "The fact is, I'm looking out +for—for some sort of situation about a farm. I'm very fond of country +life. I don't care what I do. I'm not a fine gentleman!"</p> + +<p>The countryman looked at him with interest.</p> + +<p>"I see," he said. "You're tired of town, I take it, sir. But what do +your friends say to it, sir? At sixteen, or even seventeen, you have still +to ask leave, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not always," said Geoff. "I've made no secret of it. I've no father, +and—I'm pretty much my own master."</p> + +<p>"'I care for nobody, and nobody cares for me,' eh?" quoted the young +man, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Something like it, I suppose," said Geoff, laughing too, though rather +forcedly. For a vision of Vicky, sobbing, perhaps, over her lonely +breakfast, would come before him—of Elsa and Frances trying how to +break to their mother the news that Geoff had really run away. "They'll +soon get over it," he said to himself. "They've got that old curmudgeon +to console them, and I don't want to live on <i>his</i> money."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I can easily find a place of some kind?" he went on, +after a pause.</p> + +<p>The countryman this time did scratch his head, while he considered.</p> + +<p>"How old may you be, sir? Sixteen or seventeen, maybe?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so much; I'm only fourteen," said Geoff, rather reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"Really! now, who'd 'a' thought it?" said his new friend, admiringly. +"You'll be just the man for a country life when you're full-grown. Not +afraid of roughing it? Fond of riding, I dare say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Geoff. "At least, in town of course I haven't had as +much of it as I'd like." He had never ridden in his life, except the +previous summer, on a peculiarly gentle old pony of Mrs. Colethorne's.</p> + +<p>"No, in course not. Well now, sir, if you'd no objection to stopping +at Shalecray with me, it strikes me my friend there, Farmer Eames, +might likely enough know of something to suit you. He's a very decent +fellow—a bit rough-spoken, maybe. But you're used to country ways—you'd +not mind that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not a bit!" said Geoff. "I'm much obliged to you for thinking +of it. And you say it's possible—that this Farmer Eames may perhaps +have a place that I should do for?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, sir, I can't say that. It's just a chance. I only said he'd +maybe know of something."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't see that it will do any harm to ask him. I'll only +take a ticket to Shalecray, then. I can go on farther later in the day if I +don't find anything to suit me there. We'd better take the first train—a +quarter to nine. We've still twenty minutes or so to wait."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's plenty of time—time for a pipe. You don't object, sir? +But, bless me"—and he felt in his pockets one after the other—"if I +haven't forgotten my 'bacca! With your leave, sir, I'll run across the +street to fetch some. I saw a shop as we came in."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Geoff; "I'll wait here. Don't be too late."</p> + +<p>He had no particular fancy for going to buy cheap tobacco in the +company of the very rustic-looking stranger. Besides, he thought it +safer to remain quiet in a dark corner of the waiting-room.</p> + +<p>It was curious that, though the countryman came back with a well-filled +tobacco-pouch, he had not left the station! He only disappeared +for a minute or two into the telegraph office, and the message he there +indited was as follows:—</p> + +<p>"Got him all safe. Will report further this evening."</p> + +<p>And ten minutes later the two were ensconced in a third-class carriage, +with tickets for Shalecray.</p> + +<p>Geoff had often travelled second, but rarely third. He did not, truth +to tell, particularly like it. Yet he could not have proposed anything else +to his companion, unless he had undertaken to pay the difference. And +as it was, the breakfast and his own third-class ticket had made a considerable +hole in his thirty shillings. He must be careful, for even with +all his inexperience he knew it was <i>possible</i> he might have to pay his own +way for some little time to come.</p> + +<p>"Still, the chances are I shall find what I want very easily," he +reflected. "It is evidently not difficult, by what this fellow tells me."</p> + +<p>It did not even strike him as in any way a very remarkable coincidence +that almost on the doorstep of his own home he should have lighted upon +the very person he needed to give him the particular information he was +in want of. For in many ways, in spite of his boasted independence, +poor Geoff was as innocent and unsuspicious as a baby.</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image053.jpg"> + <img src="images/image053.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<h5>"HALF-A-CROWN A WEEK AND HIS VICTUALS."</h5> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image053b.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="S" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">halecray was a small station, where no very considerable +number of trains stopped in the twenty-four hours. It was +therefore a slow train by which Geoffrey Tudor and his new +friend travelled; so, though the distance from London was really short, it +took them fully two hours to reach their destination. And two hours +on a raw drizzly November morning is quite a long enough time to spend +in a third-class carriage, shivering if the windows are down, and suffering +on the other hand from the odours of damp fustian and bad tobacco if +they are up.</div> + +<p>Cold as it was, it seemed pleasant in comparison when they got out at +last, and were making their way down a very muddy, but really country +lane. Geoff gave a sort of snort of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I do love the country," he said.</p> + +<p>His companion looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"I believe you, sir," he replied. "You must like it, to find it pleasant +in November," he went on, with a tone which made Geoff glance at him +in surprise. Somehow in the last few words the countryman's accent +seemed to have changed a little. Geoff could almost have fancied there +was a cockney twang about it.</p> + +<p>"Why, don't <i>you</i> like it?" said Geoff. "You said you were lost and +miserable in town."</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir. What else could I be? I'm country born and bred. +But it's not often as a Londoner takes to it as you do, and it's not to say +lively at this time, and"—he looked down with a grimace—"the lanes is +uncommon muddy."</p> + +<p>"How far is it to your friend's place?" Geoff inquired, thinking to +himself that if <i>he</i> were to remark on the mud it would not be surprising, +but that it was rather curious for his companion to do so.</p> + +<p>"A matter of two mile or so," Jowett—for Ned Jowett, he had told +Geoff, was his name—replied; "and now I come to think of it, perhaps +it'd be as well for you to leave your bag at the station. I'll see that it's +all right; and as you're not sure of stopping at Crickwood, there's no +sense in carrying it there and maybe back again for nothing. I'll give it +in charge to the station-master, and be back in a moment."</p> + +<p>He had shouldered it and was hastening back to the station almost +before Geoff had time to take in what he said. The boy stood looking +after him vaguely. He was beginning to feel tired and a little dispirited. +He did not feel as if he could oppose anything just then.</p> + +<p>"If he's a cheat and he's gone off with my bag, I just can't help it," he +thought. "He won't gain much. Still, he looks honest."</p> + +<p>And five minutes later the sight of the young man's cheery face as he +hastened back removed all his misgivings.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," he called out. "It'll be quite safe; and if by chance +you hit it off with Mr. Eames, the milk-cart that comes to fetch the +empty cans in the afternoon can bring the bag too."</p> + +<p>They stepped out more briskly after that. It was not such a very +long walk to the farm, though certainly more than the two miles Jowett +had spoken of. As they went on, the country grew decidedly pretty, or +perhaps it would be more correct to say one saw that in summer and +pleasant weather it must be very pretty. Geoff, however, was hardly at +the age for admiring scenery much. He looked about him with interest, +but little more than interest.</p> + +<p>"Are there woods about here?" he asked suddenly. "I do like +woods."</p> + +<p>Jowett hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I don't know this part of the country not to say so very well," he +replied. "There's some fine gentlemen's seats round about, I believe. +Crickwood Bolders, now, is a fine place—we'll pass by the park wall in a +minute; it's the place that Eames's should by rights be the home farm +to, so to say. But it's been empty for a many years. The family died +down till it come to a distant cousin who was in foreign parts, and he let +the farm to Eames, and the house has been shut up. They do speak of +his coming back afore long."</p> + +<p>Geoff looked out for the park of which Jowett spoke; they could not +see much of it, certainly, without climbing the wall, for which he felt no +energy. But a little farther on they came to gates, evidently a back +entrance, and they stood still for a moment or two and looked in.</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image055.jpg" width="260" alt="THEY STOOD STILL FOR A MOMENT OR TWO." />"Yes," +said Geoff, gazing over the wide +expanse of softly undulating ground, +broken by clumps of magnificent old trees, +which at one side extended into a fringe +skirting the park for miles apparently, +till it melted in the distance into a range +of blue-topped hills—"yes, it must be a +fine place indeed. That's the sort of +place, now, I'd like to own, Jowett."</p> + +<p>He spoke more cordially again, for +Jowett's acquaintance with the neighbourhood +had destroyed a sort of misgiving +that had somehow come over him +as to whether his new friend were perhaps +"taking him in altogether."</p> + +<p>"I believe you," said the countryman, laughing loudly, as if Geoff's +remark had been a very good joke indeed. Geoff felt rather nettled.</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't I own such a place, pray?" he said haughtily. +"Such things, when one is a <i>gentleman</i>, are all a matter of chance, as you +know. If my father, or my grandfather, rather, had not been a younger +son, I should have been——"</p> + +<p>Ned Jowett turned to him rather gravely.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to offend you, sir," he said. "But you must remember +you're taking up a different line from that. Farmer Eames, or farmer +nobody, wouldn't engage a farm hand that expected to be treated as a +gentleman. It's not my fault, sir. 'Twas yourself told me what you +wished."</p> + +<p>Geoff was silent for a moment or two. It was not easy all at once to +make up his mind to <i>not</i> being a gentleman any more, and yet his +common sense told him that Jowett was right; it must be so. Unless, +indeed, he gave it all up and went back home again to eat humble pie, +and live on Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's bounty, and go to some horrid +school of his choosing, and be more "bullied" (so he expressed it to +himself) than ever by his sisters, and scarcely allowed to see his mother +at all. The silent enumeration of these grievances decided him. He +turned round to Jowett with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said; "I was forgetting. You must tell Farmer Eames +he'll not find any nonsense about me."</p> + +<p>"All right, sir. But, if you'll excuse me, I'd best perhaps drop the +'sir'?"</p> + +<p>Geoff nodded.</p> + +<p>"And that reminds me," Jowett went on, "you've not told me your +name—leastways, what name you wish me to give Eames. We're close +to his place now;" and as he spoke he looked about him scrutinizingly. +"Ten minutes past the back way through the park you'll come to a lane +on the left. Eames's farm is the first house you come to on the right," he +repeated to himself, too low for Geoff to hear. "Yes, I can't be wrong."</p> + +<p>"You can call me Jim—Jim Jeffreys," said the boy. "He needn't be +afraid of getting into any trouble if he takes me on. I've no father, and +my mother won't worry about me," he added bitterly.</p> + +<p>The entrance to the lane just then came in sight.</p> + +<p>"This here's our way," said Jowett. "Supposing I go on a bit in +front. I think it would be just as well to explain to Eames about my +bringing you."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Geoff. "I'll come on slowly. Where is the farm?"</p> + +<p>"First house to the right; you can't miss it. But I'll come back to +meet you again."</p> + +<p>He hurried on, and Geoff followed slowly. He was hungry now as +well as cold and tired—at least, he supposed he must be hungry, he felt +so dull and stupid. What should he do if Farmer Eames could not take +him on? he began to ask himself; he really felt as if it would be impossible +for him to set off on his travels again like a tramp, begging for work +all over the country. And for the first time it began faintly to dawn +upon him that he had acted very foolishly.</p> + +<p>"But it's too late now," he said to himself; "I'd die rather than go +home and ask to be forgiven, and be treated by them all as if I deserved +to be sent to prison. I've got enough money to keep me going for a day +or two, anyway. If it was summer—haymaking-time, for instance, I +suppose it would be easy enough to get work. But now——" and he +shivered as he gazed over the bare, dreary, lifeless-looking fields on all +sides, where it was difficult to believe that the green grass could ever +spring again, or the golden grain wave in the sunshine—"I really wonder +what work there can be to do in the winter. The ground's as hard as +iron; and oh, my goodness, isn't it cold?"</p> + +<p>Suddenly some little way in front he descried two figures coming +towards him. The one was Jowett; the other, an older, stouter man, +must be Farmer Eames. Geoff's heart began to beat faster. Would he +be met by a refusal, and told to make his way back to the station? And +if so, where would he go, what should he do? It had all seemed so easy +when he planned it at home—he had felt so sure he would find what he +wanted at once; he had somehow forgotten it would no longer be summer +when he got out into the country again! For the first time in his life he +realized what hundreds, nay, thousands of boys, no older than he, must go +through every day—poor homeless fellows, poor and homeless through +no fault of their own in many cases.</p> + +<p>"If ever I'm a rich man," thought Geoff, "I'll think of to-day."</p> + +<p>And his anxiety grew so great that by the time the two men had come +up to him his usually ruddy face had become almost white.</p> + +<p>Jowett looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"You look uncommon cold, Jim," he said. "This 'ere's Jim Jeffreys +as I've been a-talking to you of, Mr. Eames," he said, by way of introduction +to the farmer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed!" Farmer Eames replied; "seems a well-grown lad, but +looks delicate. Is he always so white-like?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you! no," said Jowett; "he's only a bit done up with—with one +thing and another. We made a hearly start of it, and it's chilly this +morning."</p> + +<p>The farmer grunted a little.</p> + +<p>"He'd need to get used to starting early of a morning if he was to be +any use to me," he said half-grudgingly. But even this sounded hopeful +to Geoff.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mind getting up early," he said quickly. "I'm not used +to lying in bed late."</p> + +<p>"There's early <i>and</i> early," said the farmer. "What I might take you +on trial for would be to drive the milk-cart to and fro the station. There's +four sendings in all—full and empty together. And the first time is for +the up-train that passes Shalecray at half-past five."</p> + +<p>Geoff shivered a little. But it would not do to seem daunted.</p> + +<p>"I'll be punctual," he said.</p> + +<p>"And of course, between times you'd have to make yourself useful +about the dairy, and the pigs—you'd have to see to the pigs, and to make +yourself useful," repeated the farmer, whose power of expressing himself +was limited.</p> + +<p>"Of course," agreed Geoff as heartily as he could, though, truth to +tell, the idea of pigs had not hitherto presented itself to him.</p> + +<p>"Well," Farmer Eames went on, turning towards Jowett, "I dunno as +I mind giving him a trial, seeing as I'm just short of a boy as it happens. +And for the station work, it's well to have a sharpish lad, and a civil-spoken +one. You'll have to keep a civil tongue in your head, my boy—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Geoff, but not without a slight touch of haughtiness. +"Of course I'll be civil to every one who's civil to me."</p> + +<p>"And who isn't civil to thee, maybe, now and then," said the farmer, +with a rather curious smile. "'Twon't be all walking on roses—nay, +'twon't be all walking on roses to be odd boy in a farm. But there's many +a one as'd think himself uncommon lucky to get the chance, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, and so I do," said Geoff, eagerly. "I do indeed. I think it's +awfully good of you to try me; and you'll see I'm not afraid of work."</p> + +<p>"And what about his character?" said the farmer, speaking again to +Jowett. "Can you answer for his honesty?—that's the principal thing."</p> + +<p>Geoff's cheeks flamed, and he was starting forward indignantly, when a +word or two whispered, sternly almost, in his ear by Jowett, forced him +to be quiet. "Don't be an idiot! do you want to spoil all your chances?" +he said. And something in the tone again struck Geoff with surprise. +He could scarcely believe it was the simple young countryman who was +speaking.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you need be uneasy on that score," he said. "You see +it's all come about in a rather—uncommon sort of way."</p> + +<p>"I should rather think so," said the farmer, shrugging his shoulders, but +smiling too.</p> + +<p>"And," pursued Jowett, "you'll have to stretch a point or two. Of +course he'll want very little in the way of wages to begin."</p> + +<p>"Half-a-crown a week and his victuals," replied the farmer, promptly. +"And he must bind himself for three months certain—I'm not going to +be thrown out of a boy at the orkardest time of the year for getting 'em +into sharp ways. And I can't have no asking for holidays for three +months, either."</p> + +<p>Jowett looked at Geoff.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Geoff.</p> + +<p>"And you must go to church reg'lar," added the farmer. "You can +manage it well enough, and Sunday school, too, if you're sharp—there's +only twice to the station on Sundays."</p> + +<p>"On Sundays, too?" repeated Geoff. Sundays at worst had been a +day of no work at home.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said Eames, sharply. "Beasts can't do for themselves +on Sundays no more than any other day. And Londoners can't drink +sour milk on Sundays neither."</p> + +<p>"No," said Geoff, meekly enough. "Of course I'm used to church," +he added, "but I think I'm rather too old for the Sunday school."</p> + +<p>"I'll leave that to the parson," said the farmer. "Well, now then, we +may as well see if dinner's not ready. It's quite time, and you'll be +getting hungry, Mr. Jowett," he added, with a slight hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Why not call me Ned? You're very high in your manners to-day, +Eames," said the other, with a sort of wink.</p> + +<p>Then they both laughed and walked on, leaving Geoff to follow. +Nothing was said about <i>his</i> being hungry.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps <i>I</i> shall be expected to dine with the pigs," he thought.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image060.jpg"> + <img src="images/image060.jpg" height="70" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image061a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image061a.jpg" height="70" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<h5>PIGS, ETC.</h5> + + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/image061b.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="I" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">t was not quite so bad as that, however. Farmer Eames +turned in at the farmyard gate and led the two strangers into +a good-sized kitchen, where the table was already set, in a +homely fashion, for dinner. A stout, middle-aged woman, with a rather +sharp face, turned from the fire, where she was superintending some +cooking.</div> + +<p>"Here we are again, wife," said Eames. "Glad to see dinner's ready. +Take a chair, Mr. Ned. You'll have a glass of beer to begin with?" and +as he poured it out, "This here's the new boy, missis—I've settled to give +him a trial."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Eames murmured something, which Geoff supposed must have +been intended as a kind of welcome. She was just then lifting a large +pan of potatoes off the fire, and as she turned her face to the light, Geoff +noticed that it was very red—redder than a moment before. He could +almost have fancied the farmer's wife was shy.</p> + +<p>"Shall I help you?" he exclaimed, darting forward to take hold of the +pan.</p> + +<p>Eames burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"That's a good joke," he said. "He knows which side his bread's +buttered on, does this 'ere young fellow."</p> + +<p>Geoff grew scarlet, and some angry rejoinder was on his lips, when +Jowett, who to his great indignation was laughing too, clapped him on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Come, my boy, there's naught to fly up about. Eames must have his +joke."</p> + +<p>"I see naught to laugh at," said Mrs. Eames, who had by this time +shaken the potatoes into a large dish that stood ready to receive them; +"the lad meant it civil enough."</p> + +<p>"You're not to spoil him now, wife," said her husband. "It's no +counter-jumpers' ways we want hereabouts. Sit thee down, Ned; and +Jim, there, you can draw the bench by the door a bit nearer the dresser, +and I'll give you some dinner by-and-by."</p> + +<p>Geoff, his heart swelling, did as he was bid. +He sat quietly enough, glad of the rest and the +warmth, till Mr. and Mrs. Eames and their +guest were all helped, and had allayed the +first sharp edge of their appetites. But from +time to time the farmer's wife glanced at Geoff +uneasily, and once, he felt sure, he saw her +nudge her husband.</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image062.jpg" width="190" alt="HE SAT QUIETLY ENOUGH." />"She means to be kind," thought the boy.</p> + +<p>And her kindness apparently had some effect. +The farmer looked round, after a deep draught +of beer, and pushed his tankard aside.</p> + +<p>"Will you have a sup, Jim?" he said good-naturedly. +"I can't promise it you every day; +but for once in a way."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," Geoff replied. "I never +take beer; moth——" but he stopped suddenly.</p> + +<p>"As you like," said the farmer; "but though you're not thirsty, I dare +say you're hungry."</p> + +<p>He cut off a slice of the cold meat before him, and put it on a plate +with some potatoes, and a bit of dripping from a dish on the table. The +slice of meat was small in proportion to the helping of potatoes; but Geoff +was faint with hunger. He took the plate, with the steel-pronged fork +and coarse black-handled knife, and sat down again by the dresser to eat. +But, hungry though he was, he could not manage it all. Half-way through, +a sort of miserable choky feeling came over him: he thought of his meals +at home—the nice white tablecloth, the sparkling glass and silver, the fine +china—and all seemed to grow misty before his eyes for a minute or two; +he almost felt as if he were going to faint, and the voices at the table +sounded as if they came from the other side of the Atlantic. He drank +some water—for on his refusing beer, Mrs. Eames had handed him a little +horn mug filled with water; <i>it</i> was as fresh and sweet as any he had ever +tasted, and he tried at the same time to swallow down his feelings. And by +the time that the farmer stood up to say grace, he felt pretty right again.</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to be about, Eames?" said Jowett. "I'll +walk round the place with you, if you like. I must take the four train up +again."</p> + +<p>"All right," the farmer replied; "Jim can take you to the station when +he goes to fetch the cans. You'll see that he doesn't come to grief on +the way. Do 'ee know how to drive a bit?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," replied Geoff, eagerly. "I drove a good deal last summer +at—in the country. And I know I was very fond of it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the farmer, drily, "you'll have enough of it here. But the +pony's old; you mustn't drive him too fast. Now, I'll tell one of the +men to show you the yard, and the pig-sties, and the missis'll show you +where she keeps the swill-tub. It'll want emptying—eh, wife?"</p> + +<p>"It do that," she replied. "But he must change his clothes afore he +gets to that dirty work. Those are your best ones, ain't they?"</p> + +<p>Geoff looked down at his suit. It was not his best, for he had left his +Eton jackets and trousers behind him. The clothes he had on were a +rough tweed suit he had had for the country; he had thought them very +far from best. But now it struck him that they did look a great deal too +good for feeding the pigs in.</p> + +<p>"I've got an older pair of trousers in my bag," he said; "but this is +my oldest jacket."</p> + +<p>"He should have a rougher one," said Mrs. Eames. "I'll look out; +maybe there's an old coat of George's as'd make down."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Eames. "But you've no need of a coat at all to feed +the pigs in. Whoever heard o' such a thing?"</p> + +<p>Just then a voice was heard at the door.</p> + +<p>"I'm here, master," it said, "fur the new boy."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Eames; and, followed by Geoff, in his shirt-sleeves by +this time, he led the way to the farmyard.</p> + +<p>It was interesting, if only it had not been so cold. Matthew, the man, +was not very communicative certainly, and it seemed to the new boy that +he eyed him with some disfavour. Eames himself just gave a few short +directions, and then went off with Jowett.</p> + +<p>"Them's the stables," said Matthew, jerking his thumb towards a row +of old buildings, "and them's the cow-houses," with a jerk the other way. +"Old pony's with master's mare, as he drives hisself. I've nought to +say to pony; it's your business. And I'll want a hand with cart-horses +and plough-horses. Young folks has no call to be idle."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to be idle," said Geoff; "but if Mr. Eames doesn't find +fault with me, <i>you</i>'ve no call to do so either."</p> + +<p>He spoke more valiantly than he felt, perhaps, for Matthew's stolid face +and small, twinkling eyes were not pleasant. He muttered something, +and then went grumbling across the yard towards a wall, from behind +which emanated an odour which required no explanation.</p> + +<p>"Them's pigs," said he. Matthew had a curious trick of curtailing his +phrases as his temper waxed sourer. Articles, prepositions, and auxiliary +verbs disappeared, till at last his language became a sort of spoken +hieroglyphics.</p> + +<p>Geoff looked over the pig-sty wall. Grunt, grumph, snort—out they all +tumbled, one on the top of the other, making for the trough. Poor things! +it was still empty. Geoff could hardly help laughing, and yet he felt +rather sorry for them.</p> + +<p>"I'll go and fetch their dinner," he said. "I don't mind pigs; but they +are awfully dirty."</p> + +<p>"Ax the missus for soap to wash 'em," said Matthew, with a grin. He +hadn't yet made up his mind if the new boy was sharp or not.</p> + +<p>"No," said Geoff, "I'll not do that till the first of April; but I'll tell you +what, Matthew, I'll not keep them as dirty as they are. And <i>I</i> should +say that the chap that's been looking after them is a very idle fellow." +Matthew scowled. "Pigs don't <i>need</i> to be so dirty," Geoff went on. "I +know at Cole——" But he stopped abruptly. He was certainly not going +to take Matthew into his confidence. He asked to be shown the pony—poor +old pony! it didn't look as if it would be over "sperrity"—and then +he went back to the house to fetch the pigs' dinner.</p> + +<p>Very hot, instead of cold, he was by the time he had carried across pail +after pail of Mrs. Eames's "swill," and emptied it into the barrel which +stood by the sty. It wasn't savoury work, either, and the farmer's wife +made a kind of excuse for there being so much of it. "Matthew were +that idle," and they'd been a hand short the last week or two. But Geoff +wasn't going to give in; there was a sort of enjoyment in it when it came +to the actual feeding of the pigs, and for their digestion's sake, it was well +that the farmer's wife warned him that there <i>might</i> be such a thing as +over-feeding, even of pigs. He would have spent the best part of the +afternoon in filling the trough and watching them squabble over it.</p> + +<p>He was tired and hot, and decidedly dirtier-looking than could have +been expected, when Eames and Jowett came back from the fields.</p> + +<p>"Time to get the pony to!" shouted the farmer. Geoff turned off to +the stable. He wanted to manage the harnessing alone; but, simple as it +was, he found it harder than it looked, and he would have been forced to +apply to Matthew, had not Jowett strolled into the stable. He felt sorry +for the boy, sorrier than he thought it well to show, when he saw his +flushed face and trembling hands, and in a trice he had disentangled the +mysteries of buckles and straps, and got all ready.</p> + +<p>"Been working hard?" he said good-naturedly. "Seems a bit strange +at first."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind the work; but—it does all seem very rough," said Geoff.</p> + +<p>There was a slight quiver in his voice, but Jowett said no more +till they were jogging along on their way to the station. Geoff's spirits +had got up a little again by this time. He liked to feel the reins between +his fingers, even though the vehicle was only a milk-cart, and the steed a +sadly broken-winded old gray pony; and he was rather proud at having +managed to steer safely through the yard gate, as to which, to tell the +truth, he had felt a little nervous.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do for you on my way through town?" asked +Jowett. "I'll be in your part of the world to-night."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to sleep at the livery stables?" asked Geoff.</p> + +<p>Jowett nodded.</p> + +<p>"I wish——" began the boy. "If I'd thought of it, I'd have written +a letter for you to post in London. But there's no time now."</p> + +<p>Jowett looked at his watch—a very good silver watch it was—"I don't +know that," he said. "I can get you a piece of paper and an envelope +at the station, and I'll see that your letter gets to—wherever it is, at +once."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Geoff. "And Jowett"—he hesitated. "You've been +very good to me—would you mind one thing more? There's some one +I would like to hear from sometimes, but I don't want to give my +address. Could I tell them—her—it's my sister—to write to your place, +and you to send it to me?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said Jowett. "But I won't give my address in the +country. You just say to send on the letter to the care of</p> + +<div class="smallcaps"> +<p> +'Mr. Abel Smith,<br /> +<span class="ind4">Livery Stables,</span><br /> +<span class="ind6">Mowbray Place Mews</span>,' +</p> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and I'll see it comes straight to you. You won't want to give your name +maybe? Just put 'Mr. James, care of Abel Smith.'"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Geoff, with a sigh of relief. "You see," he went +on, half apologetically, "there's some one ill at home, and I'd like to know +how—how they are."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said Jowett again; "it's only natural. And however +bad one's been treated by one's people—and it's easy to see they +must have treated you <i>on</i>common badly to make a young gent like you +have to leave his home and come down to work for his living like a +poor boy, though I respects you for it all the more—still own folks is +own folks."</p> + +<p>He cast a shrewd glance at Geoff, as he spoke. The boy could not +help colouring. Had he been treated so "oncommon badly"? Was his +determination to run away and be independent of Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's +assistance a real manly resolution, or not rather a fit of ill-tempered +boyish spite? Would he not have been acting with far more true independence +by accepting gratefully the education which would have fitted +him for an honourable career in his own rank? for Mr. Byrne, as he knew +well by his mother's trust in the old gentleman, was not one to have +thrown him aside had he been worthy of assistance.</p> + +<p>"But anyway, it's done now," thought the boy, choking down the +feelings which began to assert themselves.</p> + +<p>At the station, Jowett was as good as his word. He got the paper and +a pencil, and Geoff wrote a short note to Vicky, just to tell her he was +"all right," and enclosing the address to which she was to write. And +Jowett undertook that she should have it that same evening. Had the +boy been less preoccupied he could not but have been struck by the +curious inconsistencies in the young countryman, who, when he had first +met him that morning, had seemed scarcely able to find his way to the +station, and yet, when occasion arose, had shown himself as sharp and +capable as any Londoner.</p> + +<p>But as it was, when the train had whizzed off again, he only felt as if +his last friend had deserted him. And it was a very subdued and home-sick +Geoffrey who, in the chilly, misty autumn evening, drove the old +pony through the muddy lanes to the farm, the empty milk-cans rattling +in the cart behind him, and the tears slowly coursing down his cheeks +now there was no one to see them.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image067.jpg"> + <img src="images/image067.jpg" height="70" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image047a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image047a.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<h5>POOR GEOFF!</h5> + + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/image047.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="H" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">e drove into the yard, where Matthew's disagreeable face and +voice soon greeted him. Half forgetting himself, Geoff threw +the reins on to the pony's neck and jumped out of the cart, +with his carpet-bag. He was making his way into the house, feeling as +if even the old bag was a kind of comfort in its way, when the farm-man +called him back.</div> + +<p>"Dost think I's to groom pony?" he said ill-naturedly. +"May stand till doomsday afore I'll +touch him."</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image068c.jpg" width="180" alt="MATTHEW, THE MAN." /></p> + +<p>Geoff turned back. Of course, he ought to +have remembered it was his work, and if Matthew +had spoken civilly he would even have thanked +him for the reminder—more gratefully, I dare say, +than he had often thanked Elsa or Frances for +a hint of some forgotten duty. But, as it was, +it took some self-control not to "fly out," and +to set to work, tired as he was, to groom the +pony and put him up for the night. It was all so +strange and new too; at Colethorne's he had +watched the stablemen at their work, and thought it looked easy and +amusing, but when it came to doing it, it seemed a very different thing, +especially in the dusk, chilly evening, and feeling as he did both tired and +hungry. He did his best, however, and the old pony was very patient, +poor beast, and Geoff's natural love of animals stood him in good stead; +he could never have relieved his own depression by ill temper to any +dumb creature. And at last old Dapple was made as comfortable as +Geoff knew how, for Matthew took care to keep out of the way, and to +offer no help or advice, and the boy turned towards the house, carpet-bag +in hand.</p> + +<p>The fire was blazing brightly in the kitchen, and in front of it sat the +farmer, smoking a long clay pipe, which to Geoff smelt very nasty. He +coughed, to attract Mr. Eames's attention.</p> + +<p>"I've brought my bag from the station," he said. "Will you tell me +where I'm to sleep?"</p> + +<p>The farmer looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>"You've brought the milk-cans back, too, I suppose? Your bag's not +the principal thing. Have you seen to Dapple?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Geoff, and his tone was somewhat sulky.</p> + +<p>Eames looked at him again, and still more sharply.</p> + +<p>"I told you at the first you were to keep a civil tongue in your head," +he said. "You'll say 'sir' when you speak to me."</p> + +<p>But just then Mrs. Eames fortunately made her appearance.</p> + +<p>"Don't scold him—he's only a bit strange," she said. "Come with +me, Jim, and I'll show you your room."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the boy, gratefully.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Eames glanced at her husband, as much as to say she was wiser +than he, and then led the way out of the kitchen down a short, flagged +passage, and up a short stair. Then she opened a door, and, by the +candle she held, Geoff saw a very small, very bare room. There was a +narrow bed in one corner, a chair, a window-shelf, on which stood a basin, +and a cupboard in the wall.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Eames looked round. "It's been well cleaned out since last boy +went," she said. "Master and me'll look in now and then to see that +you keep it clean. Cupboard's handy, and there's a good flock mattress." +Then she gave him the light, and turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Please," said Geoff, meekly, "might I have a piece of bread? I'm +rather hungry." It was long past his usual tea-time.</p> + +<p>"To be sure!" she replied. "You've not had your tea? I put it +on the hob for you." And the good woman bustled off again.</p> + +<p>Geoff followed her, after depositing his bag in the cupboard. She +poured out the tea into a bowl, and ladled in a good spoonful of brown +sugar. Then she cut a hunch off a great loaf, and put it beside the bowl +on the dresser. Geoff was so hungry and thirsty, that he attacked both +tea and bread, though the former was coarse in flavour, and the latter +butterless. But it was not the quality of the food that brought back +again that dreadful choking in his throat, and made the salt tears drop +into the bowl of tea. It was the thought of tea-time at home—the neat +table, and Vicky's dear, important-looking little face, as she filled his cup, +and put in the exact amount of sugar he liked—that came over him +suddenly with a sort of rush. He felt as if he could not bear it. He +swallowed down the tea with a gulp, and rammed the bread into his pocket. +Then, doing his utmost to look unconcerned, he went up to the farmer.</p> + +<p>"Shall I go to bed now, please, sir?" he said, with a little hesitation +at the last word. "I'm—I'm rather tired."</p> + +<p>"Go to bed?" repeated Eames. "Yes, I suppose so. You must +turn out early—the milk must be at the station by half-past five."</p> + +<p>"How shall I wake?" asked Geoff, timidly.</p> + +<p>"Wake? You'll have to learn to wake like others do. However, for +the first, I'll tell Matthew to knock you up."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Good-night, sir."</p> + +<p>"Good-night." And the farmer turned again to the newspaper he was +reading.</p> + +<p>"You'll find your bed well aired. I made Betsy see to that," called +out Mrs. Eames.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Geoff again, more heartily this time. But he overheard +Eames grumbling at his wife as he left the room, telling her "he'd +have none of that there coddling of the lad."</p> + +<p>"And you'd have him laid up with rheumatics—dying of a chill? +That'd be a nice finish up to it all. You know quite well——" But +Geoff heard no more. And he was too worn-out and sleepy to think +much of what he had heard.</p> + +<p>He got out what he required for the night. He wondered shiveringly +how it would be possible to wash with only a basin. Water he was +evidently expected to fetch for himself. He tried to say his prayers, but +fell asleep, the tears running down his face, in the middle, and woke up +with a sob, and at last managed somehow to tumble into bed. It was +very cold, but, as Mrs. Eames had said, quite dry. The chilly feeling +woke him again, and he tried once more to say his prayers, and this time +with better success. He was able to add a special petition that "mother" +might soon be well again, and that dear Vicky might be happy. And then +he fell asleep—so soundly, so heavily, that when a drumming at the door +made itself heard, he fancied he had only just begun the night. He sat +up. Where was he? At first, in the darkness, he thought he was in +his own bed at home, and he wondered who +was knocking so roughly—wondered still more +at the rude voice which was shouting out—</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image071.jpg" width="220" alt="KNOCKING SO ROUGHLY." />"Up with you there, Jim, d'ye hear? I'm +not a-going to stand here all day. It's past +half-past four. Jim—you lazy lout. I'll call +master if you don't speak—a-locking of his +door like a fine gentleman!"</p> + +<p>Gradually Geoff remembered all—the feeling +of the things about him—the coarse bed-clothes, +the slightly mildewy smell of the pillow, helped to +recall him to the present, even before he could see.</p> + +<p>"I'm coming, Matthew!" he shouted back. +"I'll be ready in five minutes;" and out of bed +he crept, sleepy and confused, into the chilly +air of the little room. He had no matches, but there was a short curtain +before the window, and when he pulled it back the moonlight came +faintly in—enough for him to distinguish the few objects in the room. +He dared not attempt to wash, he was so afraid of being late. He +managed to get out his oldest pair of trousers, and hurried on his clothes +as fast as he could, feeling miserably dirty and slovenly, and thinking +to himself he would never again be hard on poor people for not being +clean! "I must try to wash when I come back," he said to himself. +Then he hurried out, and none too soon.</p> + + +<p>Matthew was in the yard, delighted to frighten him. "You'll have to +look sharp," he said, as Geoff hurried to the stable. "Betsy's filling the +cans, and rare and cross she is at having to do it. You should have +been there to help her, and the missis'll be out in a minute."</p> + +<p>The harnessing of Dapple was not easy in the faint light, and he +could not find the stable lantern. But it got done at last, and Geoff led +the cart round to the dairy door, where Betsy was filling the last of the +cans. She was not so cross as she might have been, and Mrs. Eames +had not yet appeared. They got the cans into the cart, and in a minute +or two Geoff found himself jogging along the road, already becoming +familiar, to the station.</p> + +<p>It seemed to grow darker instead of lighter, for the moon had gone +behind a cloud, and sunrise was still a good time off. Geoff wondered +dreamily to himself why people need get up so early in the country, and +then remembered that it would take two or three hours for the cans to +get to London. How little he or Vicky had thought, when they drank +at breakfast the nice milk which Mrs. Tudor had always taken care to +have of the best, of the labour and trouble involved in getting it there +in time! And though he had hurried so, he was only just at the station +when the train whizzed in, and the one sleepy porter growled at him for +not having "looked sharper," and banged the milk-cans about unnecessarily +in his temper, so that Geoff was really afraid they would break or +burst open, and all the milk come pouring out.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="GEOFF_AT_THE_STATION."> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image072.jpg"> + <img src="images/image072.jpg" height="500" + alt="GEOFF AT THE STATION" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">GEOFF AT THE STATION.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/image072.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>"You'll have to be here in better time for the twelve train," he said +crossly. "I'm not a-going to do this sort o' work for you nor no chap, if +you can't be here in time."</p> + +<p>Geoff did not answer—he was getting used to sharp words and tones. +He nearly fell asleep in the cart as he jogged home again, and to add to +his discomfort a fine, small, chill, November rain began to fall. He +buttoned up his jacket, and wished he had put on his overcoat; and +then he laughed rather bitterly to think how absurd he would look with +this same overcoat, which had been new only a month before, driving old +Dapple in the milk-cart. He was wet and chilled to the bone when he +reached the farm, and even if he had energy to drive a little faster he +would not have dared to do so, after the farmer's warning.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Eames was in the kitchen when, after putting up the cart and +pony, Geoff came in. There was a delicious fragrance of coffee about +which made his mouth water, but he did not even venture to go near the +fire. Mrs. Eames heard him, however, and looked up. She started a +little at the sight of his pale, wan face.</p> + +<p>"Bless me, boy!" she exclaimed, "but you do look bad. Whatever's +the matter?"</p> + +<p>Geoff smiled a little—he looked very nice when he smiled; it was only +when he was in one of his ill-tempered moods that there was anything +unlovable in his face—and his smile made Mrs. Eames still more sorry +for him.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing the matter, thank you," he said; "I'm only rather +cold—and wet. I'm strange to it all, I suppose. I wanted to know +what I should do next. Should I feed the pigs?"</p> + +<p>"Have you met the master?" said the farmer's wife. "He's gone +down the fields with Matthew and the others. Didn't you meet 'em?"</p> + +<p>Geoff shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No; I went straight to the stable when I came back from the +station."</p> + +<p>"You'd better take off your wet jacket," she said. "There—hang it +before the fire. And," she went on, "there's a cup of coffee still hot, you +can have for your breakfast this morning as you're so cold—it'll warm you +better nor stir-about; and there's a scrap o' master's bacon you can eat +with your bread."</p> + +<p>She poured out the coffee, steaming hot, and forked out the bacon +from the frying-pan as she spoke, and set all on the corner of the dresser +nearest to the fire.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, thank you awfully," said Geoff. Oh, how good the +coffee smelt! He had never enjoyed a meal so much, and yet, had it +been at home, <i>how</i> he would have grumbled! Coffee in a bowl, with +brown sugar—bread cut as thick as your fist, and no butter! Truly Geoff +was already beginning to taste some of the sweet uses of adversity.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, came the pigs. The farmer had left word that the sty +was to be cleaned out, and fresh straw fetched for the pigs' beds; and as +Betsy was much more good-natured than Matthew in showing the new +boy what was expected of him, he got on pretty well, even feeling a certain +pride in the improved aspect of the pig-sty when he had finished. He +would have dearly liked to try a scrubbing of the piggies themselves, if +he had not been afraid of Matthew's mocking him. But besides this there +was not time. At eleven the second lot of milk had to be carted to the +station, and with the remembrance of the cross porter Geoff dared not be +late. And in the still falling rain he set off again, though, thanks to +Mrs. Eames, with a dry jacket, and, thanks to her too, with a horse-rug +buckled round him, in which guise surely no one would have recognized +Master Geoffrey Tudor.</p> + +<p>After dinner the farmer set him to cleaning out the stables, which it +appeared was to be a part of his regular work; then there were the pigs +to feed again, and at four o'clock the milk-cans to fetch. Oh, how tired +Geoff was getting of the lane to the station! And the day did not come +to an end without his getting into terrible disgrace for not having rinsed +out the cans with boiling water the night before, though nobody had told +him to do it. For a message had come from London that the cans were +dirty and the milk in danger of turning sour, and that if it happened again +Farmer Eames would have to send his milk elsewhere. It was natural +perhaps that he should be angry, and yet, as no one had explained about +it to Geoff, it seemed rather hard for him to have to take the scolding. +<i>Very</i> hard indeed it seemed to him—to proud Geoff, who had never yet +taken in good part his mother's mildest reprimands. And big boy though +he was, he sobbed himself to sleep this second night of his new life, for it +did seem too much, that when he had been trying his very best to please, +and was aching in every limb from his unwonted hard work, he should get +nothing but scolding. And yet he knew that he was lucky to have fallen +into such hands as Farmer Eames's, for, strict as he was, he was a fair and +reasonable master.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," thought Geoff, "I have never really known what hardships +were, though I did think I had plenty to bear at home."</p> + +<p>What would Elsa have said had she heard him?</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image076a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image076a.jpg" height="70" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<h5>"HOOT-TOOT" BEHIND THE HEDGE.</h5> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/image010b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="T" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">hat first day at the farm was a pretty fair specimen of those +that followed. The days grew into weeks and the weeks into +one month, and then into two, and Geoff went on with his self-chosen +hard and lonely life. The loneliness soon came to be the worst +of it. He got used to the hardships so far, and after all they were not +very terrible ones. He was better taken care of than he knew, and he +was a strong and healthy lad. Had he felt that he was working for +others, had he been cheered by loving and encouraging letters, he could +have borne it all contentedly. But no letters came, no answer to his +note to Vicky begging her to write; and Geoff's proud heart grew +prouder and, he tried to think, harder.</div> + +<p>"They would let me know, somehow, I suppose, if there was anything +much the matter—if—mamma had not got much better yet." For even +to himself he would not allow the possibility of anything worse than her +not being "much better." And yet she had looked very ill that last +evening. He thought of it sometimes in the middle of the night, and +started up in a sort of agony of fright, feeling as if at all costs he must set +off there and then to see her—to know how she was. Often he did not +fall asleep again for hours, and then he would keep sobbing and crying +out from time to time, "Oh, mamma, mamma!" But there was no one to +hear. And with the morning all the proud, bitter feelings would come +back again. "They don't care for me. They are thankful to be rid of +me;" and he would picture his future life to himself, friendless and homeless, +as if he never had had either friends or home. Sometimes he +planned that when he grew older he would emigrate, and in a few years, +after having made a great fortune, he would come home again, a millionaire, +and shower down coals of fire in the shape of every sort of luxury upon +the heads of his unnatural family.</p> + +<p><img class="right" src="images/image077.jpg" width="280" alt="SOBBING AND CRYING." />But these plans did not cheer him as they would have done some +months ago. His experiences had already made him more practical—he +knew that fortunes were not made nowadays in the Dick Whittington +way—he was learning to understand that not only are there but twenty +shillings in a pound, but, which concerned him more closely, that there +are but twelve pence in a shilling, and +only thirty in half-a-crown! He saw +with dismay the increasing holes in +his boots, and bargained hard with +the village cobbler to make him cheap +a rough, strong pair, which he would +never have dreamt of looking at in +the old days; he thanked Mrs. Eames +more humbly for the well-worn corduroy +jacket she made down for him +than he had ever thanked his mother +for the nice clothes which it had <i>not</i> +always been easy for her to procure +for him. Yes, Geoff was certainly +learning some lessons.</p> + +<p>Sundays were in one way the worst, for though he had less to do, he +had more time for thinking. He went twice to church, where he +managed to sit in a corner out of sight, so that if the tears did sometimes +come into his eyes at some familiar hymn or verse, no one could see. +And no more was said about the Sunday school, greatly to his relief, for +he knew the clergyman would have cross-questioned him. On Sunday +afternoons he used to saunter about the park and grounds of Crickwood +Bolders. He liked it, and yet it made him melancholy. The house was +shut up, but it was easy to see it was a dear old place—just the sort of +"home" of Geoff's wildest dreams.</p> + +<p>"If we were all living there together, now," he used to say to himself—"mamma +quite well and not worried about money—Elsa and Frances +would be so happy, we'd never squabble, and Vicky——" But at the +idea of <i>Vicky's</i> happiness, words failed him.</p> + +<p>It was, it must be allowed, a come-down from such beautiful fancies, +to have to hurry back to the farm to harness old Dapple and jog off to +the station with the milk. For even on Sundays people can't do without +eating and drinking.</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image078.jpg" width="280" alt="GEOFF STOOD STILL IN AMAZEMENT." />One Sunday a queer thing happened. He was just turning home, and +passing the lodge at the principal +entrance to the Hall, as it was +called, when behind the thick +evergreen hedge at one side; of +the little garden he heard voices. +They were speaking too low for +him to distinguish the words; but +one voice sounded to him very +like Eames's. It might be so, +for the farmer and the lodge-keeper +were friends. And Geoff +would have walked on without +thinking anything of it, had not +a sudden exclamation caught his +ear—"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot! I +tell you——" But instantly the +voice dropped. It sounded as if some one had held up a warning finger. +Geoff stood still in amazement. <i>Could</i> Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot be there? +It seemed too impossible. But the boy's heart beat fast with a vague +feeling of expectation and apprehension mixed together.</p> + +<p>"If he has come here accidentally, he must not see me," he said to +himself; and he hurried down the road as fast as he could, determined +to hasten to the station and back before the old gentleman, if it were he, +could get there. But to his surprise, on entering the farm-yard, the first +person to meet him was Mr. Eames himself.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, my lad?" he said good humouredly. "Thou'st +staring as if I were a ghost."</p> + +<p>"I thought—I thought," stammered Geoff, "that I saw—no, heard +your voice just now at the lodge."</p> + +<p>Eames laughed.</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't be in two places at once, could I? Well, get off with +you to the station."</p> + +<p>All was as usual of a Sunday there. No one about, no passengers by +the up-train—only the milk-cans; and Geoff, as he drove slowly home +again, almost persuaded himself that the familiar "Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" +must have been altogether his own fancy.</p> + +<p>But had he been at the little railway-station again an hour or two later, +he would have had reason to change his opinion. A passenger did start +from Shalecray by the last train for town; and when this same passenger +got out at Victoria, he hailed a hansom, and was driven quickly westward. +And when he arrived at his destination, and rang the bell, almost +before the servant had had time to open the door, a little figure pressed +eagerly forward, and a soft, clear voice exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear uncle, is that you at last? I've been watching for you such +a long time. Oh, do—do tell me about Geoff! Did you see him? And +oh, dear uncle, is he very unhappy?"</p> + +<p>"Come upstairs, my pet," said the old man, "and you shall hear all +I can tell."</p> + +<p>The three awaiting him in the drawing-room were nearly as eager as +the child. The mother's face grew pale with anxiety, the sisters' eyes +sparkled with eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Did you find him easily, uncle? Was it where you thought?" asked +Vicky.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I had no difficulty. I saw him, Vicky, but without his +seeing me. He has grown, and perhaps he is a little thinner, but he is +quite well. And I had an excellent account of him from the farmer. +He is working steadily, and bearing manfully what, to a boy like him, +cannot but be privations and hardships. But I am afraid he is very +unhappy—his face had a set sad look in it that I do not like to see on +one so young. I fear he never got your letters, Vicky. There must +have been some mistake about the address. I didn't want to push the +thing too far. You must write again, my little girl—say all you can to +soften him. What I want is that it should come from <i>his</i> side. He will +respect himself all his life for overcoming his pride, and asking to be +forgiven, only we must try to make it easy for him, poor fellow! Now +go to bed, Vicky, child, and think over what you will write to him +to-morrow. I want to talk it all over with your mother. Don't be +unhappy about poor old Geoff, my dear."</p> + +<p>Obedient Vicky jumped up at once to go to bed. She tried to whisper +"Good night" as she went the round of the others to kiss them, but the words +would not come, and her pretty blue eyes were full of tears. Still, Vicky's +thoughts and dreams were far happier that night than for a long time past.</p> + +<p>As soon as she had closed the door after her, the old gentleman turned +to the others.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't know any more than we agreed upon?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said Elsa; "she only knows that you got his exact address +from the same person who has told you about him from time to time. +She has no idea that the whole thing was planned and arranged by you +from the first, when you found he was set upon leaving home."</p> + +<p>Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"That is all right. Years hence, when he has grown up into a good +and sensible man, we may, or if I am no longer here, <i>you</i> may tell him +all about it, my dears. But just now it would mortify him, and prevent +the lesson from doing him the good we hope for. I should not at all like +him to know I had employed detectives. He would be angry at having +been taken in. That Jowett is a very decent fellow, and did his part +well; but he has mismanaged the letters somehow. I must see him +about that. What was the address Geoff gave in his note to Vicky? +Are you sure she put it right?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Frances; "I saw it both times. It was—</p> + +<div class="smallcaps"> +<p> +To Mr. James,<br /> +<span class="ind4">Care of Mr. Adam Smith,</span><br /> +<span class="ind6">Murray Place Mews</span>.'" +</p> +</div> + +<p>"Hoot-toot!" said Mr. Byrne. He could not make it out. But we, +who know in what a hurry Geoff wrote his note at the railway-station +while Jowett was waiting to take it, can quite well understand why +Vicky's letters had never reached him. For the address he <i>should</i> have +given was—</p> + +<p><span class="smallcaps">"Abel Smith,</span><br /> +<span class="ind4"><i>Mowbray</i></span> <span class="smallcaps">Place Mews</span>." +</p> + +<p>"This time," Mr. Byrne went on, "I'll see that the letter is sent to him +direct. Jowett must manage it. Let Vicky address as before, and I'll +see that it reaches him."</p> + +<p>"What do you think she should write?" said Mrs. Tudor, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"What she feels. It does not much matter. But let her make him +understand that his home is open to him as ever—that he is neither +forgotten nor thought of harshly. If I mistake not, from what I saw +and what Eames told me, he will be so happy to find it is so, that all +the better side of his character will come out. And he will say more to +himself than any of us would ever wish to say to him."</p> + +<p>"But, uncle dear," said Elsa, "if it turns out as you hope, and poor +Geoff comes home again and is all you and mamma wish—and—if <i>all</i> +your delightful plans are realized, won't Geoff find out everything you +don't want him to know at present? Indeed, aren't you afraid he may +have heard already that you are the new squire there?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Byrne. "Eames is a very cautious fellow; and from +having known me long ago, or rather from his father having known me +(it was I that got my cousin to give him the farm some years ago, as I +told you), I found it easy to make him understand all I wished. Crickwood +Bolders has stood empty so long, that the people about don't take +much interest in it. They only know vaguely that it has changed hands +lately, and Eames says I am spoken of as the new Mr. Bolders, and not +by my own name."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Elsa.</p> + +<p>"And," continued Mr. Byrne, "of course Geoff will take it for granted +that it was by the coincidence of his getting taken on at my place that we +found him out. It <i>was</i> a coincidence that he should have taken it into +his head to go down to that part of the country, through its being on the +way to Colethorne's."</p> + +<p>"And you say that he is really working hard, and—and making the +best of things?" asked Mrs. Tudor. She smiled a little as she said it. +Geoff's "making the best of things" was such a <i>very</i> new idea.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot. "Eames gives him the best +of characters. He says the boy is thoroughly to be depended upon, and +that his work is well done, even to cleaning the pigs; and, best of all, he +is never heard to grumble."</p> + +<p>"Fancy Geoff cleaning the +pigs!" exclaimed Elsa.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I find +<i>that</i> so difficult to fancy," said +Frances. "I think Geoff has +a real love for animals of all +kinds, and for all country +things. We would have sympathized +with him about it if +it hadn't been for his grumbling, +which made all his likes +and dislikes seem unreal. I +think what I pity him the +most for is the having to get +up so dreadfully early these +cold winter mornings. What +time did you say he had to get up, uncle?"</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image082.jpg" width="320" alt="VICKY WRITING THE LETTER." />"He +has to be at the station with the milk before five every morning," +said the old gentleman, grimly. "Eames says his good woman is inclined +to 'coddle him a bit'—she can't forget who he really is, it appears. I +was glad to hear it; I don't want the poor boy actually to suffer—and +I don't want it to go on much longer. I confess I don't see that there +can be much 'coddling' if he has to be up and out before five o'clock in +the morning at this time of the year."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said the girls. "And he must be <i>so</i> lonely."</p> + +<p>"Yes, poor fellow!" said the old gentleman, with a sigh, "I saw that in +his face. And I was <i>glad</i> to see it. It shows the lesson is not a merely +surface one. You've had your wish for him to some extent, Elsa, my +dear. He has at last known some hardships."</p> + +<p>Elsa's eyes filled with tears, though Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot had had +no thought of hurting her.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, please," she entreated. "I think—I am sure—I only +wanted him to learn how foolish he was, for his own sake more than for +any one's else even."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," the old gentleman agreed. "But I think he has +had about enough of it. See that Vicky writes that letter first thing +to-morrow."</p> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image083.jpg"> + <img src="images/image083.jpg" height="50" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image047a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image047a.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<h5>A LETTER AT LAST.</h5> + + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/image084b.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="C" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">hristmas had come and gone. It brought Geoff's home-sick +loneliness to a point that was almost unbearable. He +had looked forward vaguely to the twenty-fifth of December +with the sort of hope that it would bring him some message, some +remembrance, if it were but a Christmas card. And for two or three +days he managed to waylay the postman every morning as he passed the +farm, and to inquire timidly if there were no letter—was he <i>sure</i> there +was no letter for James Jeffreys? But the postman only shook his head. +He had "never had no letter for that name, neither with nor without +'care of Mr. Eames,'" as Geoff went on to suggest that if the farmer's +name had been omitted the letter might have been overlooked. And +when not only Christmas, but New Year's Day too was past and gone, +the boy lost hope.</div> + +<p>"It is too bad," he sobbed to himself, late at night, alone in his bare +little room. "I think they might think a <i>little</i> of me. They might be +sorry for me, even—even if I did worry them all when I was at home. +They might guess how lonely I am. It isn't the hard work. If it was +for mother I was working, and if I knew they were all pleased with me, +I wouldn't mind it. But I can't bear to go on like this."</p> + +<p>Yet he could not make up his mind to write home again, for as things +were it would be like begging for Mr. Byrne's charity. And every +feeling of independence and manliness in Geoff rose against accepting +benefits from one whose advice he had scouted and set at defiance. Still, +he was sensible enough to see that he could not go on with his present +life for long. "Work on a farm" had turned out very different from his +vague ideas of it. He could not, for years to come, hope to earn more +than the barest pittance, and he felt that if he were always to remain the +companion of the sort of people he was now among, he would not care to +live. And gradually another idea took shape in his mind—he would +emigrate! He saw some printed papers in the village post-office, telling +of government grants of land to able-bodied young men, and giving the +cost of the passage out, and various details, and he calculated that in a +year, by scrupulous economy, he might earn about half the sum required, +for the farmer had told him that if he continued to do well he would raise +his wages at the end of the first six months.</p> + +<p>"And then," thought Geoff, "I might write home and tell them it was +all settled, and by selling all the things I have at home I might get the +rest of the money. Or—I would not even mind taking it as a <i>loan</i> from +Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot. That would seem different; and of course I do +owe him a great deal now, in a way, for he must be doing everything +for mother and the girls, and if only I were a man that would be my +business."</p> + +<p>And for a while, after coming to this resolution, he felt happier. His +old dreams of making a great fortune and being the good genius of his +family returned, and he felt more interest in learning all he could of farm-work, +that might be useful to him in his new life. But these more +hopeful feelings did not last long or steadily; the pain of the home-sickness +and loneliness increased so terribly, that at times he felt as if he <i>could</i> +not bear it any longer. And he would probably, strong as he was, have +fallen ill, had not something happened.</p> + +<p>It was about six weeks after the Sunday on which he had thought he +had overheard Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's voice through the hedge. It +was a Sunday again. Geoff had been at church in the morning, and +after dinner he was sitting in a corner of the kitchen, feeling as if he had +no energy even to go for his favourite stroll in the grounds of the Hall, +when a sudden exclamation from Mrs. Eames made him look up. The +farmer's wife had been putting away some of the plates and dishes that +had been used at dinner, and in so doing happened to pull aside a +large dish leaning on one of the shelves of the high-backed dresser.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="Illustration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image086.jpg"> + <img src="images/image086.jpg" height="500" + alt="GEOFF READING VICKY'S LETTER." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">GEOFF READING VICKY'S LETTER.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/image072.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>As she did so, a letter fell forward. It was addressed in a clear, good +hand to</p> + +<div class="smallcaps"> +<p> +"James Jeffreys,<br /> +<span class="ind4">At Mr. Eames's</span>,<br /> +<span class="ind6">Crickwood Farm</span>,<br /> +<span class="ind8">Shalecray</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Bless me!" cried the good woman. "What's this a-doing here? +Jem, boy, 'tis thine. When can it have come? It may have been up +there a good bit."</p> + +<p>Geoff started up and dashed forward with outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"Give it me! oh, give it me, please!" he said, in an eager, trembling +voice. A look of disappointment crossed his face for a moment when he +saw the writing; but he tore the envelope open, and then his eyes +brightened up again. For it contained another letter, round which a slip +was folded with the words, "I forward enclosed, as agreed.—Ned Jowett." +And the second envelope was addressed to "Mr. James" in a round, +childish hand, that Geoff knew well. It was Vicky's.</p> + +<p>He darted out of the kitchen, and into his own little room. He could +not have read the letter before any one. Already the tears were welling +up into his eyes. And long before he had finished reading they were +running down his face and dropping on to the paper. This was what +Vicky said, and the date was nearly six weeks old!</p> + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p> +"<span class="smallcaps">My Darling Geoff</span>,<br /> + +<span class="ind4">"Why</span> haven't you written to us? I wrote you a letter the minute I got your +little note with the address, and I have written to you again since then. Great-Uncle +Hoot-Toot says you are sure to get this letter. I think you can't have got the others. But +still you might have written. I have been so <i>very</i> unhappy about you. Of course I was +glad to hear you were getting on well, but still I have been <span class="smcap">very</span> unhappy. Mamma got +better very slowly. I don't think she would have got better if she hadn't heard that you +were getting on well, though. She has been very unhappy, too, and so have Elsa and +Frances, but poor Vicky most of all. We do so want you at home again. Geoff, I can't +tell you how good old Uncle Hoot-Toot is. There is something about money I can't +explain, but if you understood it all, you would see we should not be proud about his helping +us, for he has done more for us always than we knew; even mamma didn't. Oh, Geoff, +darling, do come home. We do all love you so, and mamma and Elsa were only troubled +because you didn't seem happy, and you didn't believe that they loved you. I think it +would be all different now if you came home again, and we do so want you. I keep your +room so nice. I dust it myself every day. Mamma makes me have tea in the drawing-room +now, and then I have a little pudding from their dinner, because, you see, one can't +eat so much at ladies' afternoon tea. But I was too miserable at tea alone in the school-room. +I have wrapped up our teapot, after Harvey had made it very bright, and I won't +ever make tea out of it till you come home. Oh, Geoffy, darling, do come home! +</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="ind4r">"Your loving, unhappy little</span><br /> +"<span class="smallcaps">Vicky</span>." +</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The tears came faster and faster—so fast that it was with difficulty +Geoff could see to read the last few lines. He hid his face in his hands +and sobbed. He was only fourteen, remember, and there was no one to +see. And with these sobs and tears—good honest tears that he need not +have been ashamed of—there melted away all the unkind, ungrateful +feelings out of his poor sore heart. He saw himself as he had really +been—selfish, unreasonable, and spoilt.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said to himself, "that was all I <i>really</i> had to complain of. +They considered me too much—they spoilt me. But, oh, I would be so +different now! Only—I can't go home and say to Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot, +'I've had enough of working for myself; you may pay for me +now.' It would seem <i>too</i> mean. No, I must keep to my plan—it's too +late to change. But I think I might go home to see them all, and ask +them to forgive me. In three weeks I shall have been here three +months, and then I may ask for a holiday. I'll write to Vicky now at +once, and tell her so—I can post the letter when I go to the station. +They must have thought me <i>so</i> horrid for not having written before. I +wonder how it was I never got the other letters? But it doesn't matter +now I've got this one. Oh, dear Vicky, I think I shall nearly go out of +my mind with joy to see your little face again!"</p> + +<p>He had provided himself, luckily, with some letter-paper and envelopes, +so there was no delay on that score. And once he had begun, he found +no difficulty in writing—indeed, he could have covered pages, for he +seemed to have so much to say. This was his letter:—</p> + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p class="right">"Crickwood Farm, February 2.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smallcaps">My Dearest Vicky</span>,<br /> + +<span class="ind4">I</span> have only just got your letter, though you wrote it on the 15th of January. +Mrs. Eames—that's the farmer's wife—found it behind a dish on the dresser, where it has +been all the time. I never got your other letters; I can't think what became of them. I've +asked the postman nearly every day if there was no letter for me. Vicky, I can't tell you +all I'd like to say. I thought I'd write to mamma, but I feel as if I couldn't. Will you +tell her that I just <i>beg</i> her to forgive me? Not only for leaving home without leave, like +I did, but for all the way I went on and all the worry I gave her. I see it all quite plain. +I've been getting to see it for a good while, and when I read your dear letter it all came out +quite plain like a flash. I don't mind the hard work here, or even the messy sort of ways +compared to home—I wouldn't mind anything if I thought I was doing right. But it's the +loneliness. Vicky, I have thought sometimes I'd go out of my mind. Will you ask Great-Uncle +Hoot-Toot to forgive me, too? I'd like to understand about all he has done for us, +and I think I am much sensibler about money than I was, so perhaps he'll tell me. I can +ask for a holiday in three weeks, and then I'll come home for one day. I shall have to +tell you my plans, and I think mamma will think I'm right. I must work hard, and perhaps +in a few years I shall earn enough to come home and have a cottage like we planned. +For I've made up my mind to emigrate. I don't think I'd ever get on so well in anything +as in a country life; for, though it's very hard work here, I don't mind it, and I love animals, +and in the summer it won't be so bad. Please, Vicky, make everybody understand that +I hope never to be a trouble and worry any more.—Your very loving</p> + +<p class="right"> +"<span class="smallcaps">Geoff</span><span class="ind4r"> </span>.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—You may write here now. I don't mind you all knowing where I am."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>By the time Geoff had finished this, for him, long epistle, it was nearly +dark. He had to hurry off to the station to be in time with the milk. He +was well known now by the men about the railway, and by one or two +of the guards, and he was glad to see one he knew this evening, as +he begged him to post his letter in town, for it was too late for the +Shalecray mail. The man was very good-natured, and promised to do +as he asked.</p> + +<p>"By Tuesday," thought Geoff, "I may have a letter if Vicky writes at +once. And I might write again next Sunday. So that we'd hear of each +other every week."</p> + +<p>And this thought made his face look very bright and cheery as he went +whistling into the kitchen, where, as usual of a Sunday evening, Eames +was sitting smoking beside the fire.</p> + +<p>"The missis has told me about your letter, Jim," said the farmer. +"I'm right-down sorry about it, but I don't rightly know who to blame. +It's just got slipped out o' sight."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Geoff replied. "I'm awfully glad to have it now."</p> + +<p>"He's never looked so bright since he came," said Mr. Eames to his +wife when Geoff had left the room. "He's about getting tired of it, +I fancy; and the squire's only too ready to forgive and forget, I take it. +But he's a deal o' good stuff in him, has the boy, and so I told the squire. +He's a fine spirit of his own, too."</p> + +<p>"And as civil a lad as ever I seed," added Mrs. Eames. "No nonsense +and no airs. One can tell as he's a real gentleman. All the same, I'll +be uncommon glad when he's with his own folk again; no one'd believe +the weight it's been on my mind to see as he didn't fall ill with us. And +you always a-telling me as squire said he wasn't to be coddled and +cosseted. Yet you'd have been none so pleased if he'd got a chill +and the rheumatics or worse, as might have been if I hadn't myself seen +to his bed and his sheets and his blankets, till the weight of them on my +mind's been almost more nor I could bear."</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said the farmer, soothingly, "all's well as ends well. +And you said yourself it'd never 'a' done for us to refuse the squire any +mortal service he could have asked of us."</p> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image090.jpg"> + <img src="images/image090.jpg" height="50" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="decoration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image091a.jpg"> + <img src="images/image091a.jpg" height="80" + alt="decoration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<h5>THE NEW SQUIRE AND HIS FAMILY.</h5> + + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/image010b.jpg" width="65" height="65" alt="T" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="unindent">uesday brought no letter for Geoff—nor Wednesday, nor +even Thursday. His spirits went down again, and he felt +bitterly disappointed. Could his friend, the guard, have forgotten +to post the letter, after all? he asked himself. This thought kept +him up till Thursday evening, when, happening to see the same man at +the station, the guard's first words were, "Got any answer to your love-letter +yet, eh, Jim? I posted it straight away," and then Geoff did not +know what to think.</div> + +<p>He did not like to write again. He began to fear that Vicky had +been mistaken in feeling so sure that his mother and Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot +and Elsa and Frances were all ready to forgive him, and longing +for his return. Perhaps they were all still too indignant with him to +allow Vicky to write, and he sighed deeply at the thought.</p> + +<p>"I will wait till I can ask for a holiday," he said to himself, "and then +I will write and say I am coming, and if they won't see me I must just +bear it. At least, I am sure mother will see me when the time comes for +me to go to America, though it will be dreadful to have to wait till then."</p> + +<p>When he got back to the house that evening, the farmer called to him. +<i>He</i> had had a letter that morning, though Geoff had not; and had it not +been getting dusk, the boy would have seen a slight twinkle in the good +man's eyes as he spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"Jim, my boy," he said, "I shall want you to do an odd job or so of +work the next day or two. The new squire's coming down on Monday +to look round a bit. They've been tidying up at the house; did you +know?"</p> + +<p>Geoff shook his head; he had no time for strolling about the Hall +grounds except on Sundays, and on the last Sunday he had been too +heavy-hearted to notice any change.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of gardening?" the farmer went on. +"They're very short of hands, and I've promised to help what I could. +The rooms on the south side of the house are being got ready, and +there's the terrace-walk round that way wants doing up sadly. With +this mild weather the snowdrops and crocuses and all them spring flowers +is springing up finely; there's lots of them round that south side, and +Branch can't spare a man to sort them out and rake over the beds."</p> + +<p>"I could do that," said Geoff, his eyes sparkling. "I don't know much +about gardening, but I know enough for that." It was a pleasant +prospect for him; a day or two's quiet work in the beautiful old garden; +he would feel almost like a gentleman again, he thought to himself. +"When shall I go, sir?" he went on eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Why, the sooner the better," said Mr. Eames. "To-morrow morning. +That'll give you two good days. Branch wants it to look nice, for the +squire's ladies is coming with him. The south parlour is all ready. +There'll be a deal to do to the house—new furniture and all the rest +of it. He—the new squire's an old friend of mine and of my father's—and +a good friend he's been to me," he added in a lower voice.</p> + +<p>"Are they going to live here?" asked Geoff. He liked the idea of +working there, but he rather shrank from being seen as a gardener's boy +by the new squire and "the ladies." "Though it is very silly of me," +he reflected; "they wouldn't look at me; it would never strike them that +I was different from any other."</p> + +<p>"Going to live here," repeated the farmer; "yes, of course. The new +squire would be off his head not to live at Crickwood Bolders, when it +belongs to him. A beautiful place as it is too."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Geoff, heartily, "it would be hard to imagine a more +beautiful place. The squire should be a happy man."</p> + +<p>He thought so more and more during the next two days. There was +a great charm about the old house and the quaintly laid out grounds in +which it stood—especially on the south side, where Geoff's work lay. +The weather, too, was delightfully mild just then; it seemed a sort +of foretaste of summer, and the boy felt all his old love for the country +revive and grow stronger than ever as he raked and weeded and did his +best along the terrace walk.</p> + +<p>"I wish the squire would make me his gardener," he said to himself +once. "But even to be a good gardener I suppose one should learn a +lot of things I know nothing about."</p> + +<p>Good-will goes a long way, however. +Geoff felt really proud of his +work by Saturday evening, and on +Sunday the farmer took a look at +the flower-beds himself, and said he +had done well.</p> + +<p>"Those beds over yonder look +rough still," he went on, pointing +to some little distance.</p> + +<p><img class="left" src="images/image093.jpg" width="300" alt="THE FARMER TOOK A LOOK AT THE FLOWERBEDS HIMSELF." /> +"They don't show from the house," +said Geoff, "and Branch says it's +too early to do much. There will +be frosts again."</p> + +<p>"No matter," said Mr. Eames; +"I'd like it all to look as tidy as +can be for Monday, seeing as I'd +promised to help. I'll give you +another day off the home-work, Jim. Robins's boy's very pleased to do +the station work."</p> + +<p>Geoff looked up uneasily. It would be very awkward for him, very +awkward indeed, if "Robins's boy" were to do so well as to replace him +altogether. But there was a pleasant smile on the farmer's face, which +reassured him.</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," he said. "I'll do as you like, of course; but I don't +want any one else to do my own work for long."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Eames. For a moment Geoff thought he was going +to say something more, but if so he changed his mind, and walked +quietly away.</p> + +<p>Monday saw Geoff again at his post. It was a real early spring day, +and he could not help feeling the exhilarating influence of the fresh, +sweet air, though his heart was sad and heavy, for his hopes of a reply +from Vicky were every day growing fainter and fainter. There was +nothing to do but to wait till the time came for a holiday, and then to go +up to London and try to see them.</p> + +<p>"And if they won't see me or forgive me," thought the boy with a sigh, +"I must just work on till I can emigrate."</p> + +<p>He glanced up at the terrace as he thought this. He was working +this morning at some little distance from the house, but he liked to throw +a look every now and then to the beds which he had raked and tidied +already; they seemed so neat, and the crocuses were coming out so nicely.</p> + +<p>The morning was getting on; Geoff looked at his watch—he had kept +it carefully, but he never looked at it now without a feeling that before +very long he might have to sell it—it was nearly twelve.</p> + +<p>"I must go home to dinner, I suppose," he thought; and he began +gathering his tools together. As he did so, some slight sounds reached +him from the terrace, and, glancing in that direction, he saw that one of +the long windows opening on to it was ajar, and in another moment the +figures of two ladies could be seen standing just in the aperture, and +seemingly looking out as if uncertain what they were going to do.</p> + +<p>"They have come," thought Geoff. "They'll be out here in another +instant. I can't help it if it <i>is</i> silly; I should <i>hate</i> ladies and gentlemen to +see me working here like a common boy;" and his face grew crimson +with the thought.</p> + +<p>He hurried his things together, and was looking round to see if he +could not make his way out of the grounds without passing near the +house, when a quick pattering sound along the gravel startled him. A +little girl was running towards him, flying down the sloping path that led +from the terrace she came, her feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground, +her fair hair streaming behind.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" was Geoff's first thought, "how like Vicky!"</p> + +<p>But it was his first thought only, for almost before he had time to complete +it the little girl was beside him—<i>upon</i> him, one might almost say, +for her arms were round him, her sweet face, wet with tears of joy, was +pressed against his, her dear voice was speaking to him, "Oh, Geoffey, +Geoffey! My own Geoffey! It's I—it's your Vicky."</p> + +<p>Geoff staggered, and almost fell. For a moment or two he felt so giddy +and confused he could not speak. But the feeling soon went away, and +the words came only too eagerly.</p> + +<p>"How is it? Where have you come from? Do you know the new +squire? Where is mamma? Why didn't you write?"</p> + +<p>And, laughing and crying, Vicky tried to explain. Did she know the +new squire? Could Geoff not guess? Where were they all? Mamma, +Elsa, Frances, Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot—where should they be, but in the +new squire's own house? Up there on the terrace—yes, they were all up +there; they had sent her to fetch him. And she dragged Geoff up with +her, Geoff feeling as if he were in a dream, till he felt his mother's and +sisters' kisses, and heard "the new squire's" voice sounding rather choky, +as he said, "Hoot-toot, hoot-toot! this will never do—never do, Geoff, +my boy."</p> + +<p>They let Vicky explain it all in her own way. How Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot +had come home from India, meaning to take them all to live with +him in the old house which had come to be his. How disappointed he +had been by Geoff's selfish, discontented temper, and grumbling, worrying +ways, and had been casting about how best to give him a lesson which +should last, when Geoff solved the puzzle for him by going off of his own +accord.</p> + +<p>"And," Vicky went on innocently, "was it not <i>wonderful</i> that you +should have come to uncle's own place, and got work with Mr. Eames, +whom he has known so long?" In which Geoff fully agreed; and it was +not till many years later that he knew how it had really been—how Mr. +Byrne had planned all for his safety and good, with the help of one of the +cleverest young detectives in the London police, "Ned Jowett," the +innocent countryman whom Geoff had patronized!</p> + +<p>The boy told all he had been thinking of doing, his idea of emigrating, +his wish to be "independent," and gain his own livelihood. And his +mother explained to him what she herself had not thoroughly known till +lately—that for many years, ever since her husband's death, they had +owed far more to Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot than they had had any idea of.</p> + +<p>"Your father was the son of his dearest friend," she said. "Mr. Byrne +has no relations of his own. We were left very poor, but he never let me +know it. The lawyers by mistake wrote to <i>me</i> about the loss of money, +which uncle had for long known was as good as lost, so that in reality it +made little difference. So you see, Geoff, what we owe him—<i>everything</i>—and +you must be guided by his wishes entirely."</p> + +<p>They were kind and good wishes. He did not want Geoff to emigrate, +but he sympathized in his love for the country. For two or three years +Geoff was sent to a first-rate school, where he got on well, and then to an +agricultural college, where he also did so well that before he was twenty +he was able to be the squire's right hand in the management of his large +property, and in this way was able to feel that, without sacrificing his +independence, he could practically show his gratitude. They say that some +part of the estate will certainly be left to Geoff at Mr. Byrne's death; but +that, it is to be hoped, will not come to pass for many years yet, for the +old gentleman is still very vigorous, and the Hall would certainly not +seem itself at all if one did not hear his "Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" sounding +here, there, and everywhere, as he trots busily about.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" summary="Illustration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/image096.jpg"> + <img src="images/image096.jpg" height="250" + alt="Illustration" /></a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<h6>PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.</h6> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT UNCLE HOOT-TOOT***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 29295-h.txt or 29295-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/2/9/29295">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/9/29295</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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