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diff --git a/39172-h/39172-h.htm b/39172-h/39172-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8e2c32b --- /dev/null +++ b/39172-h/39172-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9171 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Safety Match, by Ian Hay</title> +<style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + } +.bbox {border: solid 2px; text-align: center; width: 30%;} + +.center { text-align: center;} + +.divone { +text-align: center; +} + +.divbod { +margin-left: 10%; +margin-right: 10%; +} + +.divhd { +text-align: center; +} + +.tbone { +text-align: center; +width: 25%; +} +.dvlttr { +margin-left: 20%; +margin-right: 20%; +} +.sig { +text-align: right; +margin-right: 2em; +} + +.fonone { +font-size: 1.4em; +} +.fontwo { +font-size: 1.2em; +} + + +.tbjl { +text-align: left; +width: 8%; +} +.tbjc { +text-align: left; +width: 60%; +} +.tbjr { +text-align: right; +width: 4%; +padding-right: 1em; +} +.divcon { +width: 560px; +margin-left: auto; +margin-right: auto; +} + +.hotnow { +text-align: center; +font-size: 150%; +font-weight: bold; +font-style: italic; +text-decoration: underline; +} + + + +.htap { +text-align: center; +font-size: 105%; +font-weight: bold; +} +.hauth { +text-align: center; +} +.padver2 { +text-align: center; +font-size: small; +} + +.padver { +font-size: small; +margin-left: 20%; +margin-right: 20%; +} + +.sptit { +font-size: 120%; +font-weight: bold; +font-style: italic; +margin-left: -2em;} + +.smcap { +font-variant: small-caps; +font-size: 95%; +} + +.pagenum { +visibility: hidden; +position: absolute; right: 0; text-align: right; +font-size: 10px; +color: #c0c0c0; +} + + hr.full { 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; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="center">The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Safety Match, by Ian Hay</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: A Safety Match</p> +<p>Author: Ian Hay</p> +<p>Release Date: March 17, 2012 [eBook #39172]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SAFETY MATCH***</p> +<br><br><center><h4>E-text prepared by Quentin Johnson, Suzanne Shell,<br> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br> + from page images generously made available by<br> + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries<br> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/toronto">http://www.archive.org/details/toronto</a>)</h4></center><br><br> +<p> </p> +<table border=0 bgcolor="ccccff" cellpadding=10> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/safetymatch00hayiuoft"> + http://www.archive.org/details/safetymatch00hayiuoft</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full"> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1 class="divone">A Safety Match</h1> + + +<br><br><br> +<div class="center"> +<div class="bbox"> +<h4 class="divone"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</i></h4> + +<hr class="tbone"> +<p class="divone">Crown 8vo, 6s.<br> + +<b>A MAN'S MAN.</b><br> + +<i>Fourth Impression.</i></p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p class="divone">Crown 8vo, 6s.<br> + +<b>THE RIGHT STUFF.</b><br> + +<i>Fifth Impression.</i><br> +Popular Edition, Cloth, 1s. net.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p class="divone">Crown 8vo, 6s.<br> + +<b>PIP.</b><br> + +<i>Fourth Impression.</i> +<br> +Popular Edition, Cloth, 1s. net.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<h4 class="divone">WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS.<br> +Edinburgh and London.</h4> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="divone"> + +<br><br><br> +<h1>A Safety Match</h1> +<br><br><br> +<h2>IAN HAY</h2> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF<br> +'THE RIGHT STUFF,' 'A MAN'S MAN,' 'PIP,' ETC.</h5> +<br><br> +THIRD IMPRESSION +<br><br><br><br><br><br> +<span class="fonone">William Blackwood and Sons</span> +<br> +<span class="fontwo">Edinburgh and London</span> +<br> +<span>1911</span> +<br><br> +<i>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</i> + +<br><br><br><br> +<span class="divone"><i>TO</i></span><br> +<span class="divone"><i>H. M. S.</i></span> +</div> + + +<div class="divone"> + +<br><br><br> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<h4>BOOK ONE.</h4> + +<h3>THE STRIKING OF THE MATCH.</h3> + +<div class="divcon"> +<table> + + +<tr><td class="tbjr"><small>CHAP.</small></td><td class="tbjc"></td><td class="tbjr"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">I.</td><td class="tbjc">HAPPY FAMILIES</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page3">3</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">II.</td><td class="tbjc">WANTED, A MAN</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page23">23</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">III.</td><td class="tbjc">THE WHEELS OF JUGGERNAUT</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page36">36</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">IV.</td><td class="tbjc">THE DEVIL A MONK WOULD BE</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page55">55</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">V.</td><td class="tbjc">A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page76">76</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">VI.</td><td class="tbjc">DAPHNE AS MATCHMAKER</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page94">94</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">VII.</td><td class="tbjc">THE MATCH IS STRUCK</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page105">105</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">VIII.</td><td class="tbjc"><i>MORITURA TE SALUTAT</i></td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page115">115</a></td></tr> + +</table> +</div> + +<h4>BOOK TWO.</h4> + +<h3>FLICKERINGS.</h3> + +<div class="divcon"> +<table> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">IX.</td><td class="tbjc">A HORSE TO THE WATER</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page129">129</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">X.</td><td class="tbjc">A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SOCIAL SUCCESS</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page145">145</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XI.</td><td class="tbjc"><i>DIES IRAE</i></td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page165">165</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XII.</td><td class="tbjc">CILLY; OR THE WORLD WELL LOST</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page184">184</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XIII.</td><td class="tbjc">THE COUNTERSTROKES</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page197">197</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XIV.</td><td class="tbjc">INTERVENTION</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page219">219</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XV.</td><td class="tbjc">JIM CARTHEW</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page232">232</a></td></tr> + +</table> + +</div> + + + +<h4>BOOK THREE.</h4> + +<h3>THE LIGHTING OF THE CANDLE.</h3> + +<div class="divcon"> +<table> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XVI.</td><td class="tbjc">SOME ONE TO CONFIDE IN</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page243">243</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XVII.</td><td class="tbjc">THE CANDLE LIT</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page250">250</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XVIII.</td><td class="tbjc"><i>ATHANASIUS CONTRA MUNDUM</i></td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page263">263</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XIX.</td><td class="tbjc"><i>LABORARE EST ORARE</i></td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page276">276</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XX.</td><td class="tbjc">BLACK SUNDAY</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page284">284</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XXI.</td><td class="tbjc"><i>VEILLESSE SAIT</i></td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page289">289</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XXII.</td><td class="tbjc">HOLD THE FORT!</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page296">296</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XXIII.</td><td class="tbjc">THE LAST TO LEAVE</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page308">308</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tbjr">XXIV.</td><td class="tbjc">ANOTHER ALIAS</td> +<td class="tbjr"><a href="#page317">317</a></td></tr> + +</table> +</div> +</div> + + +<br><br><br> +<div class="divbod"> +<div class="divhd"> +<h2>BOOK ONE.</h2> + +<h1>THE STRIKING OF THE MATCH.</h1> + + +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3">page3</a></span> +<h3>CHAPTER ONE.</h3> + +<h4>HAPPY FAMILIES.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>"Nicky, please, have you got Mr Pots the Painter?"</p> + +<p>"No, Stiffy, but I'll trouble you for Mrs Bones the Butcher's Wife. +<i>Thank</i> you. And Daph, have you got Master Bones the Butcher's Son? +<i>Thank</i> you. Family! One to me!"</p> + +<p>And Nicky, triumphantly plucking from her hand four pink-backed cards, +slaps them down upon the table face upwards. They are apparently family +portraits. The first—that of Bones <i>père</i>—depicts a smug gentleman, +with appropriate mutton-chop whiskers, mutilating a fearsome joint upon +a block; the second, Mrs Bones, an ample matron in apple-green, +proffering to an unseen customer a haunch of what looks like anæmic +cab-horse; the third, Miss Bones, engaged in extracting nourishment from +a colossal bone shaped like a dumb-bell; the fourth, Master Bones +(bearing a strong family likeness to his papa), creeping unwillingly +upon an errand, clad in canary trousers and a blue jacket, with a +sirloin of beef nestling against his right ear.</p> + +<p>It was Saturday night at the Rectory, and the Vereker family—"those +absurdly handsome Rectory children," as old Lady Curlew, of Hainings, +invariably called them—sat round the dining-room table playing "Happy +Families." The rules which govern this absorbing pastime are simple. The +families are indeed happy. They contain no widows and no orphans, and +each pair of parents possesses one son and one daughter—perhaps the +perfect number, for the sides of the house are equally balanced both for +purposes of companionship and in the event of sex-warfare. As for +procedure, cards are dealt round, and each player endeavours, by +requests based upon observation and deduction, to reunite within his own +hand the members of an entire family,—an enterprise which, while it +fosters in those who undertake it a reverence for the unities of home +life, offers a more material and immediate reward in the shape of one +point for each family collected. We will look over the shoulders of the +players as they sit, and a brief consideration of each hand and of the +tactics of its owner will possibly give us the key to the respective +dispositions of the Vereker family, as well as a useful lesson in the +art of acquiring that priceless possession, a Happy Family.</p> + +<p>Before starting on our tour of the table we may note that one member of +the company is otherwise engaged. This is Master Anthony Cuthbert +Vereker, aged ten years—usually known as Tony. He is the youngest +member of the family, and is one of those fortunate people who are never +bored, and who rarely require either company or assistance in their +amusements. He lives in a world of his own, peopled by folk of his own +creation; and with the help of this unseen host, which he can multiply +to an indefinite extent and transform into anything he pleases, he +organises and carries out schemes of recreation beside which all the +Happy Families in the world become humdrum and suburban in tone. He has +just taken his seat upon a chair opposite to another chair, across the +arms of which he has laid the lid of his big box of bricks, and is +feeling in his pocket for an imaginary key, for he is about to give an +organ recital in the Albert Hall (which he has never seen) in a style +modelled upon that of the village organist, whom he studies through a +chink in a curtain every Sunday.</p> + +<p>Presently the lid is turned back, and the keyboard—a three-manual +affair, ingeniously composed of tiers of wooden bricks—is exposed to +view. The organist arranges unseen music and pulls out invisible stops. +Then, having risen to set up on the mantelpiece hard by a square of +cardboard bearing the figure 1, he resumes his seat, and embarks upon a +rendering of Handel's "Largo in G," which its composer, to be just, +would have experienced no difficulty in recognising, though he might +have expressed some surprise that so large an instrument as the Albert +Hall organ should produce so small a volume of sound. But then Handel +never played his own Largo in a room full of elder brothers and sisters, +immersed in the acquisition of Happy Families and impatient of +distracting noises.</p> + +<p>The Largo completed, its executant rises to his feet and bows again and +again in the direction of the sideboard; and then (the applause +apparently having subsided) solemnly turns round the cardboard square on +the mantelpiece so as to display the figure 2, and sets to work upon +"The Lost Chord."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Happy Families are being rapidly united. The houses of +Pots the Painter, Bun the Baker, and Dose the Doctor lie neatly piled at +Nicky's right hand; and that Machiavellian damosel is now engaged in a +businesslike quest for the only outstanding member of the family of +Grits the Grocer.</p> + +<p>Nicky—or Veronica Elizabeth Vereker—was in many respects the most +remarkable of the Rectory children. She was thirteen years old, was the +only dark-haired member of the family, and (as she was fond of +explaining) was possessed of a devil. This remarkable attribute was +sometimes adduced as a distinction and sometimes as an excuse,—the +former when impressionable and nervous children came to tea, the latter +when all other palliatives of crime had failed. Certainly she could lay +claim to the brooding spirit, the entire absence of fear, the unlimited +low cunning, and the love of sin for its own sake which go to make the +master-criminal. At present she was enjoying herself in characteristic +fashion. Her brother Stephen—known as "Stiffy"—Nicky's senior by one +year, a transparently honest but somewhat limited youth, had for the +greater part of the game been applying a slow-moving intellect to the +acquisition of one complete Family. Higher he did not look. Nicky's +habit was to allow Stiffy, with infinite labour, to collect the majority +of the members of a Family in which she herself was interested, and +then, at the eleventh hour, to swoop down and strip her unconscious +collaborator of his hardly-earned collection.</p> + +<p>Stiffy, sighing patiently, had just surrendered Mr, Mrs, and Miss Block +(Hairdressers and Dealers in Toilet Requisites) to the depredatory hands +of Nicky, and was debating in his mind whether he should endeavour when +his next chance came to complete the genealogical tree of Mr Soot the +Sweep or corner the clan of Bung the Brewer. Possessing two Bungs to +one Soot, he decided on the latter alternative.</p> + +<p>Presently he was asked by his elder sister, Cilly (Monica Cecilia), for +a card which he did not possess, and this gave him the desired opening.</p> + +<p>"I say, Nicky," he began deferentially, "have you got Master Bung?"</p> + +<p>Nicky surveyed her hand for a moment, and then raised a pair of +liquid-blue eyes and smiled seraphically.</p> + +<p>"No, Stiffy, dear," she replied; "but I'll have Mr Bung and Mrs Bung."</p> + +<p>Stiffy, resigned as ever, handed over the cards. Suddenly Sebastian +Aloysius Vereker, the eldest son of the family (usually addressed as +"Ally"), put down his cards and remarked, slowly and without heat—</p> + +<p>"Cheating again! My word, Nicky, you are the absolute <i>edge</i>!"</P> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> is cheating?" inquired Veronica in a shocked voice.</p> + +<p>"You. Either you <i>must</i> have Master Bung, or else you are asking for +Stiffy's cards without having any Bungs at all; because I've got Miss +myself."</p> + +<p>He laid the corybantic young lady in question upon the table to +substantiate his statement.</p> + +<p>Nicky remained entirely unruffled.</p> + +<p>"Oh—<i>Bung</i>!" she exclaimed. "Sorry! I thought you said 'Bun,' Stiffy. +You should spit out your G's a bit more, my lad. <i>Bung-gah</i>—like that! +I really must speak to dad about your articulation."</p> + +<p>In polite card-playing circles a lady's word is usually accepted as +sufficient; but the ordinary courtesies of everyday life do not prevail +in a family of six.</p> + +<p>"Rot!" said Ally.</p> + +<p>"Cheat!" said Cilly.</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" said loyal and peaceable Stiffy. "I don't care, really. +Let's go on."</p> + +<p>"It's not fair," cried Cilly. "Poor Stiffy hasn't got a single Family +yet. Give it to him, Nicky, you little beast! Daph, make her!"</p> + +<p>Daphne was the eldest of the flock, and for want of a mother dispensed +justice and equity to the rest of the family from the heights of +nineteen. For the moment she was assisting the organist, who had +inadvertently capsized a portion of his keyboard. Now she returned to +the table.</p> + +<p>"What is it, rabble?" she inquired maternally.</p> + +<p>A full-throated chorus informed her, and the arbitress detached the +threads of the dispute with effortless dexterity.</p> + +<p>"You said you thought he was asking for Miss Bun and not Bung?" she +remarked to the accused.</p> + +<p>"Yes—that was all," began Nicky. "You see," she continued pathetically, +"they're all so beastly unjust to me, and—"</p> + +<p>Daphne picked up her small sister's pile of completed Families and +turned them over.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't have thought Stiffy wanted <i>Buns</i>," she said in measured +tones, "because they're here. You collected them yourself. You've +cheated again. Upstairs, and no jam till Wednesday!"</p> + +<p>It is a tribute to Miss Vereker's disciplinary methods that the +turbulent Nicky rose at once to her feet and, with a half-tearful, +half-defiant reference to her Satanic inhabitant, left the room and +departed upstairs, there to meditate on a Bun-strewn past and a jamless +future.</p> + +<p>Daphne Vereker was perhaps the most beautiful of an extraordinarily +attractive family. Her full name was Daphne Margaret. Her parents, +whether from inherent piety or on the <i>lucus a non lucendo</i> principle, +had endowed their offspring with the names of early saints and martyrs. +The pagan derivative Daphne was an exception. It had been the name of +Brian Vereker's young bride, and had been bestowed, uncanonically linked +with that of a saint of blameless antecedents, upon the first baby which +had arrived at the Rectory. Mrs Vereker had died eleven years later, two +hours after the birth of that fertile genius Anthony Cuthbert, and +Brian Vereker, left to wrestle with the upbringing of six children on an +insufficient stipend in a remote country parish, had come to lean more +and more, in the instinctive but exacting fashion of lonely man, upon +the slim shoulders of his eldest daughter.</p> + +<p>There are certain attributes of woman before which the male sex, whose +sole knowledge of the ways of life is derived from that stern instructor +Experience, can only stand and gape in reverent awe. When her mother +died Daphne Vereker was a tow-headed, long-legged, irresponsible +marauder of eleven. In six months she looked like a rather prim little +nursery-governess: in two years she could have taken the chair at a +Mother's meeting. Circumstance is a great forcing-house, especially +where women are concerned. Her dreamy, unpractical, affectionate father, +oblivious of the expectant presence in the offing of numerous female +relatives-in-law, had remarked in sober earnest to his little daughter, +walking erect by his side in her short black frock on the way home from +the funeral:—"You and I will have to bring up the children between us +now, Daphne;" and the child, with an odd thrill of pride at being thus +promoted to woman's highest office at the age of eleven, had responded +with the utmost gravity—</p> + +<p>"You had better stick to the parish, dad, and I'll manage the kids."</p> + +<p>And she had done it. As she presides at the table this Saturday evening, +with her round chin resting on her hands, surveying the picturesque crew +of ragamuffins before her, we cannot but congratulate her on the success +of her methods, whatever those may be. On her right lolls the apple of +her eye, the eldest son, Ally. He is a handsome boy, with a ready smile +and a rather weak mouth. He is being educated—God knows by what anxious +economies in other directions—at a great public school. When he leaves, +which will be shortly, the money will go to educate Stiffy, who is +rising fourteen.</p> + +<p>Next to Ally sprawls Cilly, an amorphous schoolgirl with long rippling +hair and great grey eyes that are alternately full of shy inquiry and +hoydenish exuberance. Then comes the chair recently vacated by the +Madonna-like Nicky; then the ruddy countenance and cheerful presence of +the sunny-tempered Stiffy, completing the circle. In the corner Master +Anthony Cuthbert, cherubic and rapturous, is engaged, with every finger +and toe in action, upon the final frenzy of the "Hallelujah Chorus." The +number 6 stands upon the mantelpiece, for the recital is drawing to a +close.</p> + +<p>To describe Daphne herself is not easy. One fact is obvious, and that is +that she possesses an instinct for dress not as yet acquired by any of +her brothers and sisters. Her hair is of a peculiarly radiant gold, +reflecting high lights at every turn of her head. Her eyes are brown, of +the hue of a Highland burn on a sunny afternoon, and her eyebrows are +very level and serene. Her colouring is perfect, and when she smiles we +understand why it is that her unregenerate brothers and sisters +occasionally address her as "Odol." When her face is in repose—which, +to be frank, is not often—there is a pathetic droop at the corners of +her mouth, which is perhaps accounted for by the cares of premature +responsibility. She is dressed in brown velvet, with a lace +collar—evening dress does not prevail in a household which affects high +tea, but Daphne always puts on her Sunday frock on Saturday +evenings—and, having discovered that certain colours suit her better +than others, she has threaded a pale blue ribbon through her hair.</p> + +<p>Altogether she is a rather astonishing young person to find sitting +contentedly resting her elbows upon a dingy tablecloth in an untidy +dining-room which smells of American leather and fried eggs. It is as if +one had discovered the Venus de Milo presiding at a Dorcas Society or +Helen of Troy serving crumpets in an A.B.C. shop.</p> + +<p>The "Hallelujah Chorus" has just stopped dead at that paralysing hiatus +of two bars which immediately precedes the final crash, when the door +opens and the Reverend Brian Vereker appears. A glance at his clear-cut +aristocratic features goes a long way towards deciding the question of +the origin of the good looks of "those Rectory children."</p> + +<p>He is a tall man—six feet two,—and although he is barely fifty his +hair is specklessly white. He looks more like a great prelate or +statesman than a country parson. Perhaps he might have been one or the +other, had he been born the eldest son of the eldest son of a peer, +instead of the youngest son of the youngest. And again, perhaps not. The +lines of his face indicate brain rather than character, and after all it +is character that brings us out top in this world. There are furrows +about his forehead that tell of much study; but about the corners of his +mouth, where promptitude and decision usually set their seal, there is +nothing—nothing but a smile of rare sweetness. His gentle blue eyes +have the dreamy gaze that marks the saints and poets of this world: the +steely glitter of the man of action is lacking. Altogether you would say +that Brian Vereker would make a noble figurehead to any high enterprise; +but you would add that if that enterprise was to succeed, the figurehead +would require a good deal of imported driving-power behind it. And you +would be right.</p> + +<p>The Rector paused in the doorway and surveyed the lamp-lit room.</p> + +<p>..."<i>Halle-lu-u-ja-ah!</i>" vociferated the Albert Hall organ with an air +of triumphant finality. Brian Vereker turned to his youngest son with +the ready sympathy of one child for another child's games.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Tony! That's the stuff! Good old George Frederick! <i>He</i> +knew the meaning of the word music—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—George Fwederick!" echoed the organist. "<i>And</i> Arthur Seymour, +daddy! You've just missed 'The Lost Chord.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the Rector in a tone of genuine regret, "that's a pity. But +we had the Seventy-Eighth Psalm to-night, and I'm later than usual."</p> + +<p>"Quadruple chant?" inquired Tony professionally.</p> + +<p>"Rather! But is your recital quite over, boyo?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—bedtime!" replied the organist, with a reproachful glance in the +direction of his eldest sister.</p> + +<p>"Run along, dear!" was all the comfort he received from that inflexible +despot.</p> + +<p>"All right! I must lock up, though."</p> + +<p>Master Tony removed the last number from the mantelpiece, disintegrated +his keyboard and packed it up with the other bricks, and drawing aside +the window-curtain remarked solemnly into the dark recess behind it—</p> + +<p>"That will be all to-night, organ-blower. You can go home now."</p> + +<p>To which a husky and ventriloquial voice replied—</p> + +<p>"Thank you kindly, Mr Handel, sir. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Now," concluded Mr Handel, turning to his elders with the air of a +martyr addressing a group of arena lions, "I'm ready!"</p> + +<p>"Take him up, Cilly dear," said Daphne. "I must look after dad's +supper."</p> + +<p>"Come on, Tony," said Cilly, uncoiling her long legs from under her and +rising from the hearthrug.</p> + +<p>"Righto!" said Tony. "You be a cart-horse and I'll be a broken-down +motor."</p> + +<p>Monica Cecilia Vereker meekly complied, and departed upstairs, towing +the inanimate mechanism of the inventive Anthony behind her bump by +bump, utilising her sash, which she had removed for the purpose, as a +tow-rope.</p> + +<p>"Ally and Stiffy," commanded Daphne, turning to the two remaining +members of the family, "you'd better go and pump the cistern full. +Saturday night, you know, and the kids' baths have just been filled; so +look sharp before the boiler bursts."</p> + +<p>Stiffy, obliging as ever, rose at once; Ally, cumbered by that majesty +which doth hedge a sixth-form boy and a member of the school Fifteen +(especially when ordered about by a female), was more deliberate in his +acquiescence. However, presently both the boys were gone, and five +minutes later Daphne, with the assistance of the one little maid whom +the establishment supported, had laid the Rector's supper. She installed +her father in his seat on one side of the table, and took her own on the +other, assisting the progress of the meal from time to time, but for the +most part sitting with her chin resting upon her two fists, and +contemplating the tired man before her with serious brown eyes. Twice +she had to leave her seat, once to remove the butter from the vicinity +of her parent's elbow, and once to frustrate an attempt on the part of +that excellent but absent-minded man to sprinkle sugar over a lettuce.</p> + +<p>"Well, my daughter," remarked the Rector presently, "what of the weekly +report?"</p> + +<p>Saturday night at the Rectory was reserved for a sort of domestic +budget.</p> + +<p>"Here are the books," said Daphne. "They're much as usual, except that I +had to pay two bob on Wednesday for a bottle of embrocation for Ally. He +is in training for the mile in the sports at the beginning of next term, +and it does his muscles so much good."</p> + +<p>"When I won the mile at Fenner's, Daphne," began the Reverend Brian, +with a sudden glow of reminiscence in his dreamy eyes, "I did it without +embrocation, or any other new-fashioned—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, but they have to run so much <i>faster</i> now than they did," +explained Daphne soothingly. "Then, about the kitchen chimney—"</p> + +<p>"But I only took four minutes, twenty-eight—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, old man, and I'm <i>proud</i> of you!" said Daphne swiftly. "Well, the +sweep is coming in on Wednesday, when you'll be away at Wilford, so +<i>that's</i> all right." She was anxious to get away from the question of +the embrocation. It had been a rank extravagance, and she knew it; but +Ally was ever her weak spot. "Then, I've got three-and-nine in hand out +of current expenses just now, and if I take two half-crowns out of the +emergency bag and we go without a second joint this week, I can get +Nicky a new pair of boots, if you don't mind. (Don't cut the cheese with +a spoon, dear; take this knife.) Of course, we ought not to have to go +to the emergency bag for boots at all. It's rather upsetting. To-day I +find that a perfectly ducky pair of Sunday shoes, which I outgrew just +before I stopped growing, and was keeping specially for that child, are +too small for her by yards. (I had tried them on Cilly a year ago, but +she simply couldn't get her toe in.) And now they'll be wasted, because +there are no more of us girls. My feet are <i>most</i> exasperating."</p> + +<p>"Your mother had tiny feet," said the Rector, half to himself.</p> + +<p>He pushed away his plate, and gazed absently before him into that land +where his son Tony still spent so much of his time, and whither Tony's +young and pretty mother had been borne away eleven years before. Daphne +permitted him a reverie of five minutes, while she puckered her brow +over the account-books. Then she rose and took down a pipe from a rack +on the mantelpiece. This she filled from a cracked jar thirty years old, +adorned with the coat-of-arms of one of the three royal colleges of +Cambridge, and laid it by her father's left hand.</p> + +<p>"Then there's another thing," she continued, lighting a spill at the +fire. "Isn't it time to enter Stiffy for school? Mr Allnutt asked us to +say definitely by April whether he was coming to fill Ally's place after +summer or not, otherwise he would be obliged to give the vacancy to some +one else. It's the end of March now."</p> + +<p>The Rector lit his pipe—his one luxury—in a meditative fashion, and +then leaned back to contemplate his daughter, with her glinting hair and +troubled little frown.</p> + +<p>"Mr Allnutt? To be sure! Of course! A ripe scholar, Daphne, and a +long-standing personal friend of my own. He took the Porson and Craven +in successive years. His Iambics——"</p> + +<p>All this was highly irrelevant, and exceedingly characteristic. Daphne +waited patiently through a <i>résumé</i> of Mr Allnutt's achievements as a +scholar and a divine, and continued:—</p> + +<p>"Will you enter Stiffy at once, then? It would be a pity not to get him +into Ally's old house."</p> + +<p>Brian Vereker, suddenly recalled to business, laid down his pipe and +sighed.</p> + +<p>"Boys are terribly expensive things, little daughter," he said. "And we +are so very very poor. I wonder if they are worth it."</p> + +<p>"Of <i>course</i> they are, the dears!" said Daphne, up in arms at once.</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," agreed the Rector apologetically. "You are +right, child; you are always right. It is ungrateful and un-Christian of +me to give expression to such thoughts when God has granted me three +good sons. Still, I admit it <i>was</i> a disappointment to me when Ally +failed to gain a scholarship at Cambridge. He may have been right in his +assertion that there were an exceptionally strong set of candidates up +on that occasion, but it was unfortunate that he should have overslept +himself on the morning of the Greek Prose Paper, even though, as he +pointed out, Greek Prose is his weak subject. What a pity! Strange +lodgings, probably! Still, his disappointment must be far greater than +ours, so it would be ungenerous to dwell further on the matter. But I +fail to see at present how he can be started in life now. If only one +had a little money to spare! I have never felt the need of such a thing +before."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we could do with a touch of it," assented Miss Vereker elegantly. +She began to tick off the family requirements on her fingers. "There's +Ally to be started in life; and Cilly ought to be sent somewhere and +finished—she's tragically gawky, and she'd be perfectly lovely if she +was given half a chance; and Stiffy has to be sent to school; and the +two kiddies are growing up, and this house is simply tumbling down for +want of repairs; and it's really time you had a curate for long-distance +visiting."</p> + +<p>"Never!" said Brian Vereker firmly.</p> + +<p>"All right. Never, if you like, but he'll have to come some day," said +Daphne serenely. (The question of the curate cropped up almost as +regularly as that of the second joint on Wednesdays.) "And all we've got +to run the whole show on," she concluded, with a pathetic little frown +which many a man would gladly have given his whole estate to smooth +away, "is—two pounds seventeen and ninepence in the emergency bag! It's +a bit thick, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Brian Vereker surveyed his daughter's troubled countenance with +characteristic placidity. Simple faith—some called it unpractical +optimism—was the main article of his creed.</p> + +<p>"The Lord will provide, my daughter," he said.</p> + +<p>At this moment the door opened with a flourish, and, the crimson and +enraged countenance of Master Anthony Cuthbert Vereker having been +thrust into the room, its owner inquired, in a voice rendered husky by +indignation, how any one could be expected to impersonate a Dreadnought +going into action in the bath, when the said bath was encumbered with +the flotsam and jetsam of a previous occupant. In other words, was he to +be bathed in the same water as Nicky?</p> + +<p>It was an old grievance, arising from the insufficient nature of the +Rectory water-supply (which had to be pumped up by hand from the garden) +and the smallness of the kitchen boiler; and Daphne had perforce to go +upstairs to adjust it. Consequently the sitting of the Committee of Ways +and Means, with all its immediate necessities and problems for the +future, was incontinently suspended.</p> + +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23">page23</a></span> +<h3>CHAPTER TWO.</h3> + +<h4>WANTED, A MAN.</h4> +<br> +</div> + +<p>Five gentlemen sat side by side along a baize-covered table in a dingy +room in a dingier building not far from the principal pit-head of +Mirkley Colliery. They were the representatives of the local Colliery +Owners' Association, and they were assembled and met together for the +purpose of receiving a deputation representing the united interests and +collective wisdom of their <i>employés</i>.</p> + +<p>It should be noted that although there were five gentlemen present, six +chairs were set along the table.</p> + +<p>Now a deputation may be defined as an instrument designed to extract +from you something which you have not the slightest desire to give up. +Consequently the reception of such, whether you be a damsel listening +for the rat-a-tat of an undesired suitor who has written asking for an +interview, or a dethroned Royal Family sitting in its deserted abode +awaiting the irruption of a Committee of Public Safety composed of the +greater part of its late loyal subjects armed with billhooks and asking +for blood, is always an uncomfortable business at the best. Our five +gentlemen do not appear to be enjoying their present position any more +than the two examples cited above. In fact, they look so exceedingly +averse to interviews or arguments of any description, that we will leave +them for a moment and divert our attention to the deputation itself, +which is delicately skirting puddles of coal-black water and heaps of +pit refuse on its way from the boiler-house, where its members have +assembled, to the office-buildings of the colliery.</p> + +<p>They are six in number, and we will describe them <i>seriatim</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr Tom Winch is a professional agitator, though he calls himself +something else. He is loud-voiced, and ceaseless in argument of a sort. +His notion of a typical member of the upper classes is a debilitated +imbecile suffering from chronic alcoholism and various maladies incident +on over-indulgence, who divides his time between gloating over +money-bags and grinding the faces of the poor. He privately regards +Trades Unions as an antiquated drag upon the wheels of that chariot at +the tail of which he hopes one day to see Capital led captive, gentlemen +like Mr Tom Winch handling the reins and plying the whip.</p> + +<p>Mr Amos Entwistle is a working collier, and is rightly regarded by both +parties as a safe man. He is habitually sober, scrupulously honest, and +has worked at Belton Pit for nearly forty years. He looks upon Trades +Unions as his father and mother.</p> + +<p>Mr Jacob Entwistle is the Nestor of the party. (Amos is his son.) He is +a patriarchal old gentleman, with a long white beard, the manner of an +ambassador, the deafness of an adder, and the obstinacy of a mule. +Altogether he is just the sort of man to prove a valuable asset to any +properly constituted deputation. He is the senior member of the local +branch of the <i>Employés'</i> Association. He regards himself as the father +and mother of Trades Unions.</p> + +<p>Mr Albert Brash is an expert in the art of what may be called Righteous +Indignation. Never was there such an exploiter of grievances. Is short +time declared? Mr Brash calls for an Act of Parliament. Is there an +explosion of fire-damp? Mr Brash mutters darkly that one of these days a +director must swing. Does a careless worker remove a pit-prop and bring +down an avalanche of coal on himself? Mr Brash raises clenched hands to +heaven and clamours for a revolution. So persistently and so +methodically does Mr Brash lay upon the shoulders of Capital the +responsibility for all the ills to which flesh is liable, from a hard +winter to triplets, that he has ultimately (as is the way in this +short-sighted world of ours) achieved the position of Sir Oracle. His +deportment is that of a stage conspirator, and he rarely speaks above a +hoarse and arresting whisper. He calls himself an Anarchist, but he +quails at the passing of the most benevolent policeman. He regards +Trades Unions as well-meaning institutions, with but little +discrimination as to their choice of leaders.</p> + +<p>Mr James Killick is a thoroughly honest, thoroughly muddle-headed +Socialist of a rather common type. Like many a wiser and more observant +man before him, he has realised something of the grinding misery and +suffering of this world, and a great and vague desire to better things +is surging inarticulately within him. He has come to the conclusion, as +most half-educated philosophers usually do, that the simplest remedy +would be to take from those who have and give the proceeds to those who +have not. The fact that the world is divided into men to whose hands +money sticks like glue and men through whose fingers it slips like +water, and that consequently a Utopian re-distribution of property would +have to be repeated at inconveniently frequent intervals in order to +preserve the social balance, has not yet been borne in on him. He +regards Trades Unionism as a broken reed.</p> + +<p>Mr Adam Wilkie is a Scot of the dourest and most sepulchral appearance. +Native reticence and an extremely cautious manner of expressing himself +have invested him with that halo of business acumen which appears to be +inevitable to the Scot as viewed by the Sassenach, and his very silence +is regarded with respectful admiration by his more verbose colleagues. +In reality, he is an intensely stupid, entirely placid individual. +Still, he has kept himself by native thrift in tolerable comfort all his +life without extraneous assistance, and he consequently regards Trades +Unionism as an institution specially and mercifully introduced by +Providence for the purpose of keeping the weak-kneed English out of the +poorhouse.</p> + +<p>"Who's to be there?" inquired Mr Brash of Mr Entwistle senior.</p> + +<p>That patriarch, who was negotiating a mountainous waste-heap, made no +reply.</p> + +<p>"Who are we going to meet?" repeated Mr Brash in a louder tone.</p> + +<p>"Eh?" inquires Mr Entwistle, giving his invariable answer to any sudden +question.</p> + +<p>"Who are we going to <i>meet</i>?" bawled Mr Winch.</p> + +<p>Mr Entwistle, who was never at a loss a second time, smiled benignantly +and replied—</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's so. But maybe we can manage to dry 'em at the fire in the +office."</p> + +<p>"I expect there will be five of them, Mr Winch," interpolated Amos, +coming to the rescue. "Kirkley, Thompson, Crisp, Aymer, Montague——"</p> + +<p>There was a grunt of disapproval from Mr Wilkie as the last name was +mentioned.</p> + +<p>"Yon felly!" he observed darkly. "Aha! Mphm!"</p> + +<p>Then he relapsed into silence. It was upon such safe utterances as +these that Mr Wilkie's reputation for profound wisdom was based.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" said Winch. "Because if it is, I'll undertake to learn +that lot right enough! Kirkley, of course, is just an empty-headed +aristocrat: he don't count. Then that Crisp—he's too cautious to do +anything. We can talk Thompson round all right: done it half a dozen +times meself. Aymer never knows his own mind two minutes together, and +Moses is a coward. But <i>is</i> that all? Ain't the big man going to be +there? He's the lad that counts in that crowd."</p> + +<p>"He was away in London yesterday," said Entwistle junior. "But you never +know——"</p> + +<p>"Wallowing in the vice and luxury of the metropolis!" chanted Mr Brash +suddenly, as if from some internal missal. "The master absent, +squandering his tainted millions, while we stay here and starve! If I +was a Member o' Parliament——"</p> + +<p>"Talk sense," said Amos Entwistle curtly. "He may be back for all we +know. Anyway, they're certain to bring him up if they can, because they +know they can't do without him. Mind that tank-engine, father."</p> + +<p>He impelled his aged parent, who, oblivious to delirious whistling, was +resolutely obstructing the progress of a diminutive locomotive hauling a +string of trucks, on to safer ground.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll hope for the best," said Mr Winch piously. "It would be +something if he was to come late, even. Give me twenty minutes with the +rest before he can get his oar in, and I'll undertake to make them +outvote him."</p> + +<p>By this time the deputation had arrived at the managerial offices, and +five minutes later they were admitted to the presence of the Board. They +did not know that they had been immediately preceded by an +orange-coloured envelope, which was eagerly torn open by Lord Kirkley, +the deputy-chairman.</p> + +<p>"Good egg!" observed his lordship, with a sigh of heartfelt relief. +"Juggernaut's coming."</p> + +<p>A gentle murmur of satisfaction was audible. Evidently the Board felt +the need of a little stiffening. We may as well describe them.</p> + +<p>The Marquis of Kirkley was more accustomed to exercising a kindly +despotism over rustics who lived contentedly on fourteen shillings +a-week than to splitting hairs with unbending mechanics earning four +pounds, whose views on the relations between master and man were +dictated by a cast-iron bureaucracy, and who regarded not the elastic +laws of Give and Take. He was a handsome, breezy, kind-hearted patrician +of thirty-four, and considered Trades Unions a damned interfering +nuisance.</p> + +<p>James Crisp was a solicitor, and represented the Dean and Chapter of +Kilchester, beneath the very foundation of whose mighty cathedral ran a +very profitable little seam of coal, which was chiefly responsible for +making the bishopric of the diocese one of the richest ecclesiastical +plums in England. He was a shrewd man of business, probably the best +qualified of those present to take the lead in the present instance. +Consequently he remained studiously in the background. He regarded +Trades Unions as inevitable, but by no means invulnerable.</p> + +<p>Sir Nigel Thompson had inherited great possessions, including a +colliery, from his father. There was no vice in him, but he loved coal +about as much as a schoolboy loves irregular verbs, and his only +passions in life were old furniture and chemical research. He attended +under compulsion, having torn himself from his comfortable house in +London at the bidding of his manager, in whose hands he was reported +(not altogether unjustly) to be as wax. He was full of theoretical +enthusiasm for Trades Unions, which he identified in some mysterious +way with the liberty of the individual; but wished mildly that people +could contrive to settle their affairs without dragging him north. +Altogether a pleasant but entirely useless member of the Board.</p> + +<p>Mr Alfred Aymer was the owner of Cherry Hill Colliery. He was +middle-aged, timorous, and precipitate. Left to himself, he would +probably have been a kind and fair-dealing employer. But it was his +misfortune to be so constituted that his opinions on any subject were +invariably those of the last man with whom he had discussed it. +Consequently his line of action in the affairs of life was something in +the nature of an alternating electric current. After an interview with +his manager he would issue a decree of unparalleled ferocity: after five +minutes with a deputation of <i>employés</i> he would rescind all previous +resolutions and promise a perfectly fabulous bonus next pay-day. In his +present company he was an adamantine Capitalist, and regarded Trades +Unions as the most pernicious of institutions.</p> + +<p>Last of all came Mr Montague, whose surname at an earlier and less +distinguished period in his history had probably rhymed with "noses." He +came from London, where he earned a livelihood by acquiring the +controlling interest in various commercial ventures, and making these +pay cent per cent. He had recently become proprietor of Marbledown +Colliery, and it was said that he was making a better thing out of it +than his <i>employés</i>. He regarded Trade Unions as an impertinent +infringement of the right of the upper classes to keep the lower classes +in their proper place. From which the intelligent reader will have no +difficulty in deciding to which class Mr Montague considered that he +himself belonged.</p> + +<p>The deputation was introduced with the usual formalities. Its object was +to effect the reinstatement of two <i>employés</i> at Marbledown Colliery, an +engineman and a hewer, who had been summarily dismissed from their +positions for endeavouring, in a society whose relations had never been +of the most cordial, to heighten dissension between master and man.</p> + +<p>Mr Tom Winch's version of the case, delivered with great wealth of +detail and a good deal of unnecessary shouting, was different. The men, +it appeared, were models of what enginemen and hewers should be. Their +sole offence consisted in having incurred the dislike of the +mine-manager, Mr Dodd—whether through their own sturdy independence as +true-born Englishmen (<i>applause from Mr Brash</i>), or the natural jealousy +of an incompetent official towards two able and increasingly prominent +subordinates, it was not for Mr Winch to say. Proceeding, the orator +warmed to his work, and mentioned that one man was as good as another. +Indeed, but for the merest accident of fortune, Lord Kirkley himself +might be delving for coal in the bowels of the earth, what time Messrs +Conlin and Murton, the dismissed <i>employés</i>, sate in the House of Lords +smoking cigars and drinking champagne.</p> + +<p>After this singularly convincing peroration Mr Winch fell back into line +with his companions, amid the <i>sotto voce</i> commendations of Messrs Brash +and Killick. Mr Aymer, who had been taking notes on a sheet of paper, +tore it up with a resigned air of finality. The case was clear: these +poor fellows must be reinstated.</p> + +<p>The chairman conferred briefly with Mr Crisp.</p> + +<p>"Would any other of you gentlemen like to say anything?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>The question was communicated to Mr Entwistle senior, who stepped +forward and delivered himself of a courtly but rambling discourse, +consisting chiefly of reminiscences of something portentous but +unintelligible which had happened forty years ago, and even to the most +irrelevant mind presented no sort of bearing upon the case whatsoever.</p> + +<p>After this Lord Kirkley replied. His remarks were not convincing, for he +was hampered in dealing with the question by complete inability to +understand where the men's grievance came in, and said so. The owners, +he explained, tried to do the fair thing, and most of them did +considerably more. Sick funds, pensions, benevolent schemes, and all +that sort of thing, didn't they know? He quite admitted that an employer +of labour had grave responsibilities and duties laid upon him, and he +for one had always tried to live up to them. But hang it! surely an +employer had the right to get rid of a couple of fellows who went about +preaching anarchy and red revolution in all the public-houses in the +district—what? He did not mind ordinary grousing. It did everybody good +to blow off steam periodically: he did it himself. But there was +grousing and grousing: and when it came to the sort of game that Messrs +Conlin and Murton were playing, it was his lordship's opinion that a <i>ne +plus ultra</i> of thickness had been attained.</p> + +<p>The chairman concluded a somewhat colloquial address amid a deathly +silence, and the deputation and the board glared uncomfortably at one +another. An <i>impasse</i> had been reached, it was clear.</p> + +<p>"It's all very well, gentlemen," broke in Killick suddenly, "for you +aristocrats——"</p> + +<p>Lord Kirkley, who was not without a certain sense of proportion, glanced +involuntarily at Mr Montague and then at Mr Killick. Did this omniscient +and self-opinionated son of toil really see no moral difference between +a Peer of the realm, with centuries of clean-bred ancestry behind him, +and a man who wore diamond rings and elastic-sided boots? Mr Montague +looked up, and regarded Mr Killick with something akin to affection.</p> + +<p>There was a sudden rumble underneath the windows, accompanied by the +hoot of a motor-horn.</p> + +<p>The drama having run itself to a deadlock, the <i>deus</i> had duly +arrived—in his <i>machina</i>.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36">page36</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER THREE.</h3> + +<h4>THE WHEELS OF JUGGERNAUT.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>There was a dead silence, unbroken until Juggernaut entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, gentlemen," he said briskly. "I am glad to see that the +deputation has only just arrived."</p> + +<p>He turned to the clerk who had shown him in.</p> + +<p>"Andrews," he said, "bring chairs for these gentlemen, and then we can +get to business."</p> + +<p>Chairs were brought, and the deputation, which had been balancing itself +on alternate legs for nearly half an hour, sat down with an enhanced +sense of comfort and importance to what they realised at once was to be +the interview proper.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut took the seat at the middle of the table vacated by Lord +Kirkley, and inquired—</p> + +<p>"Has any one spoken yet?"</p> + +<p>Progress was reported by Mr Crisp.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I might trouble the deputation again," said the chairman. +"Not you, Mr Winch, thank you!" as that Demosthenes cleared his throat +in a threatening manner. "In the first place, you don't represent the +men in any sense. In fact, considering that you are engaged in no +employment in this district, I think it would have been much wiser on +the part of those responsible for this deputation to have left you out +altogether. You are not even a properly accredited Trades Union +official."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen of the Board," began Mr Winch portentously, "I +appeal——"</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble, really, Mr Winch," broke in Juggernaut with inflexible +cheerfulness. "You see, I know exactly what you are going to say. I have +heard it so often in other places where you have been kind enough to +come forward and champion the cause—of—of—the oppressed millions of +this country. That's right, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>A muffled sound proceeded from the interior of Mr Wilkie—his first +contribution to the debate—and the chairman proceeded.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Mr Entwistle junior would kindly give us the facts."</p> + +<p>Amos Entwistle, rising from his seat, re-stated the case of the two men. +They were competent and industrious workmen, he maintained, and so long +as they gave satisfaction in their situations their private lives and +leisure occupations were entirely their own concern. Possibly their +views on the relations of Labour and Capital were extreme, but the +speaker begged respectfully to point out that there were extremists on +both sides; and since many employers might and did regard the men they +paid as dirt beneath their feet, it seemed only natural that a section +of the men should regard their employers as bullies and tyrants. Mr +Entwistle followed up this undoubted home-thrust with a request for a +categorical list of the offences alleged against the two men, and +solemnly but respectfully warned the Board against risking a serious +upheaval by endeavouring to stifle legitimate criticism of its actions. +With apologies for plain-speaking he resumed his seat, and Mr Aymer tore +up a sheet of paper upon which he had commenced operations on the +arrival of the chairman.</p> + +<p>"Would any other gentleman like to say anything?" inquired Juggernaut. +"Mr Brash? Mr Wilkie?"</p> + +<p>No, the gentlemen addressed had nothing to say. Their <i>forte</i> was +plainly that of chorus.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Juggernaut. "In the first place, I am going to accede +to Mr Entwistle's perfectly just request that a definite reason should +be given for the dismissal of these men. I agree with him that it is a +foolish thing to stifle legitimate criticism. Unfortunately, I don't +agree with him that the criticisms of Messrs Conlin and Murton <i>are</i> +legitimate. I have been making inquiries into the antecedents of these +two. Murton is a paid agitator. He is not a local man. He came here less +than a year ago, and has been making deliberate mischief ever since. He +has money to spend: he backs his arguments with beer. I shouldn't be +surprised if he drew his salary from the organisation which retains your +services, Mr Winch."</p> + +<p>Mr Winch's small eyes began to protrude. He did not relish this line of +argument. In dealing with Boards and other representatives of bloated +Capital he preferred to keep to the high moral and sentimental +plane—the sufferings of the downtrodden sons of Labour, the equality of +all men in the sight of God, and so on. Mundane personalities, coupled +with the suggestion that he, a high priest of altruism, was making a +good thing out of his exertions on behalf of his fellow-toilers, took +him below the belt, he considered.</p> + +<p>"Conlin," continued Juggernaut, disregarding the fermenting Mr Winch, +"seems to be a comparatively sincere and honest grumbler. He has +realised that this is an unjust world, and he wants to put it right by +Act of Parliament. Consequently he goes about advocating certain special +and particular forms of legislation which, if they came into being, +would benefit about one member of the community in a hundred and be +grossly unfair to the other ninety-nine. He has not yet discovered for +himself that the aim of all legislation must be to benefit the type and +not the individual. That is the rock upon which all your friends split, +Mr Winch. You are always trying to legislate for special cases, and it +can't be <i>done</i>. I quite agree with you that the conditions of labour in +parts of this country are deplorable. We all want to put them right. But +there are two things we cannot do. We can't cure them in a hurry, and we +can't cure them by swallowing quack medicines. What we have to do is to +set to work on systematic lines, and go on working, with patience and a +sense of proportion, until our whole social fabric develops into a +sounder and more healthy condition. That requires time, and time +requires patience, and patience requires common-sense, and common-sense +is a thing which is lamentably scarce in this world, Mr Winch. We are +marching on to a better state of things every year; but every bit of +unsound, panic-stricken, vote-catching legislation—Right-to-Work Bills, +Unemployment Acts, and so on—throws us back a step, because its +tendency is to remove the symptom instead of curing the disease. Now, +symptoms are very valuable assets. They give us reliable and necessary +information, which is more than can be said of most intelligence +departments. If ever you have such a vulgar thing as a pain in your +stomach, Mr Winch, that is a kindly hint from Nature that there is +something wrong with the works. If you drink two of whisky hot the pain +may cease, but it does not follow that the real cause of the trouble has +been removed. In effect you have merely put back the danger-signal to +safety without removing the danger. That is just what all this +despicable, hand-to-mouth, time-serving legislation that you and your +friends are trying to force upon a popularity-hunting Government is +doing for the country to-day."</p> + +<p>The speaker paused. The deputation wore a distinctly chastened +appearance. Mr Aymer was engaged upon a third sheet of notes. Sir Nigel +Thompson was working out a chemical formula on the back of an envelope.</p> + +<p>"Let us get back to the point, sir," said Amos Entwistle doggedly. "I +agree with a great deal of what you say——"</p> + +<p>"Shame!" interpolated Mr Killick suddenly.</p> + +<p>"But we came here to ask for the reinstatement of these two men, and not +to discuss social problems."</p> + +<p>"Granted all the time," said Juggernaut cheerfully. "I admit that I have +not made Messrs Conlin and Murton my Alpha and Omega in these remarks of +mine; but that is because I deliberately went back to first principles +instead of cutting into the middle of things. Now for your request! You +want an answer? Here it is. The two men cannot be reinstated under any +circumstances whatsoever. I confess I am rather sorry for Conlin: he is +in a different class from Murton. But he is tarred with the same brush, +and he must go."</p> + +<p>"Take care, Sir John," broke in Mr Winch, in the declamatory bray which +he reserved for extreme crises. "Don't push us too hard! What if a +strike was to be proclaimed at Marbledown Colliery? You wouldn't like +that, Mr Montague! You have a bad enough name in the district as it is. +You grind your 'eel——"</p> + +<p>"Mr Winch," said Juggernaut in a voice of thunder, "I must ask you to +address yourself to me. This matter has been taken out of Mr Montague's +hands by the combined action of the Owners' Association; so if you have +any strictures to offer they must be laid upon me as representing the +Association collectively. As for striking—well, you struck before, you +know. I don't think any of us have forgotten that winter—masters or +men!"</p> + +<p>"We nearly beat you then," said Killick hotly.</p> + +<p>"That," retorted Mr Montague, suddenly breaking into the debate, "was +because some sentimental fool sent food and necessaries to your wives."</p> + +<p>"It's the women and children who pay for strikes, you know, Mr Winch," +said Mr Crisp, speaking for the first time—"not you men. You can do +without beer and baccy at a pinch, but your families must have +groceries and fire. If they had not been kept going by that unknown +benefactor the strike would have collapsed as soon as the Union funds +gave out."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they will be kept going again," said Amos Entwistle +quietly.</p> + +<p>"They won't," said Juggernaut emphatically. "You can take my word for +that, Mr Entwistle. I have seen to it. And I may add that if you +consider it advisable to proclaim a sectional strike, the owners on +their part might find it necessary to declare a lock-out at all the +collieries in the district. If men can combine, so can masters."</p> + +<p>There was a staggered silence. Even the Board were hardly prepared for +this. Juggernaut had so dominated the situation since his arrival that +one or two—Mr Montague in particular—were beginning to wonder rather +peevishly why they had been admitted to the meeting. But Mr Crisp leaned +back and took snuff contentedly. He appreciated strong measures, though +he was averse to initiating them.</p> + +<p>Still, the temper of the meeting was rising. Killick broke out +furiously. It was a burning shame, a monstrous iniquity, he declared, +that men who had never done an honest day's work in their lives should +be enabled, simply because they had money in their pockets, to force +humiliating conditions on a majority who had no alternative but to +submit or starve. He spoke with all the conviction that absolute +sincerity carries; but the effect of his philippic was not enhanced by +the marginal comments of his colleague, Mr Brash, who kept up a running +fire of <i>sotto voce</i> references to bloody-minded tyrants, champagne, +ballet-girls, and other equally relevant topics with a persistence and +enthusiasm which would have proved embarrassing to a more self-conscious +and less frenzied rhetorician than Mr Killick.</p> + +<p>When both solo and <i>obligato</i> had subsided, Juggernaut spoke +again.</p> + +<p>"It is one of the most common delusions of men of your way of thinking, +Mr Killick, to imagine that the only kind of work worthy of the name is +manual labour. Personally, I have tried both. For two years after I came +down from the University I worked for experience's sake in a pit not far +from here. I went down with my shift daily and worked full time; but I +assure you that those two years were far from being the most laborious +of my life."</p> + +<p>"Your case was different, sir," said Amos Entwistle, with a practical +man's quick perception of his opponent's weak points. "You were doing it +for pleasure, to acquire experience—not to earn your bread. You could +look forward to something better later on."</p> + +<p>"And so can every man!" replied Juggernaut. "Each one of us is able if +he likes to work his way up, and up, and up; and the lower he starts, +the greater is his range of opportunity. The man at the bottom has the +whole ladder to climb, instead of a few paltry rungs, as is the case of +a man born near the top. Let him think of that, and be thankful!"</p> + +<p>The chairman's sombre eyes glowed. His tone of raillery was gone: he was +in sober earnest now. To him poverty and riches were nothing; he could +have lived happily on a pound a-week: the salt of life lay in the +overcoming of its difficulties.</p> + +<p>But Amos Entwistle was a man of tough fibre—by far the strongest man, +next to the chairman, in that assemblage.</p> + +<p>"You can't deny, sir," he persisted doggedly, "that it is very difficult +for a poor man to rise. His employers don't help him much. They are best +satisfied with a man who keeps his proper station, as they call it."</p> + +<p>"Tyrants!" interpolated Mr Winch hastily.</p> + +<p>"Star Chamber!" added Mr Brash, <i>à propos de bottes</i>.</p> + +<p>"Tyrants? Star Chamber?" Juggernaut surveyed the interrupter +quizzically. "Here is a question for you, Mr Brash. Which is the +worse—the tyranny of the harsh employer who gathers where he has not +strawed, or the tyranny of a Trades Union which a man is forced to join, +and which compels the best worker to slow down his pace to that of the +worst, and frequently compels him to come out on strike over some +question upon which he is perfectly satisfied? I won't attempt to place +them in order of merit, but I should feel inclined to bracket—"</p> + +<p>"Trades Unions," interrupted Mr Winch, who was beginning to feel himself +unduly excluded from the present symposium, "are the first steps towards +the complete emancipation of Labour"—he smacked his lips as over a +savoury bakemeat—"from the degrading shackles of Capital. Every man his +own master!"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut nodded his head slowly.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," he said. "That sounds admirable. But what does it <i>mean</i> +exactly? As far as I can see, it means that every one who is at present +a labourer is ultimately going to become a capitalist. In that case it +rather looks as if there would be a shortage of hands if there was work +to be done. Your Utopia, Mr Winch, appears to me to resemble the Grand +Army of Hayti, which consists of five hundred privates and eleven +hundred Generals. No, no; you must bear in mind this fact, that ever +since the world began mankind has been divided up into masters and men, +and will continue to be so divided until the end of time. What we—you +and I—have to do is to adjust the relations between the two in such a +fashion as to make the conditions fair for both. I don't say that +employers aren't frequently most high-handed and tyrannical, but I also +say that <i>employés</i> are extraordinarily touchy and thin-skinned. I think +it chiefly arises from a sort of distorted notion that there is +something degrading and undignified in obeying an order. Why, man, +obedience and discipline are the very life-blood of every institution +worthy of the name. They are no class affair either. I have seen the +captain of a company stand at attention without winking for ten minutes, +and receive a damning from his colonel that no non-commissioned officer +in the service would have dreamed of administering to a private of the +line. Master and man each hold equally honourable positions; and what +you must drum into the minds of your associates, gentlemen—I'm speaking +to the Board as much as to the deputation—is the fact that the +interests of both are <i>identical</i>, instead of being as far apart as the +poles, which appears to be your present impression. Neither can exist +without the other. So far you have imbibed only half of that truth. You +reiterate with distressing frequency, Mr Winch, the fact that Capital +cannot exist without Labour. Perfectly true. Now try to absorb into your +system the fact—equally important to a hair's-breadth—that Labour +cannot exist without Capital. Each depends upon the other for existence, +and what we have to do is to balance and balance and balance, employing +a sense of proportion, proportion, <i>proportion</i>!"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut's fist descended with a crash upon the table, and for a +minute he was silent—free-wheeling, so to speak, over the pulverised +remains of Mr Winch. Presently he continued, with one of his rare +smiles—</p> + +<p>"A Frenchman once said that an Englishman begins by making a speech and +ends by preaching a sermon. I am afraid I have justified the gibe, but +it's a good thing to thrash these matters out. I don't deny that the +average employer is in the habit of giving his <i>employés</i> their bare +pound of flesh in the way of wages and no more. But I think the +<i>employé</i> has himself to blame for that. If you invoke the assistance of +the law against your neighbour, that neighbour will give you precisely +as much as the law compels him to give. Well, that is what organised +Labour has done. It has its Trades Union, its Workmen's Compensation and +Employers' Liability, and so on; and lately it has gouged out of a +myopic Government a scheme of Old Age Pensions, to be eligible for which +a man must on no account have exercised any kind of thrift throughout +his working life. If he has, he is disqualified. All this legislation +enables you to get the half-nelson on your employer. Under the +circumstances you can hardly expect him to throw in benevolence as well. +You can't have your cake and eat it. The old personal relations between +master and man are dead—dead as Queen Anne—and with them has died the +master's sense of moral responsibility for the welfare of those +dependent on him."</p> + +<p>"Time, too! Degradation! Feudal system!" observed the ever-ready Mr +Killick.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps; but the Feudal System had its points, Mr Killick. It +fostered one or two homely and healthy virtues like benevolence and +loyalty and pride of race; and I don't think a man-at-arms ever lost his +self-respect or felt degraded because he lived in time of peace under +the protection of the Lord of the Manor whom he followed in time of war. +Yes, I for one rather regret the passing of the old order. Listen, and I +will tell you a story. Forty years ago Cherry Hill Pit was +flooded—flooded for nearly three months during a bitter hard winter. +Sir Nigel Thompson's father, the late baronet—"</p> + +<p>Sir Nigel, who was puzzling out some specially complicated formula, +suddenly looked up. He had an idea that his name had been mentioned; but +as every one present appeared to be listening most intently to the +chairman, he resumed his engrossing occupation with a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"—paid full wages during the whole of that time; and as coal was +naturally unobtainable in the village, he imported sufficient to supply +the needs of the whole community. Not a house in the village lacked its +kitchen fire or its Sunday dinner during all those weeks. That was +before the days of the Employers' Liability, gentlemen! If a similar +disaster were to occur to-day, I doubt if Sir Nigel here would feel +morally bound to do anything for such an independent and self-sufficient +community. The present state of things may safeguard you against the +ungenerous employer, but it eliminates the milk of human kindness from +our mutual transactions, and that is always a matter for regret. That is +all, gentlemen. You have our last word in this matter. These two men +must go. If you would like to withdraw to the next room for a few +minutes and consider whether you have anything further to say, we shall +be glad to wait your convenience here."</p> + +<p>The deputation rose and filed solemnly from the room, and the Board were +left alone.</p> + +<p>Presently Mr Aymer observed timidly—</p> + +<p>"Mr Chairman, don't you think we might let Conlin stay, and content +ourselves with dismissing Murton?"</p> + +<p>"Afraid not," said Juggernaut. "It's a bit hard on Conlin, but we have +to consider the greatest good of the greatest number. He's a +plague-spot, and if we don't eradicate him he'll spread. Do you agree, +Kirkley?"</p> + +<p>"Bad luck on the poor devil, but I think you are right," assented his +lordship.</p> + +<p>"Crisp?"</p> + +<p>Mr Crisp nodded.</p> + +<p>"Nigel?"</p> + +<p>Sir Nigel Thompson looked up from his seventh envelope with a contented +sigh.</p> + +<p>"I have it at last," he said. "It's a perfectly-simple solution, really, +but the obvious often escapes one's notice owing to its very proximity. +The eye is looking further afield. Eh—what? My decision? I agree +implicitly with you, Jack—that is, gentlemen, I support the chairman in +his view of the case."</p> + +<p>And this vigilant counsellor collected his envelopes and stuffed them +into his pocket. The chairman continued—</p> + +<p>"Montague?"</p> + +<p>"Before I answer that question," began Mr Montague, "I should like to +protetht—protest, I mean—against the arbitrary manner in which you +have conducted this meeting, Mr Chairman. You have taken the case out of +our hands in a manner which I consider most unwarrantable; and, speaking +as the actual employer of the two men—"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut swung rather deliberately round in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Mr Montague," he said, "you got yourself into a hole, and you +called—no, <i>howled</i>—for a meeting of directors to come and pull you +out. These agitators settled down in your district because they knew +that it was the most fertile district to work in. You are considered, +rightly, the worst employer of labour here. You are greedy, +unscrupulous, and tyrannical. It is men like you who discredit Capital +in the eyes of Labour, and make conciliatory dealing between master and +man almost an impossibility. We have bolstered you up through a very +difficult crisis, sitting here and putting those poor fellows, five of +whom are infinitely more honest than you are, quite undeservedly in the +wrong, and imperilling our immortal souls by whitewashing such employers +as you. Accept the situation and be thankful!"</p> + +<p>It is said that hard words break no bones. Still, if you happen to be a +member of a race which has endured hard words (to say nothing of broken +bones) for twenty centuries, and when the hard words on this particular +occasion are delivered by a large man with angry blue eyes and a tongue +like a whip-lash, you may be forgiven for losing your nerve a little. Mr +Montague lost his. He flapped his ringed hands feebly, mumbled +incoherently, and was understood to withdraw his objections +unconditionally.</p> + +<p>"Mr Amos Entwistle," announced a clerk at the door.</p> + +<p>Entwistle junior re-entered the room.</p> + +<p>"I am commissioned to inform you, Mr Chairman," he said, "that we +acquiesce in your decision; but under protest. I should like to add, +gentlemen," he continued, less formally but none the less earnestly, +"that the Committee are very much dissatisfied with the result of the +interview. I am afraid you haven't heard the last of this trouble. +Good-day, and thank you, gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean? Strike—eh?" inquired Lord Kirkley, as he and +Juggernaut descended the stairs together five minutes later.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. If so, we'll fight."</p> + +<p>"Righto—I'm on! I say, it was pretty smart of you finding out where +those private supplies of theirs came from last time. We shall be able +to put the lid on that sort of think in future—what?"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut nodded, but said no more.</p> + +<p>Mr Crisp, Sir Nigel Thompson, and Mr Aymer walked across to the latter's +offices for luncheon. Mr Montague had gone home to lunch by himself. He +usually did so.</p> + +<p>"The chairman arrived at the meeting in the nick of time," said the +lawyer. "Kirkley would have been no match for Winch."</p> + +<p>"The chairman was very inflexible," sighed Mr Aymer, with all a weak +man's passion for compromise. "He has a way of brushing aside obstacles +which can only be described as Napoleonic. Is he always within his +rights from a legal point of view?"</p> + +<p>"From a legal point of view, practically never," said the lawyer simply. +"From a common-sense point of view, practically always."</p> + +<p>"He is a hard man—as hard as flint," mused Mr Aymer. "I wonder if he +has a soft side to him <i>anywhere</i>. I wonder, for instance, how he would +treat a woman."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Mr Crisp.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55">page55</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER FOUR.</h3> + +<h4>THE DEVIL A MONK WOULD BE.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>The first member of the Rectory household whose eyes opened on Sunday +morning was the Rector himself, who promptly arose and repaired to the +church, there to conduct the early morning service. The second was a +certain Mr Dawks, who has not previously been mentioned in this +narrative. He was a dog. The term may include almost anything, which is +perhaps fortunate for Mr Dawks; otherwise it might have been necessary +to class him under some more elastic heading. Of his ancestry nothing +was known, though many conjectures could have been made, and most of +them would have been correct. He had been found lying half-dead in a +country lane by Daphne six years ago, and though mistaken at the time +for a derelict monkey jettisoned from some migratory hurdy-gurdy, had +subsequently proved to be a mongrel puppy of a few months old. Regular +meals and ripening years had developed him into a sort of general +epitome of all the dogs that ever existed. He possessed points which, +exhibited individually, would have gained many marks at Cruft's +Dog-Show. His tail would have increased the market value of a Chow +fourfold; his shoulders and forelegs would have done credit to a prize +bull-terrier; his ears would have inflated the self-esteem of the +silkiest spaniel in existence; and his lower jaw would have been +regarded as an asset by an alligator. His manners were without reproach, +but were derived rather from mental vacuity than nobility of character; +for with the deportment of an hidalgo he combined the intelligence of a +permanent official.</p> + +<p>His name, as already mentioned, was Mr Dawks, but he responded with +equal amiability to "Angel Child" or "Beautiful One" (Daphne); +"Flea-Club" (Ally); "Puss, puss!" (Nicky); and "Tank-Engine" (Stiffy), +to whose mechanical mind bandy legs and laboured breathing suggested a +short wheel-base and leaky outside-cylinders.</p> + +<p>Mr Dawks, having arisen from his nightly resting-place outside Daphne +Vereker's bedroom door, strolled downstairs to the study. The Rector was +frequently to be found there early in the morning, and were he not too +deeply absorbed in some dusty volume, there might be biscuits. But the +room was empty. Mr Dawks laboriously remounted the staircase and +scratched delicately at his mistress's bedroom door.</p> + +<p>He was admitted, and found Daphne, in dressing-gown and slippers, +preparing for her Sunday morning round, in which she doubled the parts +of what is known in the North of England as a "knocker-up" and mistress +of the wardrobe; for the week's clean garments were always distributed +on these occasions. The pair set forth together.</p> + +<p>After a tap at her father's door, answered by a melodious "Good-morning, +daughter!" which showed that the Rector had returned from his +ministrations, Daphne proceeded to the regions above. Here upon the +landing she encountered her youngest sister, who ought properly to have +been dressing in the bedroom which she shared with Cilly. Instead, she +was sitting resignedly outside the door upon a bundle composed of her +Sabbath garments. As she was obviously posing for the excitation of +sympathy, Daphne ignored her and passed into the bedroom, where the +window-blind was flapping in the breeze and Cilly lay in a condition of +almost total eclipse (if we except a long tawny pig-tail) under the +bed-clothes.</p> + +<p>"Cilly," inquired Daphne, "what's Nicky doing outside?"</p> + +<p>"I kicked her out," replied a muffled voice.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well"—Cilly poked her head, tortoise-fashion, from under its +covering—"she cheeked me—about"—the head retired again—"something."</p> + +<p>"Bobby Gill, I suppose," remarked Daphne calmly.</p> + +<p>Cilly's countenance reappeared, rosily flushed with healthy sleep and +maiden modesty.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, you must take her in again," said Daphne. "She's only playing up +for a cold, sitting out there, and it will be a score for her if she can +sniff the house down to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Cilly resignedly. "I suppose I can pay her out some +other way."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't, if I were you," advised the elder sister. "She'll only wait +till she gets you and Bobby together, and then say something <i>awful</i>. +It's your own fault, dear. You do ask for it, you know."</p> + +<p>Cilly, whose flirtations were more numerous than discreet, sighed +deeply, and rolled a pair of large and dreamy eyes upon her sister.</p> + +<p>"Daph, don't you <i>ever</i> fall in love with men? Well—boys, if you +like!" she continued, parrying an unspoken comment. "I know I do overdo it +a bit; but you—well, you never do it at all. Don't you love to feel them +edging up to you, and getting pink in the face, and trying to think of +things to say to you, and offering to take you—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Daphne decidedly; "they bore me. Barring Dad and Mr Dawks +and the boys, I have no use for males. Besides, I'm always too busy to +bother with them: they waste so much of your time. Now, my child, if you +want any breakfast you had better get up. I must go and see the boys."</p> + +<p>She departed, and with a passing admonition to Nicky to abandon her +eleemosynary vigil and be sure to wash her neck, continued on her way, +still accompanied by the faithful Dawks, to the chamber occupied by her +two youngest brothers.</p> + +<p>Here peace reigned. Stiffy, one of whose chief joys in life was the +study of the British Railway System, from Automatic Couplings to +Newspaper Specials, was sitting up in bed with an old <i>Bradshaw</i>, +laboriously ascertaining by how many routes and with how few changes the +ordinary railway maniac might travel from Merthyr-Tydvil to +Stockton-on-Tees. At the other end of the room the ever-occupied +Anthony, with his night-shirt for a surplice and a stocking for a stole, +was standing by an open grave (the hearthrug) rehearsing the opening +passages of the Service for the Burial of the Dead,—an exercise to +which, in common with various other ecclesiastical offices, he was much +addicted.</p> + +<p>Daphne, having kissed Stiffy and gravely given her verdict upon a knotty +point which was exercising that scrupulous youth's mind, namely, +whether it was permissible by the rules of the game to include in his +schedule of connections a train which ran on Thursdays Only, handed him +his weekly dole of clean linen and turned to the youngest member of the +family.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Tony dear," she said cheerfully.</p> + +<p>The celebrant, who, true artist that he was, disliked unnecessary +abruptness in his transitions, stopped short in the Ninetieth Psalm.</p> + +<p>"Dearly Beloved Brethren," he gabbled in an apologetic undertone, "I am +called for a moment from the side of this the last resting-place of our +lamented sister"—apparently it was a lady friend he was interring—"by +other business; but I shall be back in a minute." Then, unwinding the +stocking from about his neck—</p> + +<p>"Daphne, those new vests are beastly scratchy. Must I wear them?"</p> + +<p>"I know, old man," responded his sister sympathetically. "But they've +been bought and paid for—horribly dear, too!—so you must lump it. Try +wearing them inside out for a time. That takes the edge off a bit."</p> + +<p>And thus, with sage counsel and practical suggestion (together with a +brief whistle to Mr Dawks, who was moistening his internal clay at the +water-jug), our young Minerva passed on to the sleeping-place of her +beloved Ally.</p> + +<p>Rather to her surprise, Mr Aloysius Vereker was awake and out of +bed. The reason was plain. Before him upon the dressing-table lay a +pot of shaving-soap of a widely advertised brand, a new +shaving-brush, a sixpenny bottle of bay rum, and a lather dish of +red indiarubber,—youthful extravagances to which the hardened +shaver of twenty years' standing, who smears himself with ordinary +Brown Windsor out of the soap-dish and wipes his razor on a piece of +newspaper or the window-curtain, looks back with mingled amusement +and regret. In his hand gleamed a new razor.</p> + +<p>"Careful!" he gasped through a sea of lather. "Don't shake the room, +kid!"</p> + +<p>Daphne sat cautiously down upon the bed, and surveyed the operator +with unfeigned pride and enthusiasm. She clasped her hands.</p> + +<p>"Ally, how splendid! When did you begin doing it?"</p> + +<p>Ally, weathering a hairless and slippery corner, replied—</p> + +<p>"Third time. I'm doing it chiefly to make something <i>grow</i>. A +man simply <i>has</i> to shave after he gets into the Fifteen: you +look such a fool on Saturday nights if you don't. A chap in our house +called Mallock, who has had his colours four years, has a beard about +half-an-inch long by Friday. He's a gorgeous sight."</p> + +<p>Daphne shuddered slightly.</p> + +<p>Ally continued.</p> + +<p>"I don't expect to rival him, of course, but I should like to have +something to scrape off in the dormitory. My fag always grins so when he +brings me my shaving-water—little tick!"</p> + +<p>Daphne was too well versed in the eccentricities of the young of the +male species to experience the slightest feeling of surprise at her +brother's singular ambition. She merely wrapped a blanket round her +shoulders and settled herself against the head of the bed, anxiously +contemplating the progress of a sanguinary campaign in the region +surrounding Ally's jugular vein.</p> + +<p>Presently operations came to a conclusion; the traces of battle were +obliterated with much sponging and spraying; and the pair sat and +gossiped amicably while Ally stropped his razor and put studs in his +Sunday shirt.</p> + +<p>It was a full quarter of an hour before Daphne returned to her room, for +her Sunday morning call upon Ally was always a protracted affair. But +before she left she had, after the usual blandishments, exacted from him +a promise that he would come to church. Their father never exercised any +compulsion in this matter; but if any member of the family did stay at +home on Sunday morning, the Rector's mute distress was such as to blight +the spirits of the household for the rest of the day; and Daphne always +exerted herself to the full to round up her entire flock in the Rectory +pew at the appointed hour. The most recalcitrant members thereof were +Ally and Nicky, but the former could usually be cajoled and the latter +coerced.</p> + +<p>After breakfast the Rector retired to his study to con his sermon; and +not long afterwards was to be seen, key in hand, passing through the +wicket-gate which led from the garden into the churchyard. Having tolled +the church bell for five minutes, he busied himself at the altar, and +then turned up the lessons at the lectern, marking these same in plain +figures; for the Squire, who fulfilled the office of reader, required +careful guidance in this respect. (He had been known to read the same +lesson twice; also the Second Lesson before the First; and once he had +turned over two pages together towards the end of a long chapter, and +embarked with growing huskiness and visible indignation upon a +supplementary voyage of forty-seven verses.)</p> + +<p>Presently the Rector returned to the house for his surplice; and ten +minutes later, a tall and saintly figure, followed his hobnailed and +bullet-headed choristers into the chancel.</p> + +<p>Snayling Church, though a diminutive building, was one of the oldest of +its kind in England. The tower was square and stumpy, and had served as +a haven of refuge more than once. A later generation, following the +pious but unnecessary fashion of the day, had erected upon its summit a +steeple of homely design, which indicated the route to heaven in an +officious and altogether gratuitous manner. Inside the building itself +the roof was supported by massive stone pillars and Norman arches. +Beneath the floor lay folk long dead, their names, virtues, and +destination set forth in many curious inscriptions in stone and brass, +all greatly prized by the tourist with his tracing-paper and heel-ball. +The chancel contained a real Crusader, who reclined, sword in hand and +feet crossed, upon a massive sarcophagus, his good lady by his side. +Tony Vereker had woven many a legend about <i>him</i>, you may be sure.</p> + +<p>Each of the tiny transepts contained two square pews, decently veiled +from the public gaze by red curtains. Those on the north side belonged +respectively to the Squire, whose arrival in church with his wife and +four daughters always served as an intimation to the organist—Mr Pack, +the schoolmaster—that it was eleven o'clock and time to wind up the +voluntary; and old Lady Curlew of Hainings, who invariably arrived five +minutes before the hour, accompanied by her maid; who, having packed her +mistress into a corner of the pew with cushions and hassocks, retired +discreetly to the free seats by the door.</p> + +<p>Of the pews in the south transept one was the property of the Lord of +the Manor, the Marquis of Kirkley. It was seldom occupied, for his +lordship suffered from the misfortune (which modern legislation is doing +so much to alleviate) of possessing more residences than he could +comfortably live in. His adjacent seat, Kirkley Abbey, was seldom open +except for a few weeks during the pheasant season; and even the +recurrence of that momentous period did not postulate undue congestion +in the family pew.</p> + +<p>The other pew was the Rector's, and here Daphne succeeded on this +particular Sabbath morning in corralling the full strength of her +troupe.</p> + +<p><i>Non sine pulvere</i>, however. Ally, as already related, had +proved fairly tractable, but Nicky (who just at present stood badly in +need of the services of a competent exorcist) had almost evaded +ecclesiastical conscription by a new and ingenious device. At ten-fifteen +precisely she had fallen heavily down a flight of two steps and sprained +her ankle. Unsympathetic Daphne, experienced in the detection of every form +of malingering, had despatched her upstairs with a bottle of Mr Elliman's +strongest embrocation—the property of Ally—with instructions to anoint +the injured member and report herself for duty at ten-forty-five prompt. +At the appointed hour Nicky, limping painfully and smiling heroically, +had joined the rest of the family in the hall.</p> + +<p>Presently Ally remarked casually—</p> + +<p>"Rotten stink here. Furniture polish, or something."</p> + +<p>"Yes—filthy reek!" agreed Stiffy.</p> + +<p>"It's turpentine," cried Cilly, crinkling her nose.</p> + +<p>"It's Elliman," said Tony.</p> + +<p>"It's <i>you</i>, Nicky!" said everybody at once.</p> + +<p>Daphne, who was drawing on her gloves, peeled them off again with some +deliberation, and took her youngest sister by the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Nicky," she inquired, "how much Elliman did you use?"</p> + +<p>That infant martyr, wincing ostentatiously, delicately protruded a foot, +and exhibited a long black leg heavily swathed from knee to instep under +her stocking with a bandage of colossal dimensions.</p> + +<p>"Not more than I could help, Daph," she said. "I found one or two other +bruises on my—all over me, in fact: so I—I just put a little Elliman +on each. I didn't want to be a trouble to any one, so—"</p> + +<p>"Run upstairs, Stiffy," Daphne interpolated swiftly, "and see how much +Elliman is left in the bottle."</p> + +<p>By this time Cilly had thrown open the front door and staircase windows, +and the remainder of the Vereker family were fanning themselves with +their Sunday hats and ostentatiously fighting for breath—an exercise in +which they persevered until Stiffy reappeared carrying an empty bottle.</p> + +<p>"Two bobs' worth!" shouted Ally. "And I meant it to last for months! +Nicky, you little <i>sweep</i>!"</p> + +<p>Daphne glanced at the hall clock.</p> + +<p>"Fourteen minutes!" she calculated frantically. "Yes, it can just be +done. Nicky, my cherub, you shall come to church this morning if I have +to <i>scrape</i> you. Go on, you others! I'll follow myself as quickly as +I can."</p> + +<p>The last sentence was delivered far up the staircase, which Miss Vereker +was ascending with flying feet, a tearful and unwilling appendage +trailing behind her. Next moment the bathroom door banged, and the +departing worshippers heard both taps turned on.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>At two minutes past eleven precisely Daphne and Nicky, the former cool, +collected, and as prettily dressed as any woman in the congregation, the +latter scarlet as if from recent parboiling, walked demurely down the +aisle just as the choir entered the chancel, lustily bellowing a hymn +which drew attention to the advantages accruing in the next world to +that Servant of the Lord who should be found Waiting in his Office, in a +Posture not specified—Tony used often to wonder what would happen if +the Day of Judgment should fall upon a Bank holiday or Saturday +afternoon—and joined the rest of the family in the Rectory pew.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>A sermon, we all know, offers unique facilities for quiet reflection. As +their father's silvery voice rose and fell in the cadences of his +discourse—he had soared far above the heads of his bucolic audience, +and was now disporting himself in a delectable but quite inaccessible +æther of his own, where the worshippers (such of them as had not yielded +to slothful repose) followed his evolutions with mystified and +respectful awe, much as a crowd of citizens in a busy street gape +upwards at the gambols of an aeroplane—the Rectory children wedged +themselves into their own particular nooks of the pew, and prepared to +get through the next twenty minutes in characteristic fashion.</p> + +<p>Ally closed his eyes and assumed an attitude of slumber, as befitted his +years and dignity. But he was not asleep. He did not look comfortable. +Perhaps his breakfast had disagreed with him, or possibly he was +contemplating within himself the vision of a receding University and an +all-too-adjacent office-stool. Daphne, with her eyes fixed on the wall +opposite and her brow puckered, was pondering some domestic problem—her +own extravagantly small feet, mayhap, or Wednesday's hypothetical leg of +mutton. Despite her burden of care, her face looked absurdly round and +childish under her big beaver hat. One hand supported her chin in a +characteristic pose, the other controlled the movements of the restless +Anthony, who was impersonating something of a vibratory nature. Cilly, +with glowing eyes and parted lips, was reading the Marriage Service in +her Prayerbook. Nicky, whose recent ablutions had apparently purged her +of outward sin only, had pulled forward two long wisps of black hair +from behind her ears, and by crossing these under her nose had provided +herself with a very realistic and terrifying pair of moustaches, by +portentous twistings of which, assisted by the rolling of a frenzied +eye, she was endeavouring to make poor Stiffy laugh. That right-minded +youth, though hard pressed, had so far withstood temptation by +resolutely reciting to himself a favourite excerpt from Bradshaw's +Railway Guide, beginning "Brighton (Central), Preston Park, Burgess +Hill, Hassocks" ... and ending with ... "Grosvenor Road, Victoria,"—a +sedative exercise to which he was much addicted at moments of bodily +anguish or mental stress; but it was plain that his defence was +weakening.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, the approaching explosion, which would have been of a +cataclysmal nature,—Stiffy was not a boy to do things by halves,—was +averted by a change of demeanour on the part of the temptress. Her +quick ear had caught some unaccustomed sound behind her. Letting go her +moustaches, which immediately assumed a more usual position, she +squirmed round in her seat and gently parted the red rep curtains which +separated the Rectory pew from that of Kirkley Abbey. An excited gurgle +apprised her fellow-worshippers of the fact that some unusual sight had +met her eyes.</p> + +<p>What Nicky saw was this.</p> + +<p>Immediately opposite to her improvised peep-hole sat a man—a large man +with square shoulders and an immobile face. He was clean-shaven, with +two strong lines running from his nostrils to the corners of his +mouth—a mouth which even in repose looked determined and grim. He +possessed a square jaw and rather craggy brows. It was difficult to +decide if he were sleeping or no, for though his eyes were closed there +was none of the abandon of slumber about his pose. His most noticeable +feature was the set of his eyebrows, which, instead of being arched or +level, ran upwards and outwards in a diagonal direction, and gave him a +distinctly Satanic appearance—a circumstance which Nicky noted with +sympathetic approval. He was dressed in the somewhat <i>dégagé</i> Sabbath +attire affected by Englishmen spending the week-end in the country, and +his feet were perched upon the seat opposite to him.</p> + +<p>Presently, for some cause unknown—possibly Nicky's hard breathing—he +opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>Immediately in front of him the stranger beheld a small excited face, a +pair of saucer-like blue eyes, and a wide but attractive mouth—the +whole vision framed in dusty red rep. The face was flushed, the eyes +glowed, and the mouth was wide open.</p> + +<p>The picture, suddenly surprised in its inspection by a pair of the +shrewdest and most penetrating eyes it had ever beheld, dropped +hurriedly out of its frame and disappeared. If Nicky had waited a moment +longer she would have received a less one-sided impression of the +stranger, for almost simultaneously with the discovery of the apparition +in the peep-hole the man smiled. Instantly his whole face changed. The +outer corners of his eyebrows descended, the crease between them +disappeared, and magnificent teeth gleamed for a moment in the dim +religious light of the pew.</p> + +<p>Nicky leaned across to her eldest sister and whispered huskily:—</p> + +<p>"There's somebody in the other pew. I think it's the Devil. Look +yourself!"</p> + +<p>But Daphne, deep in domestic mental arithmetic, smiled and shook her +head; and Nicky received little more encouragement from the rest of the +family. The profession of scare-monger and exploiter of mares' nests, +though enjoyable on the whole, has its drawbacks: if you get hold of a +genuine scare or an authentic mare's nest, nobody believes you.</p> + +<p>The sermon began to draw to a close, and a few minutes later the Rector +descended from the clouds and gave out the final hymn, prefacing his +announcement by an intimation that the offertory that day would be +devoted to the needs of the Children's Cottage Hospital in the +neighbouring county town. His appeal was characteristic.</p> + +<p>"Money," he mused, "is the most hampering and perplexing thing in this +life. It is so artificial and unnecessary. I often sigh for a world +where all commerce will be in kind—where a cheque on the Bank of +Gratitude will settle the weekly bills, and 'I thank you!' be regarded +as legal tender up to any amount. But there is no give and take in these +days. Everything, from Life and Love down to the raiment we wear, is +duly appraised and ticketed, and if we stand in need of these things we +must render a material tale of pounds and pence or go without. No wonder +men call this the Iron Age! But, though money as a rule brings nothing +in its train but disappointment and regret (and therefore it is better +to have too little than too much), there are times and seasons when it +is permitted to us to purchase happiness with it. To-day gives us one of +these opportunities. Do not let that opportunity slip. <i>Post est +Occasio calva.</i>" (Respectful intake of breath on the part of the +congregation.) "I do not urge you to give on the plea put forward in a +hymn that you will find in your books—a hymn written by a man who +should have known better—a hymn which shall never, so long as I am +Rector of this parish, emerge from the obscurity of the printed +page—advocating generosity in almsgiving on the ground that +contributions to the offertory on earth will be refunded at the rate of +a hundred thousand per cent in heaven. I do not ask you to give either +much or little. Very few of us here are over-burdened with this world's +goods. Still, we can each afford to buy <i>some</i> happiness to-day, at a +very low rate. And it will not be transitory or temporary happiness +either; for every time hereafter that your daily task or a country walk +takes you past the Children's Hospital at Tilney, that happiness will +blossom again with ever-reviving fragrance in your hearts. Let us sing +Hymn number three hundred and sixty-nine—</p> + +<div class="dvlttr"> +<p>'Thine arm, O Lord, in days of old<br> +Was strong to heal and save....'"</p> +</div> + +<p>There was a general upheaval of the congregation and a clatter of rustic +boots; the little organ gave a premonitory rumble, and the hymn began.</p> + +<p>The hymn after the sermon is not, as a rule—to-day was an exception—an +impressive canticle. <i>Imprimis</i>, it is of abnormal length and little +coherence, having apparently been composed for the sole purpose of +lasting out the collection of the offertory; <i>item</i>, the congregation +is furtively engaged in retrieving umbrellas from under seats and gliding +into overcoats. Hence it was always a pleasant diversion to the Rectory +children to follow the movements of the two churchwardens as they ran +their godly race up the aisle in the pursuit of alms and oblations. They +even risked small sums on the result. When the Squire and Mr Murgatroyd +(Stationer and Dealer in Fancy Goods) stepped majestically from their +respective pews and set to work on this particular morning, Daphne +produced five sixpences and handed them to her brothers and sisters. +Nicky, in her anxiety to see what sum the stranger in the Kirkley Abbey +pew would contribute to the total, received her own contribution with +such nonchalance that the coin slipped from her hand, and was being +hunted for among hassocks upon the floor at the moment when Mr +Murgatroyd reached the stranger's pew.</p> + +<p>Nicky found her sixpence, and resumed an upright attitude just in time +to hear (in a pause between two verses) a faint papery rustle on the +other side of the curtain.</p> + +<p>A moment later Mr Murgatroyd opened the door of the Rectory pew, with +his usual friendly air of dropping in for a cup of tea, and presented +the bag. The children put in their sixpences one by one. Nicky's turn +came last. She peered into the bag, and her sharp eyes caught sight of +something white protruding from amid the silver and copper.</p> + +<p>Taking the bag from Mr Murgatroyd's hands—she controlled that indulgent +bachelor as she willed: he counted it a pleasure to turn his stock +inside out on a Saturday afternoon whenever Miss Veronica came in with a +penny to spend—Nicky deliberately drew out a piece of folded crinkly +white paper. This, laying the offertory bag upon the baize-covered table +in the middle of the pew, she carefully unfolded, and perused the +staring black legend inscribed upon the flimsy white background. When +she raised her eyes they were those of an owlet suffering from mental +shock.</p> + +<p>"Golly!" she observed in bell-like tones. "The Devil has put in a +ten-pound note!"</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76">page76</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER FIVE.</h3> + +<h4>A SABBATH-DAY'S JOURNEY.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>The Rectory children, washed and combed for Sunday dinner, sat at ease +in the old nursery—promoted to schoolroom since Tony went into +knickerbockers—and discussed the munificent stranger of the morning.</p> + +<p>Their interest in his movements and identity had been heightened by the +fact that after service was over he had proceeded to the right instead +of the left on leaving the Kirkley Abbey pew, and, turning his broad +back upon an undisguisedly interested congregation, had stalked up the +chancel and disappeared through the door leading to the vestry.</p> + +<p>"I <i>wonder</i> what he went for," said Cilly for the third time.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he was going to give Dad more banknotes," suggested the +optimistic Stiffy.</p> + +<p>"More likely going to ask for change out of the first one," rejoined +Ally, the cynic.</p> + +<p>"I expect he was going to complain about you making faces at him through +the curtain, Nicky," coldly observed Cilly, who had not yet forgiven +her small sister's innuendoes on the subject of Mr Robert Gill.</p> + +<p>"Rats!" demurred Nicky uneasily. "I didn't make faces. I expect he's +only some tourist who wants to rub brasses, or sniff a vault, or +something."</p> + +<p>"He must be a friend of Lord Kirkley's," said Ally, "because—"</p> + +<p>"<i>I'll</i> show you who he is," shrilled a voice from the depth of a +cupboard under the window.</p> + +<p>Tony, who had been grubbing among a heap of tattered and dusty +literature in the bottom shelf, now rose to his feet and staggered +across the room carrying an ancient but valuable copy of 'The Pilgrim's +Progress,' embellished with steel engravings.</p> + +<p>Having deposited the volume upon the hearthrug he proceeded to hunt +through its pages. Presently, with a squeal of delight, he placed a +stumpy fore-finger upon a full-page illustration, and announced +triumphantly—</p> + +<p>"That's him!"</p> + +<p>The picture represented Christian's battle with Apollyon. Christian, +hard pressed, had been beaten to his knees, and over him towered the +figure of the Prince of Darkness, brandishing a sword and (in the most +unsportsmanlike manner) emitting metallic-looking flames from his +stomach. The children gathered round.</p> + +<p>"You are right, Tony," said Cilly at length, "it <i>is</i> like him."</p> + +<p>Certainly Apollyon bore a sort of far-away resemblance to the late +occupant of the Kirkley Abbey pew.</p> + +<p>"Look at his eyebrows," said Nicky, "they go straight up—"</p> + +<p>The churchyard gate clicked, and voices were heard in conversation +outside. Daphne sped to the window.</p> + +<p>"Heavens!" she exclaimed in an agonised whisper, "Dad is bringing him in +to lunch! Ally, take your boots off the mantelpiece! Nicky, pull up your +stockings! Cilly, knock Dawks off the sofa! I must fly. I wonder if +there's enough cream to make a trifle. Anyhow, the beef—"</p> + +<p>And she sped away kitchenwards like an agitated butterfly.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the Rector appeared in the schoolroom, smiling +joyously, with his hand resting lightly on the shoulder of the recently +identified Apollyon. Tony was restoring 'The Pilgrim's Progress' to its +shelf with the complacency of a second Bertillon.</p> + +<p>"These are my flock, Jack," said Brian Vereker. "I wonder if any of you +children can guess who this gentleman is? Would you think that he and I +were at school together? Tony, I have often told you of little Jack +Carr, who used to light my fire and cook my breakfast. And a shocking +mess he used to make of it, eh? Didn't you, Jack? Do you remember the +day you fried sausages in marmalade, because the label on the pot said +marmalade would be found an excellent substitute for butter? Well, here +he is, Tony. We have run together again after twenty-five years. Come +and shake hands. These are my two younger girls, Jack, and these are my +three boys. Where is Daphne, children?"</p> + +<p>The Vereker family, drawn up in a self-conscious row, were understood to +intimate that Daphne was downstairs. A move was therefore made in the +direction of the dining-room, where Keziah, the little maid, was +heatedly laying an extra place. Daphne joined the party a moment later, +and welcomed Sir John Carr—such was his full title, it appeared—with +prettiness and composure. But Cilly and Nicky noted that she had found +time to rearrange her hair in honour of the occasion, and adorn herself +with most of her slender stock of jewellery—two bangles and a thin gold +chain.</p> + +<p>Sunday dinner was something of a function at the Rectory. For one thing +there was hot roast beef, which counts for much when you see the like +only once in the week. The Rector carved and Stiffy handed round the +plates, Keziah, whose Sunday-afternoon-out commenced technically the +moment the sirloin was dished, being excused from further attendance. +Daphne presided over the vegetable dishes and Ally cut bread at the +sideboard. The office of butler was in abeyance, for the Vereker family +drank only water from their highly polished christening-mugs. Nicky was +responsible for the table-napkins, and Cilly mixed salads in season.</p> + +<p>All these domestic details Daphne explained, with captivating +friendliness and a freedom from self-consciousness that many a more +matured hostess might have envied, to the silent man beside her.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to have <i>all</i> the family pouring things over you," she said, as +Stiffy with a plate of beef, Ally with a lump of bread impaled upon a +fork, and Cilly with a bowl of lettuce, egg, and beetroot cunningly +intermingled, converged simultaneously upon the guest; "but we have only +one servant, and——"</p> + +<p>Stephen Blasius Vereker, poised upon his toes and holding his breath, +was leaning heavily over the guest's right shoulder, proffering a +platter upon the edge of which a billow of gravy, piling itself up into +a tidal wave, strove to overcome the restraining influence of surface +tension. Apollyon, his features unrelaxed, gravely took the plate, and +restoring it to a horizontal position, turned deferentially to resume +his conversation with his young hostess.</p> + +<p>——"And I like poor Keziah to have as long a Sunday out as possible," +continued Daphne, entirely unruffled.</p> + +<p>"Her young man waits for her at the stile down by Preston's farm," +supplemented Nicky. "They go for a walk down Tinkler's Den, and never +speak a <i>word</i> to each other."</p> + +<p>——"So we wait on ourselves at this meal," concluded Daphne. "What will +you drink, Sir John? Father is a teetotaller, and so are all of us; but +if you are not, I've got some brandy upstairs in the nursery medicine +cupboard."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I will drink water," said Sir John solemnly.</p> + +<p>By this time the Vereker family had settled down to their own portions, +and were babbling as cheerfully and unrestrainedly as usual. Shyness in +the presence of strangers was not one of their weaknesses, and +presently, taking advantage of Daphne's departure to the kitchen in +quest of the second course, they engaged their guest in conversation, +inviting his opinions on such widely different subjects as the quality +of the salad (Cilly), the merits of the automatic vacuum railway brake +as compared with those of the Westinghouse (Stiffy), and the prospects +of Cambridge in the coming Boat Race (Ally). All of which queries were +answered in a fashion which, while lacking in geniality and erring a +little on the side of terseness, showed that the respondent knew what he +was talking about.</p> + +<p>The Rector, at the head of the table, smiled benignantly. To him this +reticent man of over forty, with the deep-set eyes and square jaw, was +the sturdy chubby boy who had cooked his breakfast and worshipped him +from afar in the dim but joyous days when Brian Vereker was a giant of +nineteen, with side whiskers, and Jacky Carr a humble fag of twelve. It +was almost a shock to hear him offered spirits to drink.</p> + +<p>Presently Daphne returned, and another general post ensued, at the end +of which the beef and vegetables had disappeared, and a suet pudding +(the standing Sabbath sweet at the Rectory), flanked by a dish of trifle +of diminutive proportions, lay before the hostess. The Rector was +confronted by a melon.</p> + +<p>Taking advantage of a covering conversation between the guest and her +eldest brother, Miss Vereker made a mysterious pass over the surface of +the trifle with a spoon, while she murmured to such of the family as +were within earshot the mystic formula, "F. H. B.!" Then she inquired +aloud—</p> + +<p>"Cilly, dear, which pudding will you have?"</p> + +<p>"Baby Maud, please," replied Miss Cecilia promptly, indicating the +stiff, pallid, and corpse-like cylinder of suet.</p> + +<p>She was helped, and Nicky's choice was ascertained.</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>think</i>," that damsel replied sedately, "that I'll have +anything, thank you, Daphne. I'm not very hungry to-day."</p> + +<p>Daphne, with a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth—she +appreciated Nicky's crooked little ways, despite herself—turned to the +guest.</p> + +<p>"Will you have pudding or trifle, Sir John? Let me recommend the +trifle."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I never eat sweets," was the reply.</p> + +<p>An audible sigh of relief rose from the Messrs Vereker.</p> + +<p>"Daph, dear," said Nicky before any one else could speak, "I think I'll +change my mind and have some trifle."</p> + +<p>And thus, by prompt generalship, Miss Veronica Vereker, while obeying to +the letter the laws of hospitality and precedence, stole a march upon +her slow-moving brethren and sisters and received the lion's share of +the trifle, the balance going to Tony by virtue of juniority.</p> + +<p>As Daphne handed her triumphant little sister her portion, she +distinctly heard a muffled sound on her right.</p> + +<p>"I like this man!" she said to herself.</p> + +<p>"If you don't take sweets, Jack," observed the Rector from the other end +of the table, "allow me to introduce you to this melon—a present from +the Squire. Take the melon round to Sir John, Stiffy, and he shall cut +in where he pleases; though, strictly speaking," he added, with simple +enjoyment of his own joke, "it is hardly etiquette to cut anything you +have been introduced to!"</p> + +<p>There was a momentary stoppage in the general mastication of "Baby +Maud," and the right hand of each Vereker present performed the same +evolution. Next moment the repast was resumed, but the guest observed, +not without surprise, that every christening-mug—even Daphne's—had a +knife lying across its top.</p> + +<p>"That is one of our customs," explained Cilly politely. "We do it +whenever any one makes a stale joke."</p> + +<p>"<i>Alice through the Looking-Glass</i>," corroborated Nicky, scooping up +trifle with an air of severe reproof—"page two hundred and seven."</p> + +<p>"You see my servile and dependent position in this house, Jack!" said +the Rector, not altogether dejectedly.</p> + +<p>"I perceive that I have dropped into a Republic," said Sir John Carr.</p> + +<p>"Republic? A more absolute despotism never existed. Wait until you have +transgressed one of the Laws of the Medes and Persians and been brought +up for judgment before my eldest daughter? <i>We</i> know, don't we—eh, +Nicky?"</p> + +<p>Brian Vereker projected the furtive smile of a fellow-conspirator upon +his youngest daughter, and then turned to gaze with unconcealed fondness +and pride upon his eldest.</p> + +<p>"I trust that when I transgress," said Sir John, "I shall get off under +the First Offender's Act."</p> + +<p>"You have broken that already," said Daphne readily; "but it's Dad's +fault. It is twenty minutes to three, and you two ought to have been +smoking in the study ten minutes ago instead of talking here. I want to +get this room cleared for the children to learn their Catechism in."</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>At half-past three Brian Vereker summoned his eldest daughter to the +study, and announced with frank delight that Sir John Carr had agreed to +vacate the Kirkley Arms and accept the hospitality of the Rectory.</p> + +<p>"I am going to walk down to the inn now," said Apollyon to Daphne, "to +see about my luggage. Perhaps you will keep me company?"</p> + +<p>"All right," said Daphne. "I'll bring Mr Dawks too. He wants a walk, I +know."</p> + +<p>Sir John made no comment, but gave no active support to the inclusion of +Mr Dawks in the party. It may be noted, however, that when Daphne had at +length achieved that feat which encroaches so heavily upon a woman's +share of eternity—the putting on of her hat—and joined her guest in +the garden accompanied by Mr Dawks in person, Apollyon greeted the owner +of the name with far more cordiality than he had greeted the name +itself. It is sometimes misleading to bestow Christian titles upon dumb +animals.</p> + +<p>Once away from the rest of the family, Daphne's maternal solemnity fell +from her like a schoolmaster's cap and gown in holiday time. She +chattered like a magpie, pointing out such objects of local interest +as—<br> + (1) Farmer Preston's prize bull;<br> + (2) The residence of a reputed witch;<br> + (3) A spinney, where a dog-fox had once gone to ground at one end of an +earth and a laughing hyena (subsequently ascertained to be the lost +property of that peripatetic nobleman Lord George Sanger) had emerged +from the other, to the entire and instantaneous disintegration of a +non-abstaining local Hunt.</p> + +<p>"I say, where do you live?" she inquired suddenly, breaking off in the +middle of a detailed history of Kirkley Abbey, whose <i>façade</i> could be +discerned through the trees on their right—"London?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"All the year round?"</p> + +<p>"No. I spend a good deal of my time in the North."</p> + +<p>"Oh. What do you do there? What <i>are</i> you, by the way?" Daphne looked +up at her companion with bird-like inquisitiveness. She moved in a +society familiar with the age, ancestry, profession, wardrobe, ailments, +love affairs, and income of every one within a radius of five miles. +Consequently she considered a new acquaintanceship incomplete in the +last degree until she had acquired sufficient information on the subject +in hand to supply, say, a tolerably intimate obituary notice.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are <i>something</i>," she continued. "I hope so, anyhow. An +idle man is always so mopy."</p> + +<p>"What would you put me down as?" asked Apollyon.</p> + +<p>Daphne scrutinised him without fear or embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I'm not much of a judge," she said. "You see, we don't come across many +men here, and we are so poor that we don't get away much."</p> + +<p>"Don't you go up to London occasionally, to buy a new frock?" said Sir +John, covertly regarding the trim figure by his side.</p> + +<p>"Me—London? Not much. Dad has a lot of grand relations there, but I +don't think he bothered much about them, or they about him, after he +married. He was too much wrapped up in mother. So we never hear anything +of them now. No, I have hardly ever been away from Snayling, and I'm a +great deal too busy here to worry about London or any other such place. +So I don't know much about men," she concluded simply—"except my own, +of course."</p> + +<p>"Your own?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—Dad and the boys. And then I know all about the sort of man one +meets round here. I can tell a ditcher from a ploughman; and if I meet a +man in a dog-cart with cases at the back I know he's a commercial +traveller, and if he has a red face I know he's a farmer, and if he +hasn't I know he's a doctor; but I haven't had much other experience."</p> + +<p>"Still, what am <i>I</i>?" reiterated Apollyon.</p> + +<p>"Well—I suppose you are not a soldier, or you would have a moustache."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You might be a lawyer, being clean-shaven. Are you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Oh! That's rather disappointing. You would make a ripping judge, with a +big wig on. Well, perhaps you write things. I know—you are an author or +an editor?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Foiled again!" said Daphne cheerfully. "Let me see, what other +professions are there? Are you a Don, by any chance? A fellow, or +lecturer, or anything? We had a Fellow of All Souls down here once. He +was a dear."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You are a 'Varsity man, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oxford or Cambridge?"</p> + +<p>"Cambridge."</p> + +<p>"I am glad. Dark blue is <i>so</i> dull, isn't it? Besides, Dad is a +Cambridge man. He is an old Running Blue. He won—but of course you know +all about that. It seems queer to think you knew him before I did! Well, +I give you up. What <i>do</i> you do?"</p> + +<p>Apollyon reflected.</p> + +<p>"I sell coals," he replied at last, rather unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>This announcement, and the manner in which it was made, momentarily +deprived Miss Vereker of speech—a somewhat rare occurrence.</p> + +<p>"I see," she said presently. "We get ours from the station-master," she +added politely.</p> + +<p>"I was not proposing to apply for your custom," said Apollyon meekly.</p> + +<p>At this point they reached the Kirkley Arms, and in the effort involved +in rousing that somnolent hostelry from its Sabbath coma and making +arrangements for the sending up of Sir John Carr's luggage to the +Rectory, the question of why he sold coals, and whether he hawked the +same round in a barrow or delivered his wares through the medium of the +Parcels Post, was lost sight of.</p> + +<p>On the homeward walk conversation was maintained on much the same terms. +Daphne held forth unwearyingly, and Apollyon contented himself for the +most part with answering her point-blank questions and putting a few—a +very few—of his own. Certainly the man was a born listener, and +amazingly magnetic. Tacitus himself could not have said less, and the +greatest cross-examiner in the legal profession could not have extracted +more. As they strolled side by side through the Kirkley woods, where the +last of the daffodils were reluctantly making way for the first of the +primroses, Daphne found herself reciting, as to a discreet and +dependable father-confessor, a confidential but whole-hearted summary of +the present state of domestic politics.</p> + +<p>Ally's failure to secure a scholarship at the University was mentioned.</p> + +<p>It was disgusting of him to miss the Greek Prose paper, Daphne +considered. "He didn't oversleep at all, of course. I soon found <i>that</i> +out. The real reason was that he had gone to some man's rooms the night +before, and the silly brat must go and drink a whisky-and-soda and smoke +a cigar. That did it! It was no use telling Dad, because he simply +wouldn't believe such a story; and if he did, it would make him unhappy +for weeks. Besides, who can blame the poor dear? You can't be surprised +if a schoolboy kicks over the traces a bit the first time he finds +himself out on his own—can you?"</p> + +<p>"I thought," replied Sir John, finding that some answer was expected of +him, "that you said you knew nothing of men?"</p> + +<p>"I said I didn't know <i>many</i> men," corrected Daphne. "But those I do +know I know pretty thoroughly. They're very easy to understand, dear +things! You always know where you are with them. Now, girls are +different. Did you notice that boy whom we passed just now, who went +pink and took off his hat. That's Bobby Gill—a flame of Cilly's. I'm +going to have a lot of trouble with Cilly's love-affairs, I can see. She +falls down and worships every second man she meets. I believe she would +start mooning round the place after <i>you</i> if you weren't so old," she +added. "Cilly's a darling, but what she wants——"</p> + +<p>She plunged, with puckered brow and tireless tongue, into a further tale +of hopes and fears. Stiffy's schooling, Nicky's boots, the curate who +<i>had</i> to come—all were laid upon the table. Even the Emergency Bag and +Wednesday's joint crept in somehow.</p> + +<p>They were almost home when she concluded.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Apollyon inquired:</p> + +<p>"Do you know the name of that little hollow on our right? Is it +Tinkler's Den?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we often have picnics there. How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"It is part of Lord Kirkley's estate, as you are probably aware; and +his lordship, finding like most of us that he has not sufficient money +for his needs, has asked me to come and have a look at the ground round +Tinkler's Den on the off-chance of our finding coal there."</p> + +<p>Daphne turned upon him, wide-eyed and horror-struck.</p> + +<p>"You mean to say," she gasped, "that you are going to dig for coals in +Tinkler's Den?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you, until——"</p> + +<p>Apollyon paused. A small hand was resting on his sleeve, and a very +small voice said beseechingly—</p> + +<p>"Don't—<i>please</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Very well, then: I won't," he said, in a matter-of-fact fashion; and +they resumed their walk.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>"I hope you haven't been bored," said Daphne, the hostess in her rising +to the surface as the shadow of the Rectory fell upon her once more. +"Your ears must be simply aching, but it's such a treat to talk to any +one who knows about things. I never get the chance to ask advice. I +usually have to give it. Dad and the boys are so helpless, bless them!"</p> + +<p>They were passing through the wicket-gate. Daphne suddenly paused, and +looked up at her guest with more mischief in her eyes than her brothers +and sisters would have given her credit for.</p> + +<p>"It's queer," she mused, "that you should sell coals. <i>We</i> thought you +<i>shovelled</i> them!"</p> + +<p>"Explain, please!" said Sir John.</p> + +<p>Daphne did so. "We <i>had</i> to call you something," she concluded +apologetically. "Do you mind?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I have been called a good many names in my time," said Sir +John grimly.</p> + +<p>"What do your friends call you?" asked Daphne—"your intimate friends."</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that I have any."</p> + +<p>Daphne surveyed him shrewdly, with her head a little on one side.</p> + +<p>"No—I should think you <i>were</i> that sort," she said gravely. "Well, what +do your—do other people call you?"</p> + +<p>"Most of them, I believe," said Sir John, "call me 'Juggernaut Carr.'"</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94">page94</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER SIX.</h3> + +<h4>DAPHNE AS MATCHMAKER.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>Juggernaut's stay at the Rectory had been prolonged for more than three +weeks, the business upon which he was engaged being as easily directed, +so he said, from Brian Vereker's study as from his own London offices. +An unprejudiced observer might have been forgiven for remarking that to +all appearances it could have been directed with equal facility from the +Two-penny Tube or the North Pole; for if we except a prolonged interview +with Lord Kirkley's land agent on the second day after his arrival, +Juggernaut's activities had been limited to meditative contemplation of +the Rector's spring flowers and some rather silent country walks in +company with the lady to whom the Rector was wont to refer to in his +playful moments as "my elderly ugly daughter."</p> + +<p>Whether Daphne's impulsive protest against the desecration of her +beloved Tinkler's Den carried weight, or whether that sylvan spot was +found wanting in combustible properties, will never be known; but it may +be noted here that Lord Kirkley was advised that there was no money in +his scheme, and Snayling remains an agricultural centre to this day.</p> + +<p>However, if it be a fact that no fresh experience can be altogether +valueless, Juggernaut's time was certainly not wasted. He was absorbed +into the primitive civilisation of Snayling Rectory. He was initiated +into tribal custom and usage, and became versed in a tribal language +consisting chiefly of abbreviations and portmanteau words. He was +instructed in the principles which underlie such things as precedence in +the use of the bath and helpings at dinner. He also studied with +interest the fundamental laws governing the inheritance of out-grown +garments. Having been born without brothers and sisters, he found +himself confronted for the first time with some of those stern realities +and unavoidable hardships which prevail when domestic supply falls short +of domestic demand. The mystic phrase "F. H. B.!" for instance, with +which Daphne had laid inviolable taboo upon the trifle on the day of his +arrival, he soon learned stood for "Family, hold back!"</p> + +<p>Again, if Master Stephen Blasius Vereker suggested to Miss Veronica +Elizabeth Vereker that a B. O. at the T. S. would be an L. B. of A. R.; +to which the lady replied gently but insistently, "Is it E. P.?" +Juggernaut was soon able to understand that in response to an intimation +on the part of her brother that a Blow Out at the Tuck Shop would be a +Little Bit of All Right, the cautious and mercenary damsel was inquiring +whether her Expenses would be Paid at the forthcoming orgy. If Stiffy +continued, "Up to 2 D.," and Nicky replied, "If you can't make it a +tanner, Stiffy, darling, je pense <i>ne</i>!" the visitor gathered without +much difficulty that in the opinion of Miss Veronica no gentleman worthy +of the name should presume to undertake the entertainment of a lady +under a minimum outlay of sixpence.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut soon settled down to the ways of the establishment. He said +little, but it was obvious, even to the boys, that he was taking a good +deal in. He seldom asked questions, but he possessed an uncanny knack of +interpreting for himself the most secret signs and cryptic expressions +of the community. This established for him a claim to the family's +respect, and in acknowledgment of the good impression he had created he +was informally raised from the status of honoured guest to that of +familiar friend. What the Associated Body of Colliery Owners would have +thought if they could have seen their chairman meekly taking his seat at +the breakfast-table, what time the family, accompanying themselves with +teaspoons against teacups, chanted a brief but pointed ditty consisting +entirely of the phrase "pom-pom!" repeated <i>con amore</i> and <i>sforzando</i> +until breathlessness intervened—an ordeal known at the Rectory as +"pom-pomming," and inflicted daily upon the last to appear at +breakfast—is hard to say. Mr Montague for one would have enjoyed it.</p> + +<p>Only once did this silent and saturnine man exhibit any flash of +feeling. One morning before breakfast Daphne, busy in the knife-and-boot +shed at the back of the house, heard a step on the gravel outside, and +Juggernaut stood before her.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning!" she said cheerfully. "Excuse my get-up. I expect I look +rather a ticket."</p> + +<p>Juggernaut surveyed her. She wore a large green baize apron. Her skirt +was short and business-like, and her sleeves were rolled up above the +elbow. Her hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head. Plainly +her toilet had only reached the stage of the <i>petit lever</i>. She was +engaged in the healthful but unfashionable occupation of blacking boots; +<i>per contra</i>, what Juggernaut chiefly noted was the whiteness of her +arms. Finally his eye wandered to the boot in which her left hand was +engulfed.</p> + +<p>"Whose boot is that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yours, I should say. Dad's are square in the toes."</p> + +<p>Next moment a large and sinewy hand gripped her by the wrist, and the +boot was taken from her.</p> + +<p>"Understand," said Apollyon, looking very like Apollyon indeed, "this +must never occur again. I am angry with you."</p> + +<p>He spoke quite quietly, but there was a vibrant note in his voice which +Daphne had never heard before. Mr Tom Winch and Mr Montague would have +recognised it. She looked up at him fearlessly, rather interested than +otherwise in this new side of his character.</p> + +<p>"I can't quite grasp why you <i>should</i> be angry," she said, "though I can +see you are. Not being millionaires, we all clean our own +boots—excepting Dad, of course. I always do his. You being a visitor, I +threw yours in as a make-weight. It's all in the day's work."</p> + +<p>But Juggernaut's fit had passed.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said. "I have no right to be angry with any one +but myself. I am ashamed. I should have thought about this sooner, but I +accepted your assurance that my visit would throw no extra burden upon +the household rather too readily. Now, for the rest of the time I am +here I propose, with your permission, to black my own boots. And as a +sort of compensation for the trouble I have caused, I am going to black +my hostess's as well."</p> + +<p>"Do you know <i>how</i> to?" inquired the hostess, rather apprehensively.</p> + +<p>For answer Juggernaut picked up a laced shoe from off the bench and set +to work upon it.</p> + +<p>"I once blacked my own boots every day for two years," he said, +breathing heavily upon the shoe. "Now, if you want to go in and +superintend the preparation of breakfast, you may leave me here, and I +will undertake to produce the requisite standard of brilliancy." His +face lit up with one of his rare and illuminating smiles, and he set +grimly to work again.</p> + +<p>Daphne hesitated for a moment, and surveyed her guest doubtfully. He was +burnishing her shoe in a manner only to be expected of an intensely +active man who has been utterly idle for a fortnight. His face was set +in the lines which usually appeared when he was driving business through +a refractory meeting. Daphne turned and left the boot-house, unpinning +her apron and whistling softly.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut finished off her shoes with meticulous care, and putting them +back upon the bench turned his attention to his own boots. But his +energy was plainly flagging. Several times his hand was stayed, and his +eye wandered in the direction of his hostess's shoes. They were a +remarkably neat pair. Daphne was proud of her feet—they were her only +real vanity—and she spent more upon her boots and shoes than the +extremely limited sum voted for the purpose by her conscience. More than +once Juggernaut laid aside his own property and returned to the highly +unnecessary task of painting the lily—if such a phrase can be applied +to the efficient blacking of a shoe. Finally he picked up his boots and +departed, to endure a pom-pomming of the most whole-hearted description +on his appearance at the breakfast table.</p> + +<p>But henceforth he found his way to the boot-house every morning at +seven-thirty, where, despite his hostess's protests, he grimly carried +out his expressed intention.</p> + +<p>This was the only occasion, however, on which he asserted his will with +Daphne. In all else she found him perfectly amenable. He permitted her +without protest to overhaul his wardrobe, and submitted meekly to a +scathing lecture upon the negligence apparent in the perforated +condition of some of his garments and the extravagance evinced by the +multiplicity of others. In short, Daphne adopted Juggernaut, as only a +young and heart-whole girl can whose experience of men so far has been +purely domestic. She felt like his mother. To her he was a child of the +largest possible growth, who, not having enjoyed such advantages as she +had all her life bestowed upon the rest of the flock, must needs be +treated with twofold energy and special consideration. He was her +Benjamin, she felt.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>Juggernaut was to depart to-morrow. His socks were darned. Items of his +wardrobe, hitherto anonymous, were neatly marked with his initials. His +very pocket-handkerchiefs were numbered.</p> + +<p>"You are sending me back to work thoroughly overhauled and refitted," he +said to Daphne, as she displayed, not without pride, his renovated +garments laid out upon the spare bed. "I feel like a cruiser coming out +of dry dock."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't get your things in that state again," said Daphne +severely—"that's all! Who looks after them?"</p> + +<p>"My man."</p> + +<p>"He ought to be ashamed of himself, then. By the way, there is a dress +waistcoat of yours with two buttons off. Can I <i>trust</i> you, now, to get +them put on again, or had I better keep the waistcoat until I can get +buttons to match?"</p> + +<p>"You are very good," said Juggernaut, bowing before the storm.</p> + +<p>"That's settled, then. Where shall I send it to?"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut thought, and finally gave the address of a club in Pall +Mall.</p> + +<p>"Club—do you live in a <i>club</i>?" inquired Daphne, with a woman's +instinctive dislike for such a monastic and impregnable type of +domicile.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes. It saves trouble, you see," said Juggernaut apologetically. +"My house in town is shut at present. I spend a good deal of time in the +north."</p> + +<p>"Where do you live when you are in the north?" inquired Daphne, with the +healthy curiosity of her age and sex.</p> + +<p>"I have another house there," admitted Juggernaut reluctantly. "It is +called Belton."</p> + +<p>"How many houses have you got altogether?" asked Daphne, in the +persuasive tones of a schoolmaster urging a reticent culprit to make a +clean breast of it and get it over like a man.</p> + +<p>"I have a little place in the Highlands," said Juggernaut humbly—</p> + +<p>Daphne rolled her brown eyes up to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>—"But it is the merest shooting-box," he added, as if pleading for a +light sentence.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—on my honour!"</p> + +<p>"And—you live in a <i>club</i>!"</p> + +<p>Then came the verdict—the inevitable verdict.</p> + +<p>"What you want," said Daphne, regarding the impassive features of the +prisoner at the bar, "is a wife. It's not too late, really," she added, +smiling kindly upon him. "Of course, you think now at your age that you +could never get used to it, but you could."</p> + +<p>"Do you think any girl would marry a man practically in his dotage?" +inquired Juggernaut respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Not a girl, perhaps," admitted Daphne, "but somebody sensible and good. +I'll tell you what—don't you know any nice widows? A widow would suit +you top-hole. She would be used to men already, which would help her a +lot, poor thing! Then, she would probably let you down more easily than +an old maid. She would know, for instance, that it's perfectly hopeless +to get a man to keep his room tidy, or to stop leaving his slippers +about on the dining-room hearthrug, or dropping matches and ash on the +floor. Do marry a widow, Sir John! Don't you know of any?"</p> + +<p>Sir John smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"I will consult my visiting-list," he said; "but I won't promise +anything. In spite of the apparent docility of my character, there are +just one or two things which I prefer to do in my own way."</p> + +<p>"Still, I don't despair of you," said Daphne. "Old Martin down in the +village married only the other day, and he was seventy-two. Nearly +bedridden, in fact," she added encouragingly.</p> + +<p>That evening after supper the Rectory children sat round the table +engaged in card games of a heating and complicated nature, Miss Vereker +as usual doubling the parts of croupier and referee. The guest and the +Rector were smoking in the study.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door of the dining-room opened, and Brian Vereker appeared.</p> + +<p>"Daphne, my daughter," he said, "can you leave these desperadoes for a +while and join us in the study?"</p> + +<p>"All right, Dad. Ally, you had better be dealer. Nicky, if you cheat +while I am away you know the penalty! Come with me, Dawks. So long, +everybody. Back directly!"</p> + +<p>But she was wrong. Game succeeded game: the time slipped by unheeded by +all except Nicky and Tony, who, because it was past their hour for going +to bed, noted its flight with special and personal relish; and it was +not until the almost tearful Cilly had been rendered an old maid for the +fourth consecutive time that the family realised that it was nearly +half-past ten and Daphne had not returned.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Nicky, wagging her head triumphantly, "we all know +what <i>that</i> means!"</p> + +<p>And for once in her small, scheming, prying life, she was right.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105">page105</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER SEVEN.</h3> + +<h4>THE MATCH IS STRUCK.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>Daphne sat rather dizzily by her father's side, holding his hand tightly +and gazing straight before her. A sudden turn, and lo! before her lay a +great break in the road. She had arrived at one of life's jumping-off +places. No wonder she gripped her father's hand.</p> + +<p>Now, for a young girl to consent to a marriage with a man considerably +older than herself, a man whom she hardly knows and does not love, is +rightly regarded as a most unromantic proceeding; and since romance is +the sugar of this rather acrid existence of ours, we are almost +unanimous in discouraging such alliances. And yet there are two sides to +the question. A loveless marriage may lead to the ruin of two lives: on +the other hand, it introduces into the proceedings an element of +business and common-sense all too rare in such enterprises. It is true +that the newly united pair dream no dreams and see no visions. Each +comes to the other devoid of glamour or false pretences. But if a +couple find marriage feasible under such circumstances, the chances are +that they are of a type which stands in no need of that highly +intoxicating stimulant, Passion. They are simply people who realise at +the outset, instead of later on, that life is a campaign and not a +picnic; and each sees in the other not so much an idol or a plaything as +a trusty ally. For such, mutual respect cannot but spring into being, +and will in all likelihood grow into mutual love; and mutual love which +matures from such beginnings as these is ten thousand times more to be +desired than the frothy headachy stuff which we quaff in such reckless +magnums in our thirsty youth.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, marriages made on earth (as opposed to what are +popularly regarded as the celestial variety) can and often do lead to +shipwreck. Granted. Still, marriage is a leap in the dark in any case, +and humdrum philosophers must at least be excused for suggesting that +one may as well endeavour to illuminate this hazardous feat of agility +by the help of the Torch of Reason as not. But of course no one ever +agrees with such suggestions. Romance and Sentiment cry, "Never! Shame! +Monstrous!" And most of us very humanly, naturally, and rightly +associate ourselves in the most cordial manner with the opinions of this +old-established and orthodox firm.</p> + +<p>We left Daphne gazing into the study fire, with a silent man on either +side of her and Mr Dawks' head upon her knee. She looked perfectly +composed, but something was rocking and trembling within her.</p> + +<p>It is certainly disconcerting, even for the most self-possessed of +maidens, to realise, suddenly and without warning, that there are deeper +things than the domestic affections. It is still more disconcerting when +an individual whom Nature might with perfect propriety have appointed +your father, and whom you with feminine perversity have adopted as a +son, suddenly kicks over the traces and suggests as a compromise that he +should occupy the intermediate position of husband.</p> + +<p>Brian Vereker sat smiling, happy and confident. The fact that Sir John +Carr was forty-two and Daphne barely twenty had not occurred to him. All +he realised was that the little boy who had been his fag at school, who +had lit his fire and made his toast in return for occasional help with +cæsuras and quadratic equations, had grown up into a man, and desired to +marry his daughter. The whole thing seemed so natural, so appropriate. +He glowed with humble pride that Providence should so interest itself in +his little household. He beamed upon the young people.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Daphne turned to him, and released her hold on his hand.</p> + +<p>"Dad, will you leave us for a little?" she said. "I want to talk to Sir +John."</p> + +<p>The Rector rose.</p> + +<p>"By all means," he said. "Now I come to think of it, the presence of a +third party is not essential to a proposal of marriage. I am <i>de trop</i>! +I shall be upstairs."</p> + +<p>He laughed boyishly, and left them.</p> + +<p>When the door closed Daphne turned to her suitor.</p> + +<p>"So you want me for your wife?" she said, with the air of one opening a +debate.</p> + +<p>"I do," said Juggernaut. It was the first time he had spoken since she +entered the room.</p> + +<p>"And you went and saw Dad about it," continued Daphne, rather +unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. As I understood you were not of age, I asked his permission to +speak to you. He rather took the words out of my mouth by calling you in +and telling you himself."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear you say that," said Daphne. "I thought at first the +thing was being arranged over my head, and that I wasn't to be consulted +at all. But you <i>were</i> going to ask me properly, weren't you? We prefer +that, you know." She spoke for her sex.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut nodded.</p> + +<p>"Only Dad rushed in and spoiled it—eh?"</p> + +<p>"That is correct," said Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"Well, begin now," said Daphne calmly. "A girl doesn't like to be done +out of a proposal. It would be something to tell the kids about +afterwards, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Juggernaut became conscious of a distinctly more lenient attitude +towards the Rector's precipitancy.</p> + +<p>"Now that you know," he began, "a formal proposal would sound rather +dull and superfluous, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right," said Daphne, half regretfully. "Dad has spoiled +it for me, after all!"</p> + +<p>Presently—</p> + +<p>"I wonder <i>why</i> you want to marry me," she mused, fondling Mr Dawks' +ears. "I suppose you have come to the conclusion that it is time you had +some one to look after all those houses and servants of yours. Is that +it?"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut regarded her curiously for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said.</p> + +<p>"You are not in love with me, of course," continued the practical Miss +Vereker, ticking off the unassailable features of the case. "At least, I +suppose not—I don't see how you possibly could be. It's rather hard for +me to tell, though, because I don't quite know the meaning of the word. +I love Dad and the boys, and Cilly, and Nicky, and Mr Dawks—<i>don't</i> I, +Dawks, dear?—and I would do <i>anything</i> to save them pain or +unhappiness. But I suppose that's not the sort of love that people call +love. It seems to have been left out of my composition, or perhaps it +hasn't cropped up yet. Now Cilly—I am her exact opposite—Cilly is +always in love with some man or other. By the way, she told me last +night when I went to dry her hair that she had just fallen in love with +you, so evidently you aren't too old after all! Would it do as well if +you married Cilly?" Daphne inquired tentatively.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," said Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps you are right. Cilly's a darling, but she is very young +yet," agreed the time-worn Miss Vereker. "But"—she broke off short—"it +seems to me that I am doing most of the talking. Would you care to +address the meeting—say a few words? I think I should like to hear a +bit of that proposal after all. So far, all I know is that you want to +marry me. And <i>that</i> I got from Dad. Now—I'm listening!"</p> + +<p>Daphne leaned back in her big chair and smiled upon her suitor quite +maternally. There was something pathetic in her childish freedom from +embarrassment or constraint under circumstances which usually test the +<i>sang-froid</i> of man and maid alike. Perhaps Sir John was struck by this, +for his eyes suddenly softened and the lines about his mouth relaxed.</p> + +<p>"You needn't say you love me, or anything like that, if you don't," +supplemented Daphne. "I shall understand."</p> + +<p>Sir John's eyes resumed their normal appearance.</p> + +<p>"As you seem to prefer to keep matters on a strictly business footing," +he said, "I will come to the point at once. If you will marry me I think +I can make you tolerably happy and comfortable. I am a prosperous man, I +suppose, and as my wife you would find a certain social position +awaiting you. Any desires of yours in the way of houses, clothes, +jewels, and so on, you could always gratify, within limits, at will. I +mention these things, not because I think they will influence your +decision—I should not want you for a wife if I thought they would—but +because I feel that every woman is entitled to a plain statement of fact +about the man who wishes to marry her. Too often, under the delusion +that the sheer romance of a love-affair wipes all mundane considerations +off the slate, she puts up with the wildest of fictions. However, I may +point out to you that acceptance of my worldly goods would enable you to +carry out certain schemes that I know lie very near your heart. You +could send Ally to the University. You could have Cilly finished, or +whatever the expression is, and bring her out yourself. And you could +pay for a curate for your father. You can have all the money you want +for these enterprises by asking for it; or if you prefer something more +definite I would settle an annual sum upon you—say a thousand a-year."</p> + +<p>A thousand a-year! Daphne closed her eyes giddily. Before her arose a +vision of a renovated Rectory—a sort of dimity Palace Beautiful—with +an enlarged kitchen-boiler, new carpets, and an extra servant. She saw +her father bending happily over his sermon while a muscular young +Christian tramped round the parish. She saw Ally winning first classes +at Cambridge, and Cilly taking London drawing-rooms by storm. Her pulse +quickened. But Juggernaut was still speaking.</p> + +<p>"On the other hand, I ought to warn you that I am a hard man—at least, +I believe that is my reputation—with somewhat rigid notions on the +subject of <i>quid</i> and <i>quo</i>. I would endeavour to supply my wife with +every adjunct to her happiness; but—I should expect her in return to +stand by my side and do her duty as my wife so long as we both lived. +They say of me that I never make a mistake in choosing a lieutenant. +Well, the instinct which has served me so often in that respect is +prompting me now; and it is because I see in you a woman who would stand +by her husband as a matter of duty alone, quite apart from"—he +hesitated—"from inclination, that I ask you to marry me."</p> + +<p>Daphne gazed at him. Her heart was bumping gently. There was something +rather fine about this proposed bargain—a compact between a man and a +woman to stand by one another through thick and thin, not because they +liked doing so but because it was playing the game. Daphne felt proud, +too, that this master of men should have adjudged her—a woman—to be of +the true metal. But she was honest to the end.</p> + +<p>"You would give all that to have me for your wife," she said.</p> + +<p>Sir John bowed his head with grave courtesy.</p> + +<p>"I would," he said simply.</p> + +<p>"I'm not worth it," said Daphne earnestly. "I am only accustomed to +looking after our little Rectory and the family. I might make a fearful +mess of all your grand houses. Supposing I did? What if I wasn't up to +your mark? How if your friends didn't like me? It would be too late to +send me back," she pointed out, rather piteously.</p> + +<p>Sir John's features did not relax.</p> + +<p>"I am willing to take the risk," was all he said.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause.</p> + +<p>"Let me think," said Daphne suddenly and feverishly.</p> + +<p>She slipped out of her chair on to the hearthrug, and lay before the +twinkling fire with her arms clasped round the neck of the ever-faithful +Mr Dawks and her face buried in his rough coat. There was a tense +silence, accentuated by the amiable thumping of Dawks' tail. Sir John +Carr sat in his chair like a graven image, looking down upon the slim +lithe figure at his feet. Daphne just then was a sight to quicken the +blood in a man's veins, but Juggernaut never moved. Perhaps he realised, +for all his lack of lover's graces and his harsh methods of wooing, +something of the solemnity of the moment. A child, without experience, +with nothing but her own untutored instincts to guide her, was standing +at her cross-roads. Would she go forward with the man whose path through +life had so suddenly converged on hers, or fare on alone? And the +man—what were his feelings? None could have told by outward view. He +simply waited—sitting very still.</p> + +<p>At last Daphne sat up, and shook back her hair from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"We'll leave it to Mr Dawks," she said. "Dawks, old boy, shall we <i>do</i> +it?"</p> + +<p>The house waited in breathless silence for Mr Dawks' casting vote. That +affectionate and responsive arbitrator, hearing himself addressed, +raised his head, licked his mistress's hand, and belaboured the floor +with his tail in a perfect ecstasy of cordiality.</p> + +<p>Daphne turned to the man in the chair.</p> + +<p>"All right!" she said. "It's a bargain. I'll marry you."</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115">page115</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER EIGHT.</h3> + +<h4>"MORITURA TE SALUTAT."</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>On a bright spring afternoon three weeks later the Rectory children sat +huddled together like a cluster of disconsolate starlings upon the +five-barred gate leading into Farmer Preston's big pasture meadow.</p> + +<p>It was the eve of Daphne's wedding-day.</p> + +<p>To those readers of this narrative who feel inclined to dilate upon the +impropriety of marrying in haste, it may be pointed out that the bride +possessed no money and the bridegroom no relatives. Consequently there +would be no presents, no <i>trousseau</i>. The principal incentives to what +Miss Veronica Vereker pithily described as a "circus wedding" being thus +eliminated, the pair were to be married quietly next day in the little +church where Daphne had been christened and confirmed, and under the +shadow of which she had lived all her short life.</p> + +<p>As noted above, the bride had no <i>trousseau</i>, for her father could not +afford one, and she flatly declined to take a penny from her <i>fiancé</i> +until he became her husband. The little village dressmaker had turned +out a wedding-dress over which Cilly hourly gloated, divided between +ecstasy and envy; and this, together with an old lace veil in which her +mother had been married, would serve Daphne's needs.</p> + +<p>In truth, she had little time to think of herself. She was relinquishing +a throne which she had occupied since she was eleven years old, and the +instruction and admonition of her successor had occupied her attention +ever since the date of her wedding had been fixed. Keys had to be handed +over, recipes confided, and the mysteries of feminine book-keeping +unfolded. There were good-byes to be said to bedridden old women and +tearful cottage children. The bridegroom too, she felt, had a certain +claim upon her attention. He had departed the morning after Daphne had +accepted him, and was now very busy preparing his house in London for +the reception of the future Lady Carr. But he had spent a good deal of +time at the Rectory for all that, coming down for week-ends and the +like; and Daphne, mindful of the duties of a <i>fiancée</i>, devoted herself +conscientiously to his entertainment whenever he appeared.</p> + +<p>But now the end of all things was imminent. To-morrow the management of +the Rectory would pass into the hands of the dubious and inexperienced +Cilly.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Rectory children continued to sit disconsolately upon the +gate. They were waiting for Daphne, who had promised to spend her last +afternoon with them. Sir John, who was now staying at Kirkley Abbey,—to +the mingled apprehension and exhilaration of the chief bridesmaid Lord +Kirkley had offered to act as best man,—was to come over that +afternoon, but only to see the Rector on matters connected with +settlements and other unromantic adjuncts to the married state.</p> + +<p>The gate proving unsuitable for prolonged session, the family abandoned +their gregarious attitude and disposed of themselves in more comfortable +fashion. Ally, home on two days' special leave from school, lay basking +in the sun. Cilly sprawled on the grass with her back against a tree +trunk, her brow puckered with the gradual realisation of coming +responsibility. Stiffy, simple soul, with his knees clasped beneath his +chin, sorrowfully contemplated to-morrow's bereavement. Master Anthony +Cuthbert, perched on a log with a switch in his hand, was conducting an +unseen orchestra. Nicky, soulless and flippant as ever, speculated at +large upon her sister's future.</p> + +<p>"It'll be pretty hot for Daph living down there at first," she mused. A +joke lasted Nicky a long time: the humorous fiction that the bride-elect +would to-morrow be carried off to reside permanently in the infernal +regions was still as a savoury bakemeat to her palate. "Of course, +Polly"—this was her abbreviation for Apollyon, adopted as soon as that +gentleman had ascended from the grade of familiar friend to that of +prospective relative—"will be glad to get back to his own fireside, but +Daph will feel it a bit, I should think. Perhaps he will let her use a +screen to begin with!... I wonder what housekeeping will be like. I +suppose the cook will have horns and a tail, and all the food will be +devilled. I should like to see Daph ordering dinner. 'Good morning, +Diabolo!' 'Good morning, miss! What would you like for dinner to-night?' +'Well, Diabolo, what have you <i>got</i>?' 'There's a nice tender sinner came +in this morning, miss. You might have a few of his ribs; or would you +prefer him served up grilled, with brimstone sauce? And I suppose you +would like devils-on-horseback for a savoury.' 'That will do <i>very</i> +nicely, Diabolo. Oh, I forgot! It's possible that the Lucifers will drop +in. Perhaps we'd better have yesterday's moneylender cold on the +side-board in case there isn't enough to go round. And we must have +something special to'—Ally, what do people drink in Hades?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno," said Ally drowsily; "molten lead, I should think."</p> + +<p>"Only the <i>lower</i> classes, dear," said Nicky witheringly. "I am talking +about the best people."</p> + +<p>"Sulphuric acid?" suggested Ally, who was beginning to study chemistry +at school.</p> + +<p>"That will do," said Nicky, and returned to her dialogue. "'Diabolo, +will you tell the butler to put a barrel—no, a <i>vat</i>—of sulphuric acid +on ice. You know what the Lucifers are, when'—hallo, here's Daph at +last!"</p> + +<p>The bride-elect approached, swinging her garden-hat in her hand, and +followed by Mr Dawks.</p> + +<p>"Well, family," she said, "I'm yours for the rest of the day. What shall +we do?"</p> + +<p>"Where is John?" inquired Ally. (John, it may be explained, was the name +by which the family, with the exception of Nicky, had decided to address +their future brother-in-law.)</p> + +<p>"In the study with Dad."</p> + +<p>"Has he arranged about having the five o'clock train stopped to-morrow +afternoon?" inquired the careful Stiffy.</p> + +<p>"No. We are going in a motor all the way to London," said Daphne. "Jack +was keeping it as a surprise for me. It's a new one, a——"</p> + +<p>"All the way to <i>where</i>?" inquired that economical humourist, Miss +Veronica Vereker.</p> + +<p>"London."</p> + +<p>"H'm! Yes, I <i>have</i> heard it called that, now I come to think of it," +conceded Nicky; "but it seems a waste of a good car, especially if it's +a new one. Unless it's made of some special—Stiffy, what's the name of +that stuff that won't burn?"</p> + +<p>"Asbestos?"</p> + +<p>"That's it—asbestos. I didn't expect to see you drive off down the +road, somehow," continued Nicky in a somewhat injured voice, "just like +an ordinary couple. I thought Polly would stamp his foot on the lawn, +and a chasm would yawn at your feet, and in you'd both pop, and you +would be gone for ever, like—Ally, who were those two people in the +Latin book you had for a holiday task?"</p> + +<p>"What you want, Nicky," responded Mr Aloysuis Vereker, "is chloroform. +Do you mean Pluto and Proserpine?"</p> + +<p>"That's it—Proserpine. Well, Proserpine, what are you going to do to +entertain your little brothers and sisters this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Anything you like," said Proserpine, endeavouring to balance herself on +the top bar of the gate. "How about making toffee down in the Den?"</p> + +<p>There was a chorus of approval. Nursery customs die hard. Even the +magnificent Ally found it difficult to shake off the glamour of this +youthful dissipation.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what," continued Daphne, warming up to the occasion, +"we'll have a regular farewell feast. We'll send down to the shop and +get some buns and chocolates and gingerbeer, and—and——"</p> + +<p>"Bananas," suggested Tony.</p> + +<p>"Nuts," added Cilly.</p> + +<p>"Cigarettes," said Ally.</p> + +<p>"Who has got any money?" inquired Nicky.</p> + +<p>The family fumbled in its pockets.</p> + +<p>"Here's threepence—all I have," said Cilly at length.</p> + +<p>"Twopence," said Ally, laying the sum on Cilly's threepenny bit.</p> + +<p>"Awfully sorry," said Stiffy, "but I'm afraid I've only got a stamp. +It's still quite gummy at the back, though," he added hopefully. +"They'll take it."</p> + +<p>Tony produced a halfpenny.</p> + +<p>"You can search <i>me</i>, friends!" was Nick's despairing contribution.</p> + +<p>"I have fourpence," said the bride—"not a penny more. I handed over all +the spare housekeeping money to Dad this morning. That only makes +tenpence-halfpenny, counting Stiffy's stamp." She sighed wistfully. "And +I did so want to give you all a treat before I went! Well, we must do +without the nuts and chocolates, and——"</p> + +<p>Nicky rose to her feet, swelling with sudden inspiration.</p> + +<p>"Daph, what's the matter with running along to this millionaire young +man of yours and touching <i>him</i> for a trifle?" she inquired +triumphantly.</p> + +<p>Daphne hesitated. True, to-morrow she would be a rich man's wife, able +to afford unlimited gingerbeer. But the idea of asking a man for money +did not appeal to her. Pride of poverty and maidenly reserve make an +obstinate mixture. Yet the flushed and eager faces of Nicky and Tony, +the polite deprecations of the selfless Stiffy, and the studied +indifference of Cilly and Ally, were hard to resist.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he would mind," she said doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Mind? Oh, no. Why should he?" urged the chorus respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Have a dart for it, anyhow," said Nicky.</p> + +<p>Daphne descended from the gate.</p> + +<p>"Righto!" she said. "After all, it's our last afternoon together, and I +<i>should</i> like to do you all proud. I'll chance it. The rest of you can +start down to the Den and collect sticks, while I run along to the house +and ask him. Nicky, you had better come with me to carry down saucepans +and things. Come on—I'll race you!"</p> + +<p>Three minutes later, Sir John Carr, smoking a meditative cigar upon the +lawn, was aware of a sudden scurry and patter in the lane outside. +Directly after this, with a triumphant shriek, the small figure of his +future sister-in-law shot through the garden-gate, closely followed by +that of his future wife. Mr Dawks, faint yet pursuing, brought up the +rear.</p> + +<p>The competitors flung themselves down on the grass at his feet, panting.</p> + +<p>"We have been having a race," explained Daphne rather gratuitously.</p> + +<p>"I won!" gasped Nicky. "Daph has the longest legs," she continued, "but +I have the shortest skirts. Now, my children, I must leave you. Wire +in!" she concluded, in a hoarse and penetrating whisper to Daphne.</p> + +<p>Her short skirts flickered round the corner of the house, and she was +gone. Daphne was left facing her <i>fiancé</i>.</p> + +<p>"I say," she began rather constrainedly—"don't get up; I'm not going to +stay—do you think you could lend me a little money? I—I'll pay you +back in a day or two," she added with a disarming smile. "The fact is, +we are going to make toffee down in the Den, and I wanted to get a few +extra things, just to give them all a real treat to finish up with, you +know. Will you—Jack?"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut looked up at her with his slow scrutinising smile.</p> + +<p>"What sort of extra things?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"—Daphne closed her eyes and began to count on her fingers—"buns, +and chocolates, and nuts, and gingerbeer. And I wanted to give Ally a +packet of cigarettes. (After all, he's eighteen, and he does love them +so, and they are only ten for threepence.) And if you could run to it, I +should like to get a few bananas as well," she concluded with a rush, +laying all her cards on the table at once.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut leaned back in his chair and looked extremely judicial.</p> + +<p>"What will all this cost?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"One and eleven," said Daphne. "Jack, you <i>dear</i>! We <i>shall</i> have a +time!"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut had taken a handful of change out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>"One and eleven," he said; "I wonder, Daphne, if you will be able to +purchase an afternoon of perfect happiness for that sum in a year's +time."</p> + +<p>He handed over the money.</p> + +<p>"May I have a receipt?" he asked gravely.</p> + +<p>Daphne took his meaning, and kissed him lightly. She lingered for a +moment, anxious not to appear in a hurry to run away.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything else?" inquired Sir John at length.</p> + +<p>Daphne ran an inward eye over the possibilities of dissipation.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so," she said. "Thanks ever so much! We shall be back +about six. So long, old man. Don't go to sleep in this hot sun."</p> + +<p>She flitted away across the lawn, jingling the money in her hand. At the +gate she turned and waved her hand. Juggernaut's eyes were fixed upon +her, but he did not appear to observe her salutation. Probably he was in +a brown study about something.</p> + +<p>Daphne was half-way down to the Den before it occurred to her that it +would have been a graceful act—not to say the barest civility—to +invite the donor of the feast to come and be present thereat. But she +did not go back.</p> + +<p>"It would bore him so, poor dear!" she said to herself; "and—and us, +too!"</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +Next day they were married. +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> + + + +<h2>BOOK TWO.</h2> + +<h1>FLICKERINGS.</h1> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129">page129</a></span> + + +<h3>CHAPTER NINE.</h3> + +<h4>A HORSE TO THE WATER.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>"And how is her ladyship?" inquired Mrs Carfrae.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship," replied Sir John Carr, "is enjoying life. What good +bread-and-butter you always keep."</p> + +<p>They were sitting in Mrs Carfrae's tiny drawing-room in Hill Street. Mrs +Carfrae was a little old lady in a wheeled chair. Her face was +comparatively youthful, but her hair was snowy white. She spoke with +what English people, to whom the pure Highland Scots of Inverness and +the guttural raucousness of Glasgow are as one, term "a Scotch accent."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you like my bread-and-butter," she said; "but I fancy you get +as good at your wife's tea-table."</p> + +<p>"I don't often see my wife's tea-table," confessed Juggernaut. "She is +out a good deal, and as a rule it is more convenient for me to have my +tea sent into my study."</p> + +<p>"Where you grumble at it, I'll be bound. I ken husbands. So her ladyship +is out a good deal? Well do I mind the first time I caught her in, the +besom! That was nearly three years ago. I am not a payer of calls, as +you know; but I felt that I must be the very first to greet your wife, +Johnny boy. So the day after I knew you had settled in, I had myself +bundled into the carriage, and off I went to Grosvenor Street. I told +Maxwell to ring the bell and inquire if her ladyship was at home. The +door was thrown open immediately—rather prematurely, in fact. I heard a +sound like the cheep of a frightened mouse, and I saw a grand silk skirt +and a pair of ankles scuttering up the staircase. I knew fine what had +happened. I was her first caller: and though the child was sitting in +her new drawing-room waiting for me and those like me, her courage had +failed at the sound of the bell, and she was galloping up the stair out +of the way when the man opened the door. Poor lassie! I did exactly the +same thing at her age."</p> + +<p>"Did you go in?"</p> + +<p>"I did. I was determined to do it. I gripped my crutch and was out of +the carriage and up the steps before the footman could answer Maxwell. I +hobbled past the man—he just gaped at me like a puddock on a hot +day—and got to the foot of the stair and looked up. As I expected, +there was Madam, hanging over the banisters to see what sort of a caller +she had hooked the first time. There was another creature beside her, +with wild brown hair and eyes like saucers. They were clutching each +other round the waist. When they saw me they gave a kind of horrified +yelp. But I cried to them to come down, and in ten minutes we were the +best of friends. They were terribly prim at first; but when they found +out that I was just a clavering old wife and nothing more, they lost +their grand manners. They overlaid me with questions about London, and +while I was answering them the saucer-eyed one set to work cracking +lumps of sugar with her teeth. The other—her ladyship—was eating jam +out of an Apostle spoon. The spoon was in her mouth when a footman came +in to mend the fire. She was fairly taken by surprise, and tried to push +the whole concern into her mouth until the man should be gone. I thought +at first she had swallowed it, but presently I saw the Apostle sticking +out. And that was three years ago. Well, I have become less active since +then, and I pay no more calls—wheel me a piece nearer the fire, +Johnny—so I do not see so much of her ladyship as I did. Still, I am +glad to hear she is enjoying life. And how is the baby?"</p> + +<p>"The baby," replied its male parent, "looks and sounds extremely +robust. He uttered several articulate words the other day, I am told."</p> + +<p>"Can he walk?"</p> + +<p>"He can lurch along in a slightly dissipated manner."</p> + +<p>"Good! And how does your Daphne handle all these houses and servants of +yours?"</p> + +<p>Sir John smiled.</p> + +<p>"She was a little out of her depth at first," he said. "She had not been +accustomed to cater for a large household. The extravagance of ordering +at least one fresh joint a-day appalled her, and it was a long time +before the housekeeper could cure her of a passion for shepherd's pie. +But she has a shrewd head. She soon discovered which items of domestic +expenditure were reasonable and which were not. She has cut down the +bills by a half, but I don't notice any corresponding falling off in the +quality of the <i>menu</i>."</p> + +<p>"And does she love fine clothes, and gaiety?"</p> + +<p>"I think she found her maid rather a trial at first. She had been so +accustomed not only to attiring herself but to going round and hooking +up her sisters as well, that a woman who handled her like a baby rather +paralysed her. She also exhibited a <i>penchant</i> for wearing her old +clothes out—to rags, that is—in private. But I think she is getting +over that now. I received her dressmaker's latest bill this morning. It +reveals distinct signs of progress."</p> + +<p>"And I hear she looks just beautiful."</p> + +<p>"She does. I must admit that."</p> + +<p>"<i>Then</i>," the old lady raised herself a little in her chair, and settled +her spectacles with her unparalysed hand, "what is the trouble, Johnny +Carr?"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut laid down his tea-cup with a slight clatter.</p> + +<p>"I was not aware," he said curtly, "that there was any trouble."</p> + +<p>Mrs Carfrae surveyed him long and balefully over her spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Johnny Carr," she observed dispassionately, "I have known you ever +since you could roar for your bottle, and I have never had any patience +with you either then or since. You are a dour, dreich, thrawn, +camstearie creature. You have more money than you can spend, grand +health, and a young and beautiful wife. But you are not happy. You come +here to tell me so, and when I ask you to begin, you say there is +nothing! Well, <i>I</i> will tell you what the matter is. There is some +trouble between you and your Daphne."</p> + +<p>Considerable courage is required to inform a man to his face that all is +not well between him and his wife; but courage was a virtue that Elspeth +Carfrae had never lacked. Juggernaut experienced no feeling of +resentment or surprise that this old lady should have instantaneously +sized up a situation which he himself had been investigating in a +groping and uncertain fashion for nearly three years. Life is a big book +of problems, and while man is content to work them out figure by figure, +taking nothing for granted which cannot be approved by established +formulæ, woman has an exasperating habit of skipping straight to the +solution in a manner which causes the conscientious and methodical male +to suspect her of peeping at the answers at the end of the book.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you had not realised that," pursued Mrs Carfrae. "Men are apt +to be slow in the uptake," she added indulgently.</p> + +<p>"I fail to see where you get your <i>data</i> from," replied Juggernaut. "I +have not been particularly communicative on the subject. In fact, I +don't remember telling you a single——"</p> + +<p>Mrs Carfrae subjected him to a withering glare.</p> + +<p>"If all that women knew," she observed frostily, "was what men had told +them, I wonder how many of us would be able to spell our own names. No, +laddie, you have told me nothing: that's true enough. But I know fine +why you came here to-day. You are worried. You and Daphne are getting on +splendidly. The match has been a great success. You have a son and heir. +But—you are not happy; and it is about your Daphne that you are not +happy."</p> + +<p>Juggernaut gazed into the fire.</p> + +<p>"You are right," he said. "I confess that my marriage has not been so +uplifting as I had hoped. I daresay it is my own fault. As you point +out, I am—well, all the Caledonian adjectives you heaped upon me just +now: all that and a good deal more. I have the reputation of being a +harsh man, and I hate it. I hoped, when I married that child, that she +would pull me out of my rigid, undeviating way of life, and broaden my +sympathies a little. I looked forward to a little domesticity." His dark +face coloured slightly. "I may be an ogre, but I have my soft side, as +you know."</p> + +<p>"None better," said the old lady gently.</p> + +<p>"Well, somehow," continued Juggernaut, "my marriage has not made the +difference to me that I had hoped. We two have had our happy hours +together, but we don't seem to progress beyond a certain point. We are +amiability itself. If I ask Daphne to see to anything about the house, +she sees to it; if she asks me to go with her to a tea-fight, I go. But +that seems to be about the limit. I can't help thinking that marriage +would not have survived so long as an institution if there had been no +more behind it than that. I was under the impression that it made two +one. At present we are still two—very decidedly two; and—and——"</p> + +<p>"And being you, it just maddens you not to be able to get your money's +worth," said Mrs Carfrae calmly. "Now, John Carr, just listen to me. +First of all, have you had any trouble with her?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Any direct disagreement with her?"</p> + +<p>"Never. Stop—we had one small breeze."</p> + +<p>Mrs Carfrae wagged a forefinger.</p> + +<p>"You have been bullying her, monster!"</p> + +<p>"Heavens, no!"</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me the story."</p> + +<p>"Six months ago," said Juggernaut, "she came to me and asked for +money—much as a child asks for toffee—with a seraphic smile and an +ingratiating rub up against my chair. I asked her what it was for."</p> + +<p>"Quite wrong!" said Mrs Carfrae promptly.</p> + +<p>"But surely——" began Juggernaut, the man of business up in arms at +once.</p> + +<p>"You should have begun by taking out your cheque-book and saying, 'how +much?'" continued his admonitress. "Then she would have called you a +dear, or some such English term of affection, and recognising you as her +natural confidant would have told you everything. After that you might +have improved the occasion. As it was, you just put her back up, and she +dithered."</p> + +<p>"She did, so far as I understand the expression. But, finding that I was +firm——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, man, man, how can a great grown creature like you bear to be +<i>firm</i>—<i>hard</i>, you mean, of course—with a wild unbroken lass like +that? Well, go on. You were firm. And what did her poor ladyship say +she wanted the money for?"</p> + +<p>"For her young cub of a brother," said Juggernaut briefly.</p> + +<p>"A wealthy young wife daring to want to help her own brother! +Monstrous!" observed Mrs Carfrae.</p> + +<p>"I think you are unjust to me in this matter. Listen! When I married +Daphne I was aware that she would want to finance her entire family: in +fact, it was one of the inducements to marrying me which I laid before +her. For that purpose, to save her the embarrassment of constantly +coming to me for supplies, I settled upon her a private allowance +of—what do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Out with it! No striving after effect with <i>me</i>, my man!" was the reply +of his unimpressionable audience.</p> + +<p>"I gave her a thousand a year," said Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"That should have been sufficient," said Mrs Carfrae composedly. "But do +not be ostentatious about it. You could well afford the money."</p> + +<p>"Well, she had spent most of that year's allowance in six months," +continued Juggernaut, disregarding these gibes—"on her father's curate, +the younger children's education, and so forth—and she wanted more."</p> + +<p>"What age is this brother?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty, I think. He is up at Cambridge, and wants to get into the Army +as a University candidate. At present he appears to be filling in his +time philandering with a tobacconist's daughter. The tobacconist's bill +for moral and intellectual damage came to five hundred pounds. Before +writing the cheque, I stipulated—"</p> + +<p>"You would!" said the old lady grimly.</p> + +<p>—"That I should be permitted to make a few investigations on my own +behalf. Young Vereker is a handsome, fascinating rascal, with about as +much moral fibre as a Yahoo. He was a good deal franker in his +admissions to me than he had been to his sister—"</p> + +<p>"Ay, I once heard you cross-examining a body," confirmed Mrs Carfrae.</p> + +<p>—"And on the completion of my inquiries I paid the money down on the +nail. It was the only thing to do."</p> + +<p>"Did you tell Daphne the whole story?"</p> + +<p>"No. I should hate to dispel her illusions. She loves her brothers and +sisters."</p> + +<p>"There is no need to excuse yourself, John Carr. I knew fine that you +would not tell her. Instead, you glowered at her, and read her a lecture +about extravagance and improvidence. She tried to look prim and +penitent, but danced down the stair the moment she got the door shut +behind her. Now, mannie, listen to me. This is no light charge you have +taken on yourself—to rule a wild, shy, impulsive taupie like that. You +cannot contain the like with bit and bridle, mind. I have been one +myself, and I know. There is just one thing to do. She must learn to +<i>love</i> you, or the lives of the pair of you will go stramash!"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut's old friend concluded this homily with tremendous emphasis, +and there was a long silence. Then the man drew his chair a little +closer.</p> + +<p>"How can I teach her?" he asked humbly. "I have no <i>finesse</i>, no +attractiveness. Do you think I—I am too old for her?"</p> + +<p>"Old? Toots! I was nineteen when I married on my Andy, and he was +thirty-nine. For the first few years after we married I called him +'daddy' to his face. After that I found that I was really old enough to +be the man's mother; so I called him 'sonny.' But that is a digression. +I will tell you how to teach her. Do not be monotonous. It's no use just +to be a good husband to her: any gowk can be that. Do not let your +affection run on in a regular, dutiful stream: have a spate +occasionally! Get whirled off your feet by her, and let her see it. +Prepare some unexpected ploy for her. Rush her off to dine somewhere on +the spur of the moment—just your two selves. Stop her suddenly on the +staircase in a half-light, and give her a hug."</p> + +<p>"She'd never stand it!" cried Juggernaut in dismay. "And I could never +do it," he added apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> it, my callant," said Mrs Carfrae with decision, "and she'll +stand it right enough! She may tell you not to be foolish, but she will +not make a point of coming down by the back stair in future for all +that. And let her see that with you she comes <i>first</i> in everything. +What a crow she will have to herself when she realises that a feckless +unbusinesslike piece like herself has crept right into the inmost place +in the heart of a man whose gods used to be hard work and hard words and +hard knocks! She'll just glory in you!</p> + +<p>"Lastly, do not be discouraged if you have no success to begin with. At +all costs you must keep on smiling. A dour, bleak man is no fit +companion for a young girl who has always lived a sheltered sunny life. +He just withers her. She may last for a while, and do her duty by him, +but in time he'll break her heart. Ay, keep on smiling, Johnny, even if +she hurts you. She will hurt you often. Young girls are like that. It +takes time for a woman to realise that a man is just about twice as +sensitive as herself in certain matters, and she will not make +allowances for him at first. But until she does—and she will, if you +give her time—keep on smiling! If you keep on long enough you will get +your reward. Make the effort, my man! I have had to make efforts in my +time—"</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>—"And the efforts have been the making of <i>me</i>. For one thing, I have +acquired a sense of proportion. When we are young and lusty our +knowledge of perspective is so elementary that in our picture of life +our own Ego fills the foreground to the exclusion of all else; with this +result, that we get no view of the countless interesting and profitable +things that lie behind. My Ego is kept in better order these days, I +assure you. It gets just a good comfortable place in the picture and no +more. If Elspeth Carfrae stirs from that, or comes creeping too far +forward so as to block out other things, she hears from me!"</p> + +<p>"Does she always obey you?" asked Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"She got far beyond my control once," admitted the old lady. "I mind +when my Andy went from me she swelled and swelled until she blotted out +everything—earth, sea, and sky. But she has been back in her place +these twenty years, and there she shall bide. There is no great selfish +Ego blocking the view now when I sit and look out upon my section of the +world. You have no idea how interesting it is to study your friends' +troubles instead of your own, John. The beauty of it is that you need +not worry over them: you just watch them—unconcernedly."</p> + +<p>The Scots have their own notion of what constitutes an excursion into +the realms of humour, and Juggernaut, knowing this, made no attempt to +controvert his hostess's last statement.</p> + +<p>"Not that I grudged my Andy," continued the old lady presently. "No wife +worthy of the name could grudge her man to his country when he died as +Andy died. But my only son—that was my own fault, maybe. I would not +put him into the Army like his father, thinking to keep him safer that +way; and he died of pneumonia at seven-and-twenty, an East End curate. +Then my Lintie. But I have no need to be talking of Lintie to you, John +Carr. You mind her still, Daphne or no Daphne. Then"—she indicated her +paralysed shoulder—"this! But I keep on smiling. Perhaps that is why +people are so kind to me. Perhaps if I did not smile they would not seek +my company so freely. I suppose they see something in me, that they come +and listen to me havering. When I first settled down here by myself in +this little house many kind people called. I never thought to see them +twice; but they come again and again. Maybe it is because English people +have a notion that the Scots tongue is 'so quaint!' They seem to find +something exhilarating in hearing fish called fush. Not that I call it +any such thing, but they think I do. Anyhow, they come. Some of them +bring their troubles with them, and go away without them. When they do +that I know that it was worth while to keep a smiling face all these +years. So smile yourself, Johnny Carr! And some day, when your Daphne +comes and puts her head on your shoulder and tells you all that is +troubling her, you will know that you have won through. And when that +happens come and call me. I like to hear when my methods succeed."</p> + +<p>"I will remember," said Juggernaut gravely. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Mrs Carfrae watched his broad back through the doorway.</p> + +<p>"But I doubt you will both have to be worse before you are better," she +added to herself.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>An hour later Lady Carr, a radiant vision of glinting hair and rustling +skirts, on her way upstairs to dress for dinner, encountered her husband +coming down. There was a half light. Sir John paused.</p> + +<p>"Are you dining anywhere to-night, Daphne?" he said.</p> + +<p>Daphne, her youthful shrewdness uneradicated by three years of adult +society, replied guardedly—</p> + +<p>"Are you trying to pull my leg? If I say 'No,' will you tell me that in +that case I shall be very hungry by bedtime, or something? I suppose +that old chestnut has just got round to your club. Have you been +electing Noah an honorary member?"</p> + +<p>"I was about to suggest," said Juggernaut perseveringly, "that we should +go and dine at the Savoy together."</p> + +<p>Daphne dimpled into a delighted smile.</p> + +<p>"You dear! And we might go on somewhere afterwards. What would you like +me to wear?" She preened herself in anticipation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, anything," said Juggernaut absently. He was regarding his wife in +an uncertain and embarrassed fashion.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he drew a deep breath, and took a step down towards her. Then, +with equal suddenness, he turned on his heel and retired upstairs rather +precipitately in the direction of his dressing-room.</p> + +<p>It was as well that Mrs Carfrae was not present.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145">page145</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER TEN.</h3> + +<h4>A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SOCIAL SUCCESS.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>By nine o'clock next morning Lady Carr, becomingly arrayed, was sitting +up in bed munching a hearty breakfast, and reflecting according to her +habit upon yesterday's experiences and to-day's arrangements.</p> + +<p>She had dined with her husband at the Savoy, but the meal had not been +quite such a success as she had anticipated. Juggernaut had treated her +with the restrained courtesy which was habitual to him; but ladies who +are taken out to dinner at the Savoy, even by their husbands, usually +expect something more than restrained courtesy. You must be animated on +these occasions—unless of course you happen to be a newly-engaged +couple, in which case the world benignantly washes its hands of you—or +the evening writes itself down a failure. Juggernaut had not been +animated. He had ordered a dinner which to Daphne's gratification and +surprise—she had not credited him with so much observation—had +consisted almost entirely of her favourite dishes. But he had not +sparkled, and sparkle at the Savoy, as already intimated, is essential.</p> + +<p>About ten o'clock he had been called away to an important division in +the House, and Daphne had gone on to a party, escorted by her husband's +secretary, factotum, and right-hand man, one Jim Carthew, who arrived +from Grosvenor Street in answer to a telephone summons. Carthew was a +new friend of Daphne's. She accumulated friends much as a honey-pot +accumulates flies, but Jim Carthew counted for more than most. They had +never met until five weeks ago, for Carthew had always been up north +engaged on colliery business when Daphne was in London; and when Daphne +was at Belton, her husband's old home near Kilchester, Carthew had been +occupied by secretarial work in town. But they had known one another by +name and fame ever since Daphne's marriage, and at last they had met. +Daphne was not slow to understand why her husband, impatient of +assistance as he usually was, had always appeared ready to heap labour +and responsibility upon these youthful shoulders. Carthew was barely +thirty, but he was perfectly capable of upholding and furthering his +leader's interests in the great industrial north; while down south it +was generally held that whenever he grew tired of devilling for +Juggernaut the Party would find him a seat for the asking.</p> + +<p>But so far Carthew seemed loth to forsake the man who had taught him all +he knew. He cherished a theory, somewhat unusual in a rising man, that +common decency requires of a pupil that he shall repay his master, at +the end of the period of instruction, by a period of personal service.</p> + +<p>He was a freckle-faced youth, with a frank smile of considerable +latitude, and a boyish zeal for the healthy pursuits of life. He +possessed brains and character, as any man must who served under +Juggernaut; and like his master he was a shrewd judge of men. Of his +capacity for dealing with women Daphne knew less; but she had already +heard rumours—confidences exchanged over teacups and behind fans—of a +certain Miss Nina Tallentyre, perhaps the acknowledged beauty of that +season, at the flame of whose altar Jim Carthew was said to have singed +his wings in a conspicuously reckless fashion. But all this was the +merest hearsay, and Daphne was unacquainted with the lady into the +bargain. Possibly it was with a view to remedying this deficiency in her +circle of acquaintance that she kept Jim Carthew at her side for the +space of half an hour after they reached Mrs Blankney-Pushkins' +reception.</p> + +<p>After a couple of waltzes Lady Carr expressed a desire to be fed with +ices and cream buns.</p> + +<p>Mr Carthew assented, but with less enthusiasm than before. Daphne +noticed that his eye was beginning to wander.</p> + +<p>"After that," she continued cheerfully, "we will find seats, and you +shall tell me who everybody is. I am still rather a country mouse."</p> + +<p>"I should think so!" said Carthew, reluctantly recalling his gaze from a +distant corner of the refreshment-room. "I beg your pardon! You were +saying?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there is some one else whom you have promised to dance with, +though," continued the country mouse demurely.</p> + +<p>Carthew, whose eye had slid stealthily round once more in the direction +of a supper-party in the corner, recovered himself resolutely, and made +the only reply that gallantry permitted.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, then," said Daphne. "Tell me who those people are, +having supper over there. That man with the fierce black eyes—who is +he? He looks wicked."</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact," said Carthew, resigning himself to his fate, "he +is about the most commonplace bore in the room. If he takes a girl in to +dinner he talks to her about the weather with the soup, the table +decorations with the fish, and suffragettes with the <i>entrée</i>. About +pudding-time he takes the bit between his teeth and launches out into a +description of the last play he saw—usually <i>Charley's Aunt</i> or <i>East +Lynne</i>. If he goes to a wedding he refers to the church as a 'sacred +edifice,' and the bride and bridegroom as 'the happy couple.' When he +unexpectedly encounters a friend at a sea-side watering-place, he +observes that 'the world is a very small place.' At his own funeral (to +which I shall send a wreath) he will sit up and thank the mourners for +'this personal tribute of affection and esteem.'"</p> + +<p>Daphne sat regarding this exhibition of the art of conversation with +some interest. She observed that Carthew's wits were wandering, and that +with inherent politeness he was exercising a purely mechanical faculty +to entertain her pending their return. Jim Carthew was a true Briton in +that he hated revealing his deeper thoughts to the eyes of the world. +But unlike the ordinary Briton who, when his feelings do get the better +of him, finds himself reduced to silent and portentous gloom, he +instinctively clothed his naked shrinking soul in a garment of +irresponsible frivolity. The possession of this faculty is a doubtful +blessing, for it deprives many a deserving sufferer of the sympathy +which is his right, and which would be his could he but take the world +into his confidence. But the world can never rid itself of the notion +that only still waters run deep. Consequently Jim Carthew passed in the +eyes of most of his friends as a kindly, light-hearted, rather soulless +trifler. But Daphne was not altogether deceived. She took an instinctive +interest in this young man. She interrupted his feverish monologue, and +inquired—</p> + +<p>"Tell me, who is that girl? The tall one, with fair hair and splendid +black eyes."</p> + +<p>"What is she dressed in?" asked Carthew, surveying the throng with +studied diligence.</p> + +<p>"Flame-coloured chiffon," said Daphne.</p> + +<p>"That is a Miss Tallentyre," replied Carthew carelessly. "Do you think +she is pretty?" he added, after a slightly strained pause.</p> + +<p>"I think she is perfectly magnificent. Do you know her?"</p> + +<p>"Er—yes."</p> + +<p>"Will you introduce me?" asked Daphne. "I should like to know her. See, +she has just sent away her partner. Take me over and leave me with her, +and then you will be free to run off and find the charmer I can see you +are so anxious about."</p> + +<p>The hapless Carthew having asserted, this time with considerably more +sincerity, that he had now no further thoughts of dancing, the +introduction was effected. The sequel lay this morning upon Daphne's +breakfast-tray, amid a heap of invitations—Daphne was in great request +at present—in the form of a note, written upon thick blue paper, in a +large and rather ostentatious feminine hand. It ran—</p> + +<div class="dvlttr"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Lady Carr</span>,—Don't consider me a forward young person if I +ask you to be an angel and come and lunch with me to-day. I know +all sorts of ceremonies ought to be observed before such a climax +is reached; but will you take them for granted and <i>come</i>? We had +such a tiny talk last night, and I do so want to know you better. +I have been dying to make your acquaintance ever since I first +saw you.—Sincerely yours,</p> +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Nina Tallentyre</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Daphne was not the sort of girl to take it amiss that she, a married +woman of twenty-three, with a husband and baby of her own, should +informally be bidden to a feast by a young person previously unknown to +her, who possessed neither. In any case the last sentence would have +been too much for her vanity. She scribbled a note of acceptance to Miss +Tallentyre's invitation, and set about her morning toilet.</p> + +<p>Once downstairs, she paid her regulation punctilious visit to the +library, where her husband was usually to be found until twelve o'clock. +She inquired in her breezy fashion after the health of the Mother of +Parliaments, and expressed a hope that her spouse had come home at a +reasonable hour and enjoyed a proper night's rest. She next proceeded to +the orders of the day.</p> + +<p>"Are you dining out to-night, dear?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for my sins! A City dinner at six-thirty."</p> + +<p>"You'll be bad the morn!" quoted Lady Carr.</p> + +<p>"True for you, Daphne. Are you going anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, you had better have Carthew to dine with you, and then he can +take you to the theatre afterwards. Sorry I can't manage it my—for our +two selves," he added, guiltily conscious of Mrs Carfrae's recent +homily.</p> + +<p>But Daphne was quite satisfied with the arrangement, which she +designated top-hole.</p> + +<p>"Now I am off shopping," she announced. "After that I am lunching with a +girl I met last night; then Hurlingham, with the Peabodys. If you are +going gorging at six-thirty, I probably shan't see you again to-day; so +I'll say good-night now. Pleasant dreams! I am off to play with Baby +before I go out. So long!"</p> + +<p>She presented her husband with his diurnal kiss, and departed in search +of Master Brian Vereker Carr, whose domain was situated in the upper +regions of the house. Here for a time the beautiful and stately consort +of Sir John Carr merged into the Daphne of old—Daphne, the little +mother of all the world, the inventor of new and delightful games and +repairer of all damages incurred therein. Her son's rubicund and +puckered countenance lightened at her approach. He permitted his latest +tooth to be exhibited without remonstrance; he nodded affably, even +encouragingly, over his mother's impersonation of a dying pig; and paid +her the supreme compliment of howling lustily on her departure.</p> + +<p>Master Carr never interviewed his parents simultaneously. His father's +visits—not quite so constrained as one might imagine, once the +supercilious nurse had been removed out of earshot—usually took place +in the evening, just before dinner; but father and mother never came +together. Had they done so, it is possible that this narrative might +have followed a different course. A common interest, especially when it +possesses its father's mouth and its mother's eyes, with a repertory of +solemn but attractive tricks with its arms and legs thrown in, is apt to +be a very uniting thing.</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h5>II.</h5> +</div> +<p>Daphne duly lunched with Miss Tallentyre.</p> + +<p>"May I call you Daphne?" the siren asked, in a voice which intimated +that a request from some people is as good as a command from most. "I +have taken a fancy to you; and when I do that to anybody—which isn't +often—I say so. My dear, you are perfectly <i>lovely</i>! I wish I had your +complexion. You don't put anything on it, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Soap," said Daphne briefly. She was not of the sort which takes fancies +readily.</p> + +<p>Miss Tallentyre smiled lazily.</p> + +<p>"I see you haven't got the hang of me yet," she drawled. "You are a +little offended with me. Most people are at first, but they soon find +that it's not really rudeness—only <i>me</i>!—and they come round. I don't +go in for rouge either. Like you, I don't need it. But I have to touch +up my eyebrows. They are quite tragically sandy, and my face looks +perfectly insipid if I leave them as they are." She laughed again. "Have +I shocked you? You see, I believe in being frank about things—don't +you? Be natural—be yourself—say what you think! That is the only true +motto in life, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Daphne agreed cautiously. She had not yet plumbed this rather peculiar +young woman. It had never occurred to her, in the whole course of her +frank ingenuous existence, to ask herself whether she was herself or +not. Such things were too high for her. She began to feel that she had +been somewhat remiss in the matter. Miss Tallentyre appeared to have +made a speciality of it.</p> + +<p>But as shrewd Daphne was soon to discern for herself, this was only +pretty Nina's way. A more confirmed <i>poseuse</i> never angled for the +indiscriminate admiration of mankind. Nina Tallentyre was no fool. +Having observed that in order to become conspicuous in this world it is +an advantage to possess marked individuality, and having none of her own +beyond that conferred by her face and figure, she decided to manufacture +an individuality for her herself. She accordingly selected what she +considered the most suitable of the <i>rôles</i> at her disposal, rehearsed +it to her satisfaction, assumed it permanently, and played it, it must +be confessed, uncommonly well. Her pose was that of the blunt and candid +child of nature, and her performances ranged from unblushing flattery +towards those with whom she desired to stand well to undisguised +rudeness towards those whom she disliked and did not think it necessary +to conciliate.</p> + +<p>Her method prospered. Whatever wise men may think or say of us, fools +usually take us at our own valuation. Consequently Miss Tallentyre +never lacked a majority of admirers. She set a very high price upon her +friendship, too, conferring it only as an exceptional favour; and the +public, which always buys on the rise, had long since rushed in and +bulled Miss Tallentyre's stock—her beauty, her wit, her transparent +honesty—sky high.</p> + +<p>The luncheon was a <i>tête-à-tête</i> function, the parent-birds, as Miss +Tallentyre termed them, being absent upon a country visit. Afterwards +Russian cigarettes and liqueur brandy were served with the coffee. +Daphne declined these manly luxuries, but her hostess took both.</p> + +<p>"Not that I like them," she explained with a plaintive little sigh, "but +it looks <i>chic</i>; and one must be <i>chic</i> or die. Besides, I am doing it +to annoy one of my admirers—one of those simple-minded, early +Victorian, John Bullish creatures who dislike seeing a girl smoke, or +drink cognac, or go to the theatre without a chaperone. Here is his +latest effusion; it will make you shriek."</p> + +<p>She picked up a letter from a little table by her side and began to read +aloud.</p> + +<div class="dvlttr"> +<p> "'<i>Nina, dear child, I know you don't care for me any more</i>,'— +</div> + +<p>As a matter of fact I never cared for him at any time—</p> + +<div class="dvlttr"> + <p>'<i>but I can't help still taking an interest in you</i>, + <i>and all that. I must say this. On Tuesday night I saw you + sitting at supper with two men at the Vallambrosa, without + anybody else to keep you in countenance, sipping liqueur brandy + and smoking. Well, don't—there's a dear! You simply don't know + what cruel things people say about a girl who does that sort of + thing in public. Of course I know that you are absolutely</i>——'"</p> +</div> + +<p>But Lady Carr was on her feet, slightly flushed.</p> + +<p>"I think I must be going now," she said. "I had no idea it was so late. +I have to meet some people at Hurlingham."</p> + +<p>"Sorry you have to rush off," said Miss Tallentyre regretfully; "we were +so cosy. Isn't this letter perfectly sweet?"</p> + +<p>Daphne, who was glowing hotly, suddenly spoke her mind.</p> + +<p>"If an honest man," she said, "wrote me a letter like that, I don't +think I should read it aloud to total strangers, even if I was mortally +offended by it. It doesn't seem to me cricket. Good-bye, and thank you +so much for asking me to lunch."</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> altogether a successful party," mused Daphne, as a taxi-cab +conveyed her to Hurlingham. "What a hateful girl! And yet, at the back +of all that affectation I believe there is something. I couldn't help +liking her. She certainly is very lovely, and she must have been a +darling before men got hold of her and spoiled her.... I wonder if that +letter was from Jim Carthew. It sounded like his blunt blundering way +of doing things. Well, he is well rid of her, anyhow. Hurrah! here is +Hurlingham, and there are the Peabodys! How lovely to see the trees and +grass again! And the <i>dear</i> ponies!"</p> + +<p>The country-bred girl drew a long luxurious breath, and in the fulness +of her heart grossly overpaid her charioteer on alighting. Then, +forgetting Miss Tallentyre and her exotic atmosphere utterly and +absolutely, she plunged with all the energy of her sunny soul into the +sane delights and wholesome joys afforded by green trees, summer skies, +and prancing polo-ponies.</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h5>III.</h5> +</div> +<p>Daphne concluded her day, after a joyous drive home in the cool of the +evening on the box-seat of a coach, by entertaining Jim Carthew to +dinner. Afterwards he was to take her to <i>The Yeoman of the Guard</i>, +which was running through a revival at the Savoy Theatre. Daphne was by +no means a <i>blasée</i> Londoner as yet, for much of her short married life +had been spent at Belton; and the theatre was still an abiding joy to +her. On the way she rattled off a list of the pieces she had seen.</p> + +<p>"And you have never been to a Gilbert and Sullivan opera?" asked Carthew +incredulously.</p> + +<p>"No—never."</p> + +<p>"All I can say is—cheers!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Supposing you were a benevolent person about to introduce a small boy +to his first plum-pudding, you would feel as I do," replied her +companion. "But wait. Here is the theatre: we are in the fourth row of +stalls."</p> + +<p>Daphne sat raptly through the first act. Once or twice her laughter rang +out suddenly and spontaneously like a child's, and indulgent persons +turned and smiled sympathetically upon her; but for the most part she +was still and silent, revelling in Sullivan's ever-limpid music and +following the scenes that passed before her with breathless attention.</p> + +<p>When the curtain fell slowly upon the finale of the first act—the +suddenly deserted stage, the bewildered Fairfax holding his fainting +bride in his arms, and the black motionless figure of the executioner +towering over all—Daphne drew a long and tremulous breath, and turned +to her companion.</p> + +<p>"I understand now what you meant," she said softly. "How splendid to be +able to bring some one here for the first time!"</p> + +<p>"What surprises me," said Carthew, "is that Sir John hasn't brought you +here already. I know he simply loves it."</p> + +<p>"I am usually taken to places like the Gaiety," confessed Lady Carr. +"Probably Jack considers them more suited to my intellect. Hallo, here +are the orchestra-men crawling out of their holes again! Good!"</p> + +<p>Presently the curtain went up on the last act, and Jack Point introduced +a selection of the Merry Jests of Hugh Ambrose, to the audible joy of +the fourth row of stalls. The Assistant Tormentor and his beloved were +likewise warmly received; but presently Daphne's smiles faded. Poor Jack +Point's tribulations were too much for her: during the final recurrence +of <i>I Have a Song to Sing, O!</i> tears came, and as the curtain fell she +dabbed her eyes hurriedly with an inadequate handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Awfully sorry!" she murmured apologetically. "Luckily you are not the +sort to laugh at me."</p> + +<p>Carthew silently placed her wrap round her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Mr Carthew," said Daphne suddenly, "will you take me somewhere gay for +supper? It wouldn't be awfully improper, would it? I can't go home +feeling as sad as this."</p> + +<p>"Come along!" said Carthew.</p> + +<p>He escorted her to an establishment where the electric lights blazed +bravely, a band blared forth a cacophonous cake-walk entitled +(apparently) "By Request," and the brightest and best of the <i>jeunesse +dorée</i> of London mingled in sweet companionship with the haughty but +hungry divinities of the musical comedy stage.</p> + +<p>Carthew secured a table in a secluded corner, as far as possible from +the band.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to have given you the hump," he said, with his boyish smile. +"Next week I will take you to <i>The Mikado</i>. No tears there! You will +laugh till you cry. Rather a bull that—what?"</p> + +<p>He persevered manfully in this strain in his endeavour to drive away +impressionable Daphne's distress on Jack Point's behalf, and ultimately +succeeded.</p> + +<p>"I hope he was <i>dead</i>, not simply in a faint," was her final reference +to the subject. Then she continued: "I shall take them <i>all</i> to see that +lovely piece—separately. I am not sure about Nicky, though. She is just +at the scoffing age just now, and I don't think I could bear it, if +she——"</p> + +<p>"Not long ago," said Carthew, "I took a girl—that sort of girl—to see +<i>The Yeomen</i>."</p> + +<p>Daphne regarded him covertly. She knew the girl.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I took her on purpose," continued Carthew—"to see how she——"</p> + +<p>Daphne, deeply interested, nodded comprehendingly.</p> + +<p>"I know," she said. "How did she take it?"</p> + +<p>"She never stirred," said Carthew, "all through the last act. When the +curtain fell, she sat on for a few moments without saying a word, and +she never spoke all the time I was taking her home. When I said +good-night to her, she—she said something to me. It was not much, but +it showed me that she <i>was</i> the right sort after all, in spite of what +people said——"</p> + +<p>He checked himself suddenly, as if conscious that his reminiscences were +becoming somewhat intimate. But Daphne nodded a serious head.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," she said simply. "One likes to be right about one's +friends."</p> + +<p>Carthew shot a grateful glance at her; and presently they drifted into +less personal topics, mutually conscious that here, if need be, was a +friend—an understanding friend.</p> + +<p>The evening had yet one more incident in store for Daphne.</p> + +<p>Twelve-thirty, the <i>Ultima Thule</i> of statutory indulgence—the hour at +which London, thirty minutes more fortunate than Cinderella, must +perforce fly home from scenes of revelry and get ready to shake the +mats—was fast approaching; and the management of the restaurant began, +by a respectful but pertinacious process of light-extinguishing, to +apprise patrons of the fact.</p> + +<p>As Daphne and Carthew passed through the rapidly emptying vestibule +to their cab, five flushed young gentlemen, of the <i>genus</i> +undergraduate-on-the-spree, suddenly converged upon the scene from +the direction of the bar, locked together in a promiscuous and not +altogether unprofitable embrace. They were urged from the rear by +polite but inflexible menials in brass buttons.</p> + +<p>"What ho, Daph!"</p> + +<p>The cry emanated from the gentleman who was acting for the moment as +keystone of the arch. Daphne, stepping into the cab, looked back.</p> + +<p>"Mr Carthew," she exclaimed, "it's Ally—my brother! He must have come +up from Cambridge for the day. Do go and bring him here."</p> + +<p>She took her seat in the hansom, and Carthew went back. Presently he +returned.</p> + +<p>"I would not advise an interview," he said drily. "Your brother—well, +you know the effect of London air upon an undergraduate fresh from the +country! Let him come round and see you in the morning."</p> + +<p>He gave the cabman his orders, and their equipage drove off, just as +Sebastian Aloysius Vereker, the nucleus of a gyrating mass of humanity +(composed of himself and party, together with two stalwart myrmidons of +the Hilarity Restaurant and a stray cab-tout), toppled heavily out of +the portals of that celebrated house of refreshment into the arms of an +indulgent policeman.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>More life—real life! reflected Daphne, as she laid her head on her +pillow, tired out and utterly contented. To-day had yielded its full +share. That peculiar but interesting interview with Miss Tallentyre, +that glorious carnival under the blue sky at Hurlingham, and that +laughter-and-tear-compelling spectacle at the Savoy—all had contributed +to the total. Finally, that <i>tête-à-tête</i> supper with Jim +Carthew—indubitably a dear—ending with the episode of Ally. A little +disturbing, that last! Well, perhaps Ally was only trying to see life +too, in his own way. Life! Daphne tingled as she felt her own leap in +her veins. And to-morrow would bring more!</p> + +<p>Then the sandman paid his visit, and she slept like the tired child that +she was, having completed to her entire satisfaction another day of +what, when you come to think of it, was nothing more or less than an +utterly idle, selfish, unprofitable existence.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165">page165</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER ELEVEN.</h3> + +<h4>DIES IRAE.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>At Belton, Daphne, like her Scriptural counterpart, came to herself. +Attired in what she called "rags," she ran wild about the woods and +plantations, accompanied by the faithful Mr Dawks, who found a green +countryside (even when marred at intervals by a grimy pithead) +infinitely preferable to Piccadilly, where the pavement is hot and +steerage-way precarious.</p> + +<p>They were to stay at Belton till Christmas, after which the house in +Berkeley Square would be ready for her. Hitherto she had been well +content with the little establishment in Grosvenor Street; but her ideas +in certain directions, as her husband had observed to Mrs Carfrae, were +developing in a very gratifying manner.</p> + +<p>One hot morning Daphne arrived at breakfast half-an-hour late. To do her +justice, this was an unusual fault; for in the country she would never +have dreamed of indulging in such an urban luxury as breakfast in bed. +Her unpunctuality was not due to sloth. She had already superintended +the morning toilet of Master Brian Vereker Carr, and had even taken a +constitutional with Mr Dawks along the road which ran over the shoulder +of a green hill towards Belton Pit, two miles away. She knew that her +husband had gone out at seven o'clock to interview the manager at the +pithead, and she had reckoned on being picked up by the returning motor +and brought home in time for nine o'clock breakfast. Unfortunately +Juggernaut had changed his plans and gone to another pit in the opposite +direction, with the result that Daphne, besides being compelled to walk +twice as far as she intended, found an uncomfortable combination of cold +food and chilly husband waiting for her when she reached home.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut never called Daphne to book for her shortcomings now. It had +become his custom of late, if he found anything amiss in the management +of the establishment, to send a message to the housekeeper direct. He +should have known better. Daphne, regarding such a proceeding as an +imputation of incompetence on her part, boiled inwardly at the slight, +though her innate sense of justice told her that it was not altogether +undeserved. Being a great success is apt to be a slightly demoralising +business, and Daphne herself was beginning dimly to realise the fact. +There was no doubt, for instance, that she was not the housekeeper she +had been. But what was the good? There had been some credit in feeding +the boys and Dad on half nothing, and in conjuring that second weekly +joint out of a housekeeping surplus that was a little financial triumph +in itself. But now, who cared if a leg of mutton were saved or not? What +did it matter if the cook sold the leavings and the butler opened more +wine than he decanted? Her husband could afford it. And so on.</p> + +<p>A discussion had arisen upon this subject the evening before; and the +silent enigmatical man whom she had married, whom she understood so +little, and who, from the fact that he treated her as something between +an incompetent servant and a spoiled child, appeared to understand her +even less, had spoken out more freely than usual, with not altogether +happy results. Daphne above all loved openness and candour, and she +could not endure to feel that her husband was exercising forbearance +towards her, or making allowances, or talking down to her level. +Consequently the laborious little lecture she had received, with its +studied moderation of tone and its obvious desire to let her down +gently, had had an unfortunate but not altogether unnatural result. +Juggernaut would have done better to employ his big guns, such as he +reserved for refractory public meetings. As it was, Daphne lost her +temper.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she blazed out suddenly, "I <i>know</i> I'm a failure, so why rub it +in? I <i>know</i> you married me to keep house for you, so you have a perfect +right to complain if I do it badly. Well, you have told me; now I know. +Shall we drop the subject? I will endeavour to be more competent, +honest, and obliging in future."</p> + +<p>Juggernaut rose suddenly from the table—they were sitting over their +dessert at the time—and walked to the mantelpiece, where he stood +leaning his head upon his arms, in an apparent endeavour to mesmerise +the fender. Daphne, cooling rapidly, wondered what he was thinking +about. Was he angry, or bored, or indifferent?</p> + +<p>Presently he turned round.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I don't handle you as successfully as I handle some other +problems, Daphne," he said reflectively. "Good-night!"</p> + +<p>That was all. He left the room, and Daphne had not seen him since. Her +anger was gone. By bedtime she was thoroughly ashamed of herself, and, +being Daphne, no other course lay open to her than that of saying so. +Hence her early rising next morning, and her effort to intercept the +motor.</p> + +<p>The failure of the latter enterprise made matters more difficult; for +courage once screwed to the sticking-point and timed for a certain +moment cannot as a rule outlast postponement.</p> + +<p>Still, she walked into the breakfast-room bravely.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she began, a little breathlessly, "I'm sorry I was cross last +night."</p> + +<p>Her husband was sitting with his back to the door. Possibly if he had +seen her face—flushed and appealing under its soft hat of grey +<i>suède</i>—he might have acted a little more helpfully than he did. He +merely laid down his newspaper and remarked cheerfully—</p> + +<p>"That is all right, dear. Let us say no more about it. Sit down to your +breakfast before it gets colder. You must have been for a long walk. +Fried sole or a sausage?"</p> + +<p>He rose and helped her to food from the sideboard, as promptly and +carefully as if she had been a newly arrived and important guest. It was +something; but compared with what he might have done it was nothing. In +effect, Daphne had asked for a kiss and had been given a sausage.</p> + +<p>It was rather a miserable breakfast. Daphne had vowed to herself not to +be angry again: consequently she could only mope. Juggernaut continued +to read the newspaper. The political world was in a ferment at the +moment. There was a promise for him in all this of work—trouble—the +facing of difficulties—the overcoming of strenuous opposition—the joy +of battle, in fact. Manlike, he overlooked the trouble that was brewing +at his own fireside.</p> + +<p>Presently he put down his newspaper and strolled to the open window.</p> + +<p>"What a gorgeous day, Daphne. And I have to spend it in a committee-room +at Kilchester!"</p> + +<p>"Anything important?" asked Daphne, determined to be interested.</p> + +<p>"Important? I should just think it was, only people refuse to realise +the fact. It's a meeting of the County Territorial Association. What +humbug the whole business is! They started the old Volunteers, coddled +them, asked nothing of them but a few drills and an annual picnic in +camp, and then laughed them out of existence for Saturday-afternoon +soldiers. Now they start the Territorials and go to the other extreme. +They require of a man that he shall attain, free gratis and for nothing, +at the sacrifice of the few scanty weeks which he gets by way of +holiday, to practically the same standard of efficiency as a regular +soldier, who is paid for it and gets the whole year to do it in. And +then they blame us, the County Associations, because we can't find +recruits for them! Luckily, we shall have compulsory service soon, and +that will end the farce once and for all."</p> + +<p>Daphne liked to be talked to like this. In the first place, it removed +the uncomfortable and humiliating sensation that she was a child in her +husband's eyes; and in the second, it adjusted her sense of proportion +as regards the male sex. Obviously, with all these dull but weighty +matters to occupy him, a man could not be expected to set such store by +conjugal unity as his wife, who had little else to think of.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I have been a little fool," she philosophised. "After all, a +man doesn't in the least realise how a woman——"</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do to-day?" asked her husband.</p> + +<p>"This afternoon I am going over to Croxley Dene to play tennis."</p> + +<p>"Anything this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to order the motor for twelve o'clock"—rather reluctantly. +"I suppose Vick will be back from Kilchester."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Are you going out to lunch somewhere?"</p> + +<p>"N-no."</p> + +<p>"Just a drive?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The fact is," said poor Daphne, hating herself for feeling like a +child detected in a fault, "I am going to try my hand at driving the +motor myself."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and Juggernaut continued to gaze out of the window, +while Daphne pleated the table-cloth.</p> + +<p>Presently the hateful expected words came.</p> + +<p>"I would rather you didn't."</p> + +<p>Daphne rose suddenly to her feet. Her face was aflame, and all her good +resolutions had vanished. She had always longed to drive the big car, +her appetite having been whetted by occasional experiments upon the +property—usually small, easily handled vehicles—of long-suffering +friends. She had broached the subject more than once, but had found her +husband curiously vague as regards permission. Usually it was "yes" or +"no" with him. This morning, tired of the humiliation of constantly +asking for leave, she had decided to give orders on her own account. And +but for Juggernaut's unlucky question she would have achieved her +purpose and settled accounts afterwards—a very different thing from +asking leave first, as every child knows.</p> + +<p>"And why?" she asked, with suspicious calmness.</p> + +<p>"Well, for one thing, I don't think a lady should be seen driving a +great covered-in limousine car. You wouldn't go out on the box seat of a +brougham, would you? As a matter of fact, if you will have patience for +a week or two——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know!" broke in Daphne passionately. "If I have patience for a +week or two, and am a good little girl, and order the meals punctually +in the meanwhile, you will perhaps take me for a run one afternoon, and +let me hold the wheel while you sit beside me with the second speed in. +Thank you! <i>Good</i> morning!"</p> + +<p>She pushed back her chair, whirled round with a vehement swirl of her +tweed skirt, and left the room.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut continued to finger a typewritten letter which he had just +taken from his pocket. It bore the address of a firm of motor-makers, +and said—</p> + +<div class="dvlttr"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—We beg to inform you that one of our Handy Runabout +10-12h-p. cars, for which we recently received your esteemed +order, is now to hand from the varnishers', and will be delivered +at Belton Hall on Tuesday next. As requested, we have given the +clutch-pedal and brake a particularly easy spring, with a view to +the car being driven by a lady.</p> +<p>"Thanking you for past favours, we are, sir yours faithfully,"</p> + +<p class="sig"> +"<span class="smcap">The Diablement-Odorant</span><br> +<span class="smcap">Motor Co., Ltd</span>." </p> +</div> +<p>Juggernaut put the letter back into his pocket.</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h5>II.</h5> +</div> +<p>In due course the Belton motor conveyed its owner to Kilchester and left +him there.</p> + +<p>"Shall I come back for you, sir?" inquired Mr Vick, the chauffeur. He +was a kindly man, despite his exalted station.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks—I'll take the train. But I believe Lady Carr wants you to +take her over to Croxley Dene this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship shall be took," said Mr Vick, with an indulgent +smile—Lady Carr was a favourite of his—and forthwith returned to +Belton.</p> + +<p>On running the car into the yard he found the coachman, Mr Windebank, a +sadly diminished luminary in these days, putting a polish upon an +unappreciative quadruped.</p> + +<p>"You and your machine, Mr Vick," announced Mr Windebank, "is wanted +round at twelve sharp."</p> + +<p>It was then eleven-fifteen.</p> + +<p>"Ho!" replied the ruffled Mr Vick, feeling much as the Emperor Nero +might have felt on being requested by the most recently immured early +Christian to see that the arena lions were kept a bit quieter to-morrow +night—"ho, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Them's your orders, Mr Vick," said Mr Windebank, resuming the peculiar +dental <i>obligato</i> which seems to be the inseparable accompaniment of the +toilet of a horse, temporarily suspended on this occasion to enable the +performer to discharge his little broadside.</p> + +<p>Mr Vick turned off various taps and switches on his dash-board, and the +humming of the engine ceased.</p> + +<p>"I take my orders," he proclaimed in majestic tones, "from the master +and missus direct, and from nobody else."</p> + +<p>Mr Windebank, after spending some moments in groping for a crushing +rejoinder, replied—</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better go inside and get 'em. And you'd better 'ang a +nosebag on your sparking-plug in the meanwhile," he added, with sudden +and savage irrelevance.</p> + +<p>Mr Vick adopted the former of these two suggestions, with the result +that at the hour of noon the car slid submissively round to the front of +the Hall. Presently Daphne appeared, and disregarding the door which Mr +Vick was holding open for her, stepped up into the driver's seat—the +throne itself—and took the wheel in her vigorous little hands.</p> + +<p>"I am going to drive, Vick," she observed cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Mr Vick preserved his self-control and smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have a licence, my lady?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Gracious, no! I am only just beginning," replied Daphne, who regarded a +driver's licence as a sort of reward of merit. "I want you to teach me. +Which of these things is the clutch-pedal?"</p> + +<p>"The left, my lady. I am afraid," added Mr Vick, with the air of one who +intends to stop this nonsense once and for all, "that you will find it +very stiff."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Daphne blandly. "And I suppose the other one is the +brake."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady; but——"</p> + +<p>"Then we can start. How do I put in the first speed?"</p> + +<p>Mr Vick, in what can only be described as a <i>moriturus-te-saluto!</i> +voice, gave the required information; and the car, after a dislocating +jerk, moved off at a stately four miles per hour. Presently, with much +slipping of the clutch and buzzing of the gear-wheels, the second, and +finally the third speed went in, and the car proceeded with all the +exuberance of its forty-five horse-power down the long straight drive. +Fortunately the lodge gates stood open, and the road outside was clear.</p> + +<p>Certainly Mr Vick behaved very well. Although every wrench and jar to +which his beloved engines were submitted appeared to react directly upon +his own internal mechanism, he never winced. Occasionally a muffled +groan or a muttered exclamation of "My tyres!" or "My differential!" +burst from his overwrought lips; but for the most part he sat like a +graven image, merely hoping that when the crash came it would be a good +one—something about which it would be really grateful and comforting +to say "I told you so!" He also cherished a strong hope that his name +would appear in the newspapers.</p> + +<p>But Daphne drove well. She had a good head and quick hands; and steering +a middle course between the extreme caution of the beginner and the +omniscient recklessness of the half-educated, she gave Mr Vick very +little excuse for anything in the shape of a genuine shudder. She +experienced a little difficulty in getting the clutch right out of +action in changing gear; and once she stopped her engine through going +round a corner with the brakes on—but that was all. Mr Vick began to +feel distinctly aggrieved.</p> + +<p>There was a spice of <i>abandon</i> in Daphne's present attitude. She had +burned her boats; she had flown in the face of authority; and she +intended to brazen it out. The breeze whistled in her ears; her eyes +blazed; her cheeks glowed. She felt in good fighting trim.</p> + +<p>Presently, fetching a compass, the car began to head towards Belton +again, and having been directed in masterly fashion through the narrow +gates by the back lodge, sped along the final stretch which led to home +and luncheon, at a comfortable thirty miles an hour.</p> + +<p>At the end of the dappled vista formed by the overarching trees of the +avenue appeared a black object, which presently resolved itself into Mr +Dawks, lolling comfortably in a patch of sunlight pending his mistress's +return.</p> + +<p>"Mind the dog, my lady!" cried Mr Vick suddenly.</p> + +<p>Daphne had every intention of minding the dog; but desire and +performance do not always coincide. Suddenly realizing that Mr Dawks, +who was now sitting up expectantly in the middle distance, wagging his +tail and extending a welcome as misplaced as that of Jephtha's daughter +under somewhat similar circumstances, had no conception of the necessity +for vacating his present position, Daphne put down both feet hard and +endeavored to bring the car to a standstill. But thirty miles an hour is +forty-four feet a second, and the momentum of a car weighing two tons is +not lightly to be arrested by a brake constructed only to obey the +pressure of a masculine boot. Next moment there was a pathetic little +yelp. Daphne had a brief vision of an incredulous and reproachful doggy +countenance; the car gave a slight lurch, and then came to full stop, as +Mr Vick, having already snapped off the ignition switch on the +dashboard, reached across behind Daphne's back and jammed on the side +brake.</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h5>III.</h5> +</div> +<p>It was Mr Dawks who really showed to the greatest advantage during the +next half-hour. He assured his mistress by every means in his power that +the whole thing was entirely his fault; and, like the courteous +gentleman that he was, he begged her with faintly wagging tail and +affectionate eyes not to distress herself unduly on his account. The +thing was done; let there be no more talk about it. It was nothing! By +way of showing that the cordiality of their relations was still +unimpaired he endeavored to shake hands, first with one paw and then the +other; but finding that both were broken he reluctantly desisted from +his efforts.</p> + +<p>They carried him—what was left of him—into the house, where Daphne, +white-faced and tearless, hung in an agony of self-reproach over the +friend of her youth—the last link with her girlhood. Dawks lay very +still. Once, opening his eyes and evidently feeling that something was +expected of him, he licked her hand. The tears came fast after that.</p> + +<p>Presently Windebank arrived. He loved all dumb beasts, and was skilled +in ministering to their ailments—wherein he transcended that highly +educated automaton Mr Vick, to whom the acme of life was represented by +a set of perfectly timed sparking-plugs—and he made poor mangled Dawks +as comfortable as possible.</p> + +<p>"Is he badly hurt, Windebank?" whispered Daphne.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss," said Windebank, touching his forelock. He was a man of few +words in the presence of his superiors.</p> + +<p>"Will he die?"</p> + +<p>Windebank gazed down in an embarrassed fashion at the close coils of +fair hair, bowed over the dog's rough coat. Then he stiffened himself +defiantly.</p> + +<p>"He'll get well right enough, miss," he said with great assurance. "Just +wants taking care of, that's all."</p> + +<p>It was a lie, and he knew it. But it was a kind lie. To such much is +forgiven.</p> + +<p>Daphne sat with her patient until three o'clock, and then, overcome with +the restlessness of impotent anxiety, and stimulated by an urgent +telephonic reminder, ordered out the horses—not the motor.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, old man," she said to Dawks, caressing the dog's long ears +and unbecoming nose. "I'll be back in an hour or two. Lie quiet, and +you'll soon be all right. Windebank says so."</p> + +<p>Mr Dawks whined gently and flapped his tail upon the floor, further +intimating by a faint tremor of his ungainly body that if circumstances +had permitted he would certainly have made a point of rising and +accompanying his mistress to the door and seeing her off the premises. +As things were, he must beg to be excused.</p> + +<p>Daphne drove to Croxley Dene, where for an hour or so she exchanged +banalities with the rest of the county and played a set of tennis.</p> + +<p>She drove home in the cool of the evening, more composed in mind. The +fresh air and exercise had done her good. Windebank had said that the +dog would live: that was everything. Less satisfactory to contemplate +was the approaching interview with her husband in the matter of the car. +Until now she had not thought of it.</p> + +<p>On reaching home she hurried to the library, where she had left the +invalid lying on a rug before the fire. Mr Dawks was not there.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Windebank has taken him to the stable," she said to +herself. "I'll go and——"</p> + +<p>She turned, and found herself face to face with her husband.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she asked nervously, "do you know where Dawks is? I suppose you +have heard——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have heard."</p> + +<p>Daphne shrank back at the sound of his voice. His face was like flint.</p> + +<p>"Then—where is he?" she faltered. "Windebank said——"</p> + +<p>"I had him shot."</p> + +<p>Daphne stared at him incredulously.</p> + +<p>"You had him <i>shot</i>?" she said slowly. "<i>My</i> Dawks?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It was rank cruelty on your part keeping the poor brute alive, +after—after reducing him to that state."</p> + +<p>The last half of the sentence may have been natural and justifiable, but +no one could call it generous. It is not easy to be merciful when one is +at white heat.</p> + +<p>Daphne stood up, very slim and straight, gazing stonily into her +husband's face.</p> + +<p>"Have you buried him?"</p> + +<p>"I told one of the gardeners to do so."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say, but we can——"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know," said Daphne with great deliberation, "that he was +the only living creature in all this great house that loved me—really +<i>loved</i> me?"</p> + +<p>Verily, here was war. There was a tense silence for a moment, and an +almost imperceptible flicker of some emotion passed over Juggernaut's +face. Then he said, with equal deliberation—</p> + +<p>"Without any exception?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, without <i>any</i> exception!" cried poor Daphne, stabbing passionately +in the dark. "And since he is dead," she added—"since you have killed +him—I am going home to Dad and the boys! They love me!"</p> + +<p>She stood before her husband with her head thrown back defiantly, white +and trembling with passion.</p> + +<p>"Very good. Perhaps that would be best," said Juggernaut quietly.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184">page184</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER TWELVE.</h3> + +<h4>CILLY; OR THE WORLD WELL LOST.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>"Stiffy," bellowed the new curate ferociously, "what the—I mean, why on +earth can't you keep that right foot steady? You edge off to leg every +time. If you get a straight ball, stand up to it! If you get a leg-ball, +turn round and have a slap at it! But for Heaven's sake don't go running +<i>away</i>! Especially from things like pats of butter!"</p> + +<p>"Awfully sorry, Mr Blunt!" gasped Stiffy abjectly, as another pat of +butter sang past his ear. "It's the rotten way I've been brought up! +I've never had any decent coaching before. Ough!... No, it didn't hurt a +bit, really! I shall be all right in a minute." He hopped round in a +constricted circle, apologetically caressing his stomach.</p> + +<p>They were in the paddock behind the Rectory orchard. The Reverend +Godfrey Blunt, a ruddy young man of cheerful countenance and ingenuous +disposition, had rolled out an extremely fiery wicket; and within the +encompassing net—Daphne's last birthday present—Stephen Blasius +Vereker, impaled frog-wise upon the handle of his bat, and divided +between a blind instinct of self-preservation and a desire not to appear +ungrateful for favours received, was frantically endeavouring to dodge +the deliveries of the church militant as they bumped past his head and +ricochetted off his ribs.</p> + +<p>"That's better," said Mr Blunt, as his pupil succeeded for the first +time in arresting the course of a fast long-hop with his bat instead of +his person. "But don't play back to yorkers."</p> + +<p>"All right!" said Stiffy dutifully. "I didn't know," he added in all +sincerity, "that it was a yorker, or I wouldn't have done it. Oh, I say, +well bowled! I don't think anybody could have stopped that one. It never +touched the ground at all!"</p> + +<p>Stiffy turned round and surveyed his prostrate wickets admiringly. He +was an encouraging person to bowl to.</p> + +<p>"No, it was a pretty hot one," admitted the curate modestly. "I think I +shall have to be going now," he added, mopping his brow. "Parish work, +and a sermon to write, worse luck! I think I have just time for a short +knock, though. Bowl away, Stiffy!"</p> + +<p>He took his stand at the wicket, and after three blind and +characteristic swipes succeeded in lifting a half-volley of Stiffy's +into the adjacent orchard. When the bowler, deeply gratified with a +performance of which he felt himself to be an unworthy but necessary +adjunct, returned ten minutes later from a successful search for the +ball, he found his hero hastily donning the old tweed jacket and +speckled straw hat which he kept for wear with his cricket flannels.</p> + +<p>"Hallo! Off?" cried Stiffy regretfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm afraid so," replied Mr Blunt. He was gazing anxiously through +a gap in the hedge which commanded the Rectory garden-gate. "This is my +busy day. So long, old man!"</p> + +<p>He vaulted the fence, and set off down the road at a vigorous and +businesslike trot. But after a hundred yards or so he halted, and looked +round him with an air which can only be described as furtive. Before him +the road, white and dusty, continued officiously on its way to the +village and duty. Along the right-hand side thereof ran a neat +rail-fence, skirting the confines of Tinkler's Den. The landscape +appeared deserted. All nature drowsed in the hot afternoon sun.</p> + +<p>Mr Blunt, who was a muscular young Christian, took a running jump of +some four feet six, cleared the topmost rail, and landed neatly on the +grassy slope which ran down towards the Den.</p> + +<p>"Now then, Sunny Jim!" remarked a reproving voice above his head, "<i>pas +si beaucoup de cela!</i>"</p> + +<p>However sound our nervous systems may be, we are all of us liable to be +startled at times. Mr Blunt was undoubtedly startled on the occasion, +and being young and only very recently ordained, signified the same in +the usual manner.</p> + +<p>When he looked up into the tree where Nicky was reclining, that virtuous +damsel's fingers were in her ears.</p> + +<p>"Mr Blunt," she remarked, "I am both surprised and shocked."</p> + +<p>"Veronica Vereker," replied Mr Blunt, turning and shaking his fist as he +retreated down the slope towards Tinkler's Den, "next time I get hold of +you I will wring your little neck!"</p> + +<p>Miss Veronica Vereker kissed the tips of her fingers to him.</p> + +<p>"We will now join," she proclaimed, in a voice surprisingly reminiscent +of the throaty tenor which Mr Blunt reserved for his ecclesiastical +performances, "in singing Hymn number two hundred and thirty-three; +during which those who desire to leave the church are recommended to do +so, as it is <i>my—turn—to—preach—the—sermon</i>!"</p> + +<p>But by this time the foe, running rapidly, was out of earshot.</p> + +<p>Half-an-hour later Stiffy, who was a gregarious animal, went in search +of his younger sister, whom he discovered, recently returned from her +sylvan skirmish with the curate, laboriously climbing into a hammock in +the orchard.</p> + +<p>"Nicky, will you come and play cricket?" he asked politely.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that means will I come and bowl to you?" replied Nicky.</p> + +<p>"No. You can bat if you like."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't do either," said Nicky agreeably.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do, then?" pursued Stiffy, with unimpaired <i>bonhomie</i>.</p> + +<p>"Personally, I am going to remain in this hammock," replied the lady. "I +recommend you, dear, to go and put your head in a bucket. <i>Good</i> +afternoon! Sorry you can't stop."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Cilly would play," mused Stiffy.</p> + +<p>"Cilly? I don't think! She is gloating over her clothes in her bedroom. +If you and I, my lad," continued Veronica reflectively, "were going to +be presented at Court next week, I wonder if we should make such unholy +shows of ourselves for days beforehand."</p> + +<p>"I know her boxes are all packed," pursued Stiffy hopefully, "because I +went and sat on the lids myself after lunch. Perhaps she will come out +for half-an-hour before tea. Dad and Tony won't be back from Tilney till +seven, so they are no good."</p> + +<p>"Well, run along, little man," said Nicky, closing her eyes. "I'm fed up +with you."</p> + +<p>Stiffy departed obediently, and for ten minutes his younger sister +reclined in her hammock, her sinful little soul purged for the moment of +evil intent against any man. When next she opened her eyes Stiffy was +standing disconsolately before her.</p> + +<p>"Go away," said Nicky faintly. "We have no empty bottles or rabbit-skins +at present. If you call round about Monday we shall be emptying the +dustbin——"</p> + +<p>"Cilly's not there," said Stiffy. "Keziah thinks she has gone out for a +walk. She saw her strolling down towards the Den half-an-hour ago."</p> + +<p>"<i>The Den?</i>" Nicky's eyes suddenly unclosed to their full radius. "My +che-ild! So <i>that's</i> the game! <i>That</i> was why the pale young curate was +jumping fences. Ha, <i>ha</i>! Stiffy, would you like some fun?"</p> + +<p>Stiffy, mystified but docile, assented.</p> + +<p>"We are going," announced Nicky, rolling gracefully out of the hammock, +"to stalk a brace of true lovers."</p> + +<p>"What—Mr Blunt and Cilly? Do you mean——? Are they really keen on each +other?" inquired the unobservant male amazedly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Are</i> they? My lad, it has been written all over them for weeks! I'm +not certain, though," continued the experienced Nicky, "that the poor +dears are aware of it themselves yet. But to-day is Cilly's last for +months, so——"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean they are down in the Den together?" demanded Stiffy.</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"But—Mr Blunt has gone off to do parish work. He told me so himself."</p> + +<p>"Parish work my foot!" commented Nicky simply. "Come on! Let's go and +mark down their trail! We can pretend to be Red Indians, if you like," +she added speciously.</p> + +<p>But the sportsmanlike Stiffy hung back.</p> + +<p>"Let's play cricket instead," he said hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Not me! Come on!"</p> + +<p>"Nicky," said Stiffy, searching his hand, so to speak, for trumps, +"Preston is killing a pig this afternoon at four o'clock. I've just +remembered. He promised not to begin till I came. We shall just be in +time. Hurry up!"</p> + +<p>"I am going," said Nicky firmly, "to stalk that couple. Are you coming?"</p> + +<p>"No. It's not playing the game," said Stiffy bravely.</p> + +<p>Nicky, uneasily conscious that he spoke the truth, smiled witheringly.</p> + +<p>"All right, milksop!" she said. "I shall go by myself. You can go and +hold the pig's hand."</p> + +<p>So they departed on their several errands.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>Meanwhile Cilly and the curate sat side by side beneath a gnarled and +venerable oak in Tinkler's Den.</p> + +<p>..."Then your name is called out," continued Cilly raptly, "and you +give one last squiggle to your train and go forward and curtsey—to +<i>all</i> the Royalties in turn, I think, but I'm not quite sure about that +part yet—and then you pass along out of the way, and somebody picks up +your train and throws it over your shoulder, and you find yourself in +another room, and it's all over. Won't it be heavenly?"</p> + +<p>"Splendid!" replied Mr Blunt, without enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"After that," continued Cilly, "my sister is going to take me simply +everywhere. And I am to meet lots of nice people. It's too late for +Henley and Ascot and that sort of thing this summer, but I am to have +them all next year. Later on, we are going to Scotland. I'm not at all a +lucky girl, am I?"</p> + +<p>It was one of those questions to which, despite its form, an experienced +Latin grammarian would have unhesitatingly prefixed the particle +<i>nonne</i>. But the Reverend Godfrey Blunt merely replied in a hollow +voice—</p> + +<p>"What price me?"</p> + +<p>Cilly, startled, turned and regarded his hot but honest face, and then +lowered her gaze hastily to the region of her own toes.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Godfrey was a fine upstanding young man, with merry grey +eyes; and there was a cheerful and boisterous <i>bonhomie</i> about his +conversation which the exigencies of his calling had not yet intoned out +of him. No one had ever considered him brilliant, for his strength lay +in character rather than intellect. He was a perfect specimen of that +unromantic but priceless type with which our public schools and +universities never fail to meet the insatiable demands of a voracious +Empire. The assistant-commissioner, the company officer, the junior +form-master, the slum-curate—these are they that propel the ship of +State. Up above upon the quarter-deck, looking portentously wise and +occasionally quarrelling for the possession of the helm, you may behold +their superiors—the Cabinet Minister, the Prelate, the Generalissimo. +But our friends remain below the water-line, unheeded, uncredited, and +see to it that the wheels go round. They expect no thanks, and they are +not disappointed. The ship goes forward, and that is all they care +about. Of such is the British Empire.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Godfrey Blunt was one of this nameless host. At school he +had scraped into the Sixth by a hair's-breadth; at the University he had +secured a degree of purely nominal value. He had been an unheroic member +of his House eleven; thereafter he had excoriated his person +uncomplainingly and unsuccessfully upon a fixed seat for the space of +three years, not because he expected to make bumps or obtain his Blue, +but because his College second crew had need of him. Since then he had +worked for five years in a parish in Bermondsey, at a stipend of one +hundred pounds a-year; and only the doctor's ultimatum had prevailed on +him to try country work for a change. His spelling was shaky, his +theology would have made Pusey turn in his grave, and his sermons would +have bored his own mother. But he was a man.</p> + +<p>Cilly, whom we left bashfully contemplating her shoe-buckles under an +oak-tree, was conscious of a new, sudden, and disturbing thrill. Young +girls are said seldom to reflect and never to reason. They have no need. +They have methods of their own of arriving at the root of the matter. +Cilly realised in a flash that if a proper man was the object of her +proposed journey through the great and enticing world before her, she +need never set out at all. Something answering to that description was +sitting beside her, sighing like a furnace. Her face flamed.</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" she inquired unsteadily.</p> + +<p>"I said 'What price me?'" reiterated the curate mournfully.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean——" he spoke hesitatingly, like a man picking his words from an +overwhelming crowd of applicants—"well, I mean this. You and I have +seen a lot of each other since I came here. You have been awfully good +to me, and I have got into the way of bringing you my little troubles, +and turning to you generally if I felt dismal or humpy. (There <i>are</i> +more joyful spots, you know, to spend one's leisure hours in than Mrs +Tice's first-floor-front.) And now—now you are going away from me, to +meet all sorts of attractive people and have the time of your life. You +will have a fearful lot of attention paid to you. Nine out of ten men +you meet will fall in love with you——"</p> + +<p>"Oh! nonsense!" said Cilly feebly.</p> + +<p>"But I <i>know</i> it," persisted Blunt. "I simply can't conceive any man +being able to do anything else. Do you know——" the words stuck in his +throat for a moment and then came with a rush—"do you know that you are +the most adorable girl on God's earth? I love you! I love you! +<i>There</i>—I've said it! I had meant to say a lot more first—work up to +it by degrees, you know—but it has carried me away of its own accord. I +love you—dear, <i>dear</i> Cilly!"</p> + +<p>There was a long stillness. All nature seemed to be watching with bated +breath for the next step. Only above their heads the branches of the +oak-tree crackled gently. Cilly's head swam. Something new and tremulous +was stirring within her. She closed her eyes, lest the spell should be +broken by the sight of some mundane external object. A purely +hypothetical fairy prince, composed of equal parts of Peer of the +Realm, Lifeguardsman, Mr Sandow, Lord Byron, and the Bishop of London, +whom she had cherished in the inmost sanctuary of her heart ever since +she had reached the age at which a girl begins to dream about young men, +suddenly rocked upon his pedestal. Then she opened her eyes again, and +contemplated the homely features of the Reverend Godfrey Blunt.</p> + +<p>Not that they appeared homely any longer. Never had a man's face +undergone such a transformation in so short a time. To her shy eyes he +had grown positively handsome. Cilly felt her whole being suddenly drawn +towards this goodly youth. The composite paragon enshrined in her heart +gave a final lurch and then fell headlong, to lie dismembered and +disregarded, Dagon-like, at the foot of his own pedestal.</p> + +<p>...Slowly their hands met, and they gazed upon one another long and +rapturously. How long, they did not know. There was no need to take +count of time. They seemed to be sitting together all alone on the edge +of the universe, with eternity before them. The next step was obvious +enough; they both realised what it must be: but they did not hurry. They +sat on, this happy pair, waiting for inspiration.</p> + +<p>It came—straight from above their heads.</p> + +<p>"Kiss her, you fool!" commanded a hoarse and frenzied voice far up the +tree.</p> + +<p>Crackle! Crash! <i>Bump!</i></p> + +<p>And Nicky, overestimating in her enthusiasm the supporting power of an +outlying branch, tumbled, headlong but undamaged, a medley of arms and +legs and blue pinafore, right at their feet.</p> + +<p>A few hours later Daphne, preceded by a rather incoherent telegram, +drove up to the Rectory in the station fly.</p> + +<p>She was met at the door by Cilly, and the two, as if by one impulse, +fell into each other's arms.</p> + +<p>"Daphne, <i>dear</i> Daph," murmured the impetuous Cilly, "I am the happiest +girl in all the world."</p> + +<p>"And I," said Daphne simply, "am the most miserable."</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197">page197</a></span> + + +<h3>CHAPTER THIRTEEN.</h3> + +<h4>THE COUNTERSTROKE.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>The scene is the Restaurant International, a palatial house of +refreshment in Regent Street; the time half-past one. At a table in the +corner of the Grand Salle à Manger, set in a position calculated to +extract full value from the efforts of a powerful orchestra, a waiter of +majestic mien, with a powdered head, and a gold tassel on his left +shoulder, stands towering over two recently arrived patrons with the +<i>menu</i>.</p> + +<p>The patrons, incredible as it may appear, are Stephen Blasius Vereker +and Veronica Elizabeth Vereker. Stiffy, in the gala dress of a schoolboy +of eighteen, is perspiring freely under the gaze of the overpowering +menial at his elbow; Nicky, in a new hat of colossal but correct +dimensions (the gift of her eldest sister), with her hair gathered into +the usual <i>ne plus ultra</i> of the "flapper,"—a constricted pigtail tied +with a large black bow of ribbon,—is entirely unruffled.</p> + +<p>How they got there will appear presently.</p> + +<p>"Will you lunch <i>à la carte</i> or <i>table d'hôte</i>, sir?" inquired the +waiter, much as an executioner might say—"Will you be drawn or +quartered?"</p> + +<p>The flustered Stiffy gazed helplessly at his sister.</p> + +<p>"He means, will you pay for what you eat or eat what you pay for, dear," +explained that experienced and resourceful young person. "You must +excuse him," she added, turning her round and trustful orbs upon the +waiter. "He is not accustomed to being given a choice of dishes."</p> + +<p>The waiter, realising that here was a worthy opponent, maintained a +countenance of wood and repeated the question.</p> + +<p>"You had better give <i>me</i> the <i>menu</i>," said Miss Vereker. "How much is +the <i>table d'hôte</i> lunch?"</p> + +<p>"Four shillings, madam."</p> + +<p>Madam mused.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," she said thoughtfully. "Can we run to it, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!" said Stiffy in an undertone, reddening with shame. "You +know Daphne gave me——"</p> + +<p>Nicky smiled joyfully.</p> + +<p>"So she did. I had forgotten. Two and nine, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>Stiffy, with a five-pound-note crackling in his pocket, merely gaped.</p> + +<p>"Then," continued Nicky, calculating on her fingers, "there is the +three and a penny which we got out of the missionary-box. That makes +five and tenpence. And there is that shilling that slipped down into +your boot, Stiffy. You can easily get under the table and take it off. +Six and tenpence. I have elevenpence in stamps, and that, with the +threepenny-bit we picked up off the floor of the bus, makes eight +shillings. We can just do it. Thank you," she intimated to the waiter +with a seraphic smile—"we will take <i>table d'hôte</i>. I suppose," she +added wistfully, "there would be no reduction if I took my little boy on +my knee?"</p> + +<p>"None, madam."</p> + +<p>And the waiter, still unshaken, departed to bring the <i>hors +d'œuvres</i>.</p> + +<p>"Nicky, don't play the goat!" urged the respectable Stephen in a low and +agitated voice. "That blighter really <i>believes</i> we are going to pay him +in stamps. We shall get flung out, for a cert!"</p> + +<p>"It's all right," said Nicky. "I am only going to try and make him +laugh."</p> + +<p>"You'll fail," said her brother with conviction.</p> + +<p>At this moment a mighty tray, covered with such inducements to appetite +as anchovies, sliced tomatoes, sardines, radishes, chopped celery, +Strasburg sausage, <i>et hoc genus omne</i>—all equally superfluous in the +case of a schoolboy up in town on an <i>exeat</i>—was laid before him with +a stately flourish. Then the waiter came stiffly and grimly to +attention, and stood obviously expectant. <i>Hors d'œuvres</i> are rather +puzzling things. Here was a chance for the tyros before him to show +their mettle.</p> + +<p>They showed it.</p> + +<p>"One gets tired of these everlasting things," mused Nicky wearily. "I'll +just peck at one or two. You can fetch the soup, waiter: we shall be +ready for it immediately."</p> + +<p>"Thick or clear soup, madam?"</p> + +<p>"We'll have thick to begin with, please: then clear," replied Nicky +calmly. "Stiffy, I will take an anchovy."</p> + +<p>The waiter was not more than two minutes absent, but ere he returned a +lightning transformation scene had been enacted.</p> + +<p>Certainly the Briton, with all his faults, surpasses the foreigner in +the control of the emotions. What a Gaul or a Teuton would have done on +witnessing the sight which met the eyes of the imperturbable Ganymede of +the Restaurant International when he returned with the thick soup, it is +difficult to say. The first would probably have wept, the second have +sent for a policeman. For lo! the richly dight <i>hors d'œuvres</i> tray +had become a solitude—the component parts thereof were duly discovered +by the charwoman next morning amid the foliage of an adjacent palm—and +the tail of the last radish was disappearing into Stiffy's mouth. +Stiffy, once roused, made an excellent accomplice, though he had no +initiative of his own.</p> + +<p>The waiter's face twitched ever so slightly, and there was an undulating +movement in the region of his scarlet waistcoat. But he recovered +himself in time, and having served the thick soup, departed unbidden in +search of the clear.</p> + +<p>"Nicky," said Stiffy in a concerned voice, "are we really going to have +everything on the <i>menu</i>?"</p> + +<p>"You are, my son," replied Nicky. "I, being a lady, will make use of +this palm-tub."</p> + +<p>The waiter brought the clear soup, and asked for instructions with +regard to the fish.</p> + +<p>"What sort of fish have you?"</p> + +<p>The man proffered the card.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sole: Sauce Tartare.</i> That means sole with tartar sauce," Nicky +translated glibly for the benefit of her untutored relative. "We had +better not have that. Tartar sauce always makes him sick," she explained +to the waiter, indicating the fermenting Stiffy. "What else is there? +Let me see—ah! <i>Blanchailles!</i>—er—<i>Blanchailles!</i> A very delicate +fish! Quite so. You may bring us"—her brain worked desperately behind a +smiling face, but fruitlessly—"a <i>blanchaille</i>, waiter."</p> + +<p>There was an ominous silence. Then the waiter asked, in a voice tinged +with polite incredulity—</p> + +<p>"A <i>whole</i> one each, madam?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said madam in freezing tones.</p> + +<p>The waiter bowed deferentially, and departed.</p> + +<p>"Stiffy," inquired Nicky in agonised tones, "what <i>is</i> a <i>blanchaille?</i> +Don't say it's a cod!"</p> + +<p>Stiffy devoted three hours a-week to the study of Modern Languages, but +so far no <i>blanchaille</i> has swum into his vocabulary.</p> + +<p>"I've a notion," he said after a prolonged mental effort, "that it is a +sturgeon."</p> + +<p>"How big is a sturgeon?"</p> + +<p>"It's about the size of a shark, I think."</p> + +<p>"Mercy! And we have ordered a whole one each!"</p> + +<p>But their capacity was not to be taxed after all. The waiter returned, +and with the nonchalant demeanour of a hardened clubman playing out an +unexpected ace of trumps, laid down two plates. In the centre of each +reposed a single forlorn diminutive whitebait.</p> + +<p>But it was here that Veronica Elizabeth Vereker rose to her greatest +heights. She inspected her own portion and then her brother's.</p> + +<p>"Waiter," she said at last, "will you kindly take away this young +gentleman's fish and ask the cook to give you a rather longer one? About +three-quarters of an inch, I should say. The child"—indicating her +hirsute and crimson senior—"gets very peevish and fretful if his +portion is smaller than any one else's."</p> + +<p>Without a word the waiter picked up Stiffy's plate and bore it away. His +broad back had become slightly bowed, and his finely chiselled legs had +a warped and bandy appearance. The strain was telling.</p> + +<p>Stiffy gazed upon his sister in rapt admiration.</p> + +<p>"Nicky, you <i>ripper</i>!" he said.</p> + +<p>After this it was mere child's play to request a stout gentleman with a +chain round his neck to submit the wine list—an imposing volume of many +pages—and after a heated and highly technical discussion on the +respective merits of Pommery and Cliquot, to order one stone-ginger and +two glasses.</p> + +<p>Nicky next instructed the waiter to present her compliments to the +leader of the band, and to request as a special favour that he and his +colleagues would oblige with a rendering of <i>Shall We Gather at the +River?</i> The waiter returned with a reply to the effect that the <i>chef +d'orchestre</i> would be delighted. Unfortunately he had not the full score +by him at the moment, but had sent along to the Café Royal to borrow a +copy. Everything would be in readiness about tea-time. It was then a +little after two, and it was admitted by both Nicky and Stiffy that +honours on this occasion were divided.</p> + +<p>So far both sides, as the umpires say on Territorial field-days, had +acquitted themselves in a manner deserving great credit; but the waiter +scored the odd and winning trick a little later, in a particularly +subtle manner. Age and experience always tell. Nicky, unduly inflated by +early success, insisted upon Stiffy ordering a liqueur with his coffee. +Green Chartreuse was finally selected and brought.</p> + +<p>"Shall I pour it into your coffee, sir?" asked the waiter respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Please," said the unsuspecting Stiffy.</p> + +<p>The man obeyed, and directly afterwards emitted a sound which caused +both children to glance up suddenly. They glared suspiciously, first at +one another, then at the back of the retreating foe.</p> + +<p>"Do people drink Green Chartreuse <i>in</i> their coffee?" asked Nicky +apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Stiffy. He tasted the compound. "No, I'm <i>blowed</i> +if they do! Nicky, we've been had. He's one up!"</p> + +<p>"It would score him off," replied the undefeated Nicky, "if you could +manage to be sick."</p> + +<p>But Stiffy held out no hope of this happy retaliation; and they +ultimately produced the five-pound note and paid the score with somewhat +chastened mien, adding a <i>douceur</i> which was as excessive as it was +unnecessary. Waiters do not get much entertainment out of serving meals +as a rule.</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h5>II.</h5> +</div> +<p>"Now we must meet Daphne," said Stiffy, as they left the restaurant and +hailed a cab.</p> + +<p>They were in town for an all-too-brief sojourn of twenty-four hours, to +assist at the inspection of Daphne's new house. It was now February, and +Lady Carr had not seen her husband since the eruption at Belton last +summer. Juggernaut had made no attempt to prevent her going home, and +when she wrote later, requesting that Master Brian Vereker Carr might be +sent to her, had despatched him without remonstrance. No one save Cilly +and her beloved Godfrey—least of all the Rector—knew of the true state +of affairs; and all during that autumn and winter Daphne was happier in +a fashion than she had ever been. To a large extent she resumed command +of the household, setting Cilly free for other very right and natural +diversions; and a sort of <i>édition de luxe</i> of the old days came into +being, with first-hand food at every meal and a boy to clean the boots +and drive the pony.</p> + +<p>Daphne was entirely impervious to the gravity of the situation. There +are certain women who are curiously wanting in all sense of +responsibility. They preserve the child's lack of perspective and +proportion even after they grow up, and the consequences are sometimes +disastrous. If love arrives upon the scene no further harm ensues, for +the missing qualities spring up, with that Jonah's-gourd-like suddenness +which characterises so many feminine developments, at the first touch of +the great magician's wand. The retarded faculties achieve maturity in a +flash, and their owner becomes maternal, solicitous, Martha-like; and +all is well.</p> + +<p>Daphne was one of these women; but so far, unfortunately, she had failed +to fall in love. Her marriage had never really touched her. Her husband +had vibrated many strings in her responsive impulsive young +heart—gratitude, affection, admiration,—but the great harmonious +combination, the master-chord, had yet to be struck. Consequently she +saw nothing unusual in living apart from her husband, financing her +family with his money, and enjoying herself with friends whom he did not +know.</p> + +<p>Early in the year, however, it occurred to her that it would be pleasant +to go home again for a time. Her elastic nature had entirely recovered +from the stress of last summer's crisis, and she was frankly consumed +with curiosity on the subject of the new house in Berkeley Square—and +said so. It was perhaps an unfortunate reason for a wife to give for +wishing to return to her husband, but this did not occur to her at the +time. She received a brief note in reply, saying that the furnishing and +decorating were now practically completed, and the house was ready for +her inspection any time she cared to come up to town. Hence this joyous +expedition.</p> + +<p>Daphne had half expected to find her husband waiting for her at the +house, for the Parliamentary recess was over and she knew he was almost +certain to be in town. Instead, she was received by an overwhelmingly +polite individual named Hibbins, from the house-furnishers. Mr Hibbins' +appearance and deportment proved a sore trial to the composure of Nicky, +who exploded at frequent and unexpected intervals throughout the +afternoon, lamely alleging the fantastic design of some very ordinary +wallpaper or the shortness of Stiffy's Sunday trousers in excuse.</p> + +<p>It was essentially a masculine house, furnished in accordance with the +man's ideas of solidity and comfort. The high oak panelling and +dark-green frieze in the dining-room pleased Daphne, who recognised that +glass and silver, well-illuminated, would show up bravely in such a +setting. The drawing-room was perhaps a little too severe in its scheme +of decoration: Daphne would have preferred something more feminine. "But +that comes," she reflected characteristically, "of leaving the +declaration to your partner!" There was a billiard-room in which Nicky +declared it would be a sin to place a billiard-table, so perfectly was +it adapted for waltzing after dinner.</p> + +<p>Opening out of the billiard-room was a plainly furnished but attractive +little set of apartments—"the bachelor suite" Mr Hibbins designated +it—consisting of a snug study with an apartment adjoining, containing a +small camp-bed and a large bath. Daphne's own rooms consisted of a +bedroom and boudoir on the first floor, with wide bow-windows.</p> + +<p>The nursery came last. It was a large irregular-shaped room at the top +of the house, full of unexpected corners and curious alcoves such as +children love, affording convenient caves for robbers and eligible lairs +for wild beasts, fabulous or authentic. In addition to the regulation +nursery furniture there was a miniature set, in green-stained wood—a +table barely eighteen inches high, a tiny arm-chair, and a pigmy sofa +upon which Master Brian's friends might recline when they came to drink +tea, or its equivalent. Round the whole room ran a brightly coloured +dado covered with life-size figures of all the people we love when we +are young—Jack the Giant-Killer, Old King Cole, Cinderella, and the +Three Bears. Even Peter Pan, with residence and following, was there. +The spectacle of Doctor Johnson taking a walk down Fleet Street would +pale to insignificance compared with that of Master Brian Vereker Carr +enjoying a constitutional along his own dado, encountering a new friend +round every corner.</p> + +<p>Daphne suddenly realised that here was yet another aspect of this +strange, impenetrable husband of hers. The room in its way was a work of +genius—the genius that understands children.</p> + +<p>As they departed to catch the afternoon train to Snayling the obsequious +Mr Hibbins produced a letter.</p> + +<p>Sir John Carr, he explained, had called at the head office of their firm +that morning—in <i>person</i>, Mr Hibbins added with a gratified smile—and +requested that this letter should be handed to her ladyship in the +afternoon. Sir John had also instructed Mr Hibbins to inform her +ladyship that any improvements or alterations which she desired had only +to be mentioned to be carried out.</p> + +<p>Mr Hibbins having handed them into a cab and bidden them an unctuous +farewell, they drove away to the station, Nicky atoning for previous +aloofness by hanging out of the window and waving her handkerchief until +they turned the corner.</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h5>III.</h5> +</div> +<p>The journey from London to Snayling, involving as it does a run of forty +miles by main line, a wait of indefinite duration at a junction +furnished with no other facilities for recreation than a +weighing-machine and a printed and detailed record of the fate which +awaits persons who compass the awe-inspiring but cumbrous crime of +travelling-by-a-class-superior-to-that-to-which-the-ticket-in-their-possession-entitles-them, +and concluding with an interminable +crawl along a branch line, is not at first sight an enterprise that +promises much joyous adventure; but Nicky and Stiffy, who usually +contrived to keep <i>ennui</i> at arm's-length, had a very tolerable time of +it.</p> + +<p>Their efforts at first were directed to securing an apartment to +themselves—an achievement which, when you come to think of it, fairly +epitomises the Englishman's outlook on life in general.</p> + +<p>"Hang your face out of the window, Stiffy, my lad," commanded Nicky, +returning from an unsuccessful attempt to wheedle the guard into +labelling their carriage "engaged," "and play at Horatius Cocles till +the train starts. That ought to do the trick."</p> + +<p>But no. At the last moment a crusty-looking old gentleman wrenched the +door open, nearly precipitating Horatius Cocles (and face) on to the +platform, and sat down with great determination in the corner seat. He +glared ferociously at the demure-looking pair before him, in a manner +which intimated plainly that he was too old a customer to be kept out of +his usual compartment by tricks of <i>that</i> kind. After this he produced +<i>The Westminster Gazette</i> from a handbag and began to read it.</p> + +<p>Nicky gave him five minutes. Then, turning to her brother and +scrutinising his freckled countenance, she observed in clear and +measured tones—</p> + +<p>"I think they have let you out rather <i>soon</i>, John."</p> + +<p>Stiffy, realising that he was the person addressed and that some fresh +game was afoot, looked as intelligent as possible, and waited. Daphne, +in the far corner of the carriage, hurriedly opened her husband's letter +and began to read it.</p> + +<p>"The marks aren't all gone yet," continued Nicky, inspecting her brother +anxiously. "Are you still peeling?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I think so," said Stiffy, groping for his cue.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Nicky nodded her head judicially. "We must give you a carbolic +bath when we get you home."</p> + +<p><i>The Westminster Gazette</i> emitted a perceptible crackle.</p> + +<p>"It will never do," pursued Nicky, getting into her stride, "to have you +disfigured for life."</p> + +<p>Stiffy, who was impervious to all reflections upon his personal +appearance, grinned faintly. Opposite, a scared and bulging eye slid +cautiously round the edge of <i>The Westminster Gazette</i>, and embarked +upon a minute and apprehensive inspection of the plague-stricken youth. +Nicky saw, and thrilled with gratification. She was on the point of +continuing when the train dived into a tunnel. Having no desire that her +schemes should go awry in the din, she waited.</p> + +<p>The train came to a sudden and unexplained stop. Deathlike silence +reigned, broken only by murmurs of conversation from next door. +Presently in the gross darkness Nicky's voice was once more uplifted.</p> + +<p>"By the way, is it infectious, or merely <i>contagious</i>? I meant to ask +when I called for you at the Institute"—she was rather proud of that +inspiration: an Institute sounded more terrifying and mysterious than a +Hospital—"but in the excitement of that last fainting-fit of yours I +forgot. Which is it?"</p> + +<p>"Both, I think," said Stiffy, anxious to help.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I feared as much. Still, things might be worse," commented Nicky +philosophically. "So many of these complaints are infectious in the +early stages, when no one suspects any trouble. Mumps, for instance, or +scarlet fever. But others, like yours, are only dangerous in the +convalescent stage, and then of course one knows exactly where one is."</p> + +<p>There was a crumpling of paper in the darkness, accompanied by a +shuffling of feet and a vibratory motion of the seat-cushions—all +indicative of the presence of one who knows exactly where <i>he</i> is, and +regrets the fact exceedingly.</p> + +<p>"The air is very close in here," resumed Nicky's voice. "I wonder——" +she whispered a sentence into Stiffy's ear, the only distinguishable +word in which was "germs." "Of course, I have <i>had</i> it—slightly," she +added in a relieved tone.</p> + +<p>Something moved again in the darkness opposite to them, and then came a +sound as of a window being cautiously slid open.</p> + +<p>"Still, I <i>think</i>," replied Stiffy solicitously—as usual he was warming +up to the game slowly but surely—"that it would be wiser for you to +keep your mouth closed and breathe through your nose. One cannot be too +careful."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Nicky.</p> + +<p>Once again silence reigned. But presently there fell upon the ears of +the conspirators, rendered almost incredulous by joy, an unmistakable +and stertorous sound, as of some heavy and asthmatic body taking in air +through unaccustomed channels.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the train, groaning arthritically, resumed its way +and crawled out of the tunnel into a station. Nicky and Stiffy, blinking +in the sudden daylight, beheld the reward of their labours. A corpulent +and rapidly ageing citizen, shrinking apprehensively into a corner of +the compartment and holding a small handbag upon his knees as if with a +view to instant departure, sat glaring malignantly upon them. His face +was mottled, his mouth was firmly closed, and he breathed perseveringly +through his nostrils.</p> + +<p>Next moment he had flung open the door and was out upon the platform, +inhaling great gulps of vernal air and looking for the station-master.</p> + +<p>"Stiffy, you darling! I'll never call you a fat-head again!" declared +Nicky, enthusiastically embracing her complacent accomplice. "That +notion of yours was simply <i>It!</i> Daph, wasn't it splen—Hallo! Bless me, +Stiffy, if Daph isn't breathing through her nose too! Look!"</p> + +<p>Certainly Daphne's lips were tightly compressed, but she turned to her +companions and smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, kids," she said; "I think this carriage is overheated +or something. I shall be all right in a minute. Keep that window open, +Stiffy dear."</p> + +<p>She was very white, but on emphatically declining Nicky's offer of first +aid she was left to herself, while her brother and sister discussed the +course to be followed in the event of another invasion of the carriage. +Like true artists, they scorned to achieve the same effect by the same +means twice running.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Daphne re-read her husband's letter.</p> +<div class="dvlttr"> + +<p> "... I have waited six months, and as you display no inclination + to look facts in the face, I am compelled to take the initiative + myself. As far as I can gather from your attitude, you seem to + consider that things are very well as they are. On this point I + beg to differ from you. The present situation must <i>end</i>. We must + either come together again or part for good on some definitely + arranged terms.</p> + +<P> "... As you have exhibited no desire to reconcile yourself to + me—your letter indicates that your sole object in returning home + is to play with your latest toy, the new house—I conclude that + you wish to remain your own mistress. I therefore place the new + house entirely at your disposal. You can draw money as you + require it from Coutts', and I will see to it that there is + always an adequate balance. I think, if you have no objection, + that it would be as well if I occasionally came to the house, and + occupied the bachelor suite off the billiard-room; but I shall + come and go without troubling you. We ought to make this + concession to appearances.</p> + + + +<p>"I should not like your father, for instance, to be made unhappy +by the knowledge that his daughter and her husband found it +better to go their several ways.</p> + +<p>"... As for the custody of the boy——"</p> + +</div> +<p>A long, slow shudder rippled down Daphne's spine. Custody! There was a +horrible legal, end-of-all-things, divorce-court flavour about the word.</p> + +<p>"I think it would be a good scheme, Stiffy dear," broke in Nicky's +cheerful voice, "for you to pretend this time that you have just been +discharged from an asylum. I will be taking you home, and ..." Her voice +faded.</p> +<div class="dvlttr"> + +<p> " ... You will naturally like to have him with you while he is a + mere child. I will therefore leave him in your hands for the + present. Later, when he goes to a public school and University, I + think I should like him to be with me during his holidays. When + he grows up altogether, he must please himself about——."</p> +</div> + +<p>Public School! University! Daphne turned sick and faint. Were the +provisions of this merciless letter to cover all eternity? What had she +done to deserve this?</p> + +<p>"It would be a bright thought," continued Nicky's voice, returning from +a great distance, "to roll up your handkerchief into a ball and put it +right into your mouth. Then do something to attract their attention, and +when they are all looking, pull it right out with a jerk, and mop and +mow. <i>Can</i> you mop and mow, Stiffy? Mop, anyhow! Just before a station, +you know, so that they can get out. If that doesn't work, roll about on +the cushions, and——."</p> + +<p>Daphne detached her gaze from the flying landscape, and finished the +letter.</p> +<div class="dvlttr"> + +<p> "Forgive me if I appear to have resorted to extreme or harsh + measures. I suppose I am a hard man: at any rate, I am not + pliable. I dare say if I had been differently built I might have + played the part of the modern husband with fair success, and you + could have picked your companions at will. Unfortunately, I would + rather die than permit you to impose such a <i>régime</i> upon me, as + you seem prepared to do. The thing is degrading. To my mind there + can be no compromise, no half-measures, between man and wife. It + must be all in all, or not at all....</p> + +<p> "Lastly, Daphne, let me say how sorry I am that things have come + to this pass. I realise that it is my fault. I should not have + asked a young and inexperienced girl to marry me. You could not + be expected to know better: I might and should. And it is because + I realise and admit that the fault is mine, that I refrain from + "attaching any blame to you or uttering any reproaches. All I can + do is to say that I am sorry, and make it possible for you to go + your way, unhampered as far as may be by the ties of a marriage + which should never have taken place.</p> + +<p> "If I can at any time be of service to you, command me. I can + never forget that we have had our happy hours together."</p> +</div> + +<p>Daphne folded up the letter with mechanical deliberation. The first +numbness was over. Her brain was clear again, and thoughts were +crowding in upon her. But two things overtopped all the others for +the moment.</p> + +<p>The first was the realisation of the truth of her husband's words. The +old situation <i>had</i> been impossible—as impossible as the new one was +inevitable. She saw that—at last. "All in all, or not at all," he had +said, and he was right.</p> + +<p>The second was a sudden awakening to the knowledge that we never begin +really to want a thing in this world until we find we cannot have it.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219">page219</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER FOURTEEN.</h3> + +<h4>INTERVENTION.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>"Madame," announced the major-domo of the Hôtel Magnifique with a superb +gesture, "the post from England!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Thémistocle," said Mrs Carfrae. "But you are over-generous: +one of these letters is not for me."</p> + +<p>She handed back an envelope.</p> + +<p>Thémistocle, needless to remark, was desolated at his own carelessness, +and said so. But the old lady cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Don't distress yourself unduly, Thémistocle. It is a mistake even an +English body might have made. There is not much difference between +Carfrae and Carthew."</p> + +<p>The punctilious Thémistocle refused to be comforted.</p> + +<p>"But no, madame," he persisted; "I should have observed that the letter +addressed itself to a monsieur, and not a madame. Doubtless it is +intended for one of the English party who arrive this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"An English party? Is my seclusion to be disturbed by the disciples of +the good Monsieur Cook?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly no, madame. These are English milords from Marseilles. The +Riviera season has been a failure: the mistral blows eternally. +Therefore the party abandons Cannes and telegraphs for apartments at the +Hôtel Magnifique."</p> + +<p>"Are they from London? Possibly I may be acquainted with some of them. +What are their names?"</p> + +<p>Thémistocle would inquire. He departed amid a whirlwind of bows, leaving +Mrs Carfrae to continue her <i>déjeûner</i> in the sunny verandah of her +sitting-room. She came to Algiers every spring, and she came unattended +save for a grim-faced Scottish maid of her own age. It was Mrs Carfrae's +habit to assume that she and her wheeled chair were a drag upon the +world; and she systematically declined invitations to join friends upon +the Riviera. People, she explained, who would otherwise have been +playing tennis at the Beau Site or roulette at the Casino would feel +bound to relinquish these pursuits and entertain her. So she came to +Algiers by herself, this proud, lonely old lady.</p> + +<p>"Carthew?" she mused. "That is the name of Johnny Carr's familiar +spirit. And that letter was in Johnny's handwriting. Well, Thémistocle, +who are—stand <i>still</i>, man!"</p> + +<p>Thémistocle reluctantly curtailed an elaborate obeisance, and came to +attention. The leader of the expedition, he announced, was Milord the +Right Hon. Sir Hilton Bart., with Milady Hilton Bart. The names of the +other guests were not known, but there were eleven of them.</p> + +<p>They arrived on the steamer that afternoon, and drove in an imposing +procession up the long and dusty hill that leads to Mustapha Supérieur, +leaving Algiers—that curious combination of Mauretanian antiquity and +second-rate French provincialism—baking peacefully in the hot sunshine +below. As Thémistocle had predicted, they came unshepherded by the good +Mr Cook. They were of the breed and caste that has always found its own +way about the world.</p> + +<p>There was Sir Arthur Hilton, a slow-moving Briton of few words, with a +pretty wife of complementary volubility. There were one or two soldiers +on leave; there was a Cambridge don; there were three grass widows. +There were two newly emancipated schoolgirls, gobbling life in +indigestible but heavenly lumps. There was a tall and beautiful damosel, +with a demeanour which her admirers—and they were many—described as +regal, and which her detractors—and their name was legion—described as +affected; and whom her chaperon, Lady Hilton, addressed as "Nina, +dearest." And there was a squarely built, freckle-faced young man with +whom we are already acquainted. His name was Jim Carthew.</p> + +<p>Altogether they were a clean-bred, self-contained, easy-going band, +unostentatious but quietly exclusive—thoroughly representative of the +sanest and most reputable section of that variegated cosmos which +represents what Gallic students of British sociology term "Le Higlif." +Very few of them possessed much money: theirs was a stratum of society +to which money was no passport. You could have money if you liked, they +conceded, but you must have a good many other things first. Hence the +absence from their midst of Hoggenheimer and Aspasia.</p> + +<p>Jim Carthew had not meant to come. Juggernaut had given him six weeks' +leave, for there had been an Autumn Session in town and an industrial +upheaval in the country, and the squire had worked early and late by his +knight's side. Consequently when the spring came Carthew was summarily +bidden to go to Scotland and fish. Without quite knowing why, he went to +Cannes instead, where Nina Tallentyre, attended by a zealous but +mutually-distrustful guard-of-honour, was enjoying herself after her +fashion under the inadequate wing of Lady Hilton. When the exodus to +Algiers was mooted, Carthew labelled his portmanteau London. But he +ultimately crossed the Mediterranean with the rest. He had never seen +Africa, he explained to himself.</p> + +<p>Daphne was of the party too. (Possibly the reader has already identified +her as one of the three grass widows.) She had despatched Master Brian +Vereker Carr to Belton for a season, and joined the Hiltons' party four +weeks ago. The great new house in town stood empty. After her husband's +bombshell in February, she had felt bound to do something to show her +spirit. Another strike was brewing in the north, so doubtless her lord +and master would soon be congenially occupied in starving his dependents +into submission. Meanwhile her duty was to herself. Domestic ties were +at an end. She would enjoy life.</p> + +<p>She experienced no difficulty in the execution of this project. Every +one seemed anxious to assist her. Despite precautions, the fact that all +was not well in the house of Juggernaut was public property; and the +usual distorted rumours on the subject had set out upon their rounds, +going from strength to strength in the process. Daphne was soon made +conscious that people were sorry for her. Frivolous but warm-hearted +women were openly sympathetic. Large, clumsy men indicated by various +awkward and furtive acts of kindness that they too understood the +situation, but were too tactful to betray the fact. Altogether Daphne +was in a fair way to becoming spoiled. With all her faults no one had +ever yet been able or inclined to call her anything but unaffected and +natural; but about this time she began to assume the virtuous and +long-suffering demeanour of a <i>femme incomprise</i>. She was only +twenty-four, and few of us are able to refuse a martyr's crown when it +is pressed upon us.</p> + +<p>Only her monosyllabic host—"The Silent Knight," his friends called him, +denying him his baronetcy in their zest for the nickname—was unable to +appreciate the extreme delicacy of the situation. He was a plain man, +Arthur Hilton, and hated mysteries.</p> + +<p>"Why isn't that girl at home, lookin' after her husband, Ethel?" he +inquired of his wife one morning.</p> + +<p>"I think she is happier with us, dear," replied Lady Hilton with immense +solemnity.</p> + +<p>The Silent Knight emitted a subdued rumble, indicative of a desire to +argue the point, and continued—</p> + +<p>"Happier—eh? Hasn't she got a baby, or somethin', somewhere? What the +dev——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, she <i>has</i> a baby," replied his wife, rolling up her fine +eyes to the ceiling; "but I fear she has not been very fortunate in her +marriage. She was the daughter of a country clergyman—<i>dreadfully</i> +poor, I understand—and wanted to improve the family fortunes. There +were eight or nine of them, so she took this old man."</p> + +<p>The Silent Knight's engine fairly raced.</p> + +<p>"Old man be damned!" he observed with sudden heat. "Sorry, my dear! But +Jack Carr can't be more than forty-six. I'm forty-eight. I'm an old man, +too, I suppose! Back number—eh? One foot in the grave! You lookin' +about for my successor, Ethel—what?"</p> + +<p>It was useless to explain to this obtuse and uxorious critic that a +young and sensitive girl cannot be expected to dwell continuously +beneath the roof of a husband whose tastes are not her tastes, who has +merely married her to keep house for him, and who neglects her into the +bargain. Not that this prevented Lady Hilton from endeavouring to do so. +When she had finished, her husband knocked the ashes out of his pipe, +and remarked—</p> + +<p>"Can't make you women out. Here's old Juggernaut—best man <i>I</i> ever came +across, and as kind as they make 'em—marries this little fool of a girl +and gives her everything she wants; and she goes off and leaves him +slavin' at his work, while she comes trapesin' about here with a +collection of middle-aged baby-snatchers and knock-kneed loafers. Next +thing, she'll start flirting; then she'll fall in love with some +bounder, and then there'll be the devil of a mess. Rotten, I call it! +Don't know what wives are comin' to nowadays. Have <i>you</i> goin' off +next, Ethel—leavin' me and the kids, and becomin' a Suffragette—what?"</p> + +<p>After this unusual outburst the Silent Knight throttled himself down and +said no more, all efforts on his wife's part to lure him into ground +less favourable to his point of view proving fruitless. He merely smoked +his pipe and emitted an obstinate purr.</p> + +<p>"But what else can one expect, dearest," Ethel Hilton confided to a +friend afterwards, "if one marries an internal combustion engine?"</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h5>II.</h5> +</div> +<p>Neither was Mrs Carfrae satisfied to find her beloved Johnny Carr's +lawful wife disporting herself in her present company. One afternoon she +heckled Jim Carthew upon the subject, to the extreme embarrassment of +that loyal youth. The rest of the party had gone off to explore Algiers, +and were safely occupied for the present with the contemplation of the +passing show—ghostlike Moors in snowy burnouses, baggy-trousered +members of that last resort of broken men, <i>La Légion Étrangère</i>, and +spectacled French officials playing at colonies.</p> + +<p>Mrs Carfrae's chair had been wheeled into a corner of the open courtyard +which occupied the middle of the Hôtel Magnifique, as far as possible +from the base of operations of a pseudo-Tzigane orchestra which +discoursed languorous melody twice daily; and its occupant was +dispensing to Carthew what Thémistocle was accustomed to describe as +"some five o'clock."</p> + +<p>"So you are leaving us, Mr Carthew," observed the hostess.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the day after to-morrow. There is a boat then. I must go. There is +trouble brewing in the colliery districts again, and Sir John wants me."</p> + +<p>"And you will take Lady Carr with you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Carthew, flushing. "We are not together. I mean, it is not +on her account that I am here."</p> + +<p>"So I have noticed," said Mrs Carfrae dryly.</p> + +<p>"I was invited here by the Hiltons," explained Carthew, and plunged into +a sea of unnecessary corroborative details. "I was quite surprised to +find Lady Carr here," he colluded. "I thought she was in London."</p> + +<p>"And why," inquired the old lady with sudden ferocity, "is she not at +Belton, with her man?"</p> + +<p>The faithful Carthew stiffened at once.</p> + +<p>"I expect Sir John sent her out here to have a good time," he said. "He +could not get away himself, so——"</p> + +<p>Mrs Carfrae surveyed him for a moment over her glasses.</p> + +<p>"You are a decent lad," she observed rather unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>This testimonial had its desired effect of reducing Carthew to silence, +and Mrs Carfrae continued—</p> + +<p>"You have been with John Carr for some time now, have you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; ever since I came down from Cambridge."</p> + +<p>"How did you meet him? He does not take to young men readily as a rule, +so I have heard."</p> + +<p>"I had the luck," said Carthew, his eye kindling with historic +reminiscence, "to meet him at dinner one night at the end of my third +year, at my tutor's. Sir John was an old member of the College, staying +there for the week-end. He told us at dinner that he had come up to find +a good ignorant unlicked cub to help him with his work, who could be +trusted to obey an order when he received one and act for himself when +he did not. Those were his exact words, I remember."</p> + +<p>"Ay, they would be. Go on."</p> + +<p>"This unlicked cub was to come and be a sort of general factotum to him, +and do his best to help him with his work, and so on. Marvyn (the tutor) +and I sat trying to think of likely men, and finally we made a list of +about six, whom Sir John said he would run his eye over next day. After +that I went off to bed. I remember wishing to myself that I had taken a +better degree and been a more prominent member of the College: then I +might have had a shot for this berth, instead of going into a +solicitor's office. But as things were, I hadn't the cheek. Well, do you +know, Jug—Sir John came round to me next morning——"</p> + +<p>"Before breakfast, I doubt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, as a matter of fact I had just come in from a run and was sitting +down to it. He asked if he might have some: and after that he offered +me—<i>ME!</i>—this grand billet. Of course I jumped at it—who wouldn't, to +be with a man like that?—and I have been with him ever since."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs Carfrae, "you should know more of the creature than +most folk. What is your unbiassed opinion of him?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is the greatest man that ever lived," said the boy simply.</p> + +<p>"Hmph! As a matter of fact, he has less sense than anybody I ever knew," +replied the old lady calmly. "Still, you are entitled to your opinion. I +need not trouble you with an account of <i>my</i> first meeting with him: it +occurred a long time ago. But—wheel me a little nearer the sun, laddie: +this corner is a thing too shady—it may interest you to know that he +would have been my son-in-law to-day, had it not been—" she paused for +a moment, very slightly—"for the uncertainty of human life. And that +is why I take something more than a passing interest in the doings of +that slim-bodied, brown-eyed, tow-headed hempie that he married on. And +that brings me to the point. Laddie, those two are getting over-far +apart, and it must be <i>stopped</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how?" inquired Carthew dismally. "I understand that entering a +lions' den just before dinner-time is wisdom itself compared with +interfering between husband and wife."</p> + +<p>A quiver passed through Elspeth Carfrae's frail body, and she +straightened herself in her chair.</p> + +<p>"I am a havering and doited old woman," she announced with great +decision, "and no one takes any notice of what I say or do. But I tell +you this. So long as my old heart beats and my old blood runs, I shall +be perfectly willing to face every single lion in the Zoo, gin it will +bring a moment's happiness to Johnny Carr. The lad deserves a good wife. +Once he nearly got one—the best and fairest in all the world—but God +decided otherwise. Now he has got another: I know her: she has the right +stuff in her. And when I leave this hotel next week I am going to take +her with me, in her right mind, and deliver her to her man!"</p> + +<p>The old lady concluded her intimation with tremendous vigour. Carthew +sat regarding her with a mixture of reverence and apprehension.</p> + +<p>"You are going to—to speak to her about it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am," replied Mrs Carfrae, with vigour.</p> + +<p>"I would do anything," said Carthew awkwardly, "to put things right +between those two. But supposing you make your attempt, Mrs Carfrae, +and—and fail, won't it make matters worse?"</p> + +<p>"Much," said Mrs Carfrae calmly. "If I interfere, unsuccessfully, I +doubt if either of them will ever speak to me again. That is the usual +and proper fate of busybodies. But—I am going to risk it!... Run me +back to my sitting-room now, and call Janet. I hear your friends +yattering out there in the verandah. They will be through with +Algiers."</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232">page232</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER FIFTEEN.</h3> + +<h4>JIM CARTHEW.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>But our two conspirators were fated, for all practical purposes, to +exchange <i>rôles</i>.</p> + +<p>The following evening Daphne and Carthew found themselves sitting +together in the hotel garden after dinner. A great moon shone from a +velvety African sky; the scented breeze rustled in the palms; and the +music of the band drifted to their ears in intermittent waves.</p> + +<p>It was one of those nights which touch the imagination and stir the +emotions—a night upon which human nature expands to its utmost limits. +A night upon which passion awakes, and long-cherished secrets are +whispered into suddenly receptive ears. Also a night upon which the +devil stalks abroad. Dido resided a few miles from this spot. It was +probably a night like this that made the Fourth Book of the Æneid worth +writing.</p> + +<p>If Dido failed to resist such environment, what of Daphne? She was +young; she was intensely susceptible to such things as moonshine and +soft music; and, disguise the fact from herself as she might, she was +lonely. It is not altogether surprising that, as she surveyed this +silent comely youth who lolled beside her eyeing the glittering +Mediterranean in stolid abstraction, she should unconsciously have +acquiesced in the first of the dismal prognostications of that splenetic +but clear-sighted baronet, Sir Arthur Hilton. Jim Carthew had occupied +Daphne's thoughts a good deal of late, and to-night she felt suddenly +conscious of a desire to flirt with him.</p> + +<p>"Cigarette, please!" she commanded.</p> + +<p>Carthew silently handed her his case, and allowed her to select and +light her own cigarette—a prodigal waste of opportunity, as any +professional philanderer could have told her.</p> + +<p>"A penny for your thoughts!" continued Daphne pertly.</p> + +<p>Carthew, struck by a peculiar note in her voice, turned and looked at +her. He was met by a provocative glance. There was a brief silence. Then +he said gravely—</p> + +<p>"I don't think you are quite cut out for that sort of thing, Lady Carr."</p> + +<p>Daphne, feeling as if she had received a whip-lash in the face, stared +at him, white with anger. Then she rose stiffly from her seat and moved +towards the hotel. Carthew did not stir.</p> + +<p>"Don't go," he said. "We may as well have this out."</p> + +<p>Daphne stood irresolute. Then curiosity got the better of virtuous +indignation, and she sat down again.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly tell me," she said, "what you mean by talking in that +way?"</p> + +<p>Carthew's honest eyes lingered on her face in a manner which she could +not fathom. Did the man love her, or was he pitying her, or was he +merely indulging in sarcastic reflections at her expense? Whatever his +motives, he had a knack of compelling attention.</p> + +<p>Presently he began to speak.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, as if talking to himself, "why men and women are +made as they are? Why does A love B, while B worships C, who cares for +no one in the world but himself? And why does D insist on confusing +things still further by not quite knowing what he—she—wants? I wonder! +They say there is enough money spent in charity every year to supply the +needs of every poor person living, but so much is misapplied that many +have to go without. I think it is the same with human affection. There +is so much true love going about in this world—enough to keep all of us +well-nourished and contented. But what a lot of it goes to waste! There +is so much overlapping! <i>Why</i>, I wonder? It is a difficult business, +Life, Daphne."</p> + +<p>He had never called her Daphne before, but neither of them seemed to +notice the familiarity.</p> + +<p>"We're a contrary crew, we mortals," he continued presently. "Here we +are, you and I, sitting in the moonshine inaugurating a flirtation, +though neither of us cares a snap for the other—in that way. Why, I +wonder? I think it is partly due to pride—wounded pride. You are angry +with your husband——"</p> + +<p>Daphne, who was methodically picking her cigarette to pieces, looked up +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>not</i>!" she said hotly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you are," replied Carthew. "You think you are not, but you are. +You try to believe that you are merely indifferent to him, but you are +not. As for me, I am angry too—piqued—furious—jealous—raging—I +admit it—with a girl whom I dislike intensely. The more I see of her +the more selfish, affected, shallow, unwomanly I see her to be. And +yet—I <i>love</i> her! Why? Why? Why? People tell me she is heartless, +soulless, sordid, greedy, vulgar—everything, in fact. Sometimes I feel +they are right. Still—" he dropped his head into his hands and +continued doggedly—"what difference does that make to <i>me</i>? I love +her!... She cared for me once, too. She told me so—and she meant it! +Perhaps if I had been a little more patient with her I might have kept +her, and—and helped her a bit. Perhaps that was what I was sent into +the world for—to make things easier for Nina. I could have done so much +for her, too. I could have made a woman of her. She has her soft side: I +know: I have seen it. No other man can say that. Meanwhile," he +continued with a whimsical smile, "I am trying to solace myself by +allowing you to flirt with me——"</p> + +<p>Daphne drew her breath sharply.</p> + +<p>"And you are not very good at it," concluded Carthew unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"You are very candid," said Daphne frigidly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I speak truth. You are not good at it. Flirtation is a crooked +business, and you are straight, <i>mon amie</i>. But wounded pride is not the +only thing that has drawn us here together. Something else is +responsible. We are both craving for sympathy. 'A fellow-feeling,' you +know! I know all about <i>you</i>," he continued quickly, as Daphne's lips +parted. "You are by way of being a neglected wife; and since Nina has +informed me that she has told you all about <i>me</i>, I suppose you regard +me as a bit of a derelict too. Well, we have forgathered. What is going +to happen next?"</p> + +<p>Daphne was silent. She certainly did not know what was going to happen +next. Her ideas on all subjects were a little jumbled at this moment. +Presently Carthew continued—</p> + +<p>"We came together," he said gently, "just when each of us required a +little companionship and sympathy; and we got it. I think our chance +encounter on the highway of life has been a very profitable one. But it +has served its turn. Our roads diverge again. We must part company, +little comrade."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>Daphne spoke this time in a tremulous whisper. A great wave of +loneliness was surging up towards her.</p> + +<p>"Because," said Carthew's deep voice, "it is the only thing to do. Think +what may happen if we travel on together too far. At present we are +safe. I love some one else, and so do—and you are angry with some one +else, let us say. Supposing, since the girl I love does not love me any +more—supposing I ceased to love her? It seems hopeless, incredible, I +admit; but it might conceivably happen. And supposing you gave up being +angry with—some one else, and became indifferent to him, where might we +not find ourselves? Our sheet-anchor—our platonic sheet-anchor—would +be gone. And sooner than send you adrift among cross-currents, little +Daphne, I prefer to forgo the only friendship in this world that I +really value. You are too delicate and too fragrant to be tarnished by +common gossip, so I am going away to-morrow. Let us say good-bye +now—you beautiful thing!"</p> + +<p>Daphne looked up at him in amazement. But there was no passion in his +face—only an infinite tenderness. To him she was simply a woman—one of +the rarest and fairest of her sex, perhaps, but still simply a +woman—whom to succour, without expectation or desire of reward, was the +merest courtesy on the part of any knight worthy of the name. This was a +man! Daphne bowed her head, wondering dimly and scornfully at the +insensate folly of Nina Tallentyre.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go back to the hotel?" asked Carthew at length.</p> + +<p>There was no reply. Turning to note the cause, he saw something bright +and glistening fall upon his companion's hand—then another. With innate +loyalty and delicacy he averted his gaze, and surveyed the distant +seascape with laborious intentness.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Daphne sat on, her head still bowed. Through the night air, +from the hotel verandah, there came the refrain of a waltz. It was +called <i>Caressante</i>, she thought. Carthew knew it too, and dug his teeth +into his lower lip. Waltzes have an unfortunate habit of reviving the +memories of yester year.</p> + +<p>"Don't go in," said Daphne at length. "Don't leave me—I can't bear it!" +Her voice broke.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Carthew turned to her.</p> + +<p>"Daphne"—his voice was low, but he spoke with intense earnestness—"you +are lonely, I know, and sad; and you are too proud to own it. Shall I +tell you who is more lonely and more sad, and too proud to own it too?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean—" were Jim Carthew's good resolutions +crumbling?—"yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No, no,—nothing of the kind. I mean—your husband!" Then he continued +hurriedly—</p> + +<p>"Daphne, if I thought I was leaving you to real loneliness and +inevitable wretchedness, I—well, perhaps I shouldn't go away at all. +But I—I am not needed. Little friend, you have the finest husband in +all the world, waiting for you. For all his domineering ways, he is shy, +and wants knowing. You have never discovered that. I don't believe you +know him a bit. It all comes of having begun wrong. Go back and study +him. Give him a fair chance! Give yourself a fair chance! You and I have +always been friends: will you promise me this? Go back, and give +yourself and Jack Carr another chance."</p> + +<p>Half an hour ago Daphne would have smiled sceptically and indulgently +upon such a suggestion. But this lonely, loyal spirit had touched her. +She felt she would like to please him.</p> + +<p>"Very well," she said. "I promise. No, <i>I can't</i>!" The memory of some +ancient wrong suddenly surged up in her, swamping the generous impulse. +"<i>I can't!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Jack is so hard," she said. "Look at the way he treats those in his +power. His workpeople, his——"</p> + +<p>Carthew laughed, positively boisterously.</p> + +<p>"Hard? Jack Carr hard? Listen," he said, "and I will tell you a secret."</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>When he had finished Daphne stood up, white and gleaming in the +moonlight, and gave him her hand.</p> + +<p>"All right," she said softly—"it's a bargain. I go home to-morrow."</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> + + +<h2>BOOK THREE.</h2> + +<h1>THE LIGHTING OF THE CANDLE.</h1> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243">page243</a></span> + + +<h3>CHAPTER SIXTEEN.</h3> + +<h4>SOME ONE TO CONFIDE IN.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>Certainly matters were in a serious state in the Mirkley Colliery +district. The whole industrial world was unsettled at the time. There +had been trouble on the railways, and a great shipyard strike was +threatening in Scotland. Most serious of all, the men were beginning to +defy their own leaders. They had taken to organising little sectional +revolts of their own, and Employers' Federations were beginning to ask +how they could be expected to ratify treaties with Trades Union +officials who were unable to hold their own followers to the terms of +agreements concluded on their behalf.</p> + +<p>The Mirkley district had caught the infection. The mischief had +originated at Marbledown and Cherry Hill, the immediate cause of the +trouble being a simple question of weights and measures.</p> + +<p>The ordinary collier is paid by piecework—so much per ton for all the +coal he hews. This coal is carefully weighed on coming to the surface, +and to ensure fair play all round the weight is checked by the men's +own representative at the pit-head. Now just as all is not gold that +glitters, so all that comes to the surface of the earth from the +interior of a coal-pit is not necessarily coal. A good deal of it is +shale, stone, and the like—technically summarised as "dirt"—and has to +be sorted out from the genuine article by a bevy of young ladies +retained at some expense for the purpose. As colliers are paid for +hewing coal and not dirt, the mine managers, reckoning one hundredweight +as the average weight of dirt in a tub of coal, had been in the habit, +when making out their pay-sheets, of deducting this amount from the +total weight of each load brought to the surface. <i>Hinc lacrymæ.</i> The +man in the pit claimed that he should be paid for all he sent up the +shaft, alleging that it was impossible to separate coal from dirt at the +face, and that dirt was quite as difficult to hew as coal. To this those +in authority replied that a collier is a man who is employed to hew coal +and not dirt, and that as such he should only be paid for the coal he +hewed. It was a nice point, and so high did feeling run upon the +subject, and so fierce was the demeanour of their <i>employés</i>, that +pliable Mr Aymer and pusillanimous Mr Montague yielded to the extent of +fifty-six pounds, and henceforth each toiler in Cherry Hill and +Marbledown Colliery was debited with one half instead of one whole +hundredweight of dirt per tub.</p> + +<p>Encouraged by the success of their colleagues, the men employed at Sir +John Carr's great pit at Belton proffered a similar request. But though +the request was the same its recipient was different. Sir John greeted +the deputation with disarming courtesy, and announced in a manner which +precluded argument that on the question of the owners' right to deduct +for dirt in each load he would not yield one inch. On this the +deputation rashly changed their ground and alleged that the toll of one +hundredweight per tub was excessive. Whereupon Juggernaut whisked them +off without delay to the pit-head. Here a minute examination was made of +the contents of the next ten tubs of coal which came to the surface, and +it was found that, so far from defrauding his <i>employés</i>, Juggernaut was +defrauding himself, for the average weight of dirt in each tub was not +one hundred and twelve but one hundred and thirty pounds.</p> + +<p>"You see, Mr Brash?" said Sir John cheerfully. "I am afraid you have all +been in my debt to the extent of eighteen pounds of coal per tub for +quite a considerable number of years. However, if you will be sensible +and go back to work, we will call it a wash-out and say no more about +it."</p> + +<p>Then he departed to London.</p> + +<p>But he had to return. The half-hundredweight of Cherry Hill and +Marbledown outbalanced Belton's plain facts and ocular demonstrations. +The Pit "came out" <i>en masse</i>, against the advice and without the +authority of their Union officials; and for two or three weeks men +loafed up and down the long and unlovely street which comprised Belton +village, smoking their pipes and organising occasional whippet-races +against the time when the despot who employed them should be pleased to +open negotiations.</p> + +<p>But the despot made no sign. Presently pipes were put away for want of +tobacco, and whippet-racing ceased for want of stake-money. Then came a +tightening of belts and a setting of teeth, and men took to sitting on +their heels against walls and fences, punctuating recrimination by +expectoration, through another four long and pitiful weeks.</p> + +<p>Not so utterly pitiful though. For a wonderful thing happened. The +unknown benefactor of the strike of seven years ago came to life again. +Every morning the postman delivered to the wife of each man in Belton a +packet containing a ration of tea, sugar, and (once a week) bacon. Coal, +too, was distributed by a mysterious motor-lorry, bearing a London +number-plate, and manned by two sardonic Titans, who deposited their +sacks and answered no questions. So there was no actual destitution in +the village. But there was no beer, and no tobacco, and no money. Women +and children can live for an amazingly long time on tea and sugar eked +out by a little bread, but man is the slave of an exacting stomach, and +requires red meat for the upkeep of his larger frame. The whippets, too, +had to be considered; and when, after an interval of seven weeks, a +notice went up on the gates of the pit buildings, intimating that all +who returned to work on the following Monday would be reinstated without +question, Belton Colliery put its pride into its empty pocket and came +back as one man.</p> + +<p>But the danger was not over yet, as Juggernaut well knew. For the moment +the men were subdued by sheer physical exhaustion. The first pay-day +would fill their bellies and put some red blood into their passions. And +it was certain information, received on this head at the Pit offices, +that sent Sir John Carr home to Belton Hall with knitted brow and +tight-set mouth one wintry Saturday afternoon in early April, a +fortnight after the men had resumed work.</p> + +<p>He stepped out of the big motor and walked into the cheerful fire-lit +hall. He stood and gazed reflectively upon the crackling logs as the +butler removed his heavy coat. But the removal of the coat seemed to +take no weight from his shoulders. He felt utterly lonely and unhappy. +Was he growing old, he wondered. He was not accustomed to feel like +this. He did not usually shrink from responsibility, or desire a +shoulder to lean upon, but at this moment he suddenly felt the want of +some one to consult. No; consult was not the word! He could have +consulted Carthew. In fact he had just done so, for Carthew had returned +from his holiday two days before. What he wanted was some one to +<i>confide</i> in. With a sudden tightening of the heart he thought of a +confidante who might have been at his side then, had things been +different—a confidante who would have sat upon the arm of his chair and +bidden him play the man and fear nothing. Well, doubtless he would play +the man and fear nothing, and doubtless he would win again as he had +done before. But—<i>cui bono</i>? What doth it profit a man——?</p> + +<p>He wondered where she was. Yachting on the Mediterranean, or frivolling +on the Riviera. Or perhaps she was back in London by this time, ordering +her spring clothes and preparing for another butterfly season. At any +rate she was not at Belton Hall. Whose fault was that?...</p> + +<p>Had he been lacking in patience with her? Had he treated her too much +like a refractory board-meeting?... A little fool? Doubtless; but then, +so were most women. And she was very young, after all....</p> + +<p>"Will you take anything before dinner, sir?" inquired a respectful voice +in his ear. "Tea? Whisky-and——"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Graves. Is Master Brian in the nursery?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I will go up shortly and say good-night to him. Meanwhile I shall be in +the study if Mr Carthew or any one calls for me. But I don't want to be +disturbed at present."</p> + +<p>A minute later he opened the door of the apartment, half library, half +smoking-room, which he called his study. It was in darkness, but for the +cheerful glow of the fire.</p> + +<p>As Juggernaut closed the door behind him and felt for the electric-light +switch, there came a rustling from the depths of a great oak settle +which formed a right-angle with the projecting mantelpiece; and a slim +straight figure stood suddenly upright, silhouetted against the ruddy +glare.</p> + +<p>"Daphne!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—me!" replied an extremely small voice.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250">page250</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.</h3> + +<h4>THE CANDLE LIT.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>There is no more disagreeable sensation in this world than that +furnished by a sudden encounter with some one with whom we are on +"awkward" terms. Most people know what it is to cross the street to +avoid an old friend, or to dodge into a shop in order to escape the +necessity of inflicting or receiving the cut direct. Very often the +origin of the quarrel has been forgotten or ceased to be of real moment, +but the awkwardness endures. Oftener still a reconciliation would be +welcomed on both sides; but pride, pride, pride intervenes.</p> + +<p>Now the best solvent of stubborn obstinacy is a sense of humour. As +Juggernaut stood in the darkness, surveying the embarrassed little +figure before him—in his eyes Daphne, five feet seven in her stockings, +was always "little"—and feeling acutely conscious on his own part of an +irresistible desire to shuffle with his feet, he suddenly and most +providentially broke into one of his rare laughs—a laugh of quiet and +unforced enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Apparently this was not quite what Daphne expected.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she inquired. Her voice quavered pathetically, for +she was highly wrought.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help thinking," said her husband, "of an episode in the +history of two old friends of mine. They had been engaged for about +three months, when they quarrelled—severely. They parted company for +ever, and whenever he or she saw the other upon the horizon, he or she +fled. However, after about six weeks of this sort of thing they were +taken by surprise. One day the man saw the girl advancing straight upon +him down the street, quite oblivious of his proximity. He dived into the +nearest shop, which happened to be a baby-linen establishment—"</p> + +<p>Daphne gave a sudden gurgle of laughter.</p> + +<p>"—And when the girl walked in, two minutes later," concluded +Juggernaut, "to match some silk, she found her late beloved diligently +sampling Berlin wool. That did it! The sense of humour of that young +couple came to their rescue, Daphne, and they walked out of the shop +hand-in-hand, not caring a dump for anybody. To my knowledge they have +never had a quarrel since. You see the reason why I laughed just now?"</p> + +<p>Daphne sighed comfortably.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. The tension of the situation was relaxed.</p> + +<p>"I want to—to talk to you, Jack," she continued, considerably +heartened.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied Juggernaut, with a slight return of his board-room +air. "I'll turn the light on."</p> + +<p>"Please don't," said Daphne hastily. "I would rather talk in the dark. +Will you sit down on the settle?"</p> + +<p>Juggernaut obeyed silently. The firelight played upon his face, showing +the clear-cut lines of his mouth and his tired eyes. Daphne stood erect +before him, keeping her face in the shadow. She had removed her hat and +furs, and her thick hair caught the light fantastically.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she began, industriously scrutinising the vista of the room +reflected by an ancient convex mirror hanging on the far wall, "I want +to say something. I want to say that I am sorry. I have done you an +injustice. I always thought you were a hard man, and I have discovered +that you are not. In fact," she continued with a flicker of a smile, "I +have found out that you are very much the other thing." She paused.</p> + +<p>"May I ask for chapter and verse?" said Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes!</i>" The old Daphne flashed forth. "Here are you, fighting all these +men with one hand, giving no quarter, and all that sort of thing—" +Juggernaut stirred suddenly in his seat—"and feeding the women and +children with the other! Aren't you, now?" She pointed an accusing +finger.</p> + +<p>"Since you tax me with it—yes," said her husband.</p> + +<p>Daphne turned upon him impulsively, with the firelight full on her face.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she said softly, "it was splendid of you!"</p> + +<p>He looked up and saw that her eyes were glowing. She came a step nearer, +and her head drooped prettily. "And I'm sorry if I have been unfair to +you, Jack," she continued. "I—I thought you were just a feelingless +sort of man, whose work was his world, and who cared for nothing but +himself and what he had in view, and regarded women as merely useful +things to keep house, and have babies, and so on. But now I <i>know</i> that +I was wrong. There is more of you than that. Being me, I had to tell +you."</p> + +<p>She ended with a little catch in her voice. She had made her effort. She +had humbled herself, and in so doing she had laid herself open to the +cruellest of rebuffs. She waited tremulously. A hard word, a scornful +smile, even silence now—and two lives would fall asunder for ever.</p> + +<p>But the wheels of Juggernaut had never passed over a woman.</p> + +<p>"Will you sit down?" said Sir John gently.</p> + +<p>He made room for her, and she sank down beside him, leaning her head +against the high back of the settle and gazing unwinkingly into the +fire. She was conscious now that this man was overflowing with +tenderness towards her, but she would not look him in the face yet.</p> + +<p>"How did you find out about the rations to the women?" he enquired +presently.</p> + +<p>Daphne told him.</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't blame Jim Carthew," she said in conclusion. "He simply +<i>had</i> to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Where did you see him?"</p> + +<p>"Last week, in Algiers. In fact, he brought me home; but I made him +promise not to tell you I was in London. He <i>is</i> a good sort!" she added +irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"In what way?" asked her husband curiously.</p> + +<p>Daphne turned and surveyed him.</p> + +<p>"Would you be angry if I told you—jealous, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"What right have I to be angry or jealous?" said Juggernaut simply. "In +what way," he repeated, "has Carthew been showing that he is a good +sort?"</p> + +<p>"Well, in bringing me his troubles. That always makes a conquest of any +woman, you know. And in letting me take my troubles to him. A woman +always <i>has</i> to take a trouble to a man, Jack, when all is said and +done—even if he is only the family solicitor!" she concluded hurriedly. +She had suddenly skated on to thin ice, and she knew it. The man to whom +she should have taken her troubles had not been there to receive them.</p> + +<p>"So Jim Carthew has his troubles like the rest of us?" said Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I never suspected how he felt about them," said Daphne. "He is +fearfully reserved about the things he really feels, although he babbles +enough about the things he doesn't. So, when I was in trouble——"</p> + +<p>"What was your trouble?"</p> + +<p>"I was lonely," said the girl.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut drew his breath sharply.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you had some one to be kind to you," he said.</p> + +<p>Then came a long pause—the sort of pause which either brings a +discussion to an end or begets another, longer and more intimate. We all +know them.</p> + +<p>Finally Daphne braced herself.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she said, "I want to say something more. I didn't mean to: I +have said all I came here to say. But I must say this too—now or never. +I—I—I was wrong to marry you, Jack. I didn't love you, but I thought +it didn't matter. I felt how divine it would be to be able to help the +boys and Dad. That was all I considered. Then, when I began to go about, +and meet new people, and make comparisons, I—found myself criticising +you! <i>Me—you!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be too indignant about it if I were you," said her husband.</p> + +<p>He reached out deliberately for her hand, and continued his +contemplation of the fire.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said.</p> + +<p>Daphne, foolishly uplifted, continued—</p> + +<p>"I used to think you rough and hard and unsympathetic. I began to prefer +the men who buzzed round and murmured things in my ear. And when people +began to pity me as a neglected wife, I—I encouraged them. I let women +say catty things about you, and I let men make love to me. That sort of +thing has been going on ever since the time"—Daphne's grip of her +husband's hand tightened—"when you and I decided—to go our own ways. I +don't mind telling you now that it was a pill for me, Jack. My +pride——"</p> + +<p>"It was a brutal act on my part," blazed out Juggernaut with sudden +passion.</p> + +<p>"No it <i>wasn't</i>: it was what I deserved!" insisted Daphne, whose nature +did not permit her to be repentant by halves. "Well, anyhow, I +determined to flirt in real earnest now. So I began to carry on in an +experimental fashion. But I can't say it was much fun. Finally I did +fall in love with a man, in a sort of way—don't hurt my hand, dear; it +was only in a sort of way—and I let him see it. Well, I got a facer +over <i>him</i>. One night, under the moon, I tried to flirt with him; and +he—well, Jack, he fairly put me in my place!"</p> + +<p>"What did he do?"</p> + +<p>"He made me feel ashamed of myself."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"Not much that we need talk of now, except one thing."</p> + +<p>"What was that?"</p> + +<p>"He told me to go back to you."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he said"—Daphne's voice dropped low—"that you loved me."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence, until a live coal subsided in the grate. Then +Juggernaut said—</p> + +<p>"It was Carthew, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Daphne nodded.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she said, "Jim Carthew is the best friend that you and I +possess."</p> + +<p>"I know it."</p> + +<p>They were silent again, until irrelevant Daphne enquired suddenly—</p> + +<p>"Jack, what made you do that unpractical thing? The tea and sugar, I +mean. It was only prolonging the strike: even <i>I</i> can see that."</p> + +<p>"It didn't prolong the strike to any particular extent," said Juggernaut +with decision. "Not that I care," he added with unusual inconsequence, +"if it did. It made things no easier for the men; and it is with the men +that the decision lies in cases of this kind."</p> + +<p>"But it was so <i>unlike</i> you," persisted Daphne.</p> + +<p>Her husband turned and regarded her quizzically.</p> + +<p>"Was it?" he said, smiling. "We all have our weaknesses," he added. +"Mine are women and children. I think," he went on with great +deliberation, "that there is only one woman in this wide world who has +ever suffered ill at my hands."</p> + +<p>"And she is——"</p> + +<p>"My wife! Listen," he continued rapidly, "while I make confession. You +have spoken your piece bravely, Daphne. Now hear me mine."</p> + +<p>He rose in his turn, and stood before his wife.</p> + +<p>"I never knew or cared very much about women," he said. "I do not +remember my mother, and I had no sisters, which probably accounts for a +good deal. Also, I was brought up by a man among men, and I learned to +read men and handle men to the exclusion of all else. I was given to +understand that women did not matter. I was trained to regard them as a +sort of inferior and unreliable variety of the male sex. So I confined +my dealings to men, and I found so much joy in handling and mastering +men that my eyes became closed to the fact that life could offer me +anything else."</p> + +<p>"But didn't you miss female society? Most men can't get on without +<i>some</i>," said experienced Daphne.</p> + +<p>"You can't miss what you have never had, little girl. Perhaps if I had +encountered female society early in life——"</p> + +<p>"But didn't you sometimes instinctively long for a woman to come and +take charge of you? Most men are so helpless and messy by themselves."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," admitted Juggernaut almost reluctantly, "I did. But I put +the notion from me."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you why?" said Daphne quietly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was because I didn't want to yield to a weakness."</p> + +<p>"It was nothing of the kind," said Daphne with immense decision. "It was +because you were <i>afraid</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—afraid! You would have nothing to do with women, because you told +yourself you despised them. We were a waste of time, you said—an +encumbrance! The real reason was that you feared us. Yes—feared! +Success was the breath of life to you. You had always had your own way +wherever you went. You were the great Sir John Carr—the strong +man—Juggernaut! You had never been beaten. Why? Because you had never +had the pluck to try conclusions with a woman. Your excuse was that you +were a woman-hater, when all the time you were a woman-lover. You have +just admitted it, impostor! You were afraid that where every man had +failed to turn you from your own hard selfish way of life, a woman might +succeed. And so you ran away, and you have been running ever since. +There, my strong man, there's the truth for you!"</p> + +<p>For once in his life Sir John Carr, the terror of deputations, the +scourge of unsound logicians, the respectfully avoided of hecklers, had +no answer ready. The reason was obvious: no answer was possible. The +victory lay with Daphne. She leaned back in the settle and looked +fearlessly up into her husband's face. For the first time in her life +she felt maternal towards this man—twenty-two years her senior—just as +old Mrs Carfrae had predicted. She was utterly and absolutely happy, +too, for she had just realised that she and her husband had come +together at last. They were one flesh. The time for tactful diplomacy +and mutual accommodation and making allowances was over-past. No need +now to guard the flame from sudden gusts and cross-winds. The candle was +safely lighted, and, please God, it should burn steadily to its socket. +The Safety Match had accomplished its task after all.</p> + +<p>Then she gave a happy little sigh, for her husband's great arm was +around her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"All my life, Daphne," said his deep voice, "I have thought that the +sweetest thing in this world was victory. Now I have just received my +first defeat—you routed me, hip and thigh—and I am happier than I have +ever been. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Think!" commanded a muffled voice in the neighbourhood of his +waistcoat.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut obeyed. Then he continued, and his grip round Daphne grew +stronger—</p> + +<p>"I think I see. I married you because I wanted some one to keep my house +in order and bear me a son. (That point of view did not endure long, I +may say, for I fell in love with you on our honeymoon, and I have loved +you ever since; but it was my point of view when I asked you to marry +me.) I thought then that it would be a fair bargain if I gave you money +and position in return for these things. We could not help living +contentedly together, I considered, under the terms of such a logical +and business-like contract as that. Well, I did not know then, what I +know now, that logic and business are utterly valueless as a foundation +for any contract between a man and a woman. The only thing that is the +slightest use for the purpose is the most illogical and unbusiness-like +thing in the whole wide world. And"—his iron features relaxed into a +smile of rare sweetness—"I believe, I believe, <i>cara mia</i>, that you and +I have found that thing—together." His voice dropped lower. "Have we, +Daphne—my wife?"</p> + +<p>Daphne raised her head, and looked her man full in the face.</p> + +<p>"We have found it, O my husband," she said gravely—"at last!"</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>The door flew open suddenly. There was a gleam of electric light. +Graves, the imperturbable, inclined respectfully before them.</p> + +<p>"You are wanted outside, sir," he said, "badly!"</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263">page263</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.</h3> + +<h4>ATHANASIUS CONTRA MUNDUM.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>A confused medley of men and women—not to mention the inevitable small +boy element—was pouring up the road from Belton Pit in the direction of +the Hall, which lay beyond the brow of the hill in a green hollow as yet +unsullied by winding-wheels and waste-heaps. People who have made up +their minds to do evil are usually in a hurry to get it over. +Consequently our friends were advancing at a high rate of speed, keeping +up their courage by giving forth unmelodious noises.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut's prophecy had come true. The rebellion had been damped down +by sheer starvation; and now that starvation was over-past, the +rebellion was flaming out again with tenfold vigour. That fine +unreasoning human instinct which under a certain degree of pressure bids +logic and argument go hang, and impels us to go forth and break some one +else's windows, held the reins that evening. As the night-shift +assembled at the pit-head, what time the day-shift was being disgorged, +a cageful at a time, from the depths below, a great and magnificent +project suddenly hatched itself in the fertile brain of Mr Tom Winch, +who had been haunting the neighbourhood on business connected with the +propaganda of his own particular revolutionary organisation for the past +six weeks. Now was his chance. Evil passions, hitherto dimmed by hunger +and privation, were reviving. The men were ripe for any mischief. What +they were asking for, reflected Mr Winch, was blood, or its equivalent, +and a man to lead them to it.</p> + +<p>Mr Winch was, to do him justice, a master of his own furtive trade. In +five minutes his project was circulating through the throng. In fifteen +the crowd had pledged itself to do something really big; and in half an +hour most of the windows of the pit offices had been broken as a +guarantee of good faith.</p> + +<p>Having whetted its appetite on this <i>hors-d'œuvre</i>, the mob listened +readily to Mr Winch's suggestion of a brisk walk to Belton Hall and a +personal interview with its proprietor. The notion ran through the +excited mass of humanity like fire through dry grass; and presently, as +if from one spontaneous impulse, the advance on Belton Hall began. No +one quite knew what he proposed to do when he got there, but the +possibilities of the expedition were great. It was a picturesque +procession, for every man carried a safety-lamp in one hand and a +missile in the other. It was probably owing to the multiplicity of the +twinkling points of light thus produced that no one observed the +flickering halo of a solitary bicycle-lamp, as the machine which bore it +slipped out from the side-door of the pit offices and silently stole +away through the darkness, carrying a frightened messenger over the hill +to Belton Hall.</p> + +<p>It may here be noted that Mr Tom Winch, having despatched his avenging +host upon its way, remained behind at headquarters—doubtless to +superintend the subsequent operations with that degree of perspective +which is so necessary to a good general. Mr Killick, an old acquaintance +of ours, supported by his friend Mr Brash, led the procession.</p> + +<p>"Supposin' the lodge gates is locked—what then?" enquired Mr +Brash—ever a better critic than creator of an enterprise—as they +trudged along the muddy road.</p> + +<p>"We shall trample them down," replied Mr Killick, ever contemptuous of +irritating detail.</p> + +<p>But the lodge gates stood hospitably open. The lodge itself was +shuttered and silent; and the procession, pausing momentarily to deliver +a hilarious and irregular volley of small coal, proceeded on its way.</p> + +<p>Up the long avenue they tramped. There were electric lamps at +intervals, intended for the guidance of strange coachmen on dinner-party +nights. These were all ablaze. Evidently Juggernaut was expecting +friends.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later our glorious company of apostles rounded the last +turn in the avenue, and the broad Elizabethan <i>façade</i> of Belton Hall +loomed up before them. Every window was alight.</p> + +<p>A flagged and balustraded terrace ran along the whole frontage of the +Hall. In the middle of the balustrade was a gap, where a broad flight of +shallow stone steps led down to a velvety lawn three hundred years old. +Most of the crowd knew that lawn and terrace well. The grounds at Belton +were constantly and freely granted for miners' <i>fêtes</i>, political +demonstrations, and the like. On these occasions a band was nearly +always playing upon the terrace, and not infrequently post-prandial +orations were outpoured from the rostrum formed by the stone steps upon +the heads of a gorged and tolerant audience on the grass below.</p> + +<p>To-night no band was playing; but at the head of the steps—motionless, +upright, inflexible—stood a solitary figure. It was the master of the +house, waiting to receive his guests—one against four hundred.</p> + +<p>But to one who knew, the odds were not overwhelming. In fact, provided +that the crowd possessed no resolute leader, the chances were slightly +in favour of the figure on the steps. One man with his wits about him +has two great advantages over a crowd. In the first place, he knows +exactly what he is going to do, and, in the second, he knows exactly +what the crowd is going to do. The crowd knows neither. It is impossible +to foretell how a single individual will behave upon emergency: the +human temperament varies too widely. But there is nothing in the world +so normal or conventional as a crowd. Mankind in the lump is a mere +puppet in the hands of the law of averages. Given, as noted above, a +resolute leader, the conditions are changed. The leader imbues the crowd +with a portion of his own spirit, and creates an instinct of unanimity. +Then the odds are once more in favour of the crowd; for now it is a +resolute will, all alone, pitted against a resolute will with force +behind it.</p> + +<p>Sir John Carr knew all this. He had studied men all his life; and as he +stood silent and observant, surveying the surging multitude at his +feet—it had flowed to the base of the steps now—he noted that there +was no leader in particular. The crowd were acting under the influence +of blind impulse, and, if properly handled, could be swayed about and +sent home.</p> + +<p>Presently the hubbub ceased, and the men stood gazing upward, fingering +lumps of coal and waiting for some one to fire the first shot.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," observed Juggernaut. [The ladies, +be it noted, constituted the front row of the assemblage, their +cavaliers having modestly retired a few paces under their employer's +passionless scrutiny.] "If you have come to serenade me, I shall have +pleasure presently in sending you out some refreshment. If you have +merely come to burn the house down, I strongly advise you to go home and +think twice about it."</p> + +<p>The recipients of this piece of advice were undoubtedly a little taken +aback. Playful badinage was the last thing they had expected. They +murmured uneasily one to another, debating suitable retorts. Presently a +shrill female voice opened fire.</p> + +<p>"Tyrant!"</p> + +<p>"Money-grubber!" corroborated another voice.</p> + +<p>"Who starves women and children?" shrieked a third.</p> + +<p>"Yah! Booh!" roared the crowd, taking heart.</p> + +<p>"Chuck some of his own coals at 'im!" was the frantic adjuration of a +foolish virgin who had already expended all her ammunition against the +shutters of the gate-lodge.</p> + +<p>A lump of something black and crystalline sang past Juggernaut's head, +and struck a richly glowing stained-glass window twenty feet behind +him. There was a sharp crash and a silvery tinkle, followed by a little +gasp from the crowd. The first shot had been fired. Juggernaut knew well +that a broadside was imminent, and countered swiftly. In the startled +silence which succeeded the destruction of the great window—it had +lighted the staircase at Belton for generations—his voice rang out like +a trumpet.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me!" he cried. "You have a grievance. You have come up here +to square accounts with me. You think you have right on your side: I +think it is on mine. Both of us are spoiling for a fight. In our present +frame of mind nothing else will satisfy us. Now here is a fair offer. +Send up any two men you like out of that multitude down there, and I +will take them on, both together or one after the other, as you please. +I am rising forty-seven, but if I fail to drop either of your +representatives over this balustrade, back where he came from, inside of +five minutes, I promise to remit the dues on that odd hundredweight that +you are making all this to do about. Is it a bargain, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>He had struck the right note. The low, angry murmuring suddenly ceased, +and a great wave of Homeric laughter rolled over the crowd. The British +collier has his faults, but within his limits he is a sportsman. He +appreciates pluck.</p> + +<p>"Good lad!" roared a voice out of the darkness. Then there fell another +silence.</p> + +<p>"I am waiting, gentlemen," said Juggernaut presently.</p> + +<p>But he had to continue waiting. His audience, as previously noted, were +sportsmen within limits. The limits, alas! in those soft days are too +often the coursing of a half-blinded rabbit, or the backing of a horse +in a race which will not be witnessed by the backer. It is always +gratifying to be invited to participate in a sporting event, but there +is a difference between a seat on the platform and a stance in the +arena. Getting hurt gratuitously is slipping into the <i>index +expurgatorius</i> of modern field sports.</p> + +<p>Men began to look sheepishly at one another. One or two had started +forward instinctively, but the impulse died away. A humourist was heard +imploring his friends to hold him back. There was something unutterably +grim about the towering figure up on the terrace. Democracy and the +equality of mankind to the contrary, Jack usually recognises his master +when it comes to a pinch. No Jack seemed to desire advancement on this +occasion.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut waited for another minute. He wanted the silence to sink in. +He wanted the crowd to feel ridiculous. That object achieved, he +proposed to turn his visitors to the right-about and send them home. He +had been through this experience before, and felt comparatively sure of +his ground.</p> + +<p>Provided, that is, that one thing did not occur. There were women +present.</p> + +<p>Now women are exempt from the law of averages: the sex snaps its fingers +at computations based upon laboriously compiled statistics. If the +women—or more likely a woman—gave the men a lead, anything might +happen. And just as Juggernaut uplifted his voice to pronounce a +valediction, the disaster befel.</p> + +<p>"Now go home," he began. "You are not yourselves to-night. Go home, and +think things over. Consult the older men: I see none of them here. If +you are of the same mind to-morrow, I promise to——"</p> + +<p>"Call yourselves men? Cowards! cowards! cowards! One of <i>us</i> is worth +the lot of you!"</p> + +<p>A woman, with a shawl over her head and a child in her arms, had mounted +half-way up the steps, and was addressing the mob below. Sir John +recognised her as Mrs Brash, a quiet little person as a rule.</p> + +<p>"Come up, chaps!" she shrieked. "Are you going to let him stamp on us +<i>all</i>? Look at his fine house, and his electrics, and his marble steps +and all!" [They were plain freestone, but let that pass.] "Where did he +get 'em all? From <i>us</i>—us that he has starved and clemmed this last two +months! Are you afraid of him—the lot of you? Great hulking cowards! I +see you, Brash, hiding there! Isn't there <i>one</i> man here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—by <i>God</i> there is!"</p> + +<p>With a bound, Killick, the brooding visionary, the Utopian Socialist, +was at the top of the steps, brandishing a pit-prop and haranguing his +comrades. There was no stopping him. Mrs Brash had fired the train and +Killick was the explosion. His words gushed out—hot, passionate, +delirious. The man's sense of proportion, always unstable, was gone +entirely. He burned with the conviction of his own wrongs and those of +his fellows. <i>Nobilis ira</i> gave him eloquence. He laid violent hands +upon wealth and power and greed and tyranny, and flung them one by one +down the steps on to the heads of his hearers. Most of what he said was +entirely irrelevant; a great deal more was entirely untrue; but it +served. For the moment Sir John Carr stood for all the injustice and +cruelty that strength has ever inflicted upon weakness. Every word told. +The mob was aflame at last. They hung upon Killick's fiery sentences, +surging ever more closely round the steps. The next wave, Juggernaut +saw, would bring them in a flood upon the terrace; and then—what? He +thought coolly and rapidly. There was Daphne to consider—also little +Brian. Daphne, he knew, was close by, standing with beating heart +behind the curtains of the library window. He had forbidden her to come +farther. Perhaps, though, she had been sensible, and taken the +opportunity of this delay to slip away. Of course, of course.</p> + +<p>There was a movement beside him, and he realised that his education in +femininity still left something to be desired. A hand slid into his, and +Daphne's voice whispered in his ear—</p> + +<p>"Jack, I want to speak to them."</p> + +<p>Her husband turned and smiled upon her curiously.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to say?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am going to tell them about—about the tea and sugar. It's the only +thing to do," said Daphne eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I would rather be knocked on the head by a pit-prop!" said Juggernaut. +And he meant it. Some of us are terribly afraid of being exposed as +sentimentalists.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the crowd had caught sight of Daphne. The men fell silent, as +men are fain to do when a slim goddess, arrayed in black velvet, appears +to them, silhouetted against a richly glowing window. But there was a +vindictive shriek from the women.</p> + +<p>"Get back at once, dear," said Juggernaut. "You are in great danger. +Telephone to the police, and tell Graves to get the fire-hose out. It +may be useful in two ways. I promise to come in if things get worse. +Hallo! who is that?"</p> + +<p>A burly man in a bowler hat, panting with the unwonted exertion of a +two-mile run, was approaching him along the terrace. He had come up the +drive unnoticed, and having skirted the edge of the crowd had gained +access to the terrace from another flight of steps at the end. It was Mr +Walker, the mine manager.</p> + +<p>"I tried to get you on the telephone," he shouted in Juggernaut's ear; +"but they have cut the wire."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>Walker told him.</p> + +<p>There was just time to act. The mob were pouring up the steps in +response to Killick's final invitation. Juggernaut strode forward.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he cried in a voice of thunder. "Stop, and listen to what Mr +Walker has to tell you!"</p> + +<p>His great voice carried, and there was a moment's lull. Walker seized +his opportunity.</p> + +<p>"There has been an accident at the pit," he bellowed. "Some of your lads +went down after you had left, to see what damage they could do to the +plant. Some of the older men went down to stop them. Something happened. +The roofs of the main road and intake have fallen in, and Number Three +Working is cut off—with eight men in it!"</p> + +<p>There was a stricken silence, and the wave rolled back from the steps. +Presently a hoarse voice cried—</p> + +<p>"Who are they?"</p> + +<p>Mr Walker recited six names. Four of these belonged to young bloods who +had been foremost in the riot at the pit-head. There were agonised cries +from women in the crowd. All four men were married. The fifth name, that +of Mr Adam Wilkie, who was a bachelor and a misogynist, passed without +comment. The sixth was that of a pit-boy named Hopper.</p> + +<p>Mr Walker paused.</p> + +<p>"You said eight!" cried another woman's voice in an agony of suspense. +"The other two—for the love of God!"</p> + +<p>"Amos Entwistle," replied Mr Walker grimly—"and Mr Carthew."</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276">page276</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER NINETEEN.</h3> + +<h4>LABORARE EST ORARE.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>Six men sat upon six heaps of small coal in a long rectangular cavern +five feet high and six feet broad. The roof was supported by props +placed at distances specified by the Board of Trade. One side of the +cavern was pierced at regular intervals by narrow openings which were in +reality passages; the other was a blank wall of gleaming coal.</p> + +<p>This was the "face"—that point in the seam of coal which marked the +limits of progress of the ever-advancing line of picks and shovels.</p> + +<p>The men were well over two hundred fathoms—roughly a quarter of a +mile—below the surface of the earth, and they had been prisoners in +Number Three Working ever since an explosion of fire-damp and coal-dust +had cut them off from communication with the rest of Belton Pit six +hours before.</p> + +<p>The prisoners were Jim Carthew, Amos Entwistle, and Adam Wilkie, +together with a hewer, a drawer, and a pit-boy, named Atkinson, Denton, +and Hopper respectively. There had been two others, but they lay dead +and buried beneath a tombstone twelve hundred feet high.</p> + +<p>What had happened was this.</p> + +<p>About four o'clock on that disastrous afternoon, Amos Entwistle was +sitting despondently in his own kitchen. He was the oldest and most +influential overman in Belton Pit, but his counsels of moderation had +been swept aside by the floods of Mr Winch's oratory; and like the +practical creature that he was he had returned home, to await the issue +of the insurrection and establish an alibi in the event of police-court +proceedings.</p> + +<p>To him entered Mr Adam Wilkie, with the news that some of the more +ardent iconoclasts of the day-shift had remained below in the pit, in +order to break down the roofs of some of the galleries leading to the +workings—an amiable and short-sighted enterprise which, though +pleasantly irritating to their employer, must inevitably throw its +promoters and most of their friends out of work for an indefinite +period.</p> + +<p>Here at least was an opportunity to act. Entwistle hastily repaired to +the pit-offices, where he knew that Mr Carthew had been spending the +afternoon; and the three, united for the moment by the bond of +common-sense, if nothing else, dropped down the shaft with all speed. +Fortunately the man in charge of the winding-engine was still at his +post, and of an amenable disposition.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the pit bottom, they hurried along the main road. The +atmosphere was foul and close, for the ventilating machinery had ceased +to work. There was a high percentage of fire-damp, too, as constant +little explosions in their Davy lamps informed them.</p> + +<p>Presently they overtook the enemy, who had done a good deal of mischief +already; for they had set to work in the long tunnel known as the +intake, down which fresh air was accustomed to flow to the distant +workings; and at every blow of their picks, a pit-prop fell from its +position and an overhead beam followed, bringing down with it a mingled +shower of stone and rubbish.</p> + +<p>There was no time to be lost, for the whole roof might fall at any +moment. It was three against five; but authority is a great asset and +conscience a great liability. By adopting a "hustling" policy of the +most thorough description, Carthew, Entwistle, and Wilkie hounded their +slightly demoralised opponents along the intake towards the face, +intending to round up the gang in one of the passages leading back to +the main road, and, having pursued the policy of peaceful dissuasion to +its utmost limits, conduct their converts back to the shaft.</p> + +<p>The tide of battle rolled out of the intake into the cavern formed by +the face and its approaches. Master Hopper was the first to arrive, the +toe of Mr Entwistle's boot making a good second.</p> + +<p>"Now, you men," said Carthew, addressing the sullen, panting figures +which crouched before him—the roof here was barely five feet above the +floor—"we have had enough of this. Get out into the main road and back +to the shaft. You are coming up topside of this pit with us—that's +flat!"</p> + +<p>But his opponents were greater strategists than he supposed.</p> + +<p>"Keep them there, chaps!" cried a voice already far down one of the +passages.</p> + +<p>"Catch that man!" cried Carthew. "Let me go!"</p> + +<p>Shaking off Atkinson, who in obedience to orders had made a half-hearted +grab at him, he darted down the nearest passage. It led to the main +road, but across the mouth hung a wet brattice-cloth. Delayed a moment, +he hurried on towards the junction with the main road, just in time to +descry two twinkling Davy lamps disappearing round the distant corner. +They belonged to Davies and Renwick, the ringleaders of the gang. What +their object might be he could not for the moment divine, but he could +hear their voices re-echoing down the silent tunnel. Evidently they were +making for the main road, perhaps to raid the engine-room or call up +reserves. He must keep them in sight. Laboriously he hastened along the +rough and narrow track.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, far ahead in the darkness, he heard a crash, followed by a +frightened shriek. Next moment there was a roar, which almost broke the +drums of his ears, and the whole pit seemed to plunge and stagger. His +lamp went out, and he lay upon the floor in the darkness—darkness that +could be felt—waiting for the roof to fall in.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>Renwick and Davies, it was discovered long afterwards, had reached the +main road, running rapidly. Here one of them must have tripped over the +slack-lying wire cable which drew the little tubs of coal up the incline +from the lyes to the foot of the shaft. Two seconds later a tiny puddle +of flaming oil from a broken lamp (which for once in a way had not been +extinguished by its fall) had supplied the necessary ignition to the +accumulated fire-damp and coal-dust of the unventilated pit. There was +one tremendous explosion. Down came the roof of the main road for a +distance of over half a mile, burying the authors of the catastrophe, +Samson-like, in their own handiwork.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>The survivors were sitting in the <i>cul-de-sac</i> formed by the face of the +coal and its approaches, three-quarters of a mile from the shaft. No one +had been injured by the explosion, though Carthew, being nearest, had +lain half-stunned for a few minutes. Possibly the brattice-cloths hung +at intervals across the ways to direct the air-currents had been +instrumental in blanketing its force.</p> + +<p>The party had just returned from an investigation of the possibilities +of escape.</p> + +<p>"Will you report, Mr Entwistle?" said Carthew, who found that the +surviving mutineers appeared to regard him as the supreme head of the +present enterprise and Entwistle as his chief adviser.</p> + +<p>Amos Entwistle complied.</p> + +<p>There were two ways, he explained in his broad north-country dialect, by +which Number Three could be reached from the shaft. One was the intake, +along which fresh air was conducted to the workings, and the other was +the main road, which could be reached through any of the passages +leading away from the face. The explosion in the main road had brought +down the roof for a distance which might be almost anything. The intake +was blocked too. It was some way from the scene of the explosion, but +the props were gone, and the roof had come down from end to end, for all +he knew.</p> + +<p>"Is there no other way out?" said Carthew.</p> + +<p>"None, sir."</p> + +<p>Carthew indicated the row of openings beside them.</p> + +<p>"Don't any of these lead anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"They all lead to the main road, except that one at the end, which +leads to the intake. We have plenty of room to move about, and plenty of +air; but we are shut in, and that's a fact, sir."</p> + +<p>"Is that your opinion too, Mr Wilkie?"</p> + +<p>"We canna get gettin' oot o' this, sir," replied the oracle with +complacent finality.</p> + +<p>There was a deathlike silence. Then Master Hopper began to cry softly. +He was going to die, he reflected between his sobs, and he was very +young to do so. It was hard luck his being there at all. He had only +joined the riot from youthful exuberance and a desire to be "in the +hearse," as an old Scottish lady once bitterly observed of a too pushful +mourner at her husband's funeral. He entertained no personal animosity +against the owner of the pit: in fact he had never set eyes on him. His +desire had merely been to see the fun. Well, he was seeing it. He wept +afresh.</p> + +<p>Atkinson and Denton sat and gazed helplessly at Carthew. The part they +had played in sealing up six souls in the bowels of the earth had faded +from their minds: to be just, it had faded from the minds of their +companions as well. The past lay buried with Renwick and Davies. The +future occupied their entire attention.</p> + +<p>There was another danger to be considered—the suffocating after-damp of +the explosion. Carthew inquired about this. Entwistle considered that +the risk was comparatively slight.</p> + +<p>"The cloths hung across the approaches to the main road should keep it +away," he said. "It's a heavy gas, and don't move about much, like. We +shall be able to tell by the lamps, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Then what had we better do?" said Carthew briskly. "Dig?"</p> + +<p>One of the men—Atkinson—lifted his head from his hands.</p> + +<p>"Ah were saaved by t' Salvationists once," he said hoarsely. "Ah could +put up a prayer."</p> + +<p>"I think we will try the effect of a little spade-work first," said +Carthew. "<i>Laborare est orare</i>, just now!" he added to himself.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>A few hours later they re-assembled. They had tapped, sounded, hewed, +and shovelled at every potential avenue of escape, but to no purpose. +The intake and main road appeared to be blocked from end to end. Six men +were mewed up with no food, a very little water, twenty-four hours' +light, and a limited quantity of oxygen; and they had no means of +knowing how near or how far away help might be.</p> + +<p>All they were certain of was that on the other side of the barrier which +shut them in men were working furiously to reach them in time, and that +up above women were praying to God that He would deliver them.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284">page284</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER TWENTY.</h3> + +<h4>BLACK SUNDAY.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>The search party had concluded its investigations, and stood at the foot +of the shaft, which fortunately had not been injured by the distant +explosion, waiting for the cage.</p> + +<p>A pit-bottom is an unexpectedly spacious place, more resembling the +cellars of a ducal mansion, or a city station in the days of the old +under-ground, than a burrow in the hidden places of the earth. +Whitewashed brick archways open up long vistas, illuminated by electric +lamps. Through an adjacent doorway streams the cheerful glow of the +engine-room, from which the haulage of the trucks is controlled. Only in +the "sump," below the level of the flooring at the foot of the shaft, +the water gleams black and dismally.</p> + +<p>"Is there any other road to explore, Mr Walker?" asked a huge man in +blue overalls, with a patent breathing apparatus strapped upon his +back.</p> + +<p>"No, Sir John. All we can do at present is to get the ventilating gear +going again, and then send down a double shift to get to work on the +main road, in the hope of finding some one alive at the end of it. +Meanwhile we will go up and look at the pit-plan."</p> + +<p>"How long do you think it will take to get through? You know more of the +geography of this pit than I do."</p> + +<p>"It depends on how far the roof is down. It will be slow work, for we +must re-prop as we go. Twenty yards an hour is about the best we can +expect to do, working top-notch all the time. And if the road is blocked +from end to end, as well it may be, it will be a question of days, Sir +John."</p> + +<p>"And in Number Three they have neither food nor drink?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, to our knowledge. Probably they have a little water, though. +We must get at them double quick. Here is the cage coming down."</p> + +<p>The cage roared upwards between the wooden guides, black with long use +and glistening with oil and water; and presently the party were back in +the great shed which covered the pit-head, pushing their way through +anxious inquirers to the office buildings.</p> + +<p>Leaving the other members of the search party—an overman and two +hewers—to report progress, Sir John and his manager shut themselves +into the inner office. Here Walker unrolled the pit-plan, which, with +its blocks and junctions and crossings, looked very like an ordinary +street map.</p> + +<p>"Here we are," he said. "We have been able to explore the whole pit +except this part here"—he dug the point of his pencil into a distant +corner—"and the reason is that the means of access to that particular +level are blocked. Here is where the block begins." The pencil swiftly +shaded in a section. "There is the intake, all blown to smithereens; +that and the road to Number Three. But if there are men alive in the +pit, Number Three is where we shall find them."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that they are alive?" asked Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"I do. It seems incredible that the whole roof should have come down. We +must get the ventilating plant in order and dig them out; that's the +only way. We should be able to start work immediately."</p> + +<p>"Right!" said Juggernaut, bracing himself at the blessed thought of +action once more. "I'll call for volunteers."</p> + +<p>A minute later, appearing at a brilliantly lit window, he addressed the +silent throng below him. To most of them this was the second speech that +they had received from him in twelve hours.</p> + +<p>"We have been down the pit," he said. "There has been a biggish +explosion, and Number Three is cut off by a heavy fall. The air below +will be breathable in less than an hour, and we are going to set to work +right away, and clear, and clear, and clear until we find out whether +there is any one left alive there. Now,"—his voice rang out in sudden +and irresistible appeal—"we want <i>men</i>, and plenty of them. Short +shifts and high pressure! Those poor fellows have very little water, no +food, and a doubtful air supply. I ask for volunteers. Who will come +down? Step forward—now!"</p> + +<p>A gentle ripple passed over the sea of upturned faces. Then it died +away. The distance between the speaker and his entire audience had +diminished by one pace.</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Juggernaut simply. "I knew I had only to ask. Mr +Walker, will you call the overmen together and get going as soon as +possible?"</p> + +<p>A few hours earlier the men of Belton had failed in an enterprise for +lack of a leader. Now they had found one.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>Sir John Carr drove the first shovel into the mass which blocked the +main road, and for the space of thirty minutes he set a standard of pace +in the work of rescue which younger and more supple successors found it +hard to maintain.</p> + +<p>Shift followed shift.</p> + +<p>Sunday morning dawned up above, and the sun swung into a cloudless April +sky, but still the work below went on—grim, untiring, unprofitable +work. Hope deferred succeeded to hope deferred.</p> + +<p>Twenty-four hours of blind energy advanced the rescuers three or four +hundred yards, but there seemed to be no end to the fall. Progress was +growing slower too, for the excavated material had to be carried back +farther every time. Once during the second night word was sent up the +shaft that two men had been hurt through a fresh fall in the roof, +over-eagerness being the cause. Still the work went on. And so Black +Sunday drew to a close, to be succeeded by a Monday of a very similar +hue.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289">page289</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.</h3> + +<h4>VEILLESSE SAIT.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>Lady Carr was at the pit-head early on Monday morning. She had arrived +in the Belton motor, just in time to provide for the conveyance of the +two injured men to the county hospital, eleven miles away. She herself +passed quietly in and out amid the anxious groups of men and women. She +said little: it was not a time for words; but it was noted that she +lingered for more than a few minutes in the company of Master Hopper's +mother, and that her grave, slow smile appeared to hearten that broken +widow mightily.</p> + +<p>Presently she encountered her husband, whom she had not seen for two +nights and a day.</p> + +<p>"You here?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have sent those two poor men away to Kilchester in the car, and +I am waiting for it to come back." Then a note of maternal severity +intervened. "Have you been to bed at all since I last saw you?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," admitted Juggernaut. "But I have a vague recollection of +lying down somewhere for a few hours last night. It may have been on the +office sofa or it may have been in the sump. What I am more certain of +is that I have not washed for days. I feel like Othello. But what has +brought you down to the pit?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you would like to know," said Daphne, "that this affair is in +the morning papers."</p> + +<p>Othello looked, if possible, blacker than before.</p> + +<p>"Have they got the names?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jim Carthew's too. And what do you think the result has been, +Jack? I have had a wire from—from—" for a moment Daphne's concern for +the tragedy around her was swallowed up in the joy of the match-making +sex over one sinner that repenteth—"whom do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>Daphne told him. "It was the first thing she heard when she landed in +England. She is <i>frantic</i> about him, and is coming down here to-day. She +has offered to sleep anywhere, do anything, if only she may come. Jack, +isn't it too heavenly?" Daphne positively crowed.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut's teeth flashed across his grimy countenance in a sympathetic +smile.</p> + +<p>"You women!" he said softly. "We must fish him out for her after this, +Daphne. Well, Mrs Entwistle?"</p> + +<p>A middle-aged woman with hungry eyes was at his elbow. She was Amos +Entwistle's wife.</p> + +<p>"Would you come and speak to old Mr Entwistle, sir?" she said—"my man's +father. He is too rheumatic to move about easy, but he seems to have +something on his mind about another way of getting at them."</p> + +<p>Sir John Carr turned and followed her promptly.</p> + +<p>"Shall I come too, dear?" said Daphne.</p> + +<p>"Better not. Go and send Walker to me if you can find him."</p> + +<p>Mrs Entwistle conducted Juggernaut to a sunny nook, sheltered from the +keen breeze, against the brickwork of the power-house. Here sat +Entwistle senior, stone-deaf, almost blind, but with his eighty-year-old +wits still bright and birdlike.</p> + +<p>He was no respecter of titles or employers, this old gentleman, and in +high-pitched, senile tones he criticised the arrangements for rescue. +The excavatory operations were a mistake. Time was being wasted. The +poor lads inside had nobbut a little water to drink and nowt to eat. The +air would be getting foul, too.</p> + +<p>"You must get there <i>quick</i>, Sir John," he said, rising painfully from +his seat. "See now."</p> + +<p>He began to hobble laboriously away from the vicinity of the pit-head +towards the rather grimy fields which lay to the north of the colliery. +By this time Walker had arrived, bringing with him a burly, bearded +pit-inspector, sent down by the Board of Trade.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes' laborious walking ended in a halt in the middle of a +bleak pasture-field, from which a few unconcerned sheep were extracting +some exceedingly dubious-looking nourishment. Mr Entwistle called a +halt.</p> + +<p>"Been thinking things over," said he, breathing stertorously. "Known +this country-side, above and below, nigh seventy year. The lads, they go +buzzing round the pit-head, but the old man"—as a matter of fact he +said "t'owd mon," but it will be simpler to paraphrase his +utterance—"sits at home and thinks things over. They has to come to him +in the end!"</p> + +<p>All this was highly irrelevant and proportionately exasperating; but old +age has its privileges. Doubtless Agamemnon, Menelaus, and other eager +stalwarts longed with all their hearts to tear Nestor limb from limb, +what time that venerable bore delivered himself of fifty lines of +autobiographical hexameters as a preliminary to coming to the point; yet +they never did. Presently Mr Entwistle concluded his exordium and tapped +upon the ground with his staff.</p> + +<p>"We are standing," he announced, "right over the road to Number Three. +Two hundred fathom down," he added, in case they should have overlooked +this point.</p> + +<p>This, at anyrate, was a statement of fact. Walker produced and +consulted the pit-plan. "You are about right," he said. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"How far along this road is the face?" inquired the old gentleman. "It's +a tidy number of years since I——"</p> + +<p>Walker told him, with the result that the excursion was resumed. +Presently Mr Entwistle came to a halt again.</p> + +<p>"We're over Number Three now," he said.</p> + +<p>Walker again confirmed him, with the aid of a compass-bearing and the +pit-plan.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said.</p> + +<p>The old man pointed with his stick to some dismantled and abandoned pit +buildings farther down the valley, a full mile away.</p> + +<p>"The old Shawcliffe Pit," he croaked. "Worked out this forty year. But I +knowed it well when I were a lad."</p> + +<p>Juggernaut, suddenly seeing light, caught the old man by the arm.</p> + +<p>"You mean," said he rapidly, "that the Shawcliffe workings run up this +way——"</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Walker, interrupting. "You are wrong, Mr Entwistle. The +Shawcliffe workings all run down the other way, to the north."</p> + +<p>"Nay," persisted the old gentleman—"not all. They thowt there were a +seam this way, and they drove one road out here, if so be they might +pick it up. They had got signs of it, boring. But it were a faulty seam. +It weren't until Belton Pit were opened, thirty years later, that they +struck it fair."</p> + +<p>"And that road runs out this way, from Shawcliffe shaft?" asked the +Inspector.</p> + +<p>"Ay, and it must come very nigh to the Belton Workings now—nigh to +Number Three. I reckon——"</p> + +<p>"He is right!" said Walker excitedly. "It's a chance! I <i>have</i> heard of +this road, now I think of it." He turned to Entwistle again. "How far +out do you think it runs? Quick, man—tell us!"</p> + +<p>For answer the veteran, much inflated, stumped off again in a northerly +direction, with all the assurance of a water-diviner in full cry. After +fifty yards or so he stopped.</p> + +<p>"I should say it ended about here," he said. "You can trust the old +man's memory. The youngsters——"</p> + +<p>Another lengthy deliverance was plainly threatened, but this time our +Nestor observed, not without justifiable chagrin, that the majority of +his audience had disappeared. The symposium was suddenly reduced to +himself and his daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>Testily curtailing his peroration, to the exclusion of severable +valuable aphorisms upon the advantages of senile decay over youthful +immaturity, the old gentleman resignedly took the arm of Mrs Amos, and +permitted himself to be conducted back to his fireside.</p> + +<p>But he had served his turn for all that.</p> + +<p>The other three were hurrying back to Belton Pit talking eagerly, +Juggernaut leading by half a pace.</p> + +<p>"It's madness, of course," said Walker cheerfully. "This pit has been +closed for forty years. The props will be down——"</p> + +<p>"The air will be foul," said the Inspector thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Or explosive," added Walker.</p> + +<p>"And there will probably be water," continued both together.</p> + +<p>"Is the shaft still open?" asked Juggernaut brusquely.</p> + +<p>"I believe so," said Walker.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it would be possible to rig a derrick and tackle over it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>They strode on a dozen paces.</p> + +<p>"I am going down," said Juggernaut.</p> + +<p>"I am going with you," said Walker.</p> + +<p>"And I," said the Inspector, "am coming too."</p> + +<p>They broke into a trot.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296">page296</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.</h3> + +<h4>HOLD THE FORT!</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>The safety-lamps had burned themselves out hours ago, and the imprisoned +party sat on in the dark. There was nothing else to do. Food they had +none: their water was exhausted. They slept fitfully, but in the black +darkness sleep seemed little removed from death, and time from eternity.</p> + +<p>Jim Carthew lay with his head upon a friendly lump of coal, pondering +with his accustomed detachment upon the sundry and manifold changes of +this world. He thought of Death. Plainly he and his companions were +about to solve the mystery of what lay hidden round that corner which +our omniscience is pleased to consider the end of all things. What would +they find there? Another life—a vista more glorious and sublime than +man in his present state could conceive? Or just another long lane—just +another highway of labour and love, of service and reward? Or—a +<i>cul-de-sac</i>—an abyss—a jumping-off place? He wondered. Not the last +alternative, he thought: more likely one of the other two. Anyhow, he +would know soon, and it would be interesting. His one regret was that he +would not be able to come back, even for five minutes, to tell his +friends about it.</p> + +<p>Friends!...</p> + +<p>This brought a new train of reflection. He thought of Jack Carr and Jack +Carr's wife. Would the latter keep her promise, and come back to her +husband? He wondered. She should be in Belton this week, all being +well—that is, if this was the week he thought it was. But time seemed +rather a jumbled affair at present. Besides, he was so infernally hungry +that he could not reason things out. Never mind!...</p> + +<p>He thought of Nina Tallentyre. <i>That</i> difficulty had solved itself, +anyhow. No need for further hopings or strivings: that was a relief! +When their rupture occurred he had prayed to be excused from living +further. He had even petitioned that the earth might open and swallow +him up for ever. Well, the earth had done so, so he ought to be +satisfied. He was gone down into silence, and Nina was rid of him—well +rid of him! He was well rid of her, too. She had led him a dog's life +the last few months. A <i>dog's</i> life. He repeated the fact to himself +pertinaciously, but without any great feeling either of conviction or +resentment.</p> + +<p>He felt strangely contented and cheerful. His mind dwelt with +persistence on the bright side of things. He thought of the day when she +and he had first met, and Nina, in her superb, imperious manner, had +desired him to take her out of "this rabble," and come and amuse her in +a corner. He remembered subsequent meetings; various gracious acts of +condescension on Nina's part; and finally one special evening on board a +yacht in regatta-time, when they had sat together in a corner of the +upper deck in the lee of the chart-house, with a perfectly preposterous +moon egging them on, and the faint strains of <i>Caressante</i> pulsing +across the silent water from the Commodore's yacht hard by; and Nina had +nearly—almost—all-but—and then actually—capitulated.</p> + +<p>She had gone back on her word three weeks later, it was true; but he +drew consolation even now from the memory of something which had slipped +through her long lashes and rolled down her cheek even as she dismissed +him, a memory which had carried through many a black hour.</p> + +<p>It was over episodes like this that his mind lingered. Other and less +satisfactory items declined to come up for review. Perhaps, he +reflected, dying men, provided they had lived clean and run straight, +were always accorded this privilege. Only the credit side of the ledger +accompanied them on their journey into the unknown. It was a comforting +thought.</p> + +<p>...He wondered what she would think when she heard about it. In a blue +envelope at the bottom of his private strong-box they would find his +will, a primitive document composed in secrecy, and endorsed: "To be +opened when I have gone out for good." In this he had bequeathed all he +possessed to "my friend Miss Nina Tallentyre," be she maid, wife, or +widow at the moment. Carthew was not a man who loved by halves. All that +he had was hers, whether she needed it or not. Of course she must not be +made conspicuous in the matter; he had seen to that. The bequest was to +be quite quiet and unostentatious. No probate, or notices in the papers, +or rot of that kind. In the blue envelope was enclosed a private letter +to his lawyers, dwelling on the importance of this point. They were +decent old buffers, that firm, and would understand. They would square +up any death-duties and other legal fakements that were necessary, and +then pass on the balance to little Nina, to buy herself pretty things +with. But no publicity! No embarrassment!</p> + +<p>...He fell asleep, and dreamed, from the natural perversity of things, +of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.</p> + +<p>When he awoke, low voices were conversing near him. Farther away he +could hear the regular breathing of Master Hopper, who, with youth's +ready amenability to Nature's own anodynes, was slumbering peacefully.</p> + +<p>"I can weel understand, Mr Entwistle," observed Mr Wilkie in measured +tones, "that no decent body would like to be seen entering yin o' they +Episcopalian Kirks."</p> + +<p>Amos Entwistle's heavy voice agreed. He commented with heat upon +indulgence in vain repetitions and other heathen practices favoured by +the Anglican community; and related with grim relish an anecdote of how +his own daughter, lured from the Wesleyan fold by the external +fascinations of the new curate, had once privily attended morning +service at the parish church—to return, shocked to the foundations of +her being, with horrific tales of candles burning on the altar in broad +daylight and the Lord's Prayer repeated four times in the course of a +single service.</p> + +<p>"But what I couldna thole," continued Mr Wilkie, who had been +characteristically pursuing his own line of thought in the meantime, +"would be no tae belong tae the kirk of the <i>land</i>. A Chapel body! I +could never endure the disgrace of it."</p> + +<p>Entwistle demurred vigorously. It was no disgrace to be Chapel folks. +Sturdy Independents were proud to be able to dispense with State-aided, +spoon-fed religion. Disgrace, indeed! Were not Mr Wilkie's qualms on the +subject of Dissent due rather to a hankering after the flesh-pots—the +loaves and fishes—the——</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps no exactly a disgrace," continued Mr Wilkie, disregarding +the latter innuendo, "but a kin' o' stigma, like. Man, it's an awful +thing tae walk doon the street and meet the minister o' the pairish, and +him pass by and tak' no more notice of ye than if ye were a Plymouth +Brother or an Original Secessionist. I mind yince when I was in a +Tynside pit, I sat under Mr Maconochie—him that gave up a grand kirk in +Paisley tae tak a call tae oor wee bit Presbyterian contraption, Jarrow +way. Now, although Mr Maconochie's kirk was my kirk and him oor +minister, I used tae feel far more uplifted if I got a good-day frae the +minister o' the English Kirk—Golightly, or some sic' name—an +<i>Episcopalian</i>! I canna imagine why, but there it was. I doot it was +just orthodoxy. He was the minister o' the kirk o' the land, and Mr +Maconochie, being, for him, on the wrong side of the Border, was not. +Gin I had met yon felly Golightly trapesing doon the High Street o' +Jedburgh, things would hae been gey different; for then——"</p> + +<p>The point at issue, Entwistle's deep patient voice asseverated, was +this. Should a man who was an Independent allow himself or his bairns +to have aught to do with Church folk on any pretence whatever?</p> + +<p>He was answered in the darkness by a third voice. Denton, the +hewer—Atkinson, the retired Salvationist, shovelled and wheeled away in +a tub what Denton hewed—had awoken from an uneasy sleep, and was +listening to the conversation. Of all that little band, probably he was +the least prepared to die. He was a drunkard, a blasphemer, and an evil +liver. But like the rest of us, he had his redeeming features. He had +inspired and kept alive for a period of ten years the love of his +wife—a feat which many an ex-sidesman, buried beneath a mountain of +expensive masonry adorned by an epitaph beginning, "Well done, good and +faithful servant!" has signally failed to accomplish. He sat up now.</p> + +<p>"Ah niver 'ad nowt to do wi' churches or chapels," he began defiantly. +"But ah knaws this. When my Maggie were lyin' badly four years agone, +and us thought she was goin' to die, she asked me to go and fetch her +pastor—dash;that's what she called him. Ah ran along to his house and begged +him to come. He said"—the man's voice grew thick, and one could almost +see his sombre eyes glow in the gross darkness—"he said he were busy! +There was a swarry that neet that 'twas his duty to attend, and next +day he was goin' off to a political meeting to protest against t' +Education Bill, or summat. He said, too, that he had enough to do +ministerin' to the wants o' them that deserved ministerin' to, wi'out +comin' to the house o' the likes o' me. When had he last seen me in t' +chapel, he would like to knaw? Yes, <i>that</i> was what he wanted to knaw! +He wanted to stand and ask me questions like that when my Maggie——!... +Ah cursed him, and his chapel, and his fat-bellied deacons till Ah were +out o' puff with it: then Ah went off down the street half-crazed. There +Ah runs straight into a young feller wi' a soft black hat and long legs. +He was standing outside t' door of his lodgings, smoking a pipe in the +dark. He was t' curate at t' parish church, and when he saw I wasn't in +liquor, he asked me what was my trouble. I telled him. 'Is that all?' +says he. 'Will I do? I've just come off my day's work, and I ain't got +nothing to do but amuse myself now.' It were nigh ten o'clock. Well, he +comes with me, and he sat by my Maggie all the neet through, and sent me +with a note to a doctor that were a friend of his, and only went away +himsel' at seven o'clock next morning, because he had to get shaved and +take early service or summat. <i>That's</i> all your chapel folk ever done +for me, Amos Entwistle."</p> + +<p>"That was a special case, and proves no rules. Besides," said Entwistle +soberly, "this is no time for religious differences. We are in God's +hands now, and I doubt we shall all be in a place soon where there is +neither Church nor Chapel."</p> + +<p>"Would it no be best for us all tae keep silence for a matter o' ten +minutes," suggested Wilkie, "and pit up a bit prayer each of his ain, we +bein' no all of the same way of thinkin' in these matters? That gate, +wi' so many prayers o' different denominations goin' up, yin at least +should get gettin' through the roof of the pit. Are ye agreed, chaps?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay!" said Entwistle.</p> + +<p>The others all murmured assent, save Master Hopper, who shrieked out in +sudden fear. The proximity of death had become instantly and dreadfully +apparent to him on Mr Wilkie's suggestion. Carthew reached out and +pulled him to his side.</p> + +<p>"Come over here, by me," he said.</p> + +<p>Master Hopper, greatly soothed, crept close, and settled down +contentedly enough with an arm round Carthew's shoulders. Presently +Carthew heard him repeating The Lord's Prayer to himself in a low and +respectful whisper.</p> + +<p>The silence lasted longer than ten minutes. For one thing, the +supplicants were exhausted in body, soul, and spirit, and their orisons +came slowly. For another, there was no need to hurry. For nearly an hour +no one spoke.</p> + +<p>At length some one sat up in the darkness, and the voice of Atkinson +inquired—</p> + +<p>"Mr Carthew, sir, I think a song of praise would hearten us all."</p> + +<p>"I believe it would," said Carthew. He was not enamoured of the +corybantic hymnology of the Salvation Army, but the horror of black +darkness was beginning to eat into his soul, and he knew that the others +were probably in a worse plight. "What shall we sing?"</p> + +<p>"At the meeting where I were saved," said Atkinson deferentially, "we +concluded worship by singing a hymn I have never forgotten since: <i>Hold +the Fort!</i>"</p> + +<p>"That sounds a good one," said Carthew, struggling with an unreasonable +sensation of being in the chair at a smoking-concert. "Does any one else +here know <i>Hold the Fort!</i>?"</p> + +<p>Yes, Entwistle knew it. Master Hopper had heard it. Mr Wilkie had not. +He did not hold with hymns: even paraphrases were not, in his opinion, +altogether free from the taint of Popery. If it had been one of the +Psalms of David, now! Still, he would join. Denton knew no hymns, but +was willing to be instructed in this one.</p> + +<p>Atkinson, trembling with gratification, slowly rehearsed the words, the +others repeating them after him.</p> + +<p>"We will sing it now," he said.</p> + +<p>He raised the tune in a clear tenor. Most north-countrymen are +musicians by instinct. In a few moments this grim prison was flooded by +a wave of sonorous melody. The simple, vulgar, taking tune swelled up; +the brave homely words rang out, putting new heart into every one. Each +and all joyfully realised that there are worse ways of going to one's +death than singing a battle-song composed by Moody and Sankey. With +drawn white faces upturned to the heaven they could not see they sang +on, flinging glorious defiance into the very teeth of Death—gentleman +and pitman, Church and Chapel, zealot and infidel.</p> + +<p>"Last verse again!" commanded Atkinson.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment!" cried Entwistle, starting up.</p> + +<p>But no one heard him. The chorus was rolling out once more—</p> + +<p>"<i>Hold the Fort, for I am coming</i>——"</p> + +<p>Tap, tap, tap! Scrape, scrape, scrape! Hammer, hammer, hammer!</p> + +<p>The hymn paused, wavered, and stopped dead on the final shout.</p> + +<p>"By God!" screamed a voice—it was Denton's—"here they are!"</p> + +<p>Carthew, with Hopper's arms tightening convulsively round him, started +up.</p> + +<p>"Is it true?" he asked hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Ay! Listen! They have found us. They are within a few yards of us," +said Entwistle.</p> + +<p>"<i>Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!</i>" sang Atkinson suddenly +and exultantly, and the others joined him.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>Entwistle was right. They were found. Reasoned calculation, dogged +persistence, and blind indifference to their own safety had brought the +search party triumphantly along the mouldering rickety passages of +Shawcliffe Pit to the nearest point of contact with Number Three in +Belton; and <i>Hold the Fort!</i> proceeding from a subterranean cave of +harmony not many yards away, had done the rest.</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308" id="page308">page308</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.</h3> + +<h4>THE LAST TO LEAVE.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>It was night once more, and the great arc lights snapped and sizzled +above the waste-heaps and truck-lines surrounding the head of Belton +Pit. But the scene was deserted. The centre of interest had shifted to +Shawcliffe, a mile away. Here a vast silent throng of human beings stood +expectantly in groups, their faces illuminated by the naphtha flares +which had been erected here and there about the long-abandoned pithead.</p> + +<p>There was news—tense, thrilling news—and the prospect of more. The +ancient shaft had been opened and a bucket and tackle rigged—there was +no time to ship a cage—and a search party had gone down at dusk. Word +had shortly been sent up that the road to the south was still open, +though the air was foul and the props rickety. Then came a frantic tug +at the rope, and a messenger was hauled to the surface, crying aloud +that men were alive in Belton Pit. It was hoped, he added, that the +search party would reach them by midnight, for the dividing wall was +surprisingly thin. Sir John Carr's order was that blankets and +stretchers should be prepared; also food and medical comforts, for the +prisoners had fasted for something like sixty hours. With that the +messenger had dived below once more, and the game of patience was +resumed.</p> + +<p>It was past midnight now, and everything was in readiness. On the +outskirts of the throng, at the side of the rough and lumpy road, stood +a motor-car with two occupants—women. One of them was her ladyship; the +other the spectators failed to recognise. But there were rumours about +to the effect that she was a visitor to Belton recently arrived from +London. Lady Carr had been seen meeting her at the station that +afternoon.</p> + +<p>The stranger's name, had it been told, would not have conveyed much +information to the watchers. It was Nina Tallentyre.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>There was a sudden swirl and heave in the crowd. The hand-turned +windlass was at work again, and some one was being hauled slowly up the +shaft. It was Mr Walker, the manager.</p> + +<p>They made a lane for him, until he reached a convenient rostrum formed +by an inverted and rusty truck. This he mounted and very briefly told +them the news—news which made them laugh foolishly and sob by turns. +There was no cheering: they were past that.</p> + +<p>In the excitement the next man who followed him up the shaft passed +unnoticed. It was Sir John Carr. He saw the hooded motor standing apart, +Mr Vick sitting motionless at the wheel. Next moment he was in beside +the two women, overalls and all, holding Daphne's hands in a single +grimy fist and telling them what we know already.</p> + +<p>"Is he <i>perfectly</i> safe?" asked Nina for the tenth time. She did not +possess Daphne's aristocratic composure under critical circumstances.</p> + +<p>"Yes—but very weak. I am sending him up second. The first is a pit-boy. +When Carthew arrives you had better put him in the motor and take him +straight home."</p> + +<p>"Jack!" said Daphne.</p> + +<p>She slipped out of the car and accompanied her husband into the darkness +outside the radius of flaring lights.</p> + +<p>"Are you going down again?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"And when are you coming up?" The unflinching courage which upholds so +many women in the face of danger had never failed Daphne during those +long days and nights. But now the courage was receding with the danger.</p> + +<p>Juggernaut smiled.</p> + +<p>"When would you have me come up?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Last," said Daphne, suddenly proud. "It is the only place for you. I +will wait here. Nina can take her Jim home, and the car can come back +later for you and me. Jack!"</p> + +<p>Her husband turned and regarded her curiously. Their eyes met.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Jack," continued Daphne in a low voice, "is there much risk down +there—for you, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"There is always risk, of a sort, down a coal-pit," replied her husband +pontifically. "A little explosive marsh-gas, or a handful of finely +divided coal-dust lying in a cranny, might suddenly assert itself. +Still, there are risks everywhere. One might be struck down by apoplexy +at a vestry meeting."</p> + +<p>Daphne gave his arm a squeeze, an ingratiating childish squeeze, +suggestive of the Daphne of old negotiating for extension of dress +allowance.</p> + +<p>"Jack, stay up here! You have done enough."</p> + +<p>"<i>Post me, Satanella!</i>" smiled her husband. Then, more seriously: +"Daphne, if I came to you and asked for orders <i>now</i>, where would you +send me, I being what I am—the proprietor of the pit—and you being +what you are—the proprietress of my good name?"</p> + +<p>Daphne's fit had passed.</p> + +<p>"I should send you," she answered bravely, "down the shaft, with orders +to stay there until every one else was safely out."</p> + +<p>"I obey," said Juggernaut. "<i>Au revoir!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Jack!" said Daphne faintly. Her face was uplifted.</p> + +<p>"It will be a coaly one!" said her husband, complying. Then came an +accusation.</p> + +<p>"Daphne, you are trembling! This is not up to your usual standard."</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," said Daphne miserably. "I am a coward. But I don't +mind," she added more cheerfully, "so long as no one else knows. <i>You</i> +won't give me away!"</p> + +<p>At that Juggernaut held her to him a moment longer.</p> + +<p>"Daphne, my wife," he whispered suddenly—"thank God for you—at last!"</p> + +<p>Then they fell apart, and she ran lightly back to the motor and Nina.</p> + +<p>Once she turned and looked over her shoulder, waving her hand prettily. +Her face, framed in a motor bonnet and lit by the glare of a naphtha +light, looked absurdly round and childish, just as it had done upon a +dim and distant morning in Snayling Church.</p> + +<p>It was the last time in his life that her man was ever to behold it.</p> + +<hr class="tbone"> + +<p>Master Hopper, partially restored by brandy and meat juice, and +feeling, on the whole, something of a hero, arrived at the pit-head an +hour later, there to be claimed by his mother and hustled off, by more +willing hands than he could comfortably accommodate, home to bed. The +bucket, which provided standing-room for two passengers, then went down +again.</p> + +<p>This time it brought up Mr Walker, holding a supporting arm round +Carthew—a sick man indeed. He was less hardened to subterranean +existence than the rest. Sympathetic murmurs arose. The bucket was swung +out from beneath the pulley and landed gently on the edge of the shaft. +Carthew stepped out and stood swaying uncertainly.</p> + +<p>A tall girl came suddenly forward.</p> + +<p>"Jim, dear!" was all she said.</p> + +<p>Carthew surveyed her, and smiled weakly.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Nina! That you?"</p> + +<p>Miss Tallentyre took his arm.</p> + +<p>"The car is waiting for you," she said. "Lean on me <i>hard</i>, old boy!"</p> + +<p>And certainly no more desirable prop than this girl, with her splendid +youth and glorious vitality, was ever offered to a weary mortal. +Carthew, dazed but utterly content, put a feeble arm round the slim +shoulders of the woman whose mere hand he had hitherto counted it heaven +to touch, and the pair passed away together out of the crowd—and out +of this narrative. Happiness has no history.</p> + +<p>Others were coming up the shaft now. First Mr Wilkie, in a very fair +state of preservation: then Denton, the reprobate, insensible—his hands +were in tatters, so fiercely had he worked,—then Atkinson, still sheer +drunk with the success of his own hymnology: then Amos Entwistle.</p> + +<p>Denton's huge inanimate form was laid on a stretcher, to be carried home +under the direction of his wife. (The wives of Renwick and Davis, poor +souls, had gone home long ago.) But, the Belton Hall motor returning on +that instant, Lady Carr insisted on carrying husband and wife home +together. The rush through the night air brought Denton round, and he +was able to walk into his own house, leaning undeservedly upon the +proudest little woman in the north of England.</p> + +<p>Daphne returned to the pit-head for the last time. The rescue work was +completed. Surely she might claim him now!</p> + +<p>No, the block and tackle were not working. No one else was coming up at +present. Only round the shaft a knot of men conferred eagerly. She would +wait in the car.</p> + +<p>She lay back, wrapped in a rug—a cold dawn was breaking—and closed her +eyes. The rush and excitement of the three days had told upon her. She +had no clear recollection of having slept for any length of time or +eaten at any definite period. She had done work among stricken wives and +mothers that Belton village would never forget, but she had not realised +this. All her head and heart were filled by the mighty knowledge that +after five years of married life she and her husband had found one +another.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile there was silence round the pit-head.</p> + +<p>"Vick," said Daphne, suddenly fearful, "go and find Mr Walker, or some +one, and ask when Sir John will be up."</p> + +<p>Mr Vick, who had been dozing comfortably at his wheel, clambered down +into the muddy road and departed as bidden. Ten minutes later he +returned falteringly.</p> + +<p>"Mr Walker has just gone down the pit again, my lady," he said. "There +has been a slight explosion of coal-dust, I was to tell you. Nothing +serious—just a flash and a spit in a holler place in the roof, the +message said."</p> + +<p>"Is Sir John down there?" Cold fear gripped Daphne's heart.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Is he safe, do you know?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say, my lady," replied Vick doggedly. "I'll inquire."</p> + +<p>He turned away, glad to escape, with the brisk demeanour of one anxious +to investigate matters. But before he reached the pit-head the answer to +all possible inquiries came to meet him, in the form of a slow-moving +procession carrying something in its midst.</p> + +<p>Very gently the bearers laid the stretcher on the grass by the roadside. +Daphne, white, silent, but composed, stooped down and turned back the +blanket which covered her husband's face. He lay very still. His head +and eyes were roughly bandaged. Daphne whispered, so low that none other +could hear.</p> + +<p>"Jack—my Jack!"</p> + +<p>His voice answered hers, from amid the bandages—faint, but +imperturbable as ever.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right, dear. Afraid it has got me in the eyes a bit, though. +Take me home, wife of mine! You will have to lead me about with a string +now!"</p> + +<p>Daphne's head sank lower still, and she whispered, almost exultantly--</p> + +<p>"At last I can really be of some use to you!"</p> +<div class="divhd"> +<br><br><br> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page317" id="page317">page317</a></span> + +<h3>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.</h3> + +<h4>ANOTHER ALIAS.</h4> +<br> +</div> +<p>"Brian Vereker Carr," inquires a voice, "what time is it?"</p> + +<p>"Half-past four, sir," replies the same voice respectfully. "In twenty +minutes"—in a more truculent tone—"you will have to go upstairs and +get ready for tea. You will have to wash your hands—and your face too, +I expect," adds the voice bitterly.</p> + +<p>Thus, at the age of eight, does Master Brian Vereker Carr commune with +himself—a habit acquired during an infancy spent in a large nursery +where there was no one else to talk to. The necessity for this form of +duologue no longer exists, for now a sister shares the nursery with +him—Brian lives in dread of the day when she shall discover that her +manly brother not only owned but once rejoiced in the great doll's house +in the corner by the fireplace—but the habit remains. Besides, Miss +Carr is only four years old, and gentlemen who have worn knickerbockers +for years find it difficult to unbend towards their extreme juniors to +any great extent. Hence Mr Brian still confers aloofly with himself, +even in the presence of adults. There are touches of Uncle Anthony +Cuthbert about Brian.</p> + +<p>At present he is inadequately filling a large arm-chair in front of the +library fire at Belton. The fire is the sole illuminant of the room. The +curtains are closely drawn, for it is a cold winter evening. Brian +Vereker continues his observations, now approaching an artistic climax.</p> + +<p>"If you go upstairs promptly <i>and</i> obediently, like a good boy, what do +you think mother will give you?" inquires voice number one.</p> + +<p>"Chocolates!" replies number two, with an inflection of tone which +implies that it will be playing the game pretty low down if mother does +not.</p> + +<p>The owner of both voices then turns an appealing pair of brown eyes upon +Daphne, who is sitting on the other side of the fireplace, engaged in +the task of amusing her four-year-old daughter.</p> + +<p>"We'll see," she replies after the immemorial practice of mothers.... +"And suddenly," she continues to the impatient auditor on her lap, "his +furry skin fell away, and his great teeth disappeared, and he stood up +there straight and beautiful, in shining armour. He <i>was</i> a fairy +prince, after all! Brian, dear, tumble out of that arm-chair. Here is +dad."</p> + +<p>Daphne must have quick ears, for a full half-minute elapses before the +door opens and a figure appears in the dim light at the end of the room. +Apparently the darkness does not trouble him, for he circumnavigates a +round table and a revolving bookcase without hesitation, and finally +drops into the arm-chair recently vacated by his son.</p> + +<p>"Brian Vereker Carr," inquires a small and respectful voice at his +elbow, "do you think dad will play with you to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I am <i>sure</i> he will," comes a confident reply from the same quarter, +"if you give him two minutes to light his pipe in, and refrain from +unseemly demon—demonstrations of affection in the meanwhile."</p> + +<p>"It's a hard world for parents," grumbles Juggernaut, getting up. "Where +is my tobacco-pouch?"</p> + +<p>His hand falls upon the corner of the mantelpiece, but encounters +nothing there but a framed photograph of a sun-burned young man on a +polo-pony—Uncle Ally, to be precise.</p> + +<p>"Now where on <i>earth</i> is that pouch? I know I left it on the left-hand +end of the mantelpiece after lunch."</p> + +<p>There is a shriek of delight at this from Brian, in which Miss Carr +joins, for the great daily joke of the Carr family is now being +enacted.</p> + +<p>"Where can it be?" wails Juggernaut. "Under the hearthrug, perhaps? No, +not there! In the blotting-pad? No, not there! <i>I</i> know! I expect it is +behind the coal-box."</p> + +<p>Surprising as it may appear, his surmise proves to be correct; and the +triumphant discovery of the missing property scores a dramatic success +which no repetition seems able to stale. (This is about the fiftieth +night of the run of the piece.)</p> + +<p>Presently the pipe is filled and lit, Master Carr being permitted to +kindle the match and Miss Carr to blow it out, the latter feat only +being accomplished by much expenditure of breath and a surreptitious +puff from behind her shoulder, contributed by an agency unknown.</p> + +<p>"Now, Brian, young fellow," announces Juggernaut, "I will play for ten +minutes. Let me speak to the sister first, though."</p> + +<p>He lifts his daughter, whom he has never seen, from her mother's knee, +and exchanges a few whole-hearted confidences with her upon the subject +of her recreations, conduct, dolls, health, and outlook on life in +general. Then he restores her, and shouts—</p> + +<p>"Come on, Brian Boroo!"</p> + +<p>There is a responsive shriek from his son, and the game begins. It is +not every boy, Master Brian proudly reflects as he crawls on all fours +beneath a writing-table, who can play at blind man's buff with a real +blind man!</p> + +<p>Daphne leans back in her chair and surveys her male belongings +restfully. Time was when this husband of hers, at present eluding +obstacles with uncanny facility and listening intently, with the +youthful zest of a boy-scout, for the excited breathing of his quarry, +found life a less hilarious business. There rises before her the picture +of a man led from room to room, steered round corners, dressed like a +child, fed like a baby—shattered, groping, gaunt, but pathetically and +doggedly cheerful. Neither Daphne nor her husband ever speak of that +time now. Not that she regrets it: woman-like, she sometimes feels sorry +it is over and gone. She was of real use to her man in those days. Now +he seems to be growing independent of her again. Then she smiles +comfortably, for she knows that all fears on that score are groundless. +He is hers, body and soul. And she——</p> + +<p>A small, unclean, and insistent hand is tugging at her skirt, and Miss +Carr, swaying unsteadily beneath the burden of a bulky and tattered +volume, claims her attention.</p> + +<p>"Show me pictures," she commands.</p> + +<p>She and her tome are hoisted up, and the exposition begins.</p> + +<p>"Where did you find this book, Beloved?" inquires Daphne. The book is an +ancient copy of the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and we have encountered it +once before in this narrative.</p> + +<p>"Over there," replies Beloved, indicating the bottom shelf of a bookcase +with a pudgy thumb—"under ze 'Gwaphics.' What's ze name of that +genelman?"</p> + +<p>To Miss Carr distinctions of caste are as yet unknown. In her eyes every +member of the opposite sex, from the alien who calls on Thursdays with a +hurdy-gurdy to the knight-in-armour who keeps eternal vigil in the outer +hall, is a "genelman." Even if you are emitting flames from your +stomach, as in the present instance, you are not debarred from the +title.</p> + +<p>Daphne surveys the picture in a reminiscent fashion, and her thoughts go +back to a distant Sunday morning at the Rectory, with her youngest +brother kneeling on the floor, endeavouring to verify a pictorial +reference in this very volume.</p> + +<p>"What is he doin' to the other genelman?" continues the searcher after +knowledge upon her knee, in a concerned voice.</p> + +<p>"He is trying to hurt him, dear."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>So the inexorable, immemorial catechism goes on, to be answered with +infinite patience and surprising resource. Presently the cycle of +inquiry completes itself, and the original question crops out once +more.</p> + +<p>"What did you say was ze name of that genelman?" with a puckered, +frowning effort at remembrance.</p> + +<p>"Apollyon, dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh." Then the inquirer strikes a fresh note.</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"I used to," replies Daphne. "At least," she adds, "I used to know some +one who I thought was like him. But his name turned out not to be +Apollyon after all."</p> + +<p>"What <i>was</i> his name, then—his pwoper name?" pursues Miss Carr, deeply +intrigued.</p> + +<p>Daphne turns to another illustration, coming much later in the book, and +surveys it with shining eyes.</p> + +<p>"His proper name, Beloved?" she asks.</p> + +<p>"Yes. What <i>was</i> it?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Greatheart," says Daphne softly.</p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<h4>THE END.</h4> +<br><br> + + +<h5>PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.</h5> +<br> + +<hr style='width: 100%'> + +<h2>Blackwood's New Novels.</h2> +<hr class="tbone"> +</div> +<p class="padver">"The name of <b>BLACKWOOD</b> on a novel is a guarantee of good +literature."—<i>Saturday Review.</i></p> +<div class="divhd"> + +<p class="hauth"><span class="smcap">Second Large Impression.</span></p></div> + +<p class="hotnow">The Twymans.</p> + +<p class="htap">By HENRY NEWBOLT,</p> + + +<p class="hauth">Author of 'The New June,' 'Admirals All,' 'The Old Country: A Romance,' +&c.</p> +<div class="padver"> +<p>"A welcome refreshment to the weary traveller in the arid plains of +modern fiction ... a delightful book."—<i>Spectator.</i></p> + +<p>"One of the most beautifully written books we have read for many a long +day. We congratulate Mr Newbolt. His novel has given us great delight. +We urge our readers not to borrow the book—but to buy it."—<i>Liverpool +Courier.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="hauth"><span class="smcap">Third Large Impression.</span></p> + +<p class="hotnow">A Safety Match.</p> + +<p class="htap">By IAN HAY,</p> + +<p class="hauth">Author of 'Pip,' 'The Right Stuff,' &c.</p> +<div class="padver"> +<p>"Mr Hay is a writer of great charm ... this work is peculiarly +fascinating."—<i>Morning Post.</i></p> + +<p>"'A Safety Match' is immense."—<i>Sheffield Telegraph.</i></p> + +<p>Professor <span class="smcap">Saintsbury</span> writes: "Let me congratulate you on 'A Safety +Match.' I have read nothing so good for a long time."</p> +</div> + +<p class="hotnow">The Keepers of the Gate.</p> + +<p class="htap">By SYDNEY C. 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This is one of them."—<i>Newcastle +Chronicle.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="hotnow">Patches and Pomander.</p> + +<p class="htap">By ARTHUR BREBNER,</p> + +<p class="hauth">Author of 'John Saint.'</p> +<div class="padver"> +<p>A novel of the time of the second Charles and the intrigues of the great +Lady Castlemaine. The author has skilfully reproduced the atmosphere of +the Court—Brocades and Scent and Lace—the "Glimpses of the Moon"—and +here once more the attempt to breathe into those painted Dames that look +down on us from our galleries the Breath of Life.</p> + +<p>"Picturesque, spirited, vigorous, and romantic, the story has every +chance of popularity."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="padver2"><span class="smcap">Second Impression.</span></p> + +<p class="hotnow">Saints, Sinners, and the Usual People.</p> + +<p class="htap">By <span class="smcap">St</span> JOHN LUCAS.</p> +<div class="padver"> +<p>"Worth reading again and again."—<i>Times.</i></p> + +<p>"An oasis in the desert of print."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p> + +<p>"There is such a thing as laughter in the world. There certainly +is—even in literature; even too in the art of fiction. It is to be +found, for instance, in the work of Mr St John Lucas; laughter not thin +and hollow, but sound and deep."—<i>Observer.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="hotnow">The Joyous Wayfarer.</p> + +<p class="htap">By HUMFREY JORDAN,</p> + +<p class="hauth">Author of 'My Lady of Intrigue.'</p> +<div class="padver"> +<p>"The tale is told with infinite spirit, and rivets attention from first +to last."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p> + +<p>"A charming novel."—<i>Irish Times.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="hotnow">Spinners in Silence.</p> + +<p class="htap">By RACHEL SWETE MACNAMARA,</p> + +<p class="hauth">Author of 'The Trance,' 'Seed of Fire,' &c.</p> +<div class="padver"> +<p>"An ideal love-story."—<i>Sheffield Daily Telegraph.</i></p> + +<p>"A fresh and prettily romantic love-story."—<i>Times.</i></p> + +<p>"An enchanting story ... we read it with delight and finished it with +regret."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>"A treat to the jaded as well as the eager reader."—<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="hotnow">Troubled Waters.</p> + +<p class="htap">By L. 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Leather, 10s. 6d.; Cloth, 6s. net.</p> + + <p><span class="sptit">An Ignorant in India.</span> By <span class="smcap">R. E. Vernède</span>, Author of 'The Fair + Dominion.' Crown 8vo, 5s. net.</p> + +<p><i>CONTENTS.</i>—The First Day in India—A Ride round a Dead Water +City—At the Club in the Mofussil—A Camp near the Pelicans—The +Collector and the Tiger—Ou-opp Sahib—From a Bengal +Verandah—Hamlet at a Bengal Fair—Speech Day in Crocodile +Country—The Patwari and the Peacock—A Tramp through the +Jungle—The Meet, and the Parting.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" I asked; "what does the man want?"</p> + +<p>The ticket-collector gave that pleased and deprecating smirk with +which a native called upon to exercise his English usually opens.</p> + +<p>"He want your paper of the luggage," said he.</p> + +<p>"Is that all," I said; "what does he want it for?"</p> + +<p>"He want it," said the Babu, "because he say that your are so +iggnorant that perhaps you lose the paper of the luggage. He say you +give it to him. He not lose it."</p> + + +<p><span class="sptit">Ships that Pass In the Night.</span> By <span class="smcap">Beatrice Harraden</span>. Velvet Pile +Leather Edition. Illustrated. 5<i>s</i>. net.</p> + +<p><span class="sptit">A Short History Of Scotland.</span> By <span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span>, Author of 'A History +of Scotland from the Roman Occupation.' Crown 8vo, 5<i>s</i>. net.</p> + + +<p>Mr Andrew Lang has never done a more patriotic piece of work or a +better service to education than by writing a concise one-volume +History of Scotland. 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With + Frontispiece in Colours by Lady <span class="smcap">Aileen Wellesley</span>.</p> + + <p><span class="sptit">Outlines of the History of German Literature.</span> For the Use of + Schools. By <span class="smcap">John G. Robertson</span>, Ph.D., Professor of German in the + University of London; Author of 'A History of German Literature.' + Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net.</p> + + <p><span class="sptit">In Malay Forests.</span> By <span class="smcap">George Maxwell</span>. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, + 6s. net.</p> + + <p><span class="sptit">Forest Entomology.</span> By <span class="smcap">A. T. Gillanders</span>, Woods Manager to His + Grace the Duke of Northumberland, K.G. Second Edition, Revised. + Demy 8vo, 15s. net. With 351 Illustrations.</p> + + <p><span class="sptit">Private Letters of the Marquess of Dalhousie.</span> Edited by <span class="smcap">J. G.</span> + <span class="smcap">A. Baird.</span> Popular Edition. With Portraits and Illustrations. Demy + 8vo, 6<i>s</i>. net.</p> + +<p>With the exception of the diaries which Lord Dalhousie kept from +boyhood, his letters to Sir George Couper contain more of the man +himself than all the rest of his papers put together. In them he +liberated his mind, vented his wrath, and freely gave his opinions of +men and things.</p> + +<p>"A fascinating revelation of the inner life and character of a great +Viceroy, the height of whose mental and moral stature was only fully +realised long after he had passed away."—<i>Times.</i></p> + + <p><span class="sptit">The Life and Times of Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt.</span> <span class="smcap">The</span> + <span class="smcap">Greatest of the Pharaohs.</span> By <span class="smcap">Arthur E. P. Weigall</span>, Author of + 'Travels in the Upper Egyptian Deserts.' Demy 8vo, 10s. 6d. net + With Illustrations.</p> + +<p>"Mr Weigall has written a remarkable book. Seldom does a reviewer, +having read a volume through, at once re-read it because of the pleasure +it has given. Yet such was the fact on this occasion. The story of +Akhnaton is strengthening and beautiful: it would perhaps be pitiful—it +is in some respects so human—if it were not remembered that since it +happened ages have drifted by; and, with the intervention of centuries, +abolition of sorrow comes. Nevertheless, the spirit of its message +lingers; and men will be wise to remember the facts and the moral of the +efforts Akhnaton made."—<i>The Daily Chronicle.</i></p> +<br><br><br><br> +<h3 class="divhd">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</h3> + +<p>1. Hyphenation and spelling have not been changed from the original text.</p> + +<p>2. 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