DICK'S COUSINS
IT was eight o'clock on the morning subsequent to the arrival of Mrs.
Compton and her children at the Manor House, and Lionel and Ruth
Compton raced each other down the wide staircase and collided at the
bottom. The latter was thrown down; but picking herself up
immediately, she turned to her brother and declared,—
"I got down first!"
"No, you did not!" he promptly contradicted.
"I did! Hush! Here comes grandfather!"
The children stood side by side, watching the old man as he came
slowly across the hall towards them. He had entered the house by the
front door, for he was an early riser, and had been strolling about
the garden when the sound of the breakfast-bell fell upon his ears.
"Good-morning, grandfather!" said Lionel.
"Good-morning, grandfather!" echoed Ruth.
Sir Richard glanced at them keenly. They were tall, well-grown
children, with fresh complexions, bright blue eyes, and fair hair;
but they appeared uneasy beneath their grandfather's scrutiny, the
truth being that they regarded him with awe and fear. They knew their
mother dreaded his violent temper; and from their earliest days
they had been taught that he must not be crossed or vexed in any way,
the consequence being that they were never their lighthearted selves
in his presence.
"Good-morning, children!" Sir Richard responded. "Is your mother
down? No! Well, I shall not wait for her! Eight o'clock is my
breakfast-hour, as she knows from experience! Why are you lingering
here in the hall? Come, everything will be cold!"
They followed him into the breakfast-room, and took their seats
at the table. As Sir Richard was put out that his daughter was late,
he vented his irritability on the children. He scolded Lionel
for slopping his coffee on the table-cloth; and when Ruth, from sheer
nervousness, dropped her knife on the floor and was obliged to dive
under the table to fetch it, re-appearing with a face crimson and
abashed, he added to her confusion by asking if she took her meals
in the nursery at home.
"No," the little girl replied, tears of mortification filling her
eyes, "we always have breakfast with mother."
"At what hour, may I inquire?" Sir Richard questioned with an
affectation of politeness.
Before Ruth could reply, however, Mrs. Compton hurriedly entered the
room. She kissed her father, and sitting down at the table,
apologised for being late, adding that she had been very tired
the previous night, and had overslept herself. He appeared slightly
mollified on hearing this, and the meal proceeded more happily.
The children sat by in silence, whilst their elders talked on
indifferent subjects. At last their grandfather made a statement
which aroused their interest.
"Children, your cousin will be here to-day. I expect you to be kind
and friendly to him. Do you understand?"
"Yes, grandfather," responded two meek voices.
"You have not yet told me what you think of the boy, father,"
Mrs. Compton said, with decided curiosity in her voice. "Is he like
my brother or—her?"
"He is like your brother; and there is a look about him of Paul
Gidley the martyr," Sir Richard answered briefly.
"Oh!" Mrs. Compton looked thoughtful. "And you are satisfied
with him?" she inquired.
"Yes; perfectly satisfied. I wish he was stronger; but Dr. Warren
assures me he will improve in health—in fact, I can see a marked
change for the better in the child since his arrival in England, I am
sure he has grown these last few weeks, and he looks stronger and
healthier altogether than he did at first."
"I wonder his mother was satisfied to send him to England alone.
Is it not strange she did not accompany him? I am sure nothing would
induce me to part with my darlings like that!"
"Ah, but not every mother is so devoted to her children as you are,
my dear Arabella," Sir Richard said sarcastically.
Mrs. Compton coloured at her father's tone; but she would not allow
herself to be put out of temper, and proceeded,—
"For my part I am very glad the boy's mother is where she is!
It would have made things awkward if she had come home too! Richard
wanted you to have the boy here, did he not? Of course that would not
have done!"
"Why not?" Sir Richard asked bluntly. Then, without waiting for a
reply, he said— "It would have done excellently well, as it
happens. I regret exceedingly I did not accede to my son's
suggestion. Had I known Dick was the sort of boy he is I should
certainly have had him here."
Mrs. Compton was too astonished to speak for several minutes. During
the last ten years, obeying her father's command, she had held
no communication with her brother. When the arbitrary old man had
declared that never, as long as he lived, would he forgive his son
for making what he considered an imprudent marriage, she had held her
tongue, and though she had not openly quarrelled with her brother,
she had tacitly sided with her father against him.
"And what sort of boy is he?" she asked presently.
"You will soon be in a position to judge for yourself," Sir Richard
told her. "When he is spoken to he holds his head up and looks one
in the face; he does not drop his eyes like Lionel there!"
Lionel grew very red at this unprovoked attack, and gave Ruth a kick
under the table as a relief to his feelings, which made her jump
violently, whereupon her grandfather asked what was the matter.
"Nothing—nothing!" she answered, not daring to tell the truth
for fear of the consequences.
"If the children have finished their breakfasts, can they not go?"
Mrs. Compton interposed.
"Certainly. Listen to me, Ruth and Lionel, both of you. Your cousin
will walk from the lodge to the house, and you can go to meet him.
He will probably arrive shortly after ten."
"Yes, grandfather," they replied.
"That's all. Now you may go."
They obeyed quietly; but the minute they were out of the room they
rushed helter-skelter upstairs to fetch their hats, and, retracing
their footsteps, went out of the front door and through the front
garden to the grounds beyond.
"I know he'll be a hateful young prig!" Lionel remarked as soon as
they were out of call from the house. He, of course, referred to his
unknown cousin. "I'm certain he will be from the way grandfather
spoke of him!"
Ruth nodded. She had forgiven his brotherly kick, and was in entire
sympathy with him now.
"Holds up his head and looks one in the face!" the boy continued
scornfully, quoting Sir Richard's words. "Puts on airs, no doubt, and
thinks he's mighty fine because he'll be master here one day! Well,
one thing I know—he won't boss me about!"
"Nor me!" echoed Ruth, in her shrill treble.
"A wretched kid like that!" Lionel cried wrathfully. "Why, he's no
older than you! We're to be kind and friendly to him! Did you hear
that? And his mother was a nobody! She hadn't a penny to bless
herself with; and Uncle Richard made a great mistake when he married
her! I heard mother say so! Dr. Warren is her uncle, and he lives in
the village opposite a baker's shop!" and there was scorn and
contempt in the boy's tone.
"I like Dr. Warren," Ruth said. "I thought you did too, Lionel!
Don't you remember how kind he was last year when we had
the measles?"
"Oh, yes; I know that! But I heard mother say his niece was not
at all a suitable wife for Uncle Richard, and grandfather has never
forgiven him for marrying her."
The children strolled idly about the grounds, discussing their
elders, and putting their own constructions upon their remarks
and actions, as children do.
"If that kid was not coming we might have gone down to the beach,"
Lionel said at length, regretfully. "I wonder how much longer
we shall have to wait before he arrives!"
They had reached the lodge by this time. It was a pretty,
rose-covered cottage adjoining the main road, inhabited by Groves,
Sir Richard's coachman, and his wife.
Mrs. Groves, a portly person in a lilac cotton gown, was whitening
her doorstep as the children approached. They explained they were
on the look-out for their cousin, and willingly accepted her
invitation to come into the lodge and wait.
They had been in Mrs. Groves' parlour before. It was a tiny room,
with pots of geraniums in full flower on the window-seat. The walls
were covered with a bright crimson paper, and were adorned with
coloured prints, and various photographs and nick-nacks. A round
mahogany table, brightly polished, stood in the middle of the room,
with a basket laden with wax fruit and flowers, covered with a glass
shade, in the centre, which was Ruth's especial admiration.
The children sat on a little chintz-covered sofa near the open
window, from which they could see the highroad, and chatted and
laughed without restraint; they were very different from the subdued,
silent pair who had breakfasted with their grandfather that morning.
"This is the dearest, sweetest little room I ever saw!" Ruth
exclaimed, looking around with approving eyes. "It is so cosy and
comfortable! Mrs. Groves, I would far rather live here than at the
Manor House!"
Mrs. Groves laughingly shook her head; but she was secretly
very gratified.
"It's bright and cheerful," she replied; "and I do think a home
should be that, if it's ever so small!"
"Yes," Ruth agreed, nodding her fair head. "The pattern of your
carpet is so pretty, too! I like those big bunches of roses! I should
dearly love to have a little room like this for my very own!"
"I wonder how you'll get on with your cousin," Mrs. Groves remarked.
"He's not so old as you, Master Lionel, and not so tall by
half a head! Sir Richard seems to have taken to him wonderfully,
I'm told, and—"
She paused abruptly at the sound of approaching wheels. The children
darted excitedly out of the lodge, and flung open the heavy iron
gates, whilst Mrs. Groves followed at a more leisurely pace, in time
to see the doctor's gig draw up and Dick clamber down.
So it was that it fell to Dr. Warren's lot to introduce the children
to each other. He was pleased that the Comptons had come to meet
their cousin; and drove off quite satisfied that Dick would soon make
friends of them.
After a few words with Mrs. Groves, the young folks made their way
towards the house. For a short distance they were rather silent. Dick
could not think of a subject to talk about; so that it was quite
a relief when Lionel began to ask him questions, all of which
he answered willingly and with no reserve. The elder boy soon
extracted a great deal of information from the younger; amongst other
things he learnt how dearly Dick loved his parents, and what a grief
it had been to him to be sent away from them.
"Why didn't your mother come with you?" Ruth asked curiously, mindful
of the conversation she had heard at the breakfast-table that
morning.
"Because she couldn't leave father," Dick replied promptly;
"and—and she said it was my duty to come to England alone; so,
of course, I did not make more fuss than I could help. I didn't want
father to think me a coward. Father's a brave soldier, you know; and
mother says I must always remember I'm a soldier's son, and do
my duty."
"We don't remember our father," Ruth said regretfully; "he died when
Lionel and I were very young."
"Uncle Theophilus told me that," Dick returned, with sympathy in his
voice.
"Uncle Theophilus!" Lionel exclaimed with a laugh. "Do you mean
Dr. Warren? Uncle Theophilus! What a name!"
"It's a very good name!" Dick retorted, flushing with annoyance.
"I don't know why you're laughing!"
"What do you call Miss Warren?" Ruth asked hastily, with a warning
glance at her brother. "I've seen her in church; I think she looks
very nice."
"She is," Dick replied; "she's awfully good and kind! I call her Aunt
Mary Ann!"
"Mary Ann!" Lionel echoed. "Is that her name? Mary Ann! We had a cook
called that! Uncle Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann! Oh, I say, what a
joke!"
"I don't know what you mean!" Dick cried indignantly. "I don't see
any joke! I think you're very silly!"
Lionel stopped laughing, and looked at Dick with some surprise.
He had expected that his cousin would be abashed, not annoyed.
"And you're very rude," Dick continued hotly; "that is, if you're
laughing at Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus—perhaps you're not?"
"But I am!" the other boy retorted. "Why shouldn't I, if I please?
Look here, youngster, don't you try dictating to me, because that
won't do, you know!"
"I don't want to dictate to you, but—"
"You'd better not, or you'll repent it!" Lionel declared
aggressively. "If I like to laugh at your Aunt Mary Ann and your
Uncle Theophilus, you needn't interfere! Who's Dr. Warren, pray?
A mere nobody, and—"
"He's not a mere nobody! You shan't speak of him like that!
You shan't!" and Dick clenched his hands and turned pale, whilst
his eyes deepened and darkened in colour.
"Mind who you're talking to!" Lionel said angrily.
[Illustration: "Let me go!" said Dick, hoarsely.]
"Do you think I'm going to hold my tongue to please a small kid
like you?"
"Oh, don't make a row!" Ruth interposed quickly. "Please don't
quarrel with him, Lionel! What will grandfather say?"
"He'd better not go sneaking to grandfather!" her brother cried.
"If he does, I'll give him something he won't easily forget! Now,
then," he proceeded, grasping Dick by the shoulder, "you attend
to me! What are you shaking for, you little coward."
The younger boy vouchsafed no reply. Every vestige of colour had gone
from his face, and he was shaking, but not from fright, as Lionel
imagined; he was, in reality, quivering with passion.
"I'll give you something to shake for, if you don't take care,"
Lionel said scornfully. "You'd better mind your own business for the
future; and if I like to joke about your grand relations who live
opposite the baker's shop, and—"
"Let me go!" said Dick hoarsely; then, as Lionel only grasped him
tighter, with a sudden movement he wrenched himself free, and struck
his cousin a swift blow in the face with his clenched fist.
There was a moment's dead silence. Ruth gave a little cry of affright
when she saw the blood flowing from her brother's nose; whilst Dick,
though still angry, felt alarmed and somewhat guilty. Lionel was glad
to accept the loan of the others' pocket-handkerchief; and presently,
when his nose had ceased bleeding, he glanced at his cousin rather
shamefacedly.
"It was your own fault, Lionel," Ruth reminded him; "it's no good
pretending it wasn't! You'd better make it up with him!"
"Yes, let us be friends," Dick said, remembering his grandfather's
desire on that point. "I hope I didn't hurt you much! I did not mean
to make your nose bleed! I'm awfully sorry—really!"
"All right!" Lionel answered gruffly, "you've apologized, and that's
enough. Say no more about it, and I won't laugh at Dr. Warren and his
sister again. Ruth, if you sneak—"
"As though I would!" the little girl broke in indignantly. "You know
I'm not like that!"
The trio now proceeded more amicably, and by the time the home was
reached, Dick was himself again, though he still felt indignant at
the manner in which Lionel had spoken of Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle
Theophilus.