True to her word Betty greeted Brown, on his appearance in the cosy,
homelike parlour of the Fairbanks' that evening, with the question,
"How did 'The Don' come by his nickname?"
"Oh, did you never know that? Most fellows put it down to his style,
but it's not that. He got it from his blood. You know, his father was
one of those West India, sea-captains that one used to find strewn
thick through Halifax society, who made fortunes in rum and lost them
pretty much the same way. Well, the old captain married a Spanish girl.
I have seen her portrait, and she was a beauty, a `high-bred Spanish
lady,' sure enough. Lived somewhere in the islands. Came home with the
Captain, and died in Halifax, leaving her seven year old boy in charge
of an aunt. Father died soon afterwards. Grief, I believe, and drink.
Even then his people called the 'the little Don.' He had a little money
left him to start with, but that has long since vanished. At any rate,
for the last five or six years he has had to fend for himself."
"Quite a romance," said Lloyd.
"Isn't it?" exclaimed Betty. "And he never told a word."
"Well, The Don's not a publisher."
"But then he told you."
"Yes, he told me and Shock one night. He likes us, you see."
"'De gustibus non disputandum,'" murmured Lloyd, and in answer to
Betty's inquiring look added, "as the old woman said when she kissed
her cow."
"Now then, what about Shock's name?" continued Betty.
"Hair," said Brown laconically. "You have seen him come out of a
scrimmage like a crab?"
"Yes. Isn't he just lovely then?" exclaimed Betty.
"Lovely? Oh, woman, woman! A ghastly, bloody, fearsome spectacle.
Lovely! But it was ever thus. 'Butchered to make a Roman holiday,'"
replied Lloyd.
"Well, he is rather bloody. Bleeds easily, you; know, but it doesn't
hurt at all," said Brown. "He never really enjoys himself till the
blood flows."
"Disgusting old Berserker!" exclaimed Lloyd.
"But I think he is just a dear," went on Betty enthusiastically. "The
way he puts his head right down into a crowd of men, and lets them jump
on him and maul him!"
"Yes," replied her sister, who had taken little part in the
conversation, "and comes out smiling. That is what I like."
"And bloody," added Lloyd. "That's what Miss Betty likes."
"I want to know about him," cried Betty impatiently. "Why don't we get
to know him? Tell me about him," she insisted. "Where does he live? Who
are his people?"
Brown hesitated.
"Well, you see, Shock's shy. Does not go in for the sort of thing that
Lloyd, for instance, revels and glitters in--teas, functions, social
routs, and all that, you know. He has only his mother, a dear old
Highland lady, poor, proud, and independent. She lives in a quaint
little house out on the Commons away behind the college, and lives for,
in, with, by, and around Shock, and he vice versa. He shares everything
with her, his work down in the mission--"
"Mission!" interrupted Betty.
"Yes. Runs a mission down in St. John's ward. Gives her all his
experiences with the denizens of that precinct, keeps her in touch with
his college work, and even with his football. You ought to see him lay
a out the big matches before her on the tea table with plates, cups,
salt cellars, knives, spoons, and you ought to see her excitement and
hear her criticisms. Oh, she's a great sport!"
"Go on," said Helen, her fine eyes beginning to glow. "Go on. Tell us
more about her."
But Brown shut up abruptly, as if he had been taking a liberty with the
privacy of his friend's home.
"Oh," he said lightly, "there's nothing more to tell. They live a very
quiet, very simple, but, I think, a very beautiful life."
"And she's fond of football?" inquired Betty.
"Devoted to it."
"And has she never seen a game? Has she never seen Shock play?"
inquired Helen.
"Never."
"Would she be afraid?"
"Would you insult the widow of a Sutherland Highlander whose picture in
warlike regalia regards her daily from her cottage wall?"
"Well, I am going to see her," exclaimed Betty.
Brown looked annoyed.
"What for?"
"Why, I am going to call."
Brown laughed a little scornfully. "Yes, and be sure to leave three
cards--is it?--and tell her your day."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Betty indignantly. "You are not very
polite."
"Oh, I am sorry, really. But I imagined the old lady looking at you and
wondering what was your particular business, and then I thought of your
difficulty in making it quite clear to her."
"Why! does she not call on anyone?"
"No. She takes her knitting and visits."
"Well, I'm going anyway, somehow. I'll ask Shock to take me."
"Oh, Betty, you could not do that," said Helen. "No man would like
exhibiting his home, much less his mother."
But Betty shook her head decidedly, saying, "I'll find some way. Tell
me, what does she like?"
"Shock."
"But I mean what amusement and pleasure has she?"
"Amusement! Shades of the mighty past! Why, Miss Betty," Brown's tone
is sad and severe, "in my young days young people never thought of
amusement. We had no time for such follies."
"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Betty impatiently. "Has she no other interest
in life than Shock?"
"None. Her church,--she would regard your prelacy with horror,--and
Shock, and Shock's doings and goings--and football, of course, as I
have said. Shock plays, you see."
"Then I have an idea," cried Helen. "We'll--"
"Do go on," appealed Brown.
"Better give it to him," said Lloyd. "An idea, you know, is to some
people a rare and valuable asset."
"Not now. Perhaps later I may impart it," said Helen.
"It would be a great kindness," said Brown humbly, "if you could let me
have it soon."
"Nature abhors a vacuum, you know," put in Lloyd.
At this point the bell rang and The Don came in. He was a young man of
striking appearance, handsome, dark, well set up, with the eyes of his
Spanish mother, but with the head and jaw of his Scotch sea-captain
father. With all his ease of manner there was a shy, proud reserve
about him, and a kind of grand air that set him apart from any company
in which he might appear.
After saluting the young ladies with a somewhat formal bow, he
announced, "I want you, Brown."
"Oh, sit down," cried Betty. "Sit down, Mr. Balfour. We are not going
to allow you to carry off our visitor in this abrupt manner."
"Yes, take yourself off," cried Brown. "You see I can't be spared."
"Please sit down," urged Helen. "We want to ask you about the match."
"I really cannot," replied The Don. "I am on duty, you see."
"On duty?"
"Yes. Looking after men who would stay out to all hours, and regale
themselves upon cake and all sorts of indigestible stuff. And more than
that, Shock is outside waiting."
"Oh," cried Betty, "do bring him in. For years Helen and I have known
him, and yet we don't know him. Bring him in."
"Can you not persuade him to come in?" urged Helen.
"I am sure I cannot. But if you were to try--" The Don paused, looking
doubtfully at her. Helen hesitated.
"Oh, he's awful, I know. He will hardly speak to me," interrupted
Betty. "But if you'll come with me I'll humble myself before him."
In a moment or two, sure enough, they returned, with Shock following.
He was a big man, gaunt and bony, with a mighty pair of shoulders
topped by a square, massive head on which bristled a veritable shock of
coarse, yellow hair. But he had a strong, honest face, and good, deep
blue eyes. He seemed too big for the room, and after shaking hands
awkwardly with Helen, who had gone forward to meet him, he subsided
into, deep arm-chair, struggling with his hands and feet.
The contrast between Shock on the one hand, and the elegant Lloyd and
the handsome Don on the other, could hardly be more striking. All in
the room were conscious of this contrast and sought in every way to
minimise it. Betty plunged into football talk, to which Shock listened
for the most part smilingly silent.
She was determined to draw her unhappy visitor from his shell. But her
most brilliant efforts were in vain. Poor Shock remained hopelessly
engaged with his hands and feet, and replied at unexpected places, in
explosive monosyllables at once ludicrous and disconcerting. Not even
The Don, who came to her assistance, could relieve the awkwardness of
the situation. Shock was too large to be ignored, and too unwieldy to
be adjusted.
After a few minutes of hopeless endeavour The Don gave up the attempt
and rose to go, saying: "You will need to excuse us. We are due at a
meeting to-night. Come along, Brown."
The alacrity which Shock displayed in getting upon his feet gave
abundant testimony to the agony he had been suffering during the last
half hour.
"Yes, we must be off," said Brown, far more eager to go than was his
wont.
"Will you not come again?" said Betty to Shock, as she shook hands with
him. "My mother would be glad to see you."
But Shock could only look at her blankly, evidently wondering what her
mother might wish to see him for, and when Betty tried to extract a
promise from him he muttered something about being "far behind in his
work and very busy."
But Betty was not to be baulked.
"I should like to call on your mother," she said. But again Shock
looked blank, while Brown began to make faces at her from behind his
back.
"When will your mother be in?" she persisted.
"Oh, she's in every day, except when she goes out for a walk, or--"
Brown kept up his signalling, and The Don began to look puzzled and
annoyed.
"Well," said Betty desperately, "I would like to go and see her some
day."
Shock hesitated, blushed, and then answered: "We have no friends in the
city, and we do not visit much, and--"
"Oh, I'll tell you, Miss Betty," burst in Brown. "Get a sharp attack of
typhoid and Mrs. Macgregor will then come and see you. She's a great
nurse."
"That she is," said Shock enthusiastically. "She would be glad to come."
"Come along, Brown," broke in The Don. "We are late now. Come along,
Shock," and the three men went off together, leaving Lloyd behind.
"Isn't he awful?" said Beth. "And didn't I humiliate myself?"
"You certainly deserved humiliation," said her sister indignantly. "You
might have seen he was dreadfully shy, and you ought to have left him
alone. And now for my great idea. I will take you both into my
confidence. I am going to drive Mrs. Macgregor to the match to-morrow."
"Splendid!" exclaimed Betty. "And I'll go with you. But how can you
persuade her?"
"I have thought about that," said Helen. "We'll ask Mr. Brown to drive
around with us a little before, and I'm sure she will go."
"Will you allow me to join the party?" humbly asked Lloyd, "or is there
someone else?"
"Oh," said Betty, "we are sure to need somebody, and you will do as
well as any other."
In obedience to an invitation conveyed by Lloyd, Brown appeared at the
Fairbanks house in the early morning. Eagerly the young ladies
propounded their plan. At once Brown entered heartily into it, and
calling with them in the afternoon persuaded the old lady that she
ought to attend the great match, emphasising especially the fact that
Shock would be delighted to see her there, and would be stimulated to
do his very best by her presence.
"It will likely be his last game, too," urged Brown.
This finally decided the matter, and so it turned out that perhaps the
most enthusiastic, and certainly the most picturesque, of all the
groups that surrounded the campus next day was that which filled the
Fairbanks carriage, consisting of two young ladies, an elegantly
attired young man, and a quaint, plainly dressed, but undeniably
dignified, old lady.