Charley Melton was not at home.
Tom went again. Not at home.
Three weeks passed before he could meet him, and then it was by accident
at one of the clubs, and during all this time Tryphie had grown colder,
and the wedding-day was approaching. But at last the two young men
encountered, and Tom went straight to the point, "Hit out," as he termed
it.
"Charley Melton," he said, "are you going to let this cursed marriage
come off?"
"What can I do?" said Charley, lighting a cigar. "I have tried
everything, and am forbidden the house."
"Why not coax Maudey to come and meet you somewhere?"
"I have tried," said Melton, quietly, "but it is hopeless now."
"Why?"
"Her ladyship never lets your sister go out of her sight."
"Then make a bolt of it, Charley."
"You proposed that before. Oh, undutiful son."
"There, don't talk like a Turk," said Tom.
"I feel like one, Bismillah! It is Kismet," said Charley Melton,
grimly.
"Fate's what a man makes himself."
"Yes, but you can't make bricks without straw. O! my Diphoos," said the
other, mockingly, "I have so little golden straw that her ladyship
refuses to let me make bricks at all, and--There, let the matter slide,
old man."
"By George!" cried Tom, savagely. "And this is my old friend Charley
Melton! Where's your spirit?"
"Ah! where indeed."
"I'd shoot Wilters if I were in your case."
"It would be agreeable, but the consequences are so precious unpleasant,
Tom. I've had one awful drop: I don't want another."
"You're a coward, Charley, big as you are."
"I am, Tom, if it comes to being hung for shooting a baronet dead. No,
Tom, I love Maude very much, but I am not chivalrous enough to risk the
rope."
"Bah!"
"Yes, if you like, I am willing for the matrimonial noose, but that
prepared for homicides--no: I would rather remain a bachelor."
"Then I cut you henceforth," said Tom, angrily. "I've done with you."
"No, you haven't, old fellow; some day after Maude is married we shall
be quite brothers again."
"Never."
"Nonsense. Have a B. and S."
"With you? No, sir; I have done. Good-day."
"Good-bye, Tom, for I'm going off shortly."
"And pray where?"
"Italy, I think," said Melton, smiling.
"Won't you stop and see Wilters married?"
"No; I will not. Have a B. and S., old fellow."
Little Tom looked his friend over from top to toe, and then, with an
ejaculation full of contempt, he stalked out of the club, and went
straight to Portland Place, where the first person he met was Tryphie
alone in the drawing-room.
"Well," she cried, "have you seen Mr Melton?"
"Yes."
"And--"
"And? Bah! he's a miserable sneak. I haven't patience with him. Here,
Tryphie, don't go."
The little maiden made no answer, but sailed out of the room, just as
Lord Barmouth came in.
"Ah, Tom, my boy, any news?"
"Yes, governor--the world's coming to an end."
"Dear me! Is it, my boy? I was in hopes that it would have lasted my
time. But perhaps it's for the best. Will it stop poor Maudey's
marriage?"
"I hope so, gov'nor. Here, come along with me."
"Certainly, my boy, certainly; but, by the way, I'm very hungry. Can we
get something to eat?"
The old man looked very haggard, for his internal wolf was gnawing.
"Come and see, gov'nor."
"Yes, my boy, I will. But, by the way, have you noticed anything
particular about Maudey?"
"Looks precious miserable."
"Yes, my boy, she does; but I mean about her standing out in the balcony
so much of an evening. You don't think--"
"Think what, gov'nor?"
"It's--it's--it's a devil of a way down into the area, Tom; and if she
were--"
"To jump over and kill herself? Pooh! nonsense, old fellow. Here, come
up to my room."
"I'm--I'm glad to hear you speak with so much confidence," said Lord
Barmouth. "Yes, certainly, my boy, certainly. Dear me, I feel very
faint."
Tom took his father's arm, and led the way to his bedroom, where he
placed an easy-chair for the old man, and then stooping down, drew a
case from beneath the bed and a glass or two from a cupboard.
"Why, Tom, my boy--wine?"
"Yes, gov'nor, wine. Fizz. Pfungst's dry fruity."
"But up here, Tom!"
"Yes, up here, gov'nor. A man must have something to take the taste of
this nasty wedding out of his mouth."
"But how came it to be here, Tom?"
"I ordered the wine merchant to send it in, and here it is."
"But does her ladyship know?"
"Skeercely, gov'nor, as the Yankee said."
"But did--did you pay for it yourself, my boy?"
"No; I told 'em to put it down in the bill. Here, tip that off."
Tom filled a couple of small tumblers, and handed one to his father, who
took it with trembling fingers.
"But really, my boy, this is very reprehensible. I--I--I--I--as your
father, I feel bound to say--"
"Nothing at all, gov'nor. Tip it off. Do you good."
"No, no, Tom, it's champagne, and I--I--really, I--Now if it had been
port."
"Tip it up, gov'nor."
"I shall investigate the whole matter, Robbins," said a strident voice
outside, and the door-handle began to turn.
"Hi! Stop! Dressing!" cried Tom, frantically.
"Do not tell untruths, sir," exclaimed her ladyship, sternly, as she
entered without the slightest hesitation. "Ah, as I expected. Wait,
till the servants are gone. Robbins, take down that wine."
"Yes, my lady."
"Not this, you don't," said Tom, seizing the gold-foiled bottle by the
neck.
"You knew that Lord Diphoos was having cases of wine up in his bedroom,
Robbins?"
"No, my lady."
"You brought it up?"
"No, my lady--Joseph."
"Then Joseph knew."
"He said it was cases of modelling clay, my lady."
"That's right," said Tom, "modelling clay. Try a glass, mamma, to
moisten yours."
"Take away that case."
"Yes, my lady."
Robbins stooped with difficulty, picked up the case, and slowly bore it
out, her ladyship standing in a studied attitude pointing the while.
"Another time," said her ladyship, turning tragically to her son, and
then withering her lord. "I have too much on my mind at present to
trouble about this domestic mutiny."
"Domestic grandmother," cried Tom. "There, you needn't make so much
fuss about it. It was all your fault, mamma."
"My fault, sir?"
"Yes, I was driven to drink by trying to obey you, and being civil to
Wilters. Hang him, he makes one a regular laughing-stock."
"Explain yourself, sir."
"Well, you gammoned me into going to Hurlingham with your pet poodle."
"My pet poodle!" exclaimed her ladyship.
"Bah! yes, your pet baronet; but never any more. Hang him, he came
there dressed up like a theatrical super, in grey velvet, and with a
soft hat and a rosette. I felt so mad that I could have punched his
head, for all the fellows there were sniggering. But you should have
seen him shoot."
"Sir Grantley told me that he was a very good shot," said her ladyship.
"Oh, he did, did he?" roared Tom. "Bless his modesty. Well, I'm going
to tell Maude that when she's married she had better look out, and if
ever she sees her lovely husband take up a gun she had better bolt--out
of town--the seaside--or come home. She won't be safe if she don't."
Lord Barmouth tittered at this, but his lady looked round at him so
sharply, that he turned it off, and stared stolidly straight before him.
"It was a regular case of fireworks," continued Tom. "His attitudes
were grand, and he looked as if he were rehearsing something for a
circus. You should have seen the fellows laugh."
"I sincerely hope that you did not laugh," said her ladyship, sternly.
"Oh, dear, no," said Tom, "not at all. Didn't even smile."
"I'm very glad of it," said her ladyship.
"Oh, you are? That's right," said Tom; "but somehow one of the buttons
flew off the front of my coat, and my ribs ached, and I lay back in a
chair in a state of convulsion. I nearly had a fit."
"Diphoos!" ejaculated her ladyship.
"And when dear Grantley came up he gnashed his teeth at me. He did,
'pon my word, till I roared again. I say, gov'nor, it's the funniest
thing out to see him in a passion."
"It seems to me," exclaimed her ladyship, hysterically, "as if the whole
of my family were leagued against me, and determined to try and break
off this match. From what I can gather, it seems to me, Tom, that you
have grossly insulted Sir Grantley."
"Bosh!" said Tom. "He made such an ass of himself that I roared with
laughter, and served him right."
"Fresh insults," cried her ladyship; "but I can wait. At present, as I
before observed, I shall take no steps to check this domestic mutiny on
the part of my husband and my son."
"Mutiny?"
"Yes, sir, I said mutiny; but after Maude is married--then!"
The door closed behind her, and Lord Barmouth looked piteously up at his
little son.
"You have got me into a devil of a scrape, Tom, my boy," he faltered.
"Never mind, gov'nor. Tip that up. The old girl left us this."
"But--but it _is_ champagne, Tom."
"All the better, gov'nor. Here's to you."
Lord Barmouth hesitated for a few moments, and then raised his glass.
"Your health, my dear boy," he said.--"Yes, that's a very nice glass of
wine. I haven't tasted champagne for a couple of months."
"Then you shall taste it again," said Tom. "Now, I mean to go it.
Gov'nor, you should come and dine with me to-night, and we'd try and
forget all about old Maude, only I have no money."
"But I have, my boy--ten pounds."
"You have, gov'nor?--Yes so you have."
"Take--take it, my boy."
"But where did you get it, gov'nor?"
"Well--er--never mind that, Tom. I--er--I borrowed it; but I shall pay
it again some day."
"But, gov'nor--"
"Take the money, Tom, my boy. You need not mind, and if I can get away
to-night I should like to dine with you."
"Then you shall, old fellow; I'll manage that."
"But her ladyship?"
"Leave it to me, gov'nor."
"And about Charley Melton, Tom, my boy--is there any hope?"
"Not a bit, gov'nor. He's a poor thing, and not worthy of her."
"Oh, dear, dear, dear," sighed Lord Barmouth. "But I'm afraid I
couldn't get away."
"You leave it to me, and we'll dine at nine, gov'nor. Don't take
anything at ours."
"No, Tom, no."
"Now go down."
The old man finished his champagne, thinking of her ladyship's
word--_then_.
After that he went downstairs, and that night, as good as his word, Tom
shuffled him out as soon as the ladies had left the dining-room.
It was easily done, and the door was just being quietly closed as they
stood under the portico, when from just outside and beyond the pillar
there came the sudden burst of music from an organ, as the man who had
been playing changed the tune, and as the pair hurried away they brushed
against the player, who stood by the area railings in his slouched hat
and ragged attire.
"What the--"
"Devil" his lordship was going to say, for something struck him on the
top of his _gibus_ hat.
"Copper," said Tom, as the object fell with a pat on the pavement.
"Come along."
"Yes, halfpence," whispered his lordship, nervously, as he tottered on;
"but I do wish Maudey wouldn't be so free with her money to those
vagabonds. That scoundrel makes quite an income out of our house."
"Never mind, gov'nor, it won't last long. Poor girl, the game's nearly
up. Now for what the Yankees call a good square meal."
"With a drop of port, Tom, my boy."
"Yes; you shall have a whole bottle. Barker's, Jermyn Street," he cried
to the cabman, who drew up; and then as the cab drove off--"There,
gov'nor, we'll forget home troubles for one night."
"Yes, my boy, we will," said the old man, eagerly.
"I do wish Tryphie wouldn't be so hard again," sighed Tom, "and just too
when she was growing so soft. Sympathy for Maudey, I suppose."
"What say, Tom, my boy?"
"Thinking aloud, gov'nor."
"What about, Tom?"
"Charley Melton, gov'nor. He's a regular flat."