By not so much as the quiver of an eyelid did Mr. Munt betray that he
had even heard, much less taken cognizance, of that which amounted to
a studied insult on the part of William Hollis. The proprietor of the
Duke of Wellington converged upon the gate of Strathfieldsaye with head
upheld, with dignity unimpaired. He even cast one cool glance at the
handiwork of the inspired Wickens, but made no comment upon it, while
the artist suspended his labors, opened the gate obsequiously, and
waited for the great man to pass through. But when Mr. Munt had walked
along the carriage drive to within a few yards of his newly bedizened
front door, he stopped all of a sudden like a man who has received a
blow in the face.
Had Bill Hollis at that moment been able to obtain a glimpse of his
father-in-law he would have seen that his shaft had gone right home. A
sternly domineering countenance was distorted with passion. There was a
rage of suffering in the fierce yellow-brown eyes, there was a twist of
half strangled torment in the lines of the hard mouth. As the lord of
Strathfieldsaye stood clenching his hands in the center of the gravel
he was not an attractive figure. Before entering the house he took off
the white hat and soothed the pressure upon head and neck by passing
over them a red bandanna handkerchief.
A trim parlor maid, bright as a new pin, received the lord of
Strathfieldsaye. The smart and shining creature was in harmony with her
surroundings. Everything in the spacious and lofty entrance hall shone
with paint and polish, with new curtains, new carpets, new fittings,
new furniture.
Mr. Munt handed his hat to the parlor maid rather roughly. "Tea's in
the drawing-room, sir," she said, calmly and modestly. It was the air
of a very superior servant.
Josiah went into the drawing-room and found two ladies drinking tea and
consuming cake, strawberries and cream and bread and butter. One was a
depressed lady in puce silk to whom her lord paid little attention; the
other was much more sprightly, although by no means in the first blush
of youth. She had the air of a visitor.
Before heralding his arrival by any remark, Mr. Munt gazed with an air
of genuine satisfaction round the large cool room smelling of paint and
general newness, and then he said in a tone of rather grim heartiness
to the more sprightly of the two ladies, "Well, Gert, what do you think
on us?"
There was a careful marshaling of manner on the part of the lady
addressed as Gert. "Almost _too_ grand, Josiah--since you ask my
opinion. Still I've been telling Maria that she must show Spirit."
The nod of Josiah might be said to express approval. Miss Gertrude
Preston was a half-sister of his wife, and she was perhaps the only
woman among his strictly limited acquaintance who was able to sustain
a claim to his respect. She had character and great common sense
and having acted for many years as resident companion to no less a
person than Lawyer Mossop's aunt, the late Miss Selina Gregg, she had
seen something of the world. Upon all subjects her views were well
considered and uncommonly shrewd; therefore they were not to be passed
over lightly. Aunt Gerty was a favorite of Josiah, not merely for the
reason that "she knew a bit more than most," but also because she was
clever enough to play up to his rising fortunes and growing renown.
"Maria shown you round?" said Josiah, accepting a cup of tea from the
graceful hands of his sister-in-law.
The depressed lady in puce silk sighed a limp yes.
"Eggshell china tea service," Gerty fixed a purposeful eye upon
Josiah's cup.
"Out of old Nickerson's sale," Josiah performed an audible act of
deglutition. "Four pun ten the set. Slop basin's cracked though."
"I see it is, but you have a bargain, Josiah. You always seem to have a
bargain, no matter what you buy."
Josiah purred under the subtle flattery.
"Seen that chayney vawse?" He pointed across the room to a pedestal
upon which was a blue china bowl.
"Looks like genuine Ming," Gertrude opened a pair of long-handled
tortoiseshell glasses. There was less than a score of ladies in the
whole of Blackhampton who sported glasses of that ultra-fashionable
kind, but Miss Preston was one of them.
"That young feller Parish said it was genuine and he ought to know."
"Charming," Gerty sighed effectively; then her eyes went slowly round
the room. "This room is perfect. And such a view. You stand so high
that you can look right over the city without knowing that it's there.
And there's the Sharrow beyond. Isn't that Corfield Weir on the right?"
Rather proudly Josiah said that it was Corfield Weir.
"And that great bank of trees going up into the sky must be Dibley
Chase."
"Dibley right enough," vouched Josiah. "Have you had a look from the
tower?"
"Yes, I have. Wonderful. Maria says on a clear day you can see Cliveden
Castle."
"Aye. And a sight farther than that. You can see three counties up
there. To my mind, Gert, this house stands on the plumb bit of The
Rise."
Gertrude fully agreed.
"So it ought if it comes to that. I had to pay seven and sixpence a
yard for the land, before I could put a brick on it."
Gertrude was impressed.
"What do you think o' that oak paneling in the dining-room?"
She thought it was charming.
"Has Maria shown you the greenus--I should say conservatory--an' the
rockery--an' the motor garidge? We haven't got the motor yet, but it's
coming next week."
Gertrude had seen these things. It only remained for her to enter upon
a diplomatic rapture at the recital of their merits.
"No strawberries, thank you," Josiah's voice was rather sharp as the
depressed lady tactlessly offered these delicacies at a moment when
her lord was fully engaged in describing the unparalleled difficulties
he had had to surmount in order to get the water fountain beyond the
tennis lawn to work properly.
"Fact o' the matter is, our Water Board wants wackenin' up."
"Well, you are the man to do that, Josiah. You are an alderman now."
"I am." The slight note of inflation was unconscious. "And old
Scrimshire an' that pettifoggin' crew are goin' to have a word in
season from Alderman Munt."
"Mustn't get yourself disliked though."
Josiah smiled sourly. "Gel," he said, "a man worth his salt is never
afraid o' being unpopular. Right is right an' wrong is no man's right.
Our Water Board's got to be run on new lines. It's a disgrace to the
city."
Miss Preston was far too wise to offer an opinion upon that matter. She
knew, none better, the limits imposed by affairs upon the sex to which
she belonged. But she was very shrewd and perceptive and underneath the
subtle flatteries she dealt out habitually to this brother-in-law of
hers was a genuine respect for great abilities and his terrific force
of character.
Among all the outstanding figures in Blackhampton his was perhaps the
least attractive. His name, in polite circles, was almost a byword,
for he never studied the feelings of anybody; he deferred only to his
own will and invariably took the shortest way to enforce it. There was
generally a covert laugh or a covert sneer at the mention of his name
and the house he had recently built on The Rise had set a seal upon his
unpopularity. Nevertheless, the people who knew him best respected him
most. His sister-in-law knew him very well indeed.
Maria poured out a second cup of tea rather nervously for Josiah to
whom Miss Preston handed it archly.
"No cake, thanks. I dussent." He tapped his chest significantly; then
he cast a complacent glance through the wide-flung drawing-room windows
to the fair pleasaunce beyond. "So you think, Gert, take it altogether,
this is a cut above Waterloo Villa, eh?"
Gertrude's only answer to such a question was a discreet laugh.
"Waterloo Villa was _so_ comfortable," sighed the depressed lady in
puce silk.
"But there's no comparison, Maria, really no comparison." It was
wonderful how the caressing touch of the woman of the world dispersed
the cloud upon Josiah's brow almost before it had time to gather.
"Of course there isn't, Gerty. Any one with a grain o' sense knows
that. Why, only this morning as I went down in the tram with Lawyer
Mossop, he said, 'Mr. Munt, this new house of yours is quite the pick
of the basket.'"
"It is, Josiah." The discreet voice rose to enthusiasm. "And no one
knows that better than Maria."
The lady in puce silk gave a little sigh and a little sniff. "Waterloo
Villa was quite good enough for _me_," she murmured tactlessly.
V
There was silence for a moment and then said Josiah: "Talking of Lawyer
Mossop--that reminds me. I'm going round to see him. I wonder what time
he gets back from his office." He looked at his watch. "Quarter past
five. Bit too soon, I suppose."
Maria ventured to ask what he wanted Lawyer Mossop for.
Josiah did not answer the question immediately. When he did answer it
his voice had such a depth of emotion that both ladies felt as if a
knife had been plunged suddenly into their flesh.
"I'm goin' to take our Sally out of my will." There was something
almost terrible in the sternness and finality of the words.
The depressed lady in puce silk gave a gasp. A moment afterwards large
tears began to drip freely from her eyes.
Aunt Gerty sat very upright on a satinwood chair, her hands folded
in front of her, and two prominent teeth showing beyond a line of
extremely firm lips. She didn't speak.
"Nice thing"--each word was slowly distilled from a feeling of
outrage that was almost unbearable--"to be made the talk and the
mark of the whole city. And after what I've done for that gel!
School--college--France--Germany--your advice, you know, Gerty----"
Aunt Gerty didn't speak.
"And then she comes home and gets herself six weeks' hard labor. Hard
labor, mark you!"
Both ladies shivered audibly.
"Nice thing for a man who has always kept himself up, to have his
daughter pitchin' brick ends through the windows of the Houses o'
Parliament, to say nothin' of assaulting the police. Gerty, that comes
of higher education."
Still Aunt Gerty didn't speak.
"Fact is, women ain't ripe for higher education. It goes to their
heads. But I'll let her see. In a few minutes I'll be off round to
Lawyer Mossop."
"But--Josiah!" ventured a quavering voice.
"Not a word, Mother. My mind's made up. That gel has fairly made the
name o' Munt stink in the nostrils of the nation. Not ten minutes ago
that rotten little dog Bill Hollis flung it in my teeth as I came in at
the front gate. The little wastrel happened to be passing and he called
after me, 'Sally out of Quod yet?' One o' these days I'll quod him--the
little skunk--or Josiah Munt J.P. is not my name."
Maria continued to weep copiously but in silence. She dare not make her
grief vocal with the stern eye of her husband upon her. The tragedy of
her eldest girl's defiance, now sixteen years old, was still green
in her memory. Josiah had given Amelia plainly to understand that if
she married William Hollis he would never speak to her again and he
had kept his word. Maria had not got over it even yet; and now their
youngest girl, Sally, on whose upbringing a fabulous sum had been
lavished, had disgraced them in the sight of everybody.
Josiah was meting out justice no doubt, but mothers are apt to be
irrational where their offspring are concerned; and had Maria been able
to muster the courage she would have broken a lance with him, even
now, in this matter of the youngest girl. But she was afraid of him.
And she knew he was in the right. Sally's name had appeared in all the
papers. That morning, by a cruel stroke, they had come out with her
portrait--Miss Sarah Ann Munt, youngest daughter of Alderman Munt J.P.
of Blackhampton, sentenced to six weeks hard labor. Yes, it was cruel!
It would take her father a long time to get over it. And for Maria
herself, it was like the loss in infancy of the young Josiah; it was a
thing she would always remember but never quite be able to grasp.
The silence grew intolerable. At last it was broken by Gertrude Preston.
"You'll be having splendid roses, Josiah--next year." Those mincing
tones, quite cool and untroubled, somehow did wonders. Josiah had
always been a noted rose grower and as his sister-in-law pointed
elegantly to the rows of young bushes beyond the drawing-room windows
something in him began to respond. After all that was his great asset
as a human entity: the power to react strongly and readily to the many
things in which he was interested.
"Aye," he said, almost gratefully. "Next year they'll be a sight. I've
had a double course o' manure put down."
"I hope there'll be some of my favorite Gloire de Dijons," said Gerty
with fervor.
"You bet there will be. There's a dozen bushes over yond. By the way,
Gert, you're comin' to the show to-morrow week."
Miss Preston, for all her enthusiasm for roses, was not sure that she
could get to the show. But Josiah informed her that she would _have_
to come. And he enforced his command by taking a leather case from his
breast pocket and producing a small blue card on which was printed:
BLACKHAMPTON AND DISTRICT ROSE GROWERS' ASSOCIATION
PRESIDENT, ALDERMAN JOSIAH MUNT J.P.
The twenty-seventh annual Show will be held in the Jubilee Park on
Tuesday, August the Fourth. Prizes will be presented at six o'clock to
successful competitors by Mrs. Alderman Munt. The Blackhampton Prize
Brass Band will be in attendance. Dancing in the evening, weather
permitting.
Admission one shilling.
"That'll get you in, Gert." The card was placed in her hand. "Come and
stand by Maria and keep her up to it."
Had Maria dared she would have groaned dismally. As it was she had to
be content with a slight gesture of dismay.
"You see it'll be a bit o' practice for her. In 1916--the year after
next--she'll be the Mayoress."
The lady in puce silk shuddered audibly.