before. I suppose I thought they would not halve it. The master of the
shop said: 'What can I do for you, sir?' I said: 'I want a steak.'
'The best?' he said. 'Yes,' I said; 'the juiciest you have got: it is
for--' I was just going to tell him it was for a black eye, but there
was a wretched little errand boy in the shop, grinning, so I said: 'It
is for one person.' He slapped a piece on to the scales and wrapped it
up in newspaper, and said it would be one and four--which was lucky, as
I had got only one and fivepence halfpenny. I ran back to the office
and put it down on the desk, in front of Carrots, and went out again."
"Did it do him any good?" Hazel asked.
"I don't know," her brother answered. "I left for good after that, you
know."
"But, Teddie," she protested, "then you have had no lunch."
"Oh, that does not matter," the boy rejoined tragically, as on this
reminder healthy pangs of hunger reasserted themselves. "That is quite
the least part of the whole bad business--I don't suppose I _could_ eat,
you know, if I tried. It is just possible," he continued, with
increased gloom and some irritation, "that the Lout had a rattling lunch
with what was over: he could easily fry it on the shovel over the office
gas."
"It would make the office smell rather, to cook there, wouldn't it?"
suggested Hazel. "Mr. Hamilton might be angry."
"An awfully nice smell," groaned Teddie, "enough to make Hamilton want
to sit in the outer office all the rest of the afternoon."
Hazel, making a shrewd guess at her brother's innermost feelings and
private sufferings, endeavoured to divert his mind from beefsteak or any
other subject likely to aggravate them. And again affectionately
stroking the shabby coat sleeve, she proceeded to discourse on divers
topics, thus whiling away the time, that must otherwise have dragged
terribly for poor hungry Teddy, as the two trudged along the somewhat
monotonous track of dusty road, under a sun that was only now beginning
to be aware that the hot summer day was waning; that it would therefore
become him to restrain his ardour, and to relax his fierce and fiery
countenance to more gentle demonstrations of his warm and impulsive
temperament.
On reaching the house, after safely bestowing the delinquent upon his
mother's care, Hazel sped across the marble-flagged hall, down one of
the numerous passages and through a baize-covered swing-door, which shut
off that portion of the house devoted to servants' offices. She made
her way to the kitchen, an old-fashioned stone kitchen, where sundry
odours made apparent the circumstance that dinner was in preparation.
The two village maids dropped curtsies, and Mrs. Doidge turned from the
fire to welcome her young lady.
"Will you kindly be seated, miss?" asked the ex-housekeeper. "Mattie,
leave that bit of ironing and place the easy chair nearer the window for
Miss Hazel."
"No, Mrs. Doidge, thank you," Hazel interposed. "I cannot stay a
moment. I only wanted some slices of bread and butter, rather thick,
please, and a cup of tea, if you have boiling water. Mr. Teddie has
come home, as I daresay Miles told you; but what do you think?--he has
had no lunch."
The three women were quickly in a bustle, many ejaculations of concern
escaping Mrs. Doidge's lips, in that Teddie, her pet and darling--next
to Hazel, be it understood--should thus be famishing within these very
walls. Hazel had no need to urge haste, and was presently bearing away
a tray, followed by many remonstrances from Mrs. Doidge, who protested
she could easily spare one of the maids on so short an errand. Teddie,
whose quick ear caught the tap of Hazel's little foot against the
panels, rose to give her admittance, and hungrily eyed the food that he
yet deemed it only decent to turn from in seeming disgust.
"Just leave it near me," he said, in response to his sister's pleading.
"I may perhaps find I can nibble a piece of bread presently."
Hazel had fully expected to find her mother and brother deep in
conversation concerning the circumstance of his sudden, not to say
precipitate, restoration to the bosom of his family; but the truth was
that Teddie possessed very little information of which to deliver
himself. It appeared that his _bete noire_, Carrots, had grievously
insulted the young gentleman, nor him alone, but the ancient name of Le
Mesurier, in grossest manner, such as no gentleman, let alone a Le
Mesurier, could allow to pass and yet hope to retain his honour.
Therefore had Teddie risen up in his wrath, and, with vengeful force,
had smitten this enemy of his house, inflicting a black eye. The young
man's employer had at that moment made his appearance. We have the
sequel of the story in the reappearance of poor Teddie at Hazelhurst on
the day of his departure thence.
Hazel, bent on humouring the hungry lad, after placing the food within
easy reach, discreetly turned away and occupied eye and hand in the
rearrangement of flowers in their several vases, adroitly holding her
mother in conversation the while; but when, five minutes later, having
completed her task with all possible deliberation, and having duly
considered the result of her labour, with head on this side and that,
the girl came forward to take her favourite seat beside her mother's
chair: lo, the cup was empty, the plate bare, and Teddie was ingenuously
reviewing his boots in taciturn and blue-eyed melancholy.
Despite himself, however, the boy could not long pretend to a condition
so at variance with his joyful, hopeful young nature. In truth, by
dinner-time, in response to the second sounding of the gong, fresh
washed and dressed, his hunger appeased--for it is to be supposed that
Teddie was responsible for the disappearance of the bread and butter and
tea--he presented himself, to Hazel's delight, in the likeness of the
more familiar Teddie, having set aside all pseudo-dejection, and, if
truth be told, looking wonderfully handsome in his evening garb, which,
though shabby and curiously appointed with high lights in all prominent
places, was well brushed, and displayed a goodly show of spotless and
snow-white cuff. So fresh and handsome did the boy look, indeed, that
Hazel, quite impressed, regarded him in admiration.
"Why, Teddie," she cried, "how nice you look! And you were complaining,
only last night, that your dinner jacket was not fit to wear. It is a
little shiny, certainly, but----"
"You don't suppose," said Teddie seriously, amazed at her simplicity,
"you don't suppose that I should be such a noodle as to wear my own
evening clothes? No, no, I save my own, whenever I get the chance!"
"Oh, what a shame," Hazel expostulated. "Then whose are these?"
"Why, Hugh's," her brother informed her, with an irrepressible chuckle.
"And it is all very well to cry shame, Hazel; but why do you suppose
this suit looks so decent? Because, forsooth, Hugh puts it carefully
away and wears mine whenever he can. And again, why has mine become so
extremely shabby? Because, when he has it on--and he manages to wear it
pretty often, let me tell you--he is utterly reckless as to how he
treats it: he will lie upon the grass in it; and he wore it a great deal
while he was making those bookshelves for you, and messing about
generally in the carpenter's room of an evening."
"Mrs. Doidge has fine-drawn the hole in the knee where the chisel went
through, sir," murmured Miles, as he offered his young master the
vegetables, with deferential bend, "and I brushed and laid everything
out upon your bed, sir, as usual."
"Thank you, Miles; yes, I saw that," Teddie rejoined. "Well, they will
be all the readier. I am afraid I shall be wearing them very soon:
something tells me that it won't be long before Hugh comes," he added,
turning to Hazel.
Good, faithful Miles! With how much perseverance did he endeavour, in
things great and small, to keep up his loved "family" to the level of
their former status, deeming such condition essential to their
well-being! With what toil and labour did he strive that each of his
young masters should at all times appear well groomed, that they might
not miss, nor show they lacked, the attentions of the two valets whose
services had been entirely devoted to his five sons, by Hubert's order!
And indeed, as Miles himself was wont to confess, if it were not for the
saving help of their faithful servant, long ere this would the young
gentlemen have presented themselves at dinner in morning dress, to be
tended by a couple of maids--Miles always lost his equanimity at the
mere thought of women at table. He shuddered to contemplate the
probable condition of the plate and glass, that constituted his greatest
pride, under feminine control.
He would look into the drawing-room or search the hall--either of which
places were gathering grounds of the family--a few minutes before the
sounding of the dinner-gong, and if one luckless Le Mesurier boy chanced
to be lurking in some corner, in morning garb, hoping to escape the
watchful eye of the redoubted butler, Miles would immediately spy him
out, and with bland severity inform the delinquent that he would ask
Mrs. Doidge to "put the dinner back" a quarter of an hour, if his young
master could find that sufficient time in which to make his toilet. His
patient persistence at length shamed the boys into meek acquiescence, so
that Miles had relaxed his stern vigilance somewhat of late, showing in
its stead a pathetic trust in their own sense of right, such as they
could not disregard.
The flower-garden too, in the immediate neighbourhood of the house,
would be overrun with weeds--as he had once found it after a month's
confinement to the house with an obstinate attack of
rheumatism--entailing the extra expense of outside help for their
suppression. It is true that Miss Hazel had wrestled with the noxious
growths--as her little brown hands testified, for she either could not
or would not keep on the queerly fashioned and enormous gloves that Mrs.
Doidge assured the girl were the correct thing for gardening, and with
which the good woman was careful to supply her; but what was his little
mistress's feeble strength, pitted against the alarming odds of the
pertinacious herbage? Miles asked pitifully, when even he, tough,
work-hardened old man that he was, found the fight a fierce and
oft-to-be-repeated one: for the foe, fresh and smiling in their green
uniform, seemed to bear charmed lives, and to rise in formidable ranks
like so many phoenixes from the weed carnage. Extermination seemed an
impossibility, notwithstanding the feverish energy with which Miles went
forth to combat, and the wondrous strategy that he brought to bear upon
the imposing and ever-smiling green army.
*CHAPTER III*
Two days later, Teddie and Hazel, she seated on far-stretching,
hopelessly tangled tree-roots, he prone upon his back on the dry moss,
disported themselves in the leafy shade of the beloved greenwood, deep
in consultation on the same momentous question that Hazel had
endeavoured to solve alone: how might she earn money?
Typewriting had been discussed, but the idea was soon abandoned, Teddie
informing his sister that, to be successful in that branch of industry,
a peculiar kind of appearance was desirable--indeed, was essentially
needful--an appearance that Hazel entirely lacked, as she herself would
admit, could she see "the sort" that frequented the office adjoining Mr.
Hamilton's.
"Why," the boy declared, "they would simply stare if _you_ suddenly
turned up there and asked for a job, and the boss would inquire
delicately where your mother was, and would instruct his head clerk to
take you back to her."
"I should not go like this," Hazel returned, deprecatingly, fingering a
piece of her white spotted muslin, and eyeing her brother wistfully. "I
should probably have a tailor-made tweed dress, and a man's straw hat,
and thick boots, and a stand-up collar and tie. You have no idea
how--how strong-minded I could look, if I had the proper dress for
bringing it out. Most women owe it to their dress: I am quite sure they
don't feel and stride about like that, in their dressing-gowns."
She regarded him pleadingly; the mere thought of becoming one of the
City band--the doing away for ever with the dolorous Monday morning
partings--above all, the obtaining of means to supply her mother with
endless little luxuries, made the proposition a very tempting one to the
girl.
But Teddie shook his head. "It is a peculiar _stamp_," he said
musingly, "and, take my word for it, Hazel, it is not all in the
clothes. Why, some of them dress quite aesthetically; but it is no go,
they are typewriters. Not that I disapprove of them as a class," he
hastened to add. "If it comes to that, some of them are quite pretty,
but--well, you would not do, and that is all about it."
There was a short silence. The sun glinted in and out among the
tree-branches in shimmering shafts of yellow light, the leaves quivered
slightly in the still air, the birds chirped, and Hazel sighed.
"Besides," Teddie continued, feeling perhaps that he had been somewhat
unsympathetically sweeping in his assertions, "there would be the
expense of learning. You don't become a full-blown typewriter all at
once, you know. You don't just sit down and manage it, so to speak, as
you happen to be able to play the piano--without lessons."
Hazel brightened visibly so soon as this very real obstacle--means--was
put before her: she was willing to give up any attempt at scaling an
obstruction that would obviously harm her in the ascent. It was not
that she was cowardly, or easily discouraged--far from it: never was
girl pluckier or keener spirited; but she was wise in her generation,
and saw that the loss entailed in the attempt to gain was greater than
the gain itself; that the other side of the block, in short, was not
worth the reaching.
"That is true," she admitted, relieved. "There is the tailor-made
dress, too! Let us talk of other ways." She hesitated. "Now, don't
laugh, Teddie," she went on, "just think seriously over what I am going
to propose, and then say yes or no, after due consideration, you know.
Teddie--could I be a governess?" And the girl unconsciously
straightened her back, while an expression of mild severity overspread
her countenance.
Teddie's surprise at this, to him astounding, idea silenced his tongue.
After a few moments the slender figure drooped--Hazel never stooped, she
drooped: as different a state, mental and physical, as ugliness from
beauty--the pretty features relaxed.
"Of course I know," she resumed modestly, "that they would have to be
very, very young children--or very backward older ones. I should prefer
the backward ones: the very young are so fascinating. I don't know
whether I should have the strength of mind, if they were hot and tired,
and wanting to play, to insist on their finishing the spelling-lesson or
sum; and I know that, while you cannot be too kind and too patient, you
also cannot be too firm in having the little task completed. But," she
added reflectively, chin in hand, "I should be wise and see to it that
the task was a very short and easy one, especially if the child was
particularly longing to go out, or was not quite well."
The girl had almost forgotten her brother's presence, and had entered
into a little world of her own. She pictured to herself a pleasant,
airy schoolroom with three or four happy, rosy children seated at the
table, of which she herself was the head, strewn with the usual
schoolroom paraphernalia: rulers, slates, dingy spelling-books of
dog's-eared, awe-inspiring columns of words, slate pencils whose points
and bluntness alike set your teeth on edge when you looked at them;
copy-books with pot-hooks and hangers to copy in pencil--for Hazel would
permit no inkpots nor ink-bespattering pens to enter her domain, to
sully the purity of clean pinafores and childish fingers. Yes, she
would be careful that the room should be airy, for she knew that much of
rosy-cheeked happiness must depend upon that; the lessons short and
interesting: for how should a child, mewed up in a close atmosphere, set
to learn a tedious task, which no older mind had first rendered pleasant
and understandable by a little intelligent smoothing and explaining, be
aught but fidgety, cross, and unhappy? A child's mind should be lightly
taxed, Hazel decided. She also decided that, however unorthodox it
might be, she would always have freshly cut flowers upon her schoolroom
table. Lessons were to be connected with pretty things, as well as with
smeary slate and dingy spelling-book. Besides, how useful they would be
in furnishing themes on which to discourse to her eager-eared young
charges!
These ideas floated through the girl's vivid imagination within the
space of a few moments only. Presently she roused herself, and shook
herself free of the reverie into which she had fallen.
"I suppose it ought to be the backward ones," she said with a sigh.
"To think of Miss Le Mesurier becoming a governess," Teddie observed
ruminatingly. "It is ridiculous, Hazel. Why, you would be romping with
them round the table? And why are they to be so very young or, if
older, dolts? Do you mean you cannot teach?"
"I don't quite know," Hazel returned, hesitating and pausing. "My--my
education has been--er--has been rather choppy, hasn't it?" she asked a
little timidly, fearful of wounding her brother's feelings, for the five
boys had had practically the charge of their little sister's education.
Cecil, until he had obtained his present post in the Indian Civil
Service, had given her a daily lesson in some or other branch of
knowledge, at irregular times, certainly--an occasional hour before
breakfast, or half an hour before bedtime. But the girl was an apt
pupil. She marked, learned, and inwardly digested--her clever little
brain seemed to be well nourished: for the food on which it was fed,
albeit scanty, was of goodly quality, and the very ample time allowed
her for the assimilation of each respective lesson was perhaps the
secret, in part, of her strongly marked digestive power.
Then Guy had taken her in hand, but soon confessed himself no
teacher--that Hazel's odd questions puzzled him. Soon afterwards he
left home to play his modest part in the government of his country. The
girl was then passed over to Gerald--good, steady, faithful, plodding
Gerald. In him she found her master: he an intelligent, interesting
pupil. Together they would while away the long morning hours in
profound study, in summer taking their books to the woods; in winter the
bearskin before the hall hearth would often be the scene of their
labour.
Necessity, however, caused long months of enforced holiday, when the
girl would have been impatient of days, and of late Saturday evening had
become the only time possible for Gerald to devote to two or three hours
of tutorage; while on Sunday, between church hours, the young man would
read aloud and make instructive comments to a little auditor, all ears
and eyes, upon books, the like of which caused the hair of Hugh and
Teddie to rise upon their heads in amaze, in that their brother and
sister should find pleasure in such "deadly dry stuff," to couch the
expression in their own tongue. And Monday morning would see the
persevering tutor, at a very early hour, correcting writings of his
pupil's authorship, and further arranging a programme for the ensuing
days of his absence.
"I don't fancy I am well grounded," the girl went on, "and I should
suppose that to be very important to teachers." She paused.
"I must say," Teddie remarked remonstrantly, "that you are not very
complimentary to Gerald--or to me, if it comes to that. I have given
you a turn at arithmetic, myself, and I have found you smart enough."
"Yes, oh yes, thank you, old fellow," Hazel returned hastily,
apologetically. "He and--and you"--it appeared a little difficult to
the girl to make the addition--"have the talent of teaching. Now, even
supposing my learning to be sufficient, have _I_?"
"I don't see that it _is_ the question," returned her brother, much
mollified, "for none of us would let you become a governess: it would be
too absurd--you are only a child yourself."
At this Hazel waxed indignant. "I am young," she admitted with naive
frankness, "but I am tall and fond of children. Mother was saying
lately that my next new dress must be made quite long. See," she cried,
springing up and walking swiftly to and fro in straight-limbed, supple
grace, "they are all but long already. And of course," the girl
continued, resuming her seat, "I should do up my hair and wear
'ladies',' instead of 'girls'' hats. As I said before, you have no idea
how much is owed to clothes."
There was a short silence. Teddie, upon his back, groaned slightly.
"Now listen, Teddie," Hazel presently continued, "I have one more plan
to lay before you and, really, out of three, it is only reasonable to
expect you to think seriously of one, and finally to agree to try it and
help me to persuade mother. In this last plan, indeed, we need not
consult her--she need know nothing about it, but just live happily and
enjoy the results of it."
The girl paused and looked about her, half startled, on encountering the
inquisitive glance of the bright eyes of her favourite squirrel who,
afraid to approach nearer--his mistress, the wood-nymph, seemingly
entertaining company--appeared to be listening with all his might for
the proposition about to be unfolded by her.
"Teddie," Hazel said, bending over him and speaking low, "what do you
say to us--to you and me--_keeping a lodger_ at Hazelhurst?"
In the pause that ensued Teddie rolled over upon his face, but never a
word spoke he. Hazel regarded him a little anxiously, uncertain as to
his state of mind. At length he broke the silence.
"_We should have to feed it_," he remarked, in hollow accents.
"I thought of that," Hazel returned eagerly, delighted that the proposal
met with no more definite negative, "but suppose we were lucky--suppose
we found a very delicate one, who wanted heaps of fresh air--we could
give it the whole of the west wing, for instance--but one that could eat
hardly anything? But no, that would not do," she continued, after
pausing to reflect, "it would be more expense in the end, than less, to
have a delicate lodger, I mean. You see, one would have to provide
chicken and jelly, even if it would not eat, just to try to tempt it.
No, we hid better look out for a moderately healthy one, but one who was
used to plain food, you know: the sort that likes bread and cheese for
lunch, better than anything else, and is a firm teetotaller. Who is that
coming, I wonder?" she broke off suddenly.
The two raised themselves to listen, in breathless silence.
"Perhaps it is some one looking for lodgings," Teddie whispered
mischievously. "Now remember, Hazel, twenty guineas a week for the west
wing, garrets five shillings each, and the basement seven-and-six."
"It is Hugh," the girl exclaimed, springing to her feet and running to
meet the fourth Le Mesurier boy, who, hot, dusty, and tired, yet
returned his sister's greeting affectionately, if somewhat
shame-facedly, as he became aware of the presence of his brother.
Teddie, at Hazel's exclamation, had sunk back into his former position
and now lay, cool and comfortable, complacently regarding the new-comer
with twinkling eyes.
"Hallo!" he said brightly. "So you have turned up, have you? I hope
you will be comfortable. I have spent a very pleasant couple of days
here myself. I ran down, without lunch, on Monday, and Mrs. Doidge has
been feeding me up ever since." And Teddie gave vent to a sigh of
satisfaction.
"Slack beast," murmured Hugh disgustedly. Yielding to the silent
entreaty of Hazel's little hand and seating himself upon some moss, he
threw off his hat and proceeded to mop his damp face.
"What is that?" Teddie asked innocently. "But, I say, you do look hot,
old fellow. Walked up, I suppose?"
"Ugh," grunted Hugh.
"Doubtless in some perturbation of mind," Teddie continued
sympathetically. "Very heating, this weather. And your bag, too--had
books in it, perhaps?"
A slightly sardonic smile overspread Hugh's countenance.
"Talking of books, there was one of yours that I packed with mine," he
announced in a friendly way, "and I left the bag at the station,
thinking you might like to fetch it."