THE HERO
The junior Churchill partner returned home next day from a six months'
trip, and the house at Toorak was much excited by the event, for he was
a great man in its eyes. He lived an independent life at the club and in
a suite of sumptuous chambers in East Melbourne, when on this side of
the world, but was received by his father and stepmother on his first
arrival, and entertained until his own establishment was ready for him.
His stepmother, before she was his stepmother, had badly wanted to be
his wife, and it was a source of extreme satisfaction to her that he
still remained unmarried and disengaged, though thirty-five last
birthday, and one of the greatest catches in the colony. She never would
have a pretty governess in the house, lest Anthony should be tempted;
and she kept a sharp eye upon the girls who sought and sighed for
him--their name was legion--when able to do so, and systematically
circumvented them. He was too good, she said, to be thrown away. In
other words, it would be too dreadful not to have him at dinner on
Sundays, and in and out of the house all the week through, petting her
(in a strictly filial manner), and escorting her about when his father
was busy.
"People talk of the troubles of stepmothers," she used to say, with her
most maternal air. "_I_ have never had any trouble. My stepchildren
never objected to me for a moment, and they are just the comfort of my
life."
Of the two, Anthony was her greatest comfort; he was always there--when
he was not in England. Mary Oxenham was a dear woman, but she seldom
came to town.
Mary and her father went to meet the ship that brought Anthony back.
Mrs. Churchill stayed at home, to put flowers into his bedroom, and be
ready to welcome him on the doorstep in a twenty-guinea tea-gown,
designed on purpose. The boat, they had been informed by telephone from
the office, was expected at five o'clock, but when Mrs. Oxenham called
for her father at half-past three, he told her it would not be in before
six at the earliest; and he was in rather a state of mind lest
Anthony's dinner should be spoiled. He sent a message to his wife to
postpone it to half-past eight, and Mrs. Oxenham said she would kill
time by going to the tea-room.
She drove thither in Maude's carriage, which had brought her in, because
she thought that its appearance at the door would be good for custom.
She was much interested in Miss Liddon and her praiseworthy efforts, and
anxious to assist them; and she and Maude had agreed that it would be
very nice if they could keep the tea-room select--a place where they
could meet their friends in comfort. They thought this might be managed
if they made a little effort at the start, and that, once established on
those lines, the coming season would provide as much custom of the right
sort as the Liddons could manage. Mrs. Oxenham desired it rather for
Jenny's sake than their own; she did not like to think of that lady-like
girl having to wait on rough people.
On entering the yellow room, it was evident to her that all was well, so
far. Several people were taking tea and scones, and the newcomer was
more or less acquainted with them all. A frisky matron whom Maude had
introduced there yesterday had come again, and she had a frisky man
along with her--having promptly recognised the possibilities of the new
establishment as a place for meeting one's friends. She was lounging at
great ease in one of the low, cushioned chairs, with her feet crossed
and her gloves in her lap, and he was sitting in another, with his arms
on his knees, which touched her pretty gown; they both sat up very
suddenly when Mrs. Oxenham appeared. Two other ladies, with two other
gentlemen, made a group at the furthest possible distance from them; and
three smart girls in another corner were letting their tea grow cold
while they chaffed and were chaffed by a couple of high-collared youths,
who certainly had no business to be with them in their unchaperoned
condition.
"So this is the first result," said Mrs. Oxenham to herself, as she
bowed slightly in response to unnecessarily cordial smiles. "Oh, well,
it don't matter to her, I suppose."
"Her" was Jenny Liddon, who came forward with a glowing face, and
directed her patroness to a particularly nice chair in Sarah's
neighbourhood. Mrs. Oxenham sat down, and made kind inquiries of her
_protegee_ as to how she was getting on.
"_Beautifully_," Jenny replied with fervour, "thanks to you and Mr.
Churchill. We have had quite a number of customers already--we are
paying our way, even now--and they all say that the tea and scones are
good."
"Get me some, dear."
Jenny flitted round the screen, and came back with the fragrant teapot
and the pat of sweet butter that she was so careful to keep cool; and
Mrs. Oxenham ate and drank with the enjoyment of a dainty woman
accustomed to the best, and not always finding it where it should be.
She talked to her young hostess as the girl passed to and fro, with the
object of making her feel that she was still recognised as a lady as
well as a restaurant-keeper; for Mrs. Oxenham had ideas as to the status
of women, and what determined it, which were much in advance of those
popularly held.
"I am on my way to meet the mail steamer," she said, rising when she had
finished her tea, and looking at her watch.
"Yes," said Jenny. "My brother told me Mr. Anthony Churchill was
expected." She added with a little sigh, "The sea will be looking lovely
now."
"You ought to get down to it when you can," said Mrs. Oxenham. "The air
in this street is not very wholesome. You should have a blow on the St.
Kilda pier of a night, when work is over."
"By-and-by," said Jenny, "when we can afford it, we will have a little
home there, and come in and out by tram. At present we do not spend a
penny more than is quite necessary. We walk to the house where we sleep,
and back. We just keep a room to sleep in; our landlady at this place is
a fixture, and takes charge in our absence. But we live here."
"Not wholly on tea and scones, I hope?"
"No," smiled Jenny. "Mother sees to that."
"You must take care to play no tricks with your health. Mind that."
"I am as careful as I can be, Mrs. Oxenham."
"Take my advice, and don't grudge sixpence for a blow on the pier; it
will be the most paying investment of all, you'll find. Where's your
brother? What does he do for you?"
Jenny blushed slightly. "There's nothing he wouldn't do for us if we
would let him," she said. "But we won't allow him to cripple himself."
"Does he live with you?"
"Not now. He has taken lodgings for himself."
"He doesn't approve of the tea-room, does he?"
Jenny blushed a deeper hue. "He is only a boy," she murmured
indulgently. "He doesn't understand. He will some day."
She saw some of her customers make a movement to rise, and Mrs. Oxenham
smiled farewell and departed, glad to be blocked on the dark staircase
by new people coming up.
"Brave little creature!" was her inward ejaculation, as she stepped into
her carriage, which seemed to block the narrow street. "I see what she
has had to fight against. Ah, well, women are not all talking dolls, as
Tony calls them. I wonder what Tony will say to her?" She paused to
consider, and thought it would be as well not to take Tony there. "I
hate to see all those men lounging about on her little chairs," she said
to herself. "They are not meant for men. I do hope and trust they won't
any of them take it into their empty heads to make love to her. She is
not exactly pretty, but she is very attractive--dreadfully attractive,
for such a place. She doesn't know it in the least, but she has a face
that one can hardly take one's eyes off."
The carriage clattered up to the door of the palatial business premises
of Churchill & Son, and the chief stepped out with the alertness of a
young man.
"It's early," he said, "but we may as well catch the 4.30. Better be too
soon than too late."
Mrs. Oxenham agreed, and they were driven to the neighbouring station,
where they bade the coachman return to meet the special, and took train
for Williamstown. Arrived there, the old gentleman buttoned his
great-coat and helped his daughter into a sealskin mantle; and they
prepared for a long pacing up and down the breezy pier, between the
rails and trucks, while they waited for Tony. But in half an hour the
ship appeared, and for another half hour, while she was being warped
into her place, they had the bliss of seeing the dear fellow, though
they could not reach him, and of hearing the beloved voice shouting
greetings and questions at them. Amongst the swarm of passengers hanging
over the rails, Anthony Churchill, with his red beard on a level with
the hats of ordinary men, was easily distinguishable. He was a fine man,
and a handsome one, as well as amiable and rich; so it was no wonder
that the girls, of whom there seem such a terrible number in proportion
to their possible suitors, ran after him.
"How well he looks!" exclaimed Mrs. Oxenham--meaning how beautiful and
distinguished, compared with other women's brothers.
"Splendid!" said the father proudly.
Then the gangways were fixed, and he came hurling down through the
ascending and descending crowd, and the majestic woman put her arms
round his neck and kissed him.
They climbed into the special, and sat there and talked till it filled
up and was ready to start. They wanted to know what was doing, and how
everybody was. Anthony inquired after "Mother," as he facetiously called
her, and his father and sister after that young lady for whom he had
been searching so long. For they had a desire to see him settled with a
nice wife, and bringing up sons and daughters, though Maude had not.
"I have not found her yet," the young man confessed. "I suppose I am
hard to please, but I don't seem to have met anybody with enough in her
to make it worth while to go so far as matrimony."
"What should she have in her?" asked Mrs. Oxenham, smiling.
"What you have in you, Polly," he replied. "Some sense. Some ideas
beyond dressing and smirking at men."
"Oh, well, you had better put yourself in my hands," said she. "As I
know there are plenty of such women, I'll undertake to find you one."
"Thanks; but I'd rather find her for myself."
"A man never finds a woman of that sort. He doesn't know her when he
sees her. He doesn't know _any_ woman when he sees her. You leave it to
me, Tony. Time is getting on, and we can't allow you to degenerate into
a selfish old club bachelor, thinking of nothing but your dinner. I
shall begin at once. I know what would suit you far better than you can
know yourself."
The wild idea that Jenny Liddon would suit him never crossed her mind
for a moment, as a matter of course.
It was not quite seven o'clock when they reached town, and they got home
to Toorak before it was time to dress for dinner. As the carriage rolled
up to the door, Mrs. Churchill swam into the hall, with her fine laces
foaming about her, and cast herself into her stepson's arms, as she was
lawfully privileged to do.
"Well, mother," he cried gaily, as he kissed her curly-fringed brow--a
thing he never did unless she made him--"and how's your little self? And
how are the brats?"
The brats came headlong downstairs, and flung themselves upon him from
all sides at once.
"Oh, Tony! Tony! We are so glad you are back, dear Tony! What have you
brought us, Tony?"