OF THE CITY CIVIC.
"Delighted to see you, Mr. Simpson," said the Colonel, taking that
gentleman's somewhat flabby hand, and introducing him to the others in
turn. "Ah Jack, my boy, how are you? I have such a horse for you; but no
spurs allowed, mind."
"All right, uncle," replied Jack, coming to the fire; "I'll remember.
But how are you all? Florence, you are getting most abominably fat. Why,
Milly, ain't you going to say How do you do to me?--not that way," as
Mildred put out her hand. "I ask you, is that the way to welcome your
long-lost cousin? Come to my arms"--a proceeding that he promptly tried
to put into force, and had he not stumbled head over heels over Ethel,
who from her position on the ground he had not noticed, would have
succeeded in his endeavour.
As it was, like a drowning man, he clutched at the first thing that came
to hand, which, happening to be Simpson's coat-tail, brought that worthy
gentleman down with him, and cut short the polite little speech he was
about to address to Mildred.
It was rather hard lines on the unfortunate individual, for all the way
down in the train he had been (when Jack's eye was not upon him)
rehearsing it, and now it was lost for ever.
"I beg your ten thousand pardons, Simpson," said Jack, struggling to his
feet. "Why, it's Ethel. What on earth do you go and curl yourself up
like a fox-terrier on the hearthrug for, and make people do these
pantomime tricks over you? You nearly were the death of two of Her
Majesty's most esteemed subjects."
"Heavy fall in shirtings," whispered the irrepressible Tom to Mildred,
who was obliged to go out of the room, ostensibly to see the
housekeeper, but in reality to hide her laughter.
"Not hurt, I hope?" asked the Colonel.
"No--ah--Colonel Vivian, I thank you; but I must apologise to Miss
Vivian. It must have astonished her. Ah, she is gone," said Simpson, who
was, if possible, of a more rosy hue than ever.
"Oh, Mildred's all right," put in Jack; "it's not the first time she has
seen a man down by many a hundred, nor will it be the last if hounds run
to-morrow. Which is my room, uncle? I'll show Simpson his too. It's
nearly time to dress."
"You are in your old quarters, Jack, and Mr. Simpson is in the
bachelor's room, which, I hope, he will find comfortable," said his
uncle.
"Come on then, Simpson; I'll take you to your diggings, and then I'll go
and see Phillips the stud-groom, and tell him to show your man where to
put himself and his horses too," continued Jack, and out they went.
"What a ridiculous _contretemps_!" said Florence as the door closed. "I
never saw anything half so funny as Mr. Simpson's face. My dear Ethel, I
thought I should have died."
"I thought I should have been smothered," replied Ethel. "I shall never
be able to look Mr. Simpson in the face again."
Mr. Wilton, who had hitherto been a silent spectator, here interrupted
with "I am afraid the gentleman is not in the same happy state as
Wingfield's horse, for I distinctly heard him as he fell utter a most
unangelic word beginning with a D."
"A falling angel can't be particular," said Tom. "What do you say,
Colonel?"
"I say that it's very wrong of you to make fun of our guest, and that if
you don't go to dress at once you will be all late for dinner;" with
which the master of the house walked out of the room followed by the
rest.
At seven o'clock the whole party were reassembled in the drawing-room.
Mr. Simpson, in all the consciousness of a spotless shirt in which
blazed an elaborate diamond stud the size of a sixpenny piece, was
trying to make himself agreeable to Mildred, while Jack was in a deep
discussion with Tom and his uncle over the prospects of the season, and
listening to the accounts of past performances. "Dinner is served" from
the butler took them all into the dining-room, where they were soon hard
at what Tom called "trencher-work."
"What horses have you brought, Mr. Simpson?" said the Colonel during the
pause after the soup.
"Ah--two, Colonel Vivian. A bay mare I had last season, and a new horse
I bought from Ward the other day; a splendid fencer--nothing is too big
for him. Ah--I had to give four hundred for him though, so he ought to
be good," replied Simpson.
"He ought indeed. I wish I could afford to give such prices," rejoined
the Colonel, on whose ear the statement of £ s. d. grated somewhat
harshly. "I advise you to ride him to-morrow; the hounds meet here, and
the keeper tells me there are a brace of foxes in the osiers, and if
they take the usual line it wants a good horse to live with them."
Mr. Simpson's face did not express a vast amount of rapture at this, and
he almost wished he had not been quite so fulsome on the subject of his
new purchase. However, turning to Mildred, he said: "Miss Vivian--ah--I
suppose you follow the hounds to-morrow?"
"Yes," replies Mildred; "I ride my favourite horse Birdcatcher, and I
hope we shall show you some sport."
"Follow the hounds!" muttered Jack under his breath, who was getting
rather jealous of his fellow-traveller. "He did not suppose the hounds
would follow her, did he?" an idea that he imparted to Ethel, who was
next to him, and which seemed to amuse her mightily. "I believe the
fellow's a funk," he went on. "Anyhow, I'll draw him," and across the
table he said: "Simpson, is your nag good at water and timber, for the
Belton brook runs below the osiers, and there are one or two rather
awkward stiles to be negotiated?"
"Oh yes. Ah--he is a first-rate water-jumper, and, I believe, very good
all round."
"That's all right then; you will be cutting us all down," put in Tom;
whereat Simpson smiled a sickly and most unbecoming smile, by which he
meant to insinuate that he was going to try, and thought it extremely
probable that he would succeed, but which conveyed to everybody the
impression that he wished Belton brook and the stiles at the bottom of
the sea.
Florence, who saw this, immediately proceeded to set his mind at rest by
telling a number of stories anent the difficulties of the country, and
the number of men that had come out in the morning in all the pride of
their scarlet, and had returned bemudded and besmirched after a visit to
the bottom of the brook, all of which anecdotes she referred to Mr.
Wilton for verification.
After dinner Mr. Simpson made the running very strongly with Mildred,
much to Jack's disgust; and as he found that, do what he would, he was
unable to get a word in edgeways without having his eyes nearly put out
by the glitter of the City gentleman's diamond stud, he took refuge
behind the paper, which position, notwithstanding Mildred's glance of
entreaty, he maintained resolutely till the appearance of candles and
the Colonel's orders for the morning warned everybody that it was
bedtime.
"Good-night, Jack, my boy," said his uncle, after the ladies had
retired. "I shan't come to the smoking-room to-night. Mind, breakfast at
nine sharp. I have ordered a real flyer for you to-morrow, and I want
you to keep up your reputation and show them the way, also to give an
eye to Milly. I can trust her with most horses, but Birdcatcher is, as
you know, an awkward customer if he gets his temper up. Mr. Simpson,"
turning to his guest, "you will find everything in the smoking-room.
Jack and Tom will show you where it is. I am rather tired, and will wish
you good-night and good sport to-morrow."
"Tom," said Jack to his brother-in-law, "you take Simpson to the den.
I'm off to bed; you will excuse my not coming. I've a bad headache, and
I want to look over a case I have in hand which is rather important.
Good-night, old man; good-night, Simpson;" and with that he retired,
muttering to himself: "How the deuce Uncle George could have invited
such a cad down here I can't think."
On arriving in his room he found his sister waiting for him, and she
immediately commenced: "Dear old Jack, I knew you would not smoke
to-night, for I saw you were put out. You need not be afraid about Milly
and Mr. Simpson; she detests him. If Uncle George thinks she will ever
marry a man like that he is mistaken."
"What's the odds, Florence," said Jack in a desponding tone; "it is no
use denying the fact that I am awfully fond of Milly, but what chance
have I, as poor as a church mouse, against a man rolling in wealth? And
even if she doesn't marry Simpson, some other rich son of a gun will be
after her, and it will break my heart to see her married. By-the-way,
how can uncle ever tolerate such a vulgarian as Simpson?"
"'Money makes the mare to go,'" replied his sister; "and I fancy Uncle
George has been spending a little too much lately. But cheer up, Jack
dear; perhaps our old Indian will die, and leave you a heap of money.
Meanwhile, rely on me to keep off all intruders: 'Trespassers will be
prosecuted,' and all that sort of thing; spring-guns and the extreme
penalty of the law, you know."
"Florence, you are a darling," said Jack, kissing her; "but you can't
kill the Nabob, and even a woman's wit can't keep Milly under lock and
key till your pauper brother makes enough money to enable him to see
papa in the study without feeling that he may be shown out of the door
by the butler."
"_Si c'est possible c'est fait, si c'est impossible cela ce fera_,"
laughed Florence, as she left her brother to think over what she had
said.
The old Indian, Sandford by name, was the great hope of both Jack and
his sister. He was their mother's only brother, and though he had been
home but once in forty years, an event which occurred some nine years
back, he had on that occasion intimated that Jack was to be his heir,
and when driven to India by what he called "the cursed climate and
infernal fogs" of his native country, he had left a thousand pounds to
be used for Jack's advancement in life, and regularly every Christmas a
letter arrived from Simla to Jack, enclosing an order on Messrs.
Drummond for two hundred pounds, bearing the simple signature "John
Sandford."
When his sister had gone Jack threw himself into a chair, and after
musing for some time tumbled into bed, and was soon dreaming of Milly,
the Nabob, and Simpson, all of whom were trying to catch an animal that
occasionally took the shape of Birdcatcher, and as often that of his
sister.