"No, Mr Rowle," I said merrily. "I never think about such matters, and
between ourselves," I said with much severity, "I am surprised to find a
quiet elderly gentleman like you taking to match-making."
"Get out, you young dog!" he cried. "There, just as you like, only I
thought I'd see how you felt about it, that's all."
Mr Rowle's words set me thinking, and I could not help seeing that
though there was no love-making, or anything out of the ordinary way in
their every-day intercourse, Linny's old sorrow had been completely
swept away, and she evidently looked upon Tom as a very great friend.
I was in my own room one evening reporting progress to Hallett, who had
just come in from the office where he still worked as an ordinary
journeyman. Mr Jabez was upstairs with Tom Girtley, and a quiet rubber
of whist was in progress, when Mary came up into the room to announce
that there was some one downstairs who wanted to see me.
"Who is it, Mary?" I said.
Mary glanced at Hallett, who saw the look and rose to go.
"Don't you run away, Hallett," I cried. "I've no one to see me whom you
need not know."
I stopped there, for the thought flashed across my mind that it might be
some one from Miss Carr, or perhaps it might be something to do with
John Lister.
He saw my hesitation, and said quietly:
"I shall be upstairs if you want me, Antony. I think I will go now."
He left the room.
"Well, Mary, who's the mysterious stranger?" I said.
"Oh, Master Antony," she cried excitedly, "whoever do you think it is?
I hope it don't mean trouble. Some one from the country."
"Not Blakeford?" I exclaimed, with all my budding manhood seeming to be
frozen down on the instant, and my boyish dread ready to return.
"No, my dear, not old Blakeford," she said; "but that other old Mr
Rowle."
"Old Mr Rowle!" I cried excitedly, as, like a flash, all my former
intercourse with him darted back--the day when he came and took
possession of our dear home; our meals together; the bit of dinner in
the summer-house; and his kindly help with money and advice when I was
about to run away. Why, I felt that it was to him that I owed all my
success in life, and my heart smote me as I thought of my ingratitude,
and how I seemed to have forgotten him since I had become so prosperous
and well-to-do.
"Yes," said Mary, "old Mr Rowle. He's standing at the door, my dear;
he said he was so shabby he wouldn't come in."
Thank God, I was only a boy still, and full of youthful freshness and
enthusiasm! I forgot all my dandyism and dress, everything, in the
excitement of seeing the old man again; and almost before Mary had done
speaking, I was bounding down the stairs to rush through the big hall
and catch hold of the little old man standing on the steps.
He seemed to have shrunk; or was it that I had sprung up from the little
boy into a young man? I could not tell then. I did not want to tell
then; all I knew was that the childish tears were making my eyes dim,
that there was a hot choking sensation in my throat, and that I dragged
the old man in. We had a struggle over every mat, where he would stop
to rub his shoes. I could not speak, only keep on shaking both his
hands; and I seemed to keep on shaking them till I had him thrust down
by the fire in the easy-chair.
"Why, young 'un," he said at last, "how you have grown!"
"Why, Mr Rowle," I said, as soon as I could speak, "I am--I am glad to
see you."
"Are you--are you, young 'un?" he said, getting up out of his chair,
picking his hat off the floor, where he had set it down, and putting it
on again, while in a dreamy way he ran his eye all over the room, making
a mental inventory of the furniture, just as I remembered him to have
done of old.
He seemed to be very little, and yellow, and withered, and he was very
shabbily dressed, too; but I realised the fact that he was not much
altered, as he fixed his eyes once more on me, and repeated:
"Why, young 'un, how you have grow'd!"
"Have I, Mr Rowle?" I said, laughing through my weak tears; for his
coming seemed to have brought back so much of the past.
"Wonderful!" he said. "I shouldn't have know'd you, that I shouldn't.
Why, you've grow'd into quite a fine gentleman, that you have, and you
used to be about as high as sixpen'orth o' ha'pence."
"I was a little fellow," I said, laughing.
"But you'd got a 'awful lot o' stuff in you, young 'un," he said. "But,
I say, are you--are you really glad to see me, young 'un--I mean, Mr
Grace?"
"Glad to see you?" I cried. "I can't tell you how glad. But sit down.
Here, give me your hat."
"Gently, young 'un, there's something in it. Pr'aps I'd better keep it
on."
"No, no," I cried, catching it from his hands, and forcing him back into
the easy-chair.
"Gently, young 'un," he said, thrusting one hand up the cuff of his long
brown coat, which, with its high collar, almost seemed to be the same as
the one in which I saw him first--"gently, young 'un," he said; "you've
broke my pipe."
I burst out laughing, and, weak as it may sound, the tears came to my
eyes again, as I saw him draw from up his sleeve a long clay pipe broken
in three, and once more the old scenes in the deserted rifled house came
back.
"Never mind the pipe, Mr Rowle," I cried. "You shall have a dozen if
you like, twice as long as that. But you must be hungry and tired. I
am glad to see you."
"Thankye, young 'un," he said, smiling; and the old man's lip quivered a
little as he shook my hand. "I didn't expect it of you, but I thought
I'd come and see if you'd forgotten me."
I ran to the bell, and Mary came up directly, and smiled and nodded at
my visitor.
"Mary," I said, "let's have some supper directly--a bit of something
hot. And, I say, bring up that long pipe of Revitts'--the churchwarden,
you know. I've got some tobacco."
"I've got a bit of tobacco," said Mr Rowle, "and--you've taken my hat
away--there's something in it. Thankye. I thought, maybe, they might
come in useful. They're quite fresh."
As he spoke he took out a great yellow silk handkerchief, and from
underneath that, fitting pretty tightly in the hat, a damp-looking paper
parcel, that proved to contain a couple of pounds of pork sausages,
which Mary bore away, and returned directly with a kettle of hot water
and a long churchwarden clay pipe, which Mr Rowle proceeded to fill
from my tobacco-jar, lit, sat bolt-upright in his chair, and began to
smoke.
All the intervening years seemed to have slipped away as I saw the old
man sitting there, a wonderfully exact counterpart of Mr Jabez in
shabby clothes; and, as his eyes once more wandered round the place, I
half expected to see him get up and go all over the house, smoking in
each room, and mentally making his inventory of the goods under his
charge.
I went to a little cellaret, got out the glasses, spirit-stand, and
sugar, and mixed the old man a steaming tumbler, which he took, nodded,
and sipped with great satisfaction. Then, puffing contentedly away at
his pipe, he said:
"Not all your own, is it?" And his eyes swept over the furniture.
"Yes, to be sure," I said, laughing at his question, for I took a good
deal of pride in my rooms, which were really well furnished.
"You've grow'd quite a swell, young 'un," he said at last; and then
stopped smoking suddenly. "I ain't no right here," he said. "I hope
you don't mind the pipe."
"I'm going to have a cigar with you presently," I said, laughing, "only
we'll have some supper first."
"Only fancy," he said; "just a bit of a slip as you was when you made up
your mind to cut, and now grow'd up. I should have liked to have seen
what come between. You are glad to see me, then?"
"Glad? Of course," I cried; and then Mary came bustling in to lay the
cloth.
"She's altered, too," said the old man, who went on smoking away
placidly. "Got crummier; and she don't speak so sharp. Think o' you
two living in the same house."
"Mary's my landlady," I said. "But this is a surprise."
"Ah! Yes," he said; "I've often thought I'd come up and see Jabez, and
look you up same time. I had a bit of a job to find you, for Jabez
wasn't at home."
"Mr Jabez is here," I said.
"Yes; they said he'd come to see you, and they wouldn't give me the
address at first. I'd lost it, or forgotten it, but here I am."
"I'll go up and tell him you are here," I cried; and before my visitor
could say a word, I had run upstairs and completely upset all Mr Jabez
Rowle's calculations, which might or might not have ended in his gaining
the odd trick, and was soon taking him downstairs on the plea or
important business.
"Anything the matter, Grace?" he said--"anything wrong with Hallett?"
"No," I said; "he's in his bedroom. Come in here."
If I had expected to startle or surprise Mr Jabez, I should have been
disappointed, for, upon entering my room, where his brother was
composedly smoking the long clay pipe, with his yellow silk handkerchief
spread over his knees, he only said:
"Hallo, Peter, you here?" and went and sat down on the other side of the
fire.
"How do, Jabez?" said my old friend, without taking his pipe out of his
mouth; and then there was silence, which I did not care to break, but
sat down, too, and looked on.
"Come up to-day, Peter?" said Mr Jabez.
"Yes."
"When are you going back?"
"Don't know."
"Oh!"
Then there was a pause.
"Stick to your pipe still," said Mr Jabez, taking a loud pinch of
snuff.
"Yes; never could manage snuff."
"Oh!"
Here there was another pause, broken once more by Mr Jabez.
"Where are you going to stay?"
"Long o' you."
"Oh!"
A great many puffs of smoke followed here, and several pinches of snuff,
as the two old men sat on either side of the fire and stared hard at
each other, their likeness being now wonderful, as far as their heads
were concerned.
"Hard up?" said Mr Jabez at last.
"No. Want to borrow a sov?"
"No," said Mr Jabez shortly; and there was again a silence.
"I'll have a drop of gin and water, Grace," said Mr Jabez, after a very
long and awkward pause for me.