VAL TURNS MENTOR.
Miss Nathalie Marsh was not the only person in existence who took a
violent fancy to the pretty, pale little school-mistress, Miss Rose.
Before the end of the month, Speckport pronounced her perfection;
though, to do Speckport justice, it was not greatly given to overpraise.
Indeed, it was a common saying with the inhabitants that Speckport would
find fault with an archangel, did one of these celestial spirits think
fit to alight there, and the very person most vehement in this assertion
would have been the first in the backbiting. Yet Speckport praised Miss
Rose, and said their Johnnys and Marys had never get on so fast in their
A B abs, before, and the little ones themselves chanted her praises with
all their hearts. If she appeared in the streets, they rushed headlong
to meet her, sure of a smile for their pains. They brought her flowers
every morning, and a reproachful look was the severest punishment known
in the schoolroom. The old women dropped their courtesies; the old men
pronounced her the nicest young woman they had seen for many a day, and
the young men--poor things! fell in love.
There was some one else winning golden opinions, but not from all sorts
of people. Only from young ladies, who were ready to tear each other's
dear little eyes out, if it could have helped the matter: and the man
was Captain George Cavendish. Speckport was proud to have him at its
parties; for was he not to be a baronet some day? and was his family in
England, their Alma Mater, not as old as the hills, and older? But he
was an expensive luxury. Their daughters fell in love with him, and
their sons spent their money frightfully fast with him; and all sons or
daughters got in return were fascinating smiles, courtly bows, and
gallant speeches. He was not a marrying man, that was evident; and yet
he did seem rather serious with Nathalie Marsh. Miss Marsh was the
handsomest girl in Speckport; she would be the richest, and she was for
certain the only one that ever had a grandfather--that is, to speak of:
in the course of nature they all had, perhaps; but the grandfathers were
less than nobody--peddlers, rag-men, and fish-hawkers. But her father
and grandfather had been gentlemen born; and it is well to have good
blood in one's veins, even on one side. So the young ladies hated Miss
Marsh, and were jealous of each other; and that high-stepping young
heiress laughed in their face, and walked and talked, and rode and
sailed, and sang and danced with Captain Cavendish, and triumphed over
them like a princess born.
It was June, and very hot. Speckport was being grilled alive, and the
dust flew in choking simooms.
Cool through all the heat, Captain Cavendish walked up Queen Street in
the broiling noonday sun. Charley Marsh and Alick McGregor walked on
either side of him, like that other day on which they had met Cherrie;
and Charley's face was flushed and clouded, and young McGregor's drawn
down to a most lugubrious length. They had just come from Prince
Street--an every-day resort now; and Charley and McGregor seldom left it
of that late without clouded expression. Captain Cavendish was laughing
at them both.
"All in the downs!" he cried; "nonsense, Marsh. One would think you were
ruined for life."
"I soon shall be at this rate. I owe you a small fortune now."
"Only fifty pounds," said the captain, as carelessly as if it were fifty
pence, "a mere trifle."
"And I owe you twice as much," said young McGregor, with a sort of
groan; "won't there be the dickens to pay when it's found out at home."
"Don't let them find it out, then," said Captain Cavendish, in the same
off-hand manner.
"That's easily said. How am I to help it?"
"Your father has a check-book--help yourself."
"That would be killing the goose that lays the golden eggs," said
Charley. "Let the old man find that out and good-bye to Alick's chance
of ever seeing Prince Street again. Here are my quarters--no use asking
you in to hear the row old Leach will make at my delay, I suppose."
He nodded, with his own careless laugh, and entered the office of Doctor
Leach. Captain Cavendish looked at his watch.
"Half-past eleven! I believe I owe your people a call, McGregor; so _en
avant_!"
Miss Jeannette McGregor was at home, and received the captain and her
brother in her boudoir, a charming little room, with velvet-pile carpet,
gilding, and ormolu, and medallion pictures of celebrated beauties set
in the oval paneled walls. A copy of Longfellow, all gold and azure, was
in her hand; she had once heard Captain Cavendish express his admiration
of the great American poet; and having seen her brother and he coming up
the front steps, she had arranged this little tableau expressly for the
occasion. If there was one young lady in all Speckport who more than
another sincerely hated Nathalie Marsh, or more sincerely admired
Captain Cavendish, that one was Miss McGregor. She had long been jealous
of Natty's beauty, but now she detested her with an honest earnestness
that, I think, only women ever feel. She kissed her whenever they met;
she invited her to every party they gave; she made calls at Redmon: and
she hated her all the time, and could have seen her laid in her coffin
with the greatest pleasure. It is a very common case, my brethren; Judas
Iscariot was not a woman, but kisses after his fashion are very popular
among the gentler sex.
"Evangeline," said Captain Cavendish, taking up her book; "I always
liked that, but never half so well as since I came to Speckport."
"Because you saw Miss Marsh in the character," said Jeannette, laughing,
as young ladies must, in these cases.
"Miss Marsh took her character very well, but that is not the only
reason why I shall long remember that night."
A glance accompanied this speech that brought a glow to Miss McGregor's
cheek and a flutter to her heart. Captain Cavendish was a clever man. He
had more irons in the fire than even Val knew of, and allowed none of
them to cool; and it does take a clever man to make love discreetly to
half-a-dozen women at once.
"Natty looked stunning that night," put in Alick; "she is the handsomest
girl in Speckport."
"You think so--we all know that," said Jeannette, flashing a spiteful
glance at him; "you have been making a simpleton of yourself about her
for the last two years. Why don't you propose at once."
"Because she wouldn't have me," blurted honest Alick; "I wish to heaven
she would! I would soon do the popping."
"Faint heart never won fair lady; take courage and try," said the
captain.
Jeannette looked at him with her most taking smile.
"Are you quite sincere in that, Captain Cavendish?"
"Quite! Why not?"
"Oh, nothing! Only rumor says you are going to carry a Bluenose bride
back to Merrie England."
"Perhaps I may. You are a Bluenose, are you not, Miss Jeannette?"
Before Jeannette could answer, a sort of shout from Alick, who was at
the window, took their attention. Miss McGregor looked languidly over.
"Oh, how noisy you are! What is it, pray?"
The door-bell rang loudly.
"It's Natty herself and Laura Blair. You ought to have seen Natty
driving up, captain; she handles the ribbons in tiptop style, and that
black mare of Blair's is no joke to drive."
Before he had finished speaking, the door opened, and a servant showed
in the two young ladies. Miss Jeannette sprang up with the utmost
effusion, and kissed each on both cheeks.
"You darling Natty! It is ages since you were here. Laura, how good it
is of you to fetch her! for I know it must have been you."
"So it was," said Laura, shaking hands with Captain Cavendish. "I
haven't time, I haven't time, is always her cry. I tell her there will
be time when we are all dead--won't there, captain?"
"I presume so, unless at the loss of Miss Laura Blair the whole economy
of creation blows up with a crash."
"And so you see," said Laura, sitting down on a chair, and flirting out
her skirts all around her, "I drove up to Redmon this morning, with a
great basketful of English strawberries the size of crab-apples, as a
coaxer to Lady Leroy; and through their eloquence, and the promise of
another, got her to let Natty come to town with me on business."
"On business;" said Captain Cavendish; "that means shopping."
"No, sir, it doesn't; it means something serious, and that you must take
share in. You, too, Jeannette, and you, Alick, if we run short."
"Thank you," said Alick, "what is it?"
"Why, you know," began Miss Blair, with the air of one about entering
upon a story, "there's that Mrs. Hill--you know her, Alick?"
"What! the wife of the pilot who was drowned in the storm last week?"
"That's the one," nodded Laura. "Well, she's poor--Oh, dear me! ever so
poor, and her two children down in the measles, and herself half dead
with rheumatism. I shouldn't have known a thing about it only for Miss
Rose. I do declare Miss Rose is next door to an angel; she found her
out, and did lots of things for her, and told me at last how poor she
was, and asked me to send her some things. So then I made up this plan."
"What plan?" inquired Jeannette, as Laura stopped for want of breath,
and Nathalie sat listening with an amused look.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? Why, we're going to have a play, and every one
of us turn into actors; admission, half a dollar. Won't it be grand?"
"And the play is Laura's own," said Nathalie; "nothing less than the
adventures of Telemachus dramatized."
"That is delightful," said Jeannette, with sparkling eyes. "Have I a
part, Laura?"
"To be sure, and so has Natty, and myself, and Captain Cavendish, and
Val Blake, and Charley Marsh, and as many more as we want. The new wing
that pa has built to our house is just finished, and, being unfurnished,
will make a lovely theater. Only a select number of tickets will be
issued, and the place is sure to be crowded. The proceeds will be a
little fortune to Mrs. Hill."
"You should have given Miss Rose a part, as she was the head of it,"
suggested Alick.
"She wouldn't have it. I tried hard enough, but she was resolute. She is
such a timid little thing, you know, and she would make a lovely nymph,
too."
"What part have you assigned me?" inquired Captain Cavendish.
"Being a soldier and a hero, you are Ulysses, of course; Charley is
Telemachus; Val is Mentor--fancy Val with flowing white hair and beard,
like an old nanny-goat. Jeannette, you will be Calypso; Natty will take
Eucharis; I, Penelope. I wanted Miss Rose to be Eucharis--the part would
have suited her so well."
"I don't believe it would come natural to Charley to make love to her,"
said Alick; "he'll have to, won't he, if he is Telemachus?"
"You must change the casts, Miss Blair," said the captain, decidedly.
"If Telemachus is to do the love-making, I must be Telemachus. Mr. Marsh
and I must change."
"You would make such a nice Ulysses," said Laura, meditatingly, while
Nathalie blushed; "but please yourself. You must all spend the evening
at our house, and when the whole _dramatis personæ_ are gathered, we can
discuss and settle the thing for good, fix the rehearsal and the night
of the play. Don't fail to come."
"You need not be in a hurry," said Jeannette, as Laura rose and was
sailing off; "stay for luncheon."
"Couldn't possibly--promised to leave Natty back safe and sound in an
hour, and it only wants ten minutes now. If we fail one second, she
will never get off for rehearsals. Remember, you are all engaged for
this evening."
The two long parlors of the Blairs were pretty well filled that night
with young ladies and gentlemen, and a very gay party they were. There
was so much laughing and chaffing over it, that it was some trouble to
settle preliminaries; but Laura was intensely in earnest, and could see
nothing to laugh at, and Captain Cavendish coming gallantly to her aid,
matters were arranged at last. Charley Marsh, who was a Rubens on a
small scale, undertook to paint the scenery, superintend the carpenters
and the machinery of the stage. The young ladies arranged the costumes;
everybody got their parts in MS.; rehearsals were appointed, and some
time before midnight the amateurs dispersed. In the June moonlight, the
English officer drove Nathalie home, and it was not all theatricals they
talked by the way. There was a good deal of trouble about the thing yet,
now that it was finally started. In the first place, there was that
tiresome Lady Leroy, who made a row every time Natty went to rehearsal,
and required lots of strawberries, and jellies, and bottles of old wine,
to bring her to reason. Then they bungled so in their parts, and wanted
so much prompting, and Miss Elvira Tod, sister to the Rev. Augustus, who
was tall and prim, and played Minerva, objected to wearing a tin shield,
and wanted to keep on her hoops.
"Now, Miss Tod," expostulated Laura, ready to cry, "you know the goddess
Minerva always is painted with a breastplate, to conceal her want of a
bust; and as for your skeleton, you would be a nice goddess with
hoops--wouldn't you?"
On the whole, things progressed as favorably as could be expected; and
the eventful night was announced, tickets were issued and eagerly
bought, and Speckport was on the qui vive for the great event. When the
appointed night came, the impromptu theater was crowded at an early
hour, and with nothing but the upper-crust, either; the military band,
which formed the orchestra, played the "Nymph's Dance" ravishingly, and
amid a breathless hush, the curtain rose.
Mrs. Hill, the destitute widow, was made happy next day by some twenty
pounds, the produce of the play, and Speckport could talk of nothing
else for a week. The Speckport Spouter even went into personalities.
"Miss Nathalie Marsh," that journal said, "as Eucharis, astonished every
one. The fire, the energy, the pathos of her acting could not be
surpassed by the greatest professionals of the day. Captain Cavendish,
as the hero, performed his part to the life--it seemed more like reality
than mere acting; and Mr. C. Marsh as Ulysses, and Miss Laura Blair as
Penelope, were also excellent."
On the morning after this laudatory notice appeared in the Spouter, a
young gentleman, one of the employees of that office, walked slowly
along Queen Street, his hands thrust deep in his coat-pockets, his cap
very much on one side of his head, and his face lengthened to
preternatural solemnity. The young gentleman was Bill Blair; and that he
had something on his mind was evident, for his countenance was
seriously, not to say dismally, meditative. Reaching the office, he
walked deliberately up-stairs, entered the outer room, swung himself
nimbly up on the handiest stool, and began flinging his legs about,
without the ceremony of removing his cap. Mr. Clowrie, the only other
occupant of the apartment, looked at him over his desk with a frown.
"I thought Mr. Blake told you to be here at half-past six this morning,
and now it's a quarter past eight," began Mr. Clowrie; "if I was Blake,
I would turn you out of the office."
"But you ain't Blake!" retorted Master Blair; "so don't ruffle your fine
feathers for nothing, Jakey! If you had been up till half-past one this
morning, perhaps you wouldn't be any spryer than I am."
"What kept you up till that time? Some devilment, I'll be bound."
"No, it wasn't," said Bill; "our folks, the whole crowd but me, streaked
off to the theatre; so as I couldn't see the fun of playing Robinson
Crusoe at home, I just went over to Jim Tod's to have a game of
all-fours, and a look at the pups, and they're growing lovely. I didn't
mean to stay long, but some of the rest of the fellows were there, and
Jim had a box of cigars, and a bottle of sherry he had cribbaged out of
the sideboard, and it was all so jolly I'll be blowed if it didn't
strike twelve before we knew where we were."
"Well, now you've come, go to work, or there will be a precious row when
the boss comes."
"Blake won't row," said Bill, nodding mysteriously; "but I know where
there will be one before long. Cracky, won't there be a flare-up when
it's found out!"
Mr. Clowrie laid down his pen and looked up.
"When what's found out?"
"That's my secret," replied Bill, with a perfect shower of mysterious
nods. "I saw the rummiest go last night when I was coming home ever you
heard tell of."
"I don't believe it," said Jake, disdainfully; "you're always finding
mare's-nests, and a lot they come to when all's done!"
"Jake, look here! you won't tell, will you?"
"Bosh! go to work. What should I tell for?"
"Well, then," said Bill, lowering his voice, "I've found out who stole
that hundred pounds from old McGregor."
"What?"
"You remember that hundred pounds old McGregor had stole a week ago, and
that went so mysteriously? Well, I've found out who took it."
"You have!" cried Mr. Clowrie, excited; "why, there's a reward of fifty
dollars out for the thief!"
Bill nodded again.
"I know it, but I ain't going to apply. You won't tell--honor bright!"
"I won't tell! who was it?"
"Don't faint if you can! It was his own son, Alick!"
"Wha-a-t!"
"I tell you it was; I heard him say so myself, last night."
Mr. Clowrie sat thunderstruck, staring. Master Blair went on:
"Charley Marsh is in the mess too--I don't mean about the
money-stealing, mind! but him and Sandy McGregor are galloping the road
to ruin at a 2.40 rate!"
"What do you mean?"
Bill looked round as if fearful the very walls would hear him.
"They go to Prince Street, Jake! I met them coming out of a certain
house there past twelve o'clock last night!"
"By ginger!" exclaimed Mr. Clowrie, aghast. "You never mean to say young
McGregor stole the money to gam--"
"Hu-sh-sh! I wouldn't have it found out through me for the world. It's
all the work of that dandified officer; he was with them in a long
overcoat, but I knew him the minute I clapped eyes on him. They were
talking about the bank-note, and the captain was laughing and smoking
away as jolly as you please; but I saw Charley's face as they passed a
gas-lamp, and I swear he was as white as a ghost!"
"I suppose he'd been losing."
"I reckon so, and Alick didn't look much better. That captain's a
regular scape--he's after Cherrie Nettleby as regular as clock-work
now."
Mr. Clowrie scowled suddenly, but Bill clattered on:
"I saw him twice last night; once before I met them in Prince Street. It
was about nine, and Cherrie was with him. There the two of them were
standing, like Paul and Virginny, at the gate, making love like sixty!
That Cherrie's the preciousest fool that ever drew breath, I do think.
Why don't you----"
He stopped short in consternation, for the door swung open and Val
strode in, and, as he had done once before, collared him. With the other
hand he turned the key in the lock to keep out intruders, and Bill
fairly quaked, for Val's face looked ominous.
"Now, look you, Master Bill Blair," he began, in a tone exceedingly in
earnest, "I have been listening out there for some time, and I have just
got this to say to you: if ever I find you repeat it to mortal man or
woman, as long as you live, I'll break every bone in your body! Do you
hear that?"
Yes, Master Bill heard, and jerked himself free with a very red and
sulky face.
"Don't forget now!" reiterated Val; "I'll thrash you within an inch of
your life, as sure as your name's Bill! And you, Clowrie, if you want to
keep yourself out of trouble, take my advice and say nothing about it.
Now get to work, you, sir, and no more gossiping."
Val strode off to his own room, and sat down to look over a file of
exchanges, and read his letters. But he could neither read nor do
anything else with comfort this morning. The boy's gossip had disturbed
him more than he would have owned; and at last, in desperation, he
pitched all from him, seized his hat, and went out.
"I played Mentor the other night on the stage. I think I'll try it in
real life. Confound that Cavendish; why can't he let the boy alone? I
don't mind McGregor; he's only a noodle at best, and the old man can
afford to lose the money; but Charley's another story! That Cherrie,
too! The fellow's a scoundrel, and she's a--! Oh, here she comes!"
Sure enough, tripping along, her blue parasol up, her turban on, a
little white lace vail down, a black silk mantle flapping in the breeze,
a buff calico morning-wrapper, with a perfect hailstorm of white buttons
all over it, sweeping the dust, came Miss Nettleby herself, arrayed as
usual for conquest. The incessant smile, ever parting her rosy lips,
greeted Val. Cherrie always kept a large assortment of different quality
on hand for different gentlemen. Val greeted her and turned.
"Where are you going, Cherrie?"
"Down to Mrs. Marsh's. I've got a book of hers to return. How's Miss
Jo?"
"She's well. I'll walk with you, Cherrie; I have something to say to
you."
His tone was so serious that Cherrie stared.
"Lord, Mr. Blake! what is it?"
"Let us go down this street--it is quiet. Cherrie, does Captain
Cavendish go to see you every evening in the week?"
"Gracious me, Mr. Blake!" giggled Cherrie, "what a question!"
"Answer it, Cherrie."
"Now, Mr. Blake, I never! if you ain't the oddest man! I shan't tell you
a thing about it!"
"He was with you last night, was he not?"
"It's none of your business!" said polite Cherrie; "he has as much right
to be with me as any one else, I hope. You come yourself sometimes, for
that matter."
"Yes; but I don't make love to you, you know."
"It wouldn't be any use for you if you did," said Miss Cherrie,
bridling.
"It's a different case altogether," said Val; "you and I are old
friends--he is a stranger."
"He's not! I've known him more than five weeks! If you only came to
preach, Mr. Blake, I guess you had better go back, and I'll find Mrs.
Marsh's alone."
"Cherrie, I want to warn you--the less you have to do with Captain
Cavendish the better. People are talking about you now."
"Let 'em talk," retorted Miss Nettleby, loftily; "when Speckport stops
talking the world will come to an end. I'll just do as I please, and
talk to whom I like; and if everybody minded their own business, it
would be better for some folks."
With which the young lady swept away majestically, leaving Mr. Blake to
turn back or follow if he pleased. He chose the former, and walked along
to Dr. Leach's office. Charley was standing, looking out of the window,
and whistling a tune.
"Hallo, Val!" was his greeting, "what brings you here? Want a tooth
pulled, or a little bleeding, or a trifle of physic of any kind? Happy
to serve you in the absence of the doctor."
"No, I don't want any physic, but I have come to give you a dose. Are
you alone?"
"Quite. Leach went to visit a patient ten minutes ago. What's the
matter?"
"Everything's the matter! What's this I hear you have been about
lately?"
"Turning actor--do you mean that? Much obliged to you, Val, for the puff
you gave me in yesterday's Spouter."
"No, sir, I don't mean that! Isn't Alick McGregor a nice fellow to rob
his own father and you his aider and abettor? Fine doings that!"
Charley fairly bounded.
"Oh, the d----! Where did you find that out?"
"Never mind, I have found it out; that is enough!"
"Is it known? Who else knows it?"
"Two that are not quite so safe to keep it as I am! No, I won't tell you
who they are. Charley, what are you coming to?"
"The gallows, I suppose; but I had no hand in that. If McGregor took the
money, it was his own doings, and his father could spare it."
"What did he want of it?"
"Am I his keeper? How should I know?"
"You do know! When did you turn gambler, Charley?"
Charley turned round, his face white.
"You know that, too?"
"I do! McGregor stole the hundred pounds to pay a gambling-debt to
Captain Cavendish. And you--where does your money come from, Marsh?"
"I don't steal it," said Charley, turning from pale to red; "be sure of
that!"
"Come, my boy, don't be angry. You know I don't deserve that speech; but
surely, Charley, this sort of thing should not go on. Where will it
end?"
"Where, indeed?" said Charley, gloomily. "Val, I wish you would tell me
how you found this out?"
"Pshaw! do you really expect to go in and out of the most notorious
gambling-house in Speckport, at all hours of the day and night, and it
not be discovered? You ought to know this place better."
"That is true; but how did that infernal business of McGregor's leak
out? No one knew it but ourselves."
"It has leaked out, and is known to two persons, who may blow on you all
at any moment."
"And I wanted to keep it from Natty. Val, old fellow, do tell me who
they are."
"You know I won't; it would do no good. Charley, I wish you would stop
in time."
"Stuff! it's no hanging matter after all. Dozens go there as well as I!"
"You won't give it up, then?"
"Not until I win back what I have lost. My coffers are not so full that
I can lose without trying to win it back. Don't talk to me, Blake, it's
of no use; win I must, there is no alternative. Won't Alick go into
white horror when he finds the murder's out?"
Val turned to leave.
"You're going, are you?" said Charley. "I need hardly tell you to keep
dark about this; it will only mar, not mend matters, to let it get wind.
Don't look so solemn, old boy, all's not lost that's in danger."
Val said nothing--what was the use? He passed out and went home to his
domain.
"I knew how it would be," he said to himself, going along; "but I have
done my duty, and that's satisfactory. I'll keep my eye on you, Captain
Cavendish, and if ever I get a chance, won't I play you a good turn for
this!"