Claud Wilton, aged twenty, with his thin pimply face, long narrow jaw,
and closely-cropped hair, which was very suggestive of brain fever or
imprisonment, stood leering at his father, his appearance in no wise
supporting his mother's high encomiums as he indulged in a feeble smile,
one which he smoothed off directly with his thin right hand, which
lingered about his lips to pat tenderly the remains of certain
decapitated pimples which redly resented the passage over them that
morning of an unnecessary razor, which laid no stubble low.
The Vicar of the Parish had said one word to his lady re Claud Wilton--a
very short but highly expressive word that he had learned at college.
It was "cad,"--and anyone who had heard it repeated would not have
ventured to protest against its suitability, for his face alone
suggested it, though he did all he could to emphasise the idea by
adopting a horsey, collary, cuffy style of dress, every article of which
was unsuited to his physique.
"Has Henry Dasent gone?"
"Yes, guvnor, and precious glad to go. You were awfully cool to him, I
must say. He said if it wasn't for his aunt he'd never darken the doors
again."
"And I hope he will not, sir. He is no credit to your mother."
"But I think he means well, my dear," said Mrs Wilton, plaintively.
"It is not his fault. My poor dear sister did spoil him so."
"Humph! And she was not alone. Look here, Claud, I will not have him
here. I have reasons for it, and he, with his gambling and racing
propensities, is no proper companion for you."
"P'raps old Garstang says the same about me," said the young man,
sulkily.
"Claud, my dear, for shame," said Mrs Wilton. "You should not say such
things."
"I don't care what John Garstang says; I will not have his boy here.
Insolent, priggish, wanting in respect to me, and--and--he was a deal
too attentive to Kate."
"Oh, my dear, did you think so?" cried Mrs Wilton.
"Yes, madam, I did think so," said her husband with asperity, "and, what
was ten times worse, you were always leaving them together in your
blundering way."
"Don't say such things to me, dear, before Claud."
"Then don't spend your time making mistakes. Just come, have you, sir?"
"Oh, yes, father, just come," said the young man, with an offensive
grin.
"You heard more than you said, sir," said the Squire, "so we may as well
have a few words at once."
"No, no, no, my dear; pray, pray don't quarrel with Claud now; I'm sure
he wants to do everything that is right."
"Be quiet, Maria," cried the Squire, angrily.
"All right, mother; I'm not going to quarrel," said the son.
"Of course not I only want Claud to understand his position. Look here,
sir, you are at an age when a bo--, when a man doesn't understand the
value of money."
"Oh, I say, guv'nor! Come, I like that."
"It's quite true, sir. You boys only look upon money as something to
spend."
"Right you are, this time."
"But it means more, sir--power, position, the respect of your fellows--
everything."
"Needn't tell me, guv'nor; I think I know a thing or two about tin."
"Now, suppose we leave slang out of the matter and talk sensibly, sir,
about a very important matter."
"Go on ahead then, dad; I'm listening."
"Sit down then, Claud."
"Rather stand, guv'nor; stand and grow good, ma."
"Yes, my dear, do then," said Mrs Wilton, smiling at her son fondly.
"But listen now to what papa says; it really is very important."
"All right, mother; but cut it short, father, my horse is waiting and I
don't want him to take cold."
"Of course not, my boy; always take care of your horse. I will be very
brief and to the point, then. Look here, Claud, your cousin,
Katherine--"
"Oh! Ah, yes; I heard she was ill. What does the Doctor say?"
"Never mind what the Doctor says. It is merely a fit of depression and
low spirits. Now this is a serious matter. I did drop hints to you
before. I must be plain now about my ideas respecting your future. You
understand?"
"Quite fly, dad. You want me to marry her."
"Exactly. Of course in good time."
"But ain't I `owre young to marry yet,' as the song says?"
"Years do not count, my boy," said his father, majestically. "If you
were ten years older and a weak, foolish fellow, it would be bad; but
when it is a case of a young man who is bright, clever, and who has had
some experience of the world, it is different."
Mrs Wilton, who was listening intently to her husband's words, bowed
her head, smiled approval, and looked with the pride of a mother at her
unlicked cub.
But Claud's face wrinkled up, and he looked inquiringly at his elder.
"I say, guv'nor," he said, "does this mean chaff?"
"Chaff? Certainly not, sir," said the father sternly. "Do I look like
a man who would descend to--to--to chaff, as you slangly term it, my own
son?"
"Not a bit of it, dad; but last week you told me I was the somethingest
idiot you ever set eyes on."
"Claud!"
"Well, he did, mother, and he used that favourite word of his before it.
You know," said the youth, with a grin.
"Claud, my dear, you shouldn't."
"I didn't, mother; it was the dad. I never do use it except in the
stables or to the dogs."
"Claud, my boy, be serious. Yes, I did say so, but you had made me very
angry, and--er--I spoke for your good."
"Yes, I'm sure he did, my dear," said Mrs Wilton.
"Oh, all right, then, so long as he didn't mean it. Well, then, to cut
it short, you both want me to marry Kate?"
"Exactly."
"Not much of a catch. Talk about a man's wife being a clinging vine;
she'll be a regular weeping willow."
"Ha! ha! very good, my boy," said Wilton, senior; "but no fear of that.
Poor girl, look at her losses."
"But she keeps going on getting into deeper misery. Look at her."
"It only shows the sweet tenderness of her disposition, Claud, my dear,"
said his mother.
"Yes, of course," said his father, "but you'll soon make her dry her
eyes."
"And she really is a very sweet, lovable, and beautiful girl, my dear,"
said Mrs Wilton.
"Tidy, mother; only her eyes always look as red as a ferret's."
"Claud, my dear, you shouldn't--such comparisons are shocking."
"Oh, all right, mother. Very well; as I am such a clever,
man-of-the-world sort of a chap, I'll sacrifice myself for the family
good. But I say, dad, she really has that hundred and fifty thou--?"
"Every shilling of it, my boy, and--er--really that must not go out of
the family."
"Well, it would be a pity. Only you will have enough to leave me to
keep up the old place."
"Well--er--I--that is--I have been obliged to mortgage pretty heavily."
"I say, guv'nor," cried the young man, looking aghast; "you don't mean
to say you've been hit?"
"Hit? No, my dear, certainly not," cried Mrs Wilton.
"Oh, do be quiet, ma. Father knows what I mean."
"Well, er--yes, my boy, to be perfectly frank, I have during the past
few years made a--er--two or three rather unfortunate speculations, but,
as John Garstang says--"
"Oh, hang old Garstang! This is horrible, father; just now, too, when I
wanted to bleed you rather heavily."
"Claud, my darling, don't, pray don't use such dreadful language."
"Will you be quiet, ma! It's enough to make a fellow swear. Are you
quite up a tree, guv'nor?"
"Oh, no, no, my boy, not so bad as that. Things can go oh for years
just as before, and, er--in reason, you know--you can have what money
you require; but I want you to understand that you must not look forward
to having this place, and er--to see the necessity for thinking
seriously about a wealthy marriage. You grasp the position now?"
"Dad, it was a regular smeller, and you nearly knocked me out of time.
I saw stars for the moment."
"My dearest boy, what are you talking about?" asked Mrs Wilton,
appealingly.
"Oh, bother! But, I say, guv'nor, I'm glad you spoke out to me--like a
man."
"To a man, my boy," said the father, holding out his hand, which the son
eagerly grasped. "Then now we understand each other?"
"And no mistake, guv'nor."
"You mustn't let her slip through your fingers, my boy."
"Likely, dad!"
"You must be careful; no more scandals--no more escapades--no follies of
any kind."
"I'll be a regular saint, dad. I say, think I ought to read for the
church?"
"Good gracious me, Claud, my dear, what do you mean?"
"White choker, flopping felt, five o'clock tea, and tennis, mother.
Kate would like that sort of thing."
Wilton, senior, smiled grimly.
"No, no, my boy, be the quiet English gentleman, and let her see that
you really care for her and want to make her happy. Poor girl, she
wants love and sympathy."
"And she shall have 'em, dad, hot and strong. A hundred and fifty
thou--!"
"Would clear off every lien on the property, my boy, and it would be a
grand thing for my poor deceased brother's child."
"You do think so, don't, you, my dear?" said Mrs Wilton, mentally
extending a tendril, to cling to her husband, "because I--"
"Decidedly, decidedly, my dear," said the Squire, quickly. "Thank you,
Claud, my boy," he continued. "I shall rely upon your strong common
sense and judgment."
"All right, guv'nor. You give me my head. I'll make it all right.
I'll win the stakes with hands down."
"I do trust you, my boy; but you must be gentle, and not too hasty."
"I know," said the young man with a cunning look. "You leave me alone."
"Hah! That's right, then," said the Squire, drawing a deep breath as he
smiled at his son; but all the same his eyes did not look the confidence
expressed by his words.