A MAN OF SCIENCE
Professor Lawless was a scientist, and, as is common among professors
and scientists, very eccentric. A Bachelor of Medicine, he had
practised as much or as little as pleased him, and devoted most of
his time to the materialisation of experiments that, if perfected,
would make his fortune.
Not that it was with this end in view that he laboured, for his means
were considerable, and it was his custom to give his services and
advice to patients gratis in the majority of cases, although his
sister Gay was no advocate of this practice.
"Why don't you put up a notice with "Free Hospital" on it over the
door, and have done with the farce of refusing to take fees from
people who can well afford them?" she used to ask indignantly. "You
forget that it cost a heap of money during the five years you were
learning the little you now know"--she laughed, for he was really a
walking encyclopædia of learning--"and do you intend to get none of
it back?"
Her brother would beam at her through the glasses that were eternally
slipping off his nose.
"You are too commercial, Gay," he said. "None of us are infallible,
and it would pain me to think that I had taken money for what might,
after all, have been a mistaken diagnosis. I have ample means for my
wants--which are simple--and I disapprove strongly of the tactics
employed by some medical men in accepting fees for ailments which are
often imaginary, and more often curable by fresh air and exercise
than drugs and knives."
"Oh, you're hopeless," Gay rejoined, and there the argument ended for
the time being, much to the Professor's satisfaction.
A remarkably handsome and intellectual-looking man, tall, but with a
slight stoop, and with far-away, clear blue eyes that narrowed
habitually whenever he looked at anything, possibly through years of
close microscopic work, Frank Lawless had a personality (if an untidy
one, as Gay said) that compelled people to ask, "Who is that man?"
He seldom left his laboratory and books, though occasionally Gay
prevailed upon him to accompany her to some function or other, when
he donned a dress-suit of archaic pattern, and, after spoiling a
dozen ties, and wandering miserably in and out of his sister's room
to ask if "this will do?" waited patiently in the hall, with an
obsolete opera-hat held gingerly in one hand, the while he read from
a scientific treatise held close to his eyes in the other.
A habit of standing first on one leg, and then on the other, had
earned him the nickname of "Heron," and it was thus disrespectfully,
but affectionately, that his sister usually addressed him. A man of
unbounded possibilities, but indifferent achievements, only a total
lack of ambition and enterprise prevented his rolling the ball still
at his feet, but, as it was, he had never improved on the fame that
came to him when quite a young man.
"The first man in England on his subject," was what his colleagues
said of him, "but doesn't seem to push his opportunities; nice
fellow, too!" while Frank Lawless himself, after a merciless tirade
from Gay, would remark:
"My dear, I have used my brains to the best of my ability. My name
is not unknown, and there are some eminent men who seek my opinion
still, and value it. I do not wish to become a public character--to
be obscure is to be happy--why not leave me to the work I love? I do
not remember an instance in which I have interfered with you, though
I must confess that some of your exploits--notably hunting, a
practice I detest--have caused me some anxiety. Live and let live,
my child," and waving a hand that clasped a test-tube, the Professor
would flee to the safety of the laboratory, to which haven Gay never
intruded, the smells were too awful, she said.
Since the death of their parents, Gay had taken up her abode with her
brother in London. The girl was really very fond of him, and though
they had few tastes in common, she thought it her duty, as well as
her pleasure, to look after him, and, as she expressed it, "dress and
wash him up generally."
The arrangement answered admirably. Gay was free as air to go where
she liked, and do what she pleased, while the Professor followed his
own pursuits, and took a secret delight in being well taken care of,
without having to suffer the infliction of a wife.
In fact, so secure did he feel under existing circumstances, that the
prospect of their interruption sometimes occurred to him with an
unpleasant shock, and the possibility of his sister marrying appalled
him. He consoled himself, however, with the reflection that she
seemed in no hurry, and no one could accuse him of attempting to
cross bridges before he met them; his character was rather the
reverse, in fact, his impulse being to walk round any obstacle that
presented itself, or if this proved impossible, to confront it
sideways, and wait till either it removed itself, or someone--usually
Gay--came to the rescue.
This disinclination to show a bold front to however trivial a
difficulty, was the twin trait to his lack of ambition, and his
attitude was pathetic when a worldly problem faced him, for he could
no more reprimand or dismiss a worthless servant, than he could in
cold blood destroy one of his cherished specimens.
"She does her best, poor thing!" It was thus he one day mildly
excused an obstreperous and drunken cook, who had "held up" the whole
household. "It must be very trying to stand over a fire all day, you
know, and, er--she's only a little excited, is she?"
"She's drunk," Gay said emphatically. "She went for Sanders with the
rolling-pin just now. I want you to see her, and tell her that if
she's not out of the house, bag and baggage, in an hour, you'll send
for the police."
This was, of course, a joke, but Gay spoke so seriously, and appeared
so much in earnest, that the Professor felt in immediate danger of
participating in a scene, and looked all the fright he felt.
"Of course, my dear, if you think a man's--and a firm man's (the
Professor looked more like a jelly just then)--intervention is
desirable, I will speak to the cook, and if necessary (he squared his
champagne shoulders, and Gay almost laughed as she fancied she heard
something crack) I will show her the door."
He looked supplicatingly at Gay, and sidled towards the nearest exit
himself.
"If you want me," he continued hurriedly, "I shall be in my
laboratory; I am in the middle of a very delicate experiment," and
with the last words, his coat-tails vanished round the corner. Gay
smiled as she heard the laboratory door hastily closed, and the key
turned.
"Old funk!" she said elegantly. "Afraid of his own shadow! I do
believe he'd rather be run over than hold up his hand, for fear of
hurting the motor-man's feelings!"
Then she laughed, and proceeded downstairs to tackle the cook herself.
The breakfast-room in Connaught Square was a pleasant apartment, and
on the morning after the Trotting Meeting, when Frank had finished
breakfast, and taken up his customary morning attitude before the
fire, Gay leaned her elbows on the table, framed her pretty, fresh
face in the hollow of her hands, and opened the ball.
"Frank, dear," she said, "I have something to tell you."
The Professor passed his hand lightly over his face, touching it in
three places. He always did this when his attention was required,
and many people thought he was crossing himself, and unjustly
suspected him of ritualistic tendencies.
"Yes, my dear?" he inquired. "Nothing unpleasant, I hope?" Turning
to the glass he looked apprehensively at his sister's reflection, and
was discomfited when she caught him.
"Quite the reverse," she said. "It's this: I'm going to buy and race
some Trotting horses!"
And now, thought she, for a homily on sport and the evils of the
turf! But she was disappointed.
"Why specify the horse with a superfluous adjective?" he inquired.
"All horses trot, don't they? It is their natural pace--or one of
them. Try to be accurate, my dear girl."
Gay laughed pityingly.
"Trotting horses are a distinct breed, old boy," she said, "and they
trot against each other for prizes; _trot_, you understand, or
pace--there are square-gaited horses--those that trot like a
cab-horse, only faster, you know--and pacers, which move both legs on
the same side in unison. Like this, you know"--she got up from her
chair, and tried to illustrate her meaning by walking across the
room, moving the right arm and right leg together, repeating the
performance on the left side.
Frank Lawless looked on with suddenly awakened scientific interest.
"I was under the impression that only giraffes moved in that way," he
said. "Surely horses cannot go very fast with an action like that?"
"Fast enough to do a mile in one minute fifty-five seconds or less,
anyway," Gay replied. "It is such a pretty sight to watch, they wear
such funny boots sometimes, and hobbles and sheepskins,
and--and--things," she finished lamely for want of more knowledge
regarding pacers' equipment.
"Ah, yes, quite so," Frank Lawless agreed, "but--er--racing, you
know. My experience of it has been limited, I confess, (the
Professor's knowledge of racing was confined to two or three
occasional turfites who came to him professionally), but I am given
to understand that its followers are, to say the least of it,
unscrupulous. I am not a prig, Gay, but I have seen life in my
time"--he looked at himself knowingly in the glass, while Gay laughed
inwardly--"and I flatter myself I am a man of the world, therefore I
fear I cannot give my consent to your proposal."
The last remark was uttered with all the timidity of an assumed
authority, and as he spoke, he lapsed into the one-legged attitude
which had earned him his nickname.
"My proposal, as you call it, is a foregone conclusion, dear Heron,"
Gay answered smartly, "and with all sisterly respect for you, I would
remark that I invariably make up my mind--both our minds
sometimes--beforehand, and acquaint you with the result after.
Carlton Mackrell has promised me his assistance and advice, and as
soon as I can get hold of a few good horses, I mean to start. The
Trotting season's young yet--perhaps later on, as a special treat,
I'll take you to see a race."
"Mr. Mackrell?" he said irritably. "Well, well, a rich idler is
bound to take up some fad, I suppose--but why be a sporting man,
without two ideas in your head? An interesting animal, no doubt, of
the same type as your friend, Chris Hannen, but--
"Oh," cried Gay with spirit, for she resented the sneer, "it's these
'interesting animals,' as you are pleased to call them, from the
lofty heights of ineffectual science, who do the work of the world,
the work that counts. It is the sportsmen of England who know how to
rise to an emergency, and overcome it, old boy--these very same
brainless men whom you so contemptuously patronise, by their pluck
and determination, form the very bulwark of England when fighting has
to be done!"
"But I fail to see any object in sport," reiterated her brother
obstinately, "especially horse-racing and--er--Trotting matches.
Where does it lead to, and what good purpose does it serve?"
"It improves the breed of a noble animal, and teaches the men who
ride it self-reliance and resource," Gay flashed back, "to say
nothing of making them _hard_--a soft man is every decent woman's
abomination!"
The Professor shifted his feet uneasily, and glanced at his watch; it
was his invariable rule to run away when getting the worst of an
argument. He had no power to hinder Gay from making ducks and drakes
of her two thousand a year, and he sighed as he reflected that she
was already more than a little original in some of her ideas and
speech; but he also knew that the charm of the girl overshadowed all
else, and that whatever she said or did, seldom drew forth a more
severe censure than "Oh, that's Gay Lawless all over, you know," from
anyone whose opinion mattered.
Gay, in fact, possessed a soul which she described as "superior to
public opinion or example--good or bad, especially good," and so long
as what she said and did harmed no one, and she performed such duties
as her station required of her, she felt answerable to none.
When he had left the room with his usual silent shuffle, the girl,
quite unconscious of the pretty picture she made, talked
confidentially to her reflection in the glass.
"Awful pity dear old Frank isn't more of an outdoor man," she said
aloud, then her face grew serious as she remembered the fate of her
four other brothers, all killed in the open, two fighting, and two in
search of adventure.
"He's the only one of us all without the sporting instinct, and
what's worse, is bigoted against every kind of sport for others. He
can't help his nature, I suppose; but oh! I _do_ wish he could
understand all that the sight of the country, and growing things, and
horses mean to me!"
Unconsciously Gay for a long time had felt the want of a sympathetic
companion, or, as she would have expressed it, a pal, for, fond as
she was of her brother, he was not an ideal listener when she lived
over again a great run to hounds, or described a spirited game of
polo at Hurlingham.
He always accorded her that polite inattention which checks
confidences, and freezes enthusiasm, and Lossie Holden, Gay's cousin
and enforced intimate, loathed sport in every shape and form, while
Effie Bulteel, a sportswoman after Gay's own heart, was too
constantly her husband's companion to have much time for anyone else.
Thus, on the principle that we are nearly always furthest from those
we love, Gay did not see half so much of her friend as she wished,
while having to endure far more of her cousin Lossie's company than
she either desired or deserved.
Dismissing the subject with a shrug of her shoulders, the girl
started to attend to those household duties in which she was an
adept, and retired below stairs to plan out the day's food, more
especially the dinner. Then she did the flowers, of which there was
always a profusion in the house, for Gay was a real lover of Nature,
and to watch the different gradations of colour in the spring was a
constant delight to her, though when leaf and flower came to their
full growth and perfection, all rushing out on the top of each other,
she lost interest in, and quaintly denounced them, as "vulgar."
Suddenly it occurred to her that she and Frank had not given one of
their cosy little dinners for some time--why not have one soon,
asking Carlton Mackrell and Chris Hannen, with the inevitable Lossie
to make up the party? The Professor did not count, and in any case
Gay would have found it difficult to find another girl--all those she
knew were either too fast or too slow for her taste, and it must be
confessed that while she bore her own sex no ill-will, she infinitely
preferred the society of men.
"You can never tell a woman all your secrets as you can a man," she
used to say, and Lossie was fond of quoting this remark, and telling
everyone that Gay hated women--the deduction being that from close
personal observation of her own character, she found all her sisters
as hateful as herself.
Yet Gay looked no "cat" as she ran to her writing-table; in these
days when the streets are filled with fine athletic woman, but the
dear little girl, with her smile, her blush, her little foot and
hand, her gracious ways, her thanks for some small service rendered,
appears to have vanished from the haunts of men, one such girl at
least, as more than one man knew, was to be found at a certain house
in Connaught Square.
When she had penned the three invitations, she fell to thinking, then
presently destroyed two out of the three she had written.
"Carlton Mackrell shall come alone, and convert Frank," she said
aloud; "besides, he and Chris would be sure to fall out over the
rival merits of racing and trotting"; but she sighed as she rang for
the letter to be posted.
For Chris was such rattling good company, he would describe things in
a manner that brought tears of laughter into the eyes of his
listeners, such readiness, such a knack of creating sunshine wherever
he went, Gay never found in anyone else--it was a mere coincidence,
of course, that he found no other company in the world so delightful
as Gay's!