Then Hugh John loomed up, with that quiet gravity which deceives
strangers sometimes, his finger still keeping the place in William's
_Middle Kingdom_, and his eyes meeting those of the Doctor level as the
metals on a straight run of the railway line.
The Doctor was ready to pass the lad in order to talk with
Somebody--who, as usual, lay back looking amused. But that arresting
something in Hugh John's eyes, a mixture of equality and authority,
halted him, as it has done so many others.
"You are reading?" said the Doctor civilly.
"Oh, no," said Hugh John, "just picking out favorite bits. Do you know
_The Middle Kingdom_?"
Now _The Middle Kingdom_ is an exceedingly fine book, highly technical
in parts, and has to do with China. So it is no wonder that it was not
so familiar to a man who for years has had to specialize on surgery as
it was to the omnivorous Hugh John.
Dr. Weir Douglas shook his head as he glanced over the volume.
"It looks very stiff," he remarked; "are you getting it up for an
exam.?"
Hugh John looked at him curiously. He did not approve of jests on such
subjects. "I read it first when I was about ten," he said. "I only wish
exams were as easy."
"Is it 'math'?" the Doctor inquired sympathetically.
"Yes," said Hugh John, "that--and the idiocies of English spelling!"
All this as from man to man, unsmiling, unwinking, each taking the
measure of the other.
It came to an end in a mutual self-respect, neither yielding an inch.
But the boy knew how to make himself respected as well as the man of
thirty. That night they took a long walk together in the crisp black
frost, while Dr. Weir Douglas talked of "microbes," and Hugh John
expounded Chinese transcendental medicine. But the real respect did not
arrive till, passing the darkened library as they returned, the Doctor
said, "I hear you do something with the gloves. What do you say to a
turn?"
"Step in!" said Hugh John.
What passed I do not know, but when he went away the Doctor said, "I
really think those gloves of yours are two or three ounces too light!"
* * * * *
It was the next day that Hugh John, summoned into solemn council by
Butcher Donnan and his wife, was informed what was expected of him in
the matter of Elizabeth Fortinbras. Luckily I was again present, and so
can tell all about it.
Hugh John was not surprised. He was the Red Indian of the family. He
took it as quite natural that he should be called in, quite natural that
such good luck should befall Elizabeth Fortinbras, and entirely
reasonable that he should be chosen as plenipotentiary.
Now and then he asked a question, unexpectedly acute, as to Nipper's
financial position, and how the proposed arrangement with Elizabeth
would affect him. You would have thought it was Nipper's case he was
advocating. Only I know that he was anxious to keep clear of all
injustice before taking the matter in hand.
"_And suppose Elizabeth gets married?_"
I saw the two Donnans look one at the other. I don't think either had
yet considered the matter in this light. To adopt Elizabeth meant to
adopt any possible husband Elizabeth might take to herself. I could tell
from Butcher Donnan's twinkle that he was envisaging the possibility of
having Hugh John as a son-in-law--by adoption. Hugh John was still an
unknown quantity to the good pastry-cook. He would never understand the
delicate detachment of the friendship of Elizabeth Fortinbras and my
brother.
"We hope," said Butcher Donnan cunningly, "that you will let us keep
Elizabeth for a long time, Mr. Hugh John?"
The boy took the words perfectly seriously and with no personal bearing.
"Elizabeth," he answered, "is a very pretty girl, but I shall do my
best. At any rate she is sure to consult me before doing anything
rash--like getting married, I mean!"
There was something about Hugh John which kept any one from laughing at
him, and accordingly Butcher Donnan refrained.
"You are a confident young man," he said; "at your age I might have had
an eye a little wider open for my own good fortune."
"Elizabeth trusts me, and I am her friend!" said Hugh John, as if that
settled the whole matter.
"Well, may I be ... blessed!" cried Butcher Donnan. "Off with you, and
let us hear what Elizabeth says."
"No," said Hugh John, "it must _happen_, not be dragged in by the
collar. To-night, after shop-shutting, Elizabeth will go home to see
that all is right with her people. I shall walk with her, and tell you
what she says in the morning."
"We would rather hear to-night," cried Butcher Donnan, hotly impatient
after the manner of his kind.
"No--to-morrow!" pronounced Hugh John. "She ought to have the night to
think it over. It wouldn't be fair unless!"
"No more it would, young fellow!" cried Butcher Donnan, clapping Hugh
John on the shoulder. "You found us a new business. You are finding us a
daughter--perhaps some day----"
"Hush now, Butcher," said his wife, anxious as to what he should say
next.
But Hugh John, already deep in his mission, took no offense at Butcher
Donnan's _innuendoes_. Elizabeth Fortinbras and he were the best of good
friends. And when the time came he would stand by the right hand of the
bridegroom of her choice and witness his joy.
So at least he thought at that moment.