Mr. Adolphus Swann spent a very agreeable afternoon after his interview
with Nathan Smith in refusing to satisfy what he termed the idle
curiosity of his partner. The secret of Captain Nugent’s whereabouts,
he declared, was not to be told to everybody, but was to be confided by
a man of insinuating address and appearance—here he looked at himself
in a hand-glass—to Miss Nugent. To be broken to her by a man with no
ulterior motives for his visit; a man in the prime of life, but not too
old for a little tender sympathy.
“I had hoped to have gone this afternoon,” he said, with a glance at
the clock; “but I’m afraid I can’t get away. Have you got much to do,
Hardy?”
“No,” said his partner, briskly. “I’ve finished.”
“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind doing my work for me, so that I can
go?” said Mr. Swann, mildly.
Hardy played with his pen. The senior partner had been amusing himself
at his expense for some time, and in the hope of a favour at his hands
he had endured it with unusual patience.
[Illustration: “Hadn’t you better see about making yourself
presentable, Hardy?”]
“Four o’clock,” murmured the senior partner; “hadn’t you better see
about making yourself presentable, Hardy?”
“Thanks,” said the other, with alacrity, as he took off his coat and
crossed over to the little washstand. In five minutes he had finished
his toilet and, giving his partner a little friendly pat on the
shoulder, locked up his desk.
“Well?” he said, at last.
“Well?” repeated Mr. Swann, with a little surprise.
“What am I to tell them?” inquired Hardy, struggling to keep his temper.
“Tell them?” repeated the innocent Swann. “Lor’ bless my soul, how you
do jump at conclusions, Hardy. I only asked you to tidy yourself for my
sake. I have an artistic eye. I thought you had done it to please me.”
“When you’re tired of this nonsense,” said the indignant Hardy, “I
shall be glad.”
Mr. Swann looked him over carefully and, coming to the conclusion that
his patience was exhausted, told him the result of his inquiries. His
immediate reward was the utter incredulity of Mr. Hardy, together with
some pungent criticisms of his veracity. When the young man did realize
at last that he was speaking the truth he fell to wondering blankly
what was happening aboard the _Conqueror_.
“Never mind about that,” said the older man. “For a few weeks you have
got a clear field. It is quite a bond between you: both your fathers
on the same ship. But whatever you do, don’t remind her of the fate
of the Kilkenny cats. Draw a fancy picture of the two fathers sitting
with their arms about each other’s waists and wondering whether their
children——”
Hardy left hurriedly, in fear that his indignation at such frivolity
should overcome his gratitude, and he regretted as he walked briskly
along that the diffidence peculiar to young men in his circumstances
had prevented him from acquainting his father with the state of his
feelings towards Kate Nugent.
The idea of taking advantage of the captain’s enforced absence had
occurred to other people besides Mr. James Hardy. Dr. Murchison, who
had found the captain, despite his bias in his favour, a particularly
tiresome third, was taking the fullest advantage of it; and Mrs. Kybird
had also judged it an admirable opportunity for paying a first call.
Mr. Kybird, who had not taken her into his confidence in the affair,
protested in vain; the lady was determined, and, moreover, had the warm
support of her daughter.
“I know what I’m doing, Dan’l,” she said to her husband.
Mr. Kybird doubted it, but held his peace; and the objections of Jack
Nugent, who found to his dismay that he was to be of the party, were
deemed too trivial to be worthy of serious consideration.
[Illustration: “It was not without a certain amount of satisfaction
that he regarded her discomfiture.”]
They started shortly after Jem Hardy had left his office, despite the
fact that Mrs. Kybird, who was troubled with asthma, was suffering
untold agonies in a black satin dress which had been originally made
for a much smaller woman, and had come into her husband’s hands in the
way of business. It got into hers in what the defrauded Mr. Kybird
considered an extremely unbusinesslike manner, and it was not without a
certain amount of satisfaction that he regarded her discomfiture as the
party sallied out.
Mr. Nugent was not happy. Mrs. Kybird in the snug seclusion of the back
parlour was one thing; Mrs. Kybird in black satin at its utmost tension
and a circular hat set with sable ostrich plumes nodding in the breeze
was another. He felt that the public eye was upon them and that it
twinkled. His gaze wandered from mother to daughter.
“What are you staring at?” demanded Miss Kybird, pertly.
“I was thinking how well you are looking,” was the reply.
Miss Kybird smiled. She had hoisted some daring colours, but she was of
a bold type and carried them fairly well.
“If I ’ad the woman what made this dress ’ere,” gasped Mrs. Kybird, as
she stopped with her hand on her side, “I’d give her a bit o’ my mind.”
“I never saw you look so well in anything before, ma,” said her
daughter.
Mrs. Kybird smiled faintly and continued her pilgrimage. Jem Hardy
coming up rapidly behind composed his amused features and stepped into
the road to pass.
“Halloa, Hardy,” said Nugent. “Going home?”
“I am calling on your sister,” said Hardy, bowing.
“By Jove, so are we,” said Nugent, relieved to find this friend in
need. “We’ll go together. You know Mrs. Kybird and Miss Kybird? That is
Mrs. Kybird.”
Mrs. Kybird bade him “Go along, do,” and acknowledged the introduction
with as stately a bow as the black satin would permit, and before the
dazed Jem quite knew how it all happened he was leading the way with
Mrs. Kybird, while the young people, as she called them, followed
behind.
“We ain’t looking at you,” she said, playfully, over her shoulder.
“And we’re trying to shut our eyes to your goings on,” retorted Nugent.
Mrs. Kybird stopped and, with a half-turn, playfully reached for him
with her umbrella. The exertion and the joke combined took the remnant
of her breath away, and she stood still, panting.
“You had better take Hardy’s arm, I think,” said Nugent, with affected
solicitude.
“It’s my breath,” explained Mrs. Kybird, turning to the fuming young
man by her side. “I can ’ardly get along for it—I’m much obliged to
you, I’m sure.”
[Illustration: “Mr. Hardy resigned himself to his fate.”]
Mr. Hardy, with a vain attempt to catch Jack Nugent’s eye, resigned
himself to his fate, and with his fair burden on his arm walked with
painful slowness towards Equator Lodge. A ribald voice from the other
side of the road, addressing his companion as “Mother Kybird,” told her
not to hug the man, and a small boy whom they met loudly asseverated
his firm intention of going straight off to tell Mr. Kybird.
By the time they reached the house Mr. Hardy entertained views on
homicide which would have appeared impossible to him half an hour
before. He flushed crimson as he saw the astonished face of Kate
Nugent at the window, and, pausing at the gate to wait for the others,
discovered that they had disappeared. A rooted dislike to scenes of any
kind, together with a keen eye for the ludicrous, had prompted Jack
Nugent to suggest a pleasant stroll to Amelia and put in an appearance
later on.
“We won’t wait for ’im,” said Mrs. Kybird, with decision; “if I don’t
get a sit down soon I shall drop.”
Still clinging to the reluctant Hardy she walked up the path; farther
back in the darkness of the room the unfortunate young gentleman saw
the faces of Dr. Murchison and Mrs. Kingdom.
“And ’ow are you, Bella?” inquired Mrs. Kybird with kindly
condescension. “Is Mrs. Kingdom at ’ome?”
She pushed her way past the astonished Bella and, followed by Mr.
Hardy, entered the room. Mrs. Kingdom, with a red spot on each cheek,
rose to receive them.
“I ought to ’ave come before,” said Mrs. Kybird, subsiding thankfully
into a chair, “but I’m such a bad walker. I ’ope I see you well.”
“We are very well, thank you,” said Mrs. Kingdom, stiffly.
“That’s right,” said her visitor, cordially; “what a blessing ’ealth
is. What should we do without it, I wonder?”
She leaned back in her chair and shook her head at the prospect. There
was an awkward lull, and in the offended gaze of Miss Nugent Mr. Hardy
saw only too plainly that he was held responsible for the appearance of
the unwelcome visitor.
“I was coming to see you,” he said, leaving his chair and taking one
near her, “I met your brother coming along, and he introduced me to
Mrs. Kybird and her daughter and suggested we should come together.”
Miss Nugent received the information with a civil bow, and renewed
her conversation with Dr. Murchison, whose face showed such a keen
appreciation of the situation that Hardy had some difficulty in masking
his feelings.
“They’re a long time a-coming,” said Mrs. Kybird, smiling archly; “but
there, when young people are keeping company they forget everything
and everybody. They didn’t trouble about me; if it ’adn’t been for Mr.
’Ardy giving me ’is arm I should never ’ave got here.”
There was a prolonged silence. Dr. Murchison gave a whimsical glance
at Miss Nugent, and meeting no response in that lady’s indignant eyes,
stroked his moustache and awaited events.
“It looks as though your brother is not coming,” said Hardy to Miss
Nugent.
“He’ll turn up by-and-by,” interposed Mrs. Kybird, looking somewhat
morosely at the company. “They don’t notice ’ow the time flies, that’s
all.”
“Time does go,” murmured Mrs. Kingdom, with a glance at the clock.
Mrs. Kybird started. “Ah, and we notice it too, ma’am, at our age,”
she said, sweetly, as she settled herself in her chair and clasped
her hands in her lap. “I can’t ’elp looking at you, my dear,” she
continued, looking over at Miss Nugent. “There’s such a wonderful
likeness between Jack and you. Don’t you think so, ma’am?”
Mrs. Kingdom in a freezing voice said that she had not noticed it.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Kybird, glancing at her from the corner of her
eye, “Jack has ’ad to rough it, pore feller, and that’s left its mark
on ’im. I’m sure, when we took ’im in, he was quite done up, so to
speak. He’d only got what ’e stood up in, and the only pair of socks
he’d got to his feet was in such a state of ’oles that they had to be
throwed away. I throwed ’em away myself.”
“Dear me,” said Mrs. Kingdom.
“He don’t look like the same feller now,” continued the amiable Mrs.
Kybird; “good living and good clothes ’ave worked wonders in ’im. I’m
sure if he’d been my own son I couldn’t ’ave done more for ’im, and, as
for Kybird, he’s like a father to him.”
“Dear me,” said Mrs. Kingdom, again.
Mrs. Kybird looked at her. It was on the tip of her tongue to call
her a poll parrot. She was a free-spoken woman as a rule, and it
was terrible to have to sit still and waste all the good things she
could have said to her in favour of unsatisfying pin-pricks. She sat
smouldering.
“I s’pose you miss the capt’in very much?” she said, at last.
“Very much,” was the reply.
“And I should think ’e misses you,” retorted Mrs. Kybird, unable to
restrain herself; “’e must miss your conversation and what I might call
your liveliness.”
Mrs. Kingdom turned and regarded her, and the red stole back to her
cheeks again. She smoothed down her dress and her hands trembled. Both
ladies were now regarding each other in a fashion which caused serious
apprehension to the rest of the company.
“I am not a great talker, but I am very careful whom I converse with,”
said Mrs. Kingdom, in her most stately manner.
“I knew a lady like that once,” said Mrs. Kybird; “leastways, she
wasn’t a lady,” she added, meditatively.
Mrs. Kingdom fidgeted, and looked over piteously at her niece; Mrs.
Kybird, with a satisfied sniff, sat bolt upright and meditated further
assaults. There were at least a score of things she could have said
about her adversary’s cap alone: plain, straightforward remarks which
would have torn it to shreds. The cap fascinated her, and her fingers
itched as she gazed at it. In more congenial surroundings she might
have snatched at it, but, being a woman of strong character, she
suppressed her natural instincts, and confined herself to more polite
methods of attack.
“Your nephew don’t seem to be in no hurry,” she remarked, at length;
“but, there, direckly ’e gets along o’ my daughter ’e forgits
everything and everybody.”
“I really don’t think he is coming,” said Hardy, moved to speech by the
glances of Miss Nugent.
“I shall give him a little longer,” said Mrs. Kybird. “I only came ’ere
to please ’im, and to get ’ome alone is more than I can do.”
Miss Nugent looked at Mr. Hardy, and her eyes were soft and expressive.
As plainly as eyes could speak they asked him to take Mrs. Kybird home,
lest worse things should happen.
“Would it be far out of your way?” she asked, in a low voice.
“Quite the opposite direction,” returned Mr. Hardy, firmly.
“How I got ’ere I don’t know,” said Mrs. Kybird, addressing the room in
general; “it’s a wonder to me. Well, once is enough in a lifetime.”
“Mr. Hardy,” said Kate Nugent, again, in a low voice, “I should be so
much obliged if you would take Mrs. Kybird away. She seems bent on
quarrelling with my aunt. It is very awkward.”
It was difficult to resist the entreaty, but Mr. Hardy had a very fair
idea of the duration of Miss Nugent’s gratitude; and, besides that,
Murchison was only too plainly enjoying his discomfiture.
“She can get home alone all right,” he whispered.
Miss Nugent drew herself up disdainfully; Dr. Murchison, looking
scandalized at his brusqueness, hastened to the rescue.
“As a medical man,” he said, with a considerable appearance of gravity,
“I don’t think that Mrs. Kybird ought to go home alone.”
“Think not?” inquired Hardy, grimly.
“Certain of it,” breathed the doctor.
“Well, why don’t you take her?” retorted Hardy; “it’s all on your way.
I have some news for Miss Nugent.”
Miss Nugent looked from one to the other, and mischievous lights
appeared in her eyes as she gazed at the carefully groomed and
fastidious Murchison. From them she looked to the other side of the
room, where Mrs. Kybird was stolidly eyeing Mrs. Kingdom, who was
trying in vain to appear ignorant of the fact.
[Illustration: “The carefully groomed and fastidious Murchison.”]
“Thank you very much,” said Miss Nugent, turning to the doctor.
“I’m sorry,” began Murchison, with an indignant glance at his rival.
“Oh, as you please,” said the girl, coldly. “Pray forgive me for asking
you.”
“If you really wish it,” said the doctor, rising. Miss Nugent smiled
upon him, and Hardy also gave him a smile of kindly encouragement, but
this he ignored. He crossed the room and bade Mrs. Kingdom good-bye;
and then in a few disjointed words asked Mrs. Kybird whether he could
be of any assistance in seeing her home.
“I’m sure I’m much obliged to you,” said that lady, as she rose. “It
don’t seem much use for me waiting for my future son-in-law. I wish you
good afternoon, ma’am. I can understand now why Jack didn’t come.”
With this parting shot she quitted the room and, leaning on the
doctor’s arm, sailed majestically down the path to the gate, every
feather on her hat trembling in response to the excitement below.
“Good-natured of him,” said Hardy, glancing from the window, with a
triumphant smile.
“Very,” said Miss Nugent, coldly, as she took a seat by her aunt. “What
is the news to which you referred just now? Is it about my father?”