A MEETING IN THE COFFEE-ROOM.
It was eleven o'clock on the following morning. I had been reading in the
garden for some time, and was just thinking of starting for a walk, when
a dogcart from the Castle stopped at the gate, and Mr. Ravenor's
servant--the man who had conducted me from the lodge to the Castle--was
shown into the house. I went to him at once and he handed me a note.
"Mr. Ravenor has sent you this, sir," he said respectfully.
I tore it open and read (there was no orthodox commencement):
"Before going to Dr. Randall's there are a few things which you are not
likely to have which you will find necessary. Remember that it is part of
the education which I intend for you that you should associate with the
other pupils on equal terms. Therefore, be so good as to go into
Torchester with Reynolds and place yourself entirely in his hands. He has
my full instructions.--R."
I folded the note up and put it into my pocket.
"Am I to come with you now?" I asked.
"If you please, sir."
I went upstairs to get ready and in a few minutes was prepared to start.
The groom offered me the reins, but I declined them and mounted instead
to the vacant seat by his side, which Reynolds had silently relinquished
to me.
Torchester was scarcely a dozen miles from the farm, but, nevertheless,
this was my first visit to it. Many a time I had looked down from Beacon
Hill upon the wide-spreading, dirty-coloured cloud of smoke from its tall
factory chimneys, which seemed like a marring blot upon the fair,
peaceful stretch of country around, and by night at the dull red glow in
the sky and the myriads of twinkling lights which showed me where it
stood. But neither by day nor night had the scene been an attractive one
for me. I had felt no curiosity to enter it. I had never even cared to
figure to myself what it would be like.
So now, for the first time in my life, I found myself driving through the
streets of a large manufacturing town. It was the dinner-hour and on all
sides the factories were disgorging streams of unhealthy-looking men and
women and even children. The tramcars and omnibuses were crowded, the
busy streets were lined with swiftly rolling carriages, smart-looking
men, and gaily-dressed girls and women. Within a few yards I saw types of
men and women so different that it seemed impossible that they could be
of the same species.
"This is the 'Bell,' sir, where we generally put up," remarked Reynolds,
at my elbow. "You will have some lunch, sir, before we go into the town?"
I shook my head, but he was quietly though respectfully insistent. So I
let him have his way and allowed myself to be piloted into a long, dark
coffee-room, where my orders, considerably augmented by Reynolds in
transit, were received by a waiter whom we discovered fast asleep in an
easy-chair, and who seemed very much surprised to see us.
Afterwards we went out in the town, Reynolds and I, and began our
shopping. I was measured at the principal tailor's for more clothes than
it seemed possible for me to wear out in a lifetime, from riding-breeches
to a dress-coat; and the quantity and variety of hats, boots, shirts, and
ties which Reynolds put down as indispensable filled me with half-amused
astonishment, although I had made up my mind to be surprised at nothing.
But our shopping was not finished even when Reynolds, to my inexpressible
relief, declared my wardrobe to be as complete as could be furnished by a
provincial town. The gunsmith's, the sporting emporium, and the
horse-repository were all visited in turn. And when we returned to the
hotel about six o'clock I was the possessor of two guns, which were a
perfect revelation to me, a cricket-bat, a tennis racquet, a small
gymnasium, a set of foils, and, besides other things, a stylish,
well-built dogcart and a sound, useful cob.
I sank into an easy-chair in the coffee-room and, refusing to listen to
Reynold's suggestion as to the propriety of dining before setting out
homewards, ordered a cup of tea. While the waiter had left the room to
fetch it I strolled to the window to look out at the weather, which had
been threatening for some time and on my way I discovered that I was not
alone in the apartment. A man was seated at one of the further-most
tables, dining, and as I passed he looked up and surveyed me with a cool,
critical stare, which changed suddenly into a pleasant smile of
recognition.
"Mr. Morton, isn't it?" he said, holding out his hand. "Mr. Ravenor told
me that I should probably come across you."
I was so surprised that for a moment I forgot to accept the offered hand.
Mr. Ravenor's secretary was the last person whom I should have expected
to find eating a solitary dinner in a Torchester hotel.