AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
ARTHUR was received by his friend and Mrs. Brading most kindly and
courteously, without any tinge of either patronage or condescension,
which some words of his elder sister had almost led him to expect.
He found that Mr. Brading, if he was not to be reckoned among the
county families, was a gentleman in his own home as well as at
business, and Mrs. Brading was all that a lady should be in the
reception of her guests and the ordering of her household. He found
his friend's two sisters were much like his own: well-mannered,
quietly-dressed girls, who received him as their brother's friend in a
perfectly natural manner, so that he speedily felt at ease and at home
among them.
They were all assembled in the drawing-room, waiting for the
dinner-gong to sound, when the door opened and the servant announced
"Mr. Adrian Murray."
"I didn't know you knew my Cousin Ted," exclaimed Arthur, turning to
Jack Brading.
"It is only a short acquaintance," answered the lad; "but you see our
grounds and those of Lady Mary Murray meet at the farther end, and so,
of course, we met too."
"Hullo, Arthur!" exclaimed the new-comer at this point, "I never
expected to see you here, old fellow."
"And I certainly did not expect to see you. Why, where have you been
all this time? I made sure you had gone to Oxford after all."
"No, I have not gone yet. I'll tell you about it later on," he added
in a lower tone, for just then the gong sounded again, and there was a
stir of preparation to proceed to the dining-room.
The sight of the well-appointed dinner-table, with its gleaming silver
and glittering glass, lifted Arthur back to the old life once more,
and all the disappointments, struggles, and hardships of the past six
months were forgotten for the time. He talked and laughed as though he
had known the Bradings all his life, for Jack's youngest sister, who
sat beside him, reminded him of his own sister Molly, and very soon
he was telling Miss Ethel Brading all about her, and they were making
merry over some of Molly's escapades when they had been out together.
"Arthur Murray is a nice boy, Papa," said the young lady when dinner
was over. "I only hope he can dance, and will take the trouble to make
himself as agreeable to the rest as he has been all dinner-time. You
know, we are just going to have a few dances by and by."
"Oh, are you?" said the gentleman, pinching her cheek. "Well, I hope
you will remember that we are business people and cannot afford to be
up till daylight."
"No, Papa, we know your rule, and have arranged to break up about
Cinderella time."
Meanwhile the lads had strayed out into the garden, for it was not
quite dark, and the elders of the party wanted to indulge in a smoke.
Adrian Murray drew Arthur away from the rest that they might have a
chat together.
"Have a smoke, old fellow," he said as he drew out a case of cigarettes
and offered one to Arthur.
"No, thank you, I haven't begun it yet," said Arthur. "One of the last
talks I had with Papa was about smoking, and I promised him I would not
begin tobacco until I was twenty at least. He told me he believed it
had done him a great deal of harm. He began the habit early by way of
killing time and—"
"Yes, that's just it. What has a fellow got to do in a dull hole like
this? The Mater says seventeen is too early to begin the weed, but I
tell her she knows nothing about it." Adrian had broken in to say this
while he was getting a match to light his cigarette.
"When are you going to Oxford, old fellow?" asked Arthur. "Of course
there is no chance for me now," he added.
"Beastly nuisance, isn't it?" said Adrian, puffing away at his
cigarette, "I thought we might have gone together, and had some good
fun and seen something of life."
"But you are going, aren't you?" said Arthur.
His companion lazily blew out a few rings of smoke, and then said
slowly, "Yes, I expect I shall when the Mater will shell out enough
to do the thing properly. I'm not going to live there like a hermit,
and I've told her so. Lady Mary Murray's son is not going to play
second fiddle to anybody at Oxford, and at present we can't agree as
to what would be a fair allowance for expenses over and above actual
necessities. What should she know about it? She was brought up in her
father's tumble-down Irish castle, where they lived on potatoes and
milk half the year, and ran wild among the cotters' children, and when
they were in Dublin it wasn't much better."
"But I say, they grew a fine race of boys and girls on potatoes and
milk," said Arthur, giving the young fellow a dig in the side, as he
used to do in the old days when reminding him of his diminutive stature.
Arthur was nearly a head taller than his cousin, although he was two
years younger, while Lady Mary, his mother, was nearly six feet in
height, and as commanding in her manner as a grenadier.
"Shut up that!" said Adrian irritably. "We are getting beyond mere boys
now, and I mean to let people know it too." And he drew himself up to
the full height of all his inches.
"I say, it was a pretty good dinner they gave us to-night," he said the
next minute.
"Yes, it was quite like old times to me," answered Arthur; "and to have
you nearly opposite me again seemed to bring the old days back."
"Yes, your father knew how to keep a good table," remarked Adrian.
"I wish my mother did. She says it would be waste to have more than
a plain joint and potatoes, with only two to eat it. I don't believe
she'd have a joint if I wasn't there, and she knows I'd kick up a jolly
row if there was only potatoes. Of course she thinks I could live in
the same style if I went up to Oxford, and I don't mean to try. She's
got plenty of money now, why shouldn't she spend it? She's got a little
scheme in her head to make a good deal more of it by and by. But I tell
her she has enough for her speculations. She can afford to carry out
the plans she has set her heart upon, and send me to Oxford as well;
but if I can't go as a gentleman should, I won't go at all!"
Arthur laughed. He was used to this kind of talk from his cousin, who
was generally at war with his mother over something or other. Arthur,
of course, thought Lady Mary unreasonable in her treatment of Adrian,
and may have urged him into rebellion in the boyish days, when they
used to get into scrapes together. But the experience of the past few
months had sobered him a good deal, and now he thought that it was a
pity the mother and son could not agree better, and he said so:
"You have no father, old fellow, and naturally your mother will look to
you for comfort and—"
"Will she! Then she'll have to make me a bit comfortable first,"
fumed Adrian. "I tell you she keeps me so short of pocket-money that
sometimes I haven't sixpence to call my own, and when I kick up a row,
she tells me there will be plenty by and by, when she has been able to
carry out her plans. 'Hang your plans!' I said to her. 'I want money
now, and money I must have.' And after talking to her like this, how
much do you think she gave me? Five shillings!"
For answer Arthur burst into a roar of laughter at Adrian's tragic
manner, and his assumption of manly indignation.
"I don't see what there is to laugh at," he said in a half-offended
tone. "I only wish you were tied to my mother's apron-string as I am,
and then you'd know what it is to be short of money, and grudged every
penny you spend."
"Well, I don't get much, I can tell you," said Arthur.
He was just about to tell his cousin what employment he had undertaken
when they were interrupted by a voice calling, "Mr. Murray! Mr.
Murray!" And the younger Miss Brading came towards them.
"It might be our Molly herself," said Arthur, speaking in an undertone
as he turned to walk towards the speaker.
"Bother the girl!" muttered Adrian. "Why can't she let us have our
smoke in peace?" and he held back as Arthur went to meet the young lady.
"We are going to have a dance, Mr. Murray. Can you come and help us?"
she said.
"To be sure we can. Come along, Ted! That is my cousin's old name among
us," he explained, as he waited for Adrian to join them.
"I don't care much about dancing," said that young gentleman. "I think,
Arthur, you must do duty for me."
"Oh, that be hanged! Come and shake yourself out of the megrims; it
will do you more good than smoking and brooding here over your wrongs."
And Arthur tried to drag him to the steps leading up to the balcony,
upon which the drawing-room opened.
He allowed himself to be taken up the steps without much protest, but
when he reached a chair, he dropped into it, and declared he would not
stir another step to please anybody.
"I hate dancing," he said, "and I don't see why I should be expected to
fag myself to please a parcel of shopkeepers."
Ethel Brading had gone into the drawing-room, and Arthur hoped she had
not heard what was said, but he went up to his cousin, and, speaking
in a lower tone, he asked what he meant by accepting Mr. Brading's
hospitality, and then behaving like that. "Don't be a cad, Adrian! I
hate such meanness," protested Arthur. "What has come to you that you
cannot behave like a gentleman?"
"I behave according to the company I am in," sullenly muttered the
young fellow.
"Very well, I won't talk to a cad," said Arthur. And he turned on his
heel and went into the drawing-room.
In a few minutes he was whirling round in a waltz, and the vexation he
felt at his cousin's behaviour was well-nigh forgotten. When, in the
next dance, another was wanted to make up a set, he suddenly thought of
Adrian, and went outside to ask him to come in and join them.
But to his surprise the balcony was empty, every chair was vacant.
"Surely the fellow has not gone home so early as this!" he exclaimed,
as he looked over into the garden, trying to descry the red glow of
Adrian's cigarette in the evening dusk. But there was nothing to be
seen, and nothing to break the silence that had descended upon the
garden, and so he surmised that his cousin must have gone home.
As he was returning to the drawing-room he met Mr. Brading and Jack,
the latter having come in search of him.
"Here, we want you," he said, seizing him by the arm.
"Have you seen my cousin Adrian?" he asked. "I left him sitting here,
and we want him now to make up that set of dancers."
"Never mind, somebody else has come in, and we are waiting for you."
And Jack led him to his place, and dancing recommenced.
No one saw anything of Adrian Murray for the rest of the evening, and
Arthur scarcely thought of him again. The young people kept their word,
and made it a small and early dance, and when the clock struck twelve,
Arthur was walking briskly towards home with another school-fellow who
lived in the same neighbourhood.
Both agreed that they had had a very good time, and had enjoyed
themselves very much. To Arthur the whole thing had been as a draught
of wine, encouraging him to persevere in the task he had set himself.
He felt more hopeful that he might yet see his sisters and mother once
more able to take their proper place in the world, and live as the
Bradings lived, beyond the care and anxiety of making ends meet, which
had marred all their lives for the past few years.
He found Molly sitting up for him, and when he closed the garden gate
she heard the click of the latch, and had the street door open by the
time he reached it.
"Don't make a noise," she whispered, "for fear of waking Mamma."
"Thank you for waiting up for me, Molly. I have had such a jolly time!
The Bradings are such nice people."
"And they treated you nicely?" asked Molly.
"Bless your little woolly head, why shouldn't they treat me nicely?"
said Arthur, quite forgetting his own sensitiveness on this point
earlier in the evening.
"Well, I think it would have been awfully mean of them if they had
not done so. But still, as Annie says, I suppose you are one of their
clerks, and there was no telling what they might do."
"No," replied Arthur, "nor yet what anybody else might do. I felt quite
ashamed of Adrian to-night."
"Adrian? Aunt Mary's Adrian?" exclaimed Molly. "You don't mean to say
he was there!"
"Yes I do. He went for the sake of the good dinner, according to his
own account, and then behaved like a cad afterwards. I felt as though I
should like to give him a good thrashing again, as I did when he threw
you out of the swing. Do you remember, Molly?"
"Shall I ever forget it? And Aunt Mary when she ran out and saw him! I
don't think she has ever liked me since." And Molly laughed under her
breath at the recollection of the scene.
But the next minute Annie appeared in dressing-gown and slippers.
"You naughty children!" she said in a whisper. And then the next minute
she said anxiously: "Arthur, have you had a pleasant time?"
"Splendid!" replied Arthur warmly. "It was such a nice dinner-party—no
old fogies and frost, but just a comfortable lot of fellows and girls
who didn't mind talking. Oh, Annie, I am going to work and save until
we can have our old things round us again! It was so like the old times
at home! Yes, I think it has done me good to have a taste of the old
days again, and we had a jolly dance after the dinner. A small and
early, of course, or I should not be home now. But that, it seems, is
the rule, except at Christmas or some special time."
"I am glad it has passed off so well. I don't think I shall mind it so
much for you now, Arthur," she added. And then she turned out the gas,
gave Arthur his candle, and they all went up to bed.
"Don't let me sleep late in the morning," whispered Arthur, as he bade
his sister good-night. "I would rather be there ten minutes earlier
than five minutes late to-morrow."
"All right! I'll call you," answered Molly. "I know how you feel
about that. If I was clever like Annie, I could say it, but I am
woolly-headed, and the right words won't come when I want them."
"Molly, how can you be so unkind as to keep Arthur up talking when you
both ought to be asleep! Of course he wants to be up at the usual time
in the morning, and how can he, if you keep him here talking nonsense!"
And this time, Annie took care to see that both Molly and Arthur went
to their rooms before she returned to hers, for she felt very strongly
that Arthur must not be late at business the next morning, whatever it
might cost them to get up.