SMOKE-JACK ALLEY.
_Launce._ It is no matter if the ty'd were lost, for it is the
unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd.
_Panthino._ What's the unkindest ty'd?
_Launce._ Why, he that's ty'd here--Crab, my
dog.--_Shakespeare._
John Harewood returned, bringing with him what Alda took for a
dressing-case, and Cherry for a drawing-box, but which proved to
contain a wonderful genie to save the well-worn fingers many a prick.
To Lance he first administered the magical words, 'All right,' and then
making an opportunity, he put five sovereigns into his hand. Lance's
first impulse was, however, not to thank, but to exclaim, 'Then Poulter
has not got it?'
No, Poulter's conscience had forbidden him to purchase 'little
Underwood's' treasure at what he knew to be so much beneath its value;
but he had given Captain Harewood his best advice and recommendations,
and by that means the violin had been taken at a London shop, still at
a price beneath his estimate, but the utmost that could be expected
where ready money was the point. Lance ought to have been delighted,
and his native politeness made him repeat, 'Thank you;' but he could
not quite keep down his regret--'Now I shall never see or hear her
again.'
However, the next day, when Bernard flew upon him at twelve o'clock,
asseverating that there was shade all the way, he allowed himself to be
persuaded, prudently carrying with him only ten shillings, and trusting
to his blue umbrella rather than to Bernard's shade, which could hardly
have been obtained by sidling against the walls.
Bernard did not seem to have enjoyed much more of Stingo's society than
Lance of his violin's--the produce of the same bounty. He confessed
that he had only ventured on taking the dog out three times in a
string, and on one of these occasions he had broken loose after a cat,
on another had fought with Nares's dog, and on the third had snapped at
Angela.
'You didn't take Angel into these places!'
'No, she came to meet me.'
'That's a sign of grace; but, Bear, I can't stand these diggings at
all. I've a great mind to turn back.'
'You won't!' cried Bernard. 'You must have been here often when you
were a grammar-school fellow.'
'Not we! This is a cut below us! Fulbert would never have been caught
here!'
'But you are going to get me out of this fix?'
'Haven't I said I will? only hold your tongue, and let me alone to
manage the rascal. If you open your mouth, I've done with it.'
Bernard was forced to acquiesce, though Lance's manner vexed and
irritated him. Popular and valuable as Lance had been with the
choristers, he was not dealing as well with his brother, perhaps partly
because he was more consciously trying to influence him; and likewise
because the state of his health and his prospects so far affected
his manner, that though never ill-humoured, it had lost some of the
easy careless sweetness of high spirits, and assumed an ironical
tone, exasperating to a child who could not brook ridicule. He was
ashamed and dismayed at the place where Bernard was leading him, so
low and disreputable that the boys of his time had never haunted it,
and his own _gamin_ propensities had never extended so far. It was a
tumble-down quarter; the houses, deplorable hovels, run up hastily for
the workmen at the potteries, and every third or fourth a beer-shop;
and in the midst dwelt Mr. Sims, a maimed poacher, who kept a large
live-stock with which to trade on the sporting tastes of the youth of
Bexley.
Probably he was gratified to see that 'my brother' meant nothing
more imposing than the chorister; but Lance had so cultivated his
opportunities at Dick Graeme's home, as to be more knowing on the
subject than Felix would have been. Indeed, it did not take much
science to estimate the value of the 'real animal,' whose market price
seemed to have fallen considerably. Lance, as he looked at the pied,
bandy-legged, long-nosed cur, felt it impossible to set his cost
against his keep, nor was he designed by nature for driving bargains;
but Sims' expectations were founded on the probable, and the debt was
annulled for three-and-sixpence and Stingo himself. Much civility was
expended on Lance; dogs, rabbits, and other curiosities were exhibited,
and an invitation given to come with the other young gents to admire
the favourite terrier's exploits upon a cage of rats shortly expected,
admission free.
'You will come, won't you?' cried Bernard eagerly, as they went out.
'What? To all the vilest sports in the place!'
'But Lance, you told me about the rat hunt at Mr. Graeme's.'
'What? Turning out the barn, with Mr. Graeme himself, and Bill, and all
the rest? Do you think that's like letting a lot of wretched beasts out
of a trap to be snapped up by a cur of a dog, with no end of drinking
foul-mouthed blackguards betting on him?'
'You are always so savage, Lance; and now you've gone and paid away all
the money.'
'What more?'
'There's the shooting-gallery, you see.'
Lance did see a public-house called the Flying Stag, where Bernard had
contrived to incur a debt of a few shillings under Nares's patronage.
While inquiring after the amount, he saw Mr. Mowbray Smith coming along
the alley, and was more amused than shocked at the amazement his own
presence there would cause the Curate; but just then he perceived that
men were standing scowling at their doors, and slovenly women thronging
out like ants when their hill is disturbed: and asking an explanation
from the damsel in ear-rings who attended to him, he heard that 'the
chaps are determined that that there Smith shall not have the impudence
to show his face here again, for a hypocrite, defrauding of the poor.
You'd best be away, young gents, there will be a fracaw!'
'A row!' cried Bernard, between excitement and alarm. 'Shall we stay
and see it? Won't Smith spy us?'
Lance deigned no reply, but seeing the rough-looking men gathering as
if to obstruct the Curate's way, he shot across the street to shake
hands with him.
'You! I am sorry to see you!' said Mr. Smith severely: at which Lance
gave what under other circumstances would have been an impudent smile,
and asked, 'Have you anywhere here to go?'
'I am just come away from a sick man. But you know how wrong it is to
bring your little brother here. Take him away,' he added, trying to
prevent them from joining him, and at the same time a voice shouted,
'Let him alone, young gents, he aint your sort;' and a hissing and
hooting broke out all round, 'A parson as ought to have his gown pulled
over his head!' 'What's gone of the coals?' 'How about the blankets?'
Bernard got a tight grip, out of sight, of Lance's coat; Mr. Smith grew
red and bit his lips; but Lance walked close to him, and as they began
to be jostled, took his arm, holding the blue sun-shade over both their
heads. Unsavoury missiles began to fly; but a woman screeched, 'Bad
luck to ye, ye vagabone! ye've ruinated the young gentleman's purty
blue umberella!'
'Down with it, young chap,' called another, 'or ye'll be served with
the same sauce!'
'Serve un right too!' was the rejoinder. ''Tis they Underwoods, as
never stands up for poor men's rights, and is all for the tyrants.'
(All this full of abusive epithets.)
'Who said that?' broke out Lance, beginning hastily to close his
umbrella, and trying to wrench his arm from Mr. Smith; 'I'm ready for
him.'
But Mr. Smith, with an angry 'Are you mad?' held him fast; and his
struggles provoked a good-humoured laugh at the little champion, still
so white and slight.
'No, no,' said a big powerful man, collaring a great lad who had been
thrusting forward at Lance's defiance, 'we don't have no mills with
natomies like you! Go home and mind yer own business. Your father was
another guess sort of parson, and I'll not see a finger laid on you. Be
off, till we've given that other bad lot a bit of our mind.'
'Not I!' growled Lance. 'I'll have it out with that rascal
there.--Nonsense, Mr. Smith; I can, I say--and I will!'
But the big man and Mr. Smith were perfectly in accordance this time;
and without a word between them, the impulse of the coal-heaver's
weight somehow opened a path, where, shoved by the one, and dragged by
the other, Lance was at the corner--then round it--the crowd followed
no farther.
'A plucky little chap that!' quoth the coal-heaver to Mr. Smith. 'You
may thank your stars that he's his father's son, or it would have been
the worse for you! And if ever you show the face of you here again, you
know what to expect.'
'I expect nothing but what I am willing to receive in my Master's
service,' said Mr. Smith, firmly meeting his eyes. 'Meantime, thank you
for the help you have given me with these boys. Good morning. You will
judge me more fairly another time.'
The man added another contemptuous oath to those with which he had
freely laden his discourse; but Lance paused a moment to say, 'Thank
you too, you meant it well; but I wish you'd have let me have it out
with that foul-mouthed cad.'
'Wait till ye're a match for him, and welcome,' said the man. 'Bless
ye! what could that fist do with Black Bill?'
'For shame, boys! come away,' said the infinitely disgusted Curate;
and not a word was spoken down the first street; Bernard was still
trembling with excitement, and Lance, conscious perhaps that though his
interference had answered his purpose, he had been betrayed into what
he now saw to have been absurd.
At last the Curate spoke, his naturally harsh voice wavering a little
between reproach and acknowledgment. 'I am very sorry for all this,
Lancelot Underwood. I believe you joined me out of a kind and generous
feeling, of which I am sensible; otherwise, I should feel it my duty to
report to your brother where I met you.'
'You are quite welcome,' said Lance, coolly.
'And I must say,' continued Mr. Smith, 'that if your whole training,
as well as your recent severe illness, do not withhold you from such
associations, at least I entreat you to pause before leading your
little brother into them.'
Lance made no answer, except to halt at a public drinking fountain,
to wash away the damage his umbrella had sustained; and there, with a
serious 'Take care!' the Curate left the brothers.
'Catch me going to his help again!' exclaimed Bernard, entirely
unconscious that his own gratitude to Lance was on a par with Mr.
Smith's. 'He may get out of the next row as he can!'
'Ah! Bear! You see how you are corrupting my innocent youth!'
'A meddling donkey! I wish he had a rotten egg in each eye! Now it will
all come out.'
'What will?'
'Where we have been.'
'That's the best thing that could happen.'
'You don't mean that you mean to let it out?'
'If you expect me to tell lies for you, you are out there.'
'But, Lance, Lance,' in an agony, 'you wouldn't be such a sneak, when I
trusted you?'
Lance laughed. The bare idea of betrayal seemed so absurd, that he
scarcely thought it worth removing.
The two were slackening their pace as they saw Felix at the
carriage-door of a lady customer; and Lance said gravely, 'I'll see to
Mother Goldie; but now, Bear, that you are out of this scrape, I give
you fair warning, that if I find you grubbing your nose into that sort
of thing again, I'll put a stop to it, one way or another.'
'I'm not a bit worse than the rest. All the other fellows do it.'
'Oh, I suppose, if you think Stingo the right thing in dogs, you think
Nares the right thing in fellows!'
At that moment the customer drove off, and Felix having spied the blue
sun-shade, tarried at the door to administer a remonstrance to Lance
on being so foolish as to venture into the noon-day sun. He was not
able to come in to dinner till it was half over, and then it was with a
merry look and question, 'What's this, boys, about Mowbray Smith being
mobbed in Smoke-jack Alley and your making in to the rescue?'
'Oh,' said Lance, 'there was an attempt at getting up a shindy, but it
was of the meanest description. No one knew how to set about it. There
was only one Irishman there, and he was a woman.' (This with a wink to
Sibby.)
'And you didn't offer to fight big Ben Blake?'
'Ben Blake, on the contrary, elbowed us all safe out, because my father
was another guess sort of parson!'
'And there was a horrible little cad making faces,' exclaimed Bernard,
unable to resist claiming part of the glory, 'and I was just going to
have pitched into him----'
'What--you saw the row getting up, and went to stand by Smith?' said
Felix.
'Yes,' said Bernard boldly; 'and nobody durst lay a finger on him when
we were on each side of him!'
At which everybody burst out laughing, including Mr. Froggatt, and
Lance most of all. 'Who was it, then,' he struggled to say gravely,
'that pulled so hard at the back of my coat? I suppose it must have
been some little cad. I thought it had been you.'
'Well, it was time to hold you back, when you were going to fight that
great lout!'
'For my part,' said Lance, 'I think it must have been Smith and I that
were holding the Great Bear back by his tail from fighting big Ben
Blake. Eh?'
Bernard, never able to bear being laughed at, looked intensely sulky;
and a true description of the affair being asked by Mr. Froggatt,
Lance gave it, exactly enough, but with so much of the comic side
that every one was in fits of merriment, all of which, in his present
mood, the younger boy imagined to be aimed at him. He was too full of
angry self-consequence really to attend, so as to see how entirely
disconnected with himself the laughter was; all he cared for was that
Lance should not betray him; and to assure himself on this head, it
must be confessed that he hovered on the upper stairs out of sight,
while Felix was lingering on the lower to say to Lance, 'Of course it
was only Smith's affair that took you into Smoke-jack Alley?'
'Not exactly,' said Lance.
Bernard trembled with resentment and alarm.
'I don't want to ask questions, but you know it is not a nice place for
yourself or for Bernard.'
'My dear governor, I know that as well or better than you do, and it
won't be my fault if I go there again.'
'Don't let it be anybody's fault,' returned Felix, and vanished through
the office door; while Lance, sighing wearily, was heard repairing
to his refuge in his own room, and Bernard grimly and moodily swung
himself down-stairs, on his way to afternoon school, believing himself
a much aggrieved party. Here was Lance, whom he had believed a
fellow-inhabitant of the Alsatia of boyhood, turned into one of those
natural enemies, moral police, who wanted to do him good! True, Lance
had helped him out of his scrape, and guarded his secret; but Bernard
could not forgive either his own alarm, or the 'not exactly;' and the
terms of confidence so evident between him and Felix seemed to place
them in the same hateful category. Worse than all, Lance had laughed
at him, and Bernard was far too proud and self-important not to feel
every joke like so many nettle-stings. He had expected an easy careless
helper; he had found what he could not comprehend, whether boy or man,
but at any rate a thing with that intolerable possession, a conscience,
and a strong purpose of keeping him out of mischief.
To detect which purpose was to be resolved on thwarting it. Nor, it
must be allowed, was Lance's management perfect. He wanted to make
himself a companion such as would content the boy instead of the
Nareses; but to cross the interval of amusement between sixteen and ten
required condescension, that could not but be perceived and rejected,
nor did he perceive that ridicule was an engine most fatal in dealing
with Bernard. Of course nothing like all this passed through the
boy's mind. Lance simply saw that his little brother was getting into
mischief, and tried to play with him to keep him out of it, but was
neither well nor happy enough to do so naturally, and therefore did not
succeed. Yet if he had abstained from showing Bernard a picture in the
style of Punch, of the real animal and no mistake, and Bernard himself
pointing to Felix and observing that the governor didn't know what's
what, he might have prevailed to prevent the boy from eluding him and
going to Mr. Sims' rat-hunt.
Of all this Felix knew nothing. He still had much lee-way to make up,
in consequence of his absence, and the excitement in the town told upon
the business.
Mr. Bevan's reply had been a timid endeavour at peace-making which
foes called shuffling, and friends could only call weakness, so that
it added to the general exasperation. Then came the Archdeacon's
investigation, which elucidated the Curate's moral integrity, but
showed how money subscribed for charity had gone in the church
expenses, that ought to have been otherwise provided for. It was
allowed that the Rector had been only to blame in leaving the whole
administration to the Curate under his wife's dominion, and as the lady
could not be put forward, Mr. Smith was left to bear the whole brunt of
the storm.
His obsequiousness to Lady Price had alienated his brother clergy, and
his fellow-curate allowed himself to be kept aloof by his mother, in a
manner that became ungenerous. Half petulant, and wholly ungracious, as
Mr. Smith's manner was in receiving assistance, only strong principle
could lead any one to befriend him; and his few advisers found it
difficult to hinder him from making a public exposure of 'my Lady,' or
from throwing up his work suddenly and leaving the town, which would of
course have been fatal to his prospects.
The Pursuivant had a difficult course to steer. Mr. Froggatt would
fain have ignored the strife altogether, but the original note of
defiance having been sounded by his trumpet, this was not possible,
and the border line between justice and partizanship was not easy
to keep. Whether the young editor did keep it was a question. To
Mr. Smith, he seemed a tame, lukewarm supporter; to Mr. Froggatt, a
dangerously conscientious and incautious champion; and the vociferous
public despised the dull propriety, and narrow partizanship, of the
old country paper. Finally, on the first Saturday in October, there
appeared the first sheet of the Bexley Tribune, with a cutting article
on bloated dignitaries and blood-sucking parasites, and an equally
personal review of all the Proudie literature. On the Monday morning
one hundred and twenty-nine Pursuivants remained on hand. Redstone
took the trouble to count them, and to look into the office to ask Mr.
Underwood where they should be stowed away.
'I wish he was smothered in them, the malicious brute!' said Lance,
grinding his teeth, when Felix had given a summary answer. 'What a
blessing to see the ugly back of him on the 1st of November!'
'I'm not so sure of that,' said Felix, as he sorted the letters of the
Sunday post.
'Do you think he can do us any harm?'
'No; but he seems a specimen of an article hard to supply at the same
price.'
'Are those answers to your advertisement?'
'Yes, and very unpromising.'
Lance came to look them over with him, and to put aside those worth
showing to Mr. Froggatt; but it seemed that an assistant suitable
in appearance and intelligence was so costly as to alarm their
old-fashioned notions. He must be efficient, for Mr. Froggatt was
equal to little exertion, and never came in on bad days; and to give
an increased salary when the paper was struggling with a rival was
serious; yet the only moderate proposal was from a father at Dearport,
who wanted his son boarded, lodged, and treated as one of the family.
'That is impossible,' said Felix, 'unless the Froggatts would do it.'
'Eighteen!' said Lance. 'I'm sixteen, and up to the ways of the place!
Why don't you set me to work before I have eaten my head off?'
'It would not do for you afterwards,' said Felix; 'I don't like your
rushing out to serve.'
'But really, Felix, I mean it. I can do all Redstone does, except
lifting some of the weights; and I am as old as you when you began.'
'No, no, Lance; your line is cut out for you.'
'It was,' said Lance, 'but I'm off it, and no good as I am; and if you
could save Redstone's salary, you might send Bear to Stoneborough,
instead of letting him stay here and go to the dogs.'
'Ah!' groaned Felix, 'it is hard that all this should come to upset his
chances!'
'Are you really afraid those rascals can do us much harm?'
'We have a sound county circulation beyond their reach, but every
copy they sell is so much out of our pockets; and there are so many
people possessed with a love of the low and scurrilous, as well as so
many who differ in politics, that it must thrive unless they stultify
themselves. Don't look so appalled, Lancey boy; we aint coming to
grief, only it will be a close shave at home this winter.'
'Then, Felix, let me help! You don't know the comfort it would be.'
'Not so loud,' said Felix, stepping into the shop. Lance stood
thoughtful, then hearing more footsteps, ran out, and found two or
three boys come for school materials, and some maids waiting to change
volumes for their ladies. He gave his ready help; and there ensued
a lull, for it was a wet day, such as to make Mr. Froggatt's coming
doubtful. Felix took a second survey of the applications.
'Now, Fee, do think about this; I am in earnest.'
'So am I, Lance; I am very thankful to you, but it is not to be thought
of.'
'Why not? Am I too small? For that's mending. There's one good thing in
being ill, it sets one growing. My thick go-to-meeting trousers that I
left at Minsterham, are gone up to my ankles; I must ask Wilmet if Clem
hasn't left a pair that have got too seedy for Cambridge.'
'It is not that, Lance, but the disadvantage it might be to you in
after-life.'
'If I took to it for good?'
'No, no, Lance; one is enough.'
'Stay. Don't shut me up that way. Recollect what this horrid
donothingness is doing for me. I am losing all chance of the
exhibition, and they can't keep me on at the Cathedral without, for my
voice has got like an old crow's; and besides, if I can't read, what's
the good of standing for scholarships?'
'You will feel very differently when your head is stronger. Besides, if
there should be anything in what we were told at Ewmouth, it would be a
pity to get more involved with trade.'
'I thought that was never to be spoken of.'
'And this is my first time. Don't take it as a licence.'
'I could see the sense of that, if it were you,' said Lance, 'but not
for No. 5.'
'No. 1 would have his place and work found for him, but No. 5 might not
find it easy to turn to something else.'
'Well!' said Lance, considering, 'you said that possibility was not
to make any difference to us. Wouldn't it be making the wrong sort
of difference to let it keep a great lout like me in idleness while
Bernard is going to the bad?'
'What do you mean about Bernard?' said Felix, now thoroughly roused.
'Is it worse than you and Fulbert were in your _gamin_ days?'
'I am afraid so,' said Lance. 'Ful took better care of himself than he
seemed to do, and his friends were decent fellows, not like the lot
that have hooked in poor little Bear.'
'I suppose it was some scrape of his that took you into Smoke-jack
Alley. I thought you would get him out best without me.'
'The little dog, he was always after me when I didn't want him, but now
I can't get at him. In short, there's nothing for it but cutting the
connection between him and Jem Nares.'
'Just tell me how far it goes. What has he been doing with him?'
'Taking him to see rat-killing at Sims' in Smoke-jack Alley.'
'You couldn't hinder it?'
'No. Indeed, Felix, I did my best,' and the tears sprang into the boy's
eyes; 'I did all but go after him, for I knew that would be worse than
no good.'
'You need not apologize to me,' said Felix, laying down his pen; 'I
have been very wrong. Between this business of Smith's and all the rest
of it, I have hardly known which way to turn. I knew that I had not
taken the right line with Fulbert, and interference made him worse, and
I thought you had taken Bear in hand. Why, Lancey, I never meant to
upset you. You have done all you could.'
'I _did_ think I was good for that,' said Lance ruefully, 'after all
our old swells at Minsterham said about influence on the choir and
bosh. That when it comes to one's own brother--'
The tears were almost girl-like, and Felix's comfort was in the tone
that suited them. 'Indeed, Lance, you may be doing him more good than
you know. I thank you with all my heart; you are a much more real help
and comfort to us all than you guess.'
'That's what you say to Cherry!' said Lance, impatiently. 'Now I can be
real help, if you would only let me, and then Bernard could go out of
the way of these fellows.'
'That he shall do, if I have to dip into the Chester legacy again.'
'Better take my way,' said Lance, reviving; 'a young man with good
references only wants board and lodging.'
'It is not possible, Lance. It would not be respectful to the Bishop
or the Dean, who have strained a point to keep you. There--I hear Mr.
Kenyon's voice in the shop. I must go.'
'Only one thing, Felix. Will you hear what Jack Harewood says to it?'
To this Felix readily assented. He was hurried and harassed nearly
to the extent of his time and capacity; he could not pause to give
full consideration to his young brother's project, and was glad that
the ungracious task of silencing it should be imposed on one less
immediately interested.
John Harewood was always at Wilmet's side after four o'clock. Before
that time he sometimes went to his home; he often spent the afternoon
with Geraldine, but he was not usually about the house in the morning.
So Lance, in a fever of impatience, wandered till he hunted him down
writing letters in the coffee-room at the Fortinbras Arms.
'Jack, I say, come and have a walk.'
'Pleasant weather!'
'You want to be watered, after all that parching in India. It isn't
raining now, and such a jolly cool day!'
'Jollier for you than a finer day, mayhap,' said the good-natured
soldier, who greatly commiserated Lance's enforced idleness, and only
wondered at his not making it a greater misery to every one else. He
also understood what the inured ears of the family never guessed, since
Lance never complained, the distress of Theodore's constant hum and
concertina to sensitive ears and excited nerves; and had observed that
Lance had flagged ever since the journey to Minsterham, with less of
vigour and more of sharpness. Sure that something was preying on the
boy, he deferred his least important letters, to splash away with him
in mud and mist, and hear him explain his views, with the fullness
often more possible towards friend than family.
John was greatly surprised, but did not make any crushing objection,
and listened with thorough sympathy. He doubted, however, whether Lance
would be doing any real good, and not only throwing more, instead of
less work upon Felix. Sensibly enough the boy went into the matter.
He said that when Felix began, the staff had also consisted of Mr.
Froggatt, Redstone, a lad called Stubbs, and a boy. Now Felix did much
more than Mr. Froggatt had then done, and Stubbs was a useful piece
of mechanism without a head, and Lance believed himself quite able to
fill the place Felix had taken at the same age; indeed, he had far less
either to learn or to overcome, and though his arithmetical powers were
still in abeyance, he had rather excelled in that line at the Cathedral
school.
'I know, of course,' said Lance, 'that a man from a London house would
be of more use; but there's this awful salary, and he would never care
to look after Felix.'
'I allow that; but even if you can be of much present use, is it not at
the expense of greater usefulness by-and-by?'
'I am sick of that! Edgar and Clem both mean to be of use by-and-by,
and what comes of it? Edgar has spent Felix's two hundred pounds that
he borrowed, and now has got his own, all to repay when he is a great
painter. And he is six years older than I am! Now if I earned my guinea
a week, as Felix did, it would be real good now, and I should be
learning the trade for the future.'
'That's the question. First, would the guinea a week make so much
appreciable difference?'
'Is that all you know about it, Jack? First, I should be earning my
keep, not eating my head off; and then Bernard might be sent safe off
to school.'
'You don't mean to say that otherwise he could not?'
'It has been a terribly costly year. There's Edgar. Then Clem couldn't
settle in at Cambridge for nothing; there's been Alda turned back
on Felix's hands; there's been illness, and goodness knows what the
doctors may charge; and there's Felix's outing and mine!'
John answered by opening his pocket-book and showing Dr. Manby's
account receipted.
'O Jack! You don't mean--'
'Considering that Will was the sole cause of the doctor being wanted at
all, we could only wish to bear the damages.'
'I hope you have told Wilmet. It would be a ton weight off her mind.'
'I hope she would think the Chapter did it; but if you think she is
anxious, let her know that it is all right.'
'You are a brick, John! But Felix himself said it would be a close
shave. I wish I could throttle that Bexley Tribune, and all its dirty
supporters!'
'Do you know, Lance, I am very much struck with your brother's--ay, and
old Froggatt's conduct in this matter.'
Lance flushed with pleasure. 'Go ahead, Jack!'
'Of course, for a paper to keep its politics is nothing; but to take up
the cause of an unpopular man, whose slights have been marked--'
'Who has been a malicious little cad,' chimed in the chorister.
'To take up his cause, simply as a matter of justice, and therewith of
the Church, without truckling to public opinion, at absolute risk and
loss, seems to me generosity and principle quite out of the common way.'
'You're about right there,' said Lance, intensely gratified; 'and
doesn't it make one burn to help the old fellow?'
'Quite true. The question is, which way to help him; and while I grant
you that the being idle at home just now is a terrible trial, whether
it might not be better to be patient under it, than to disqualify
yourself for a line in which you might do more--that is if it does
disqualify you.'
'What line do you mean?' said Lance.
'Scholarship, the University.'
'That wasn't what I wanted most,' said Lance; 'and as for that, I'm
disqualified enough by all this waste of time.'
'What was your wish, then?'
'I'll tell you,' said Lance, with lowered voice. 'When I used to lie
catching notes of the chanting, and knowing that the organ was quiet
for me, I used to feel that if I got well, I must give up my life
to it, and study music in full earnest, so as to be a real lift to
people's praise, perhaps in our own Cathedral. I thought maybe I could
get in as a lay-vicar when my year is up, and work at harmony under
Miles, and take a musical degree. But then came that day when the organ
seemed to be crushing and grinding my head to bits--and of all Psalms
in the world it was the forty-second! and Manby telling me on my life
not to try to do anything for I can't tell how long.'
'Was that the reason you sold your violin?'
'No, of course not; except that it was a sin and a shame to keep it for
no good, when I thought a pound might pull that little ape Bernard out
of the mire. And I've been asking questions, and find it would take
huge time and cost to study music so as to be worth anything; and here
am I, a great lout, not doing that or any other good on the face of the
earth--as much worse than Theodore as I am bigger. So if I can help
Felix, when he is fighting the fight in the Pursuivant for God's honour
and good and right, wouldn't that be a sort of service?'
'So undertaken,' said John, with a huskiness in his voice. 'Well,
Lance, I will talk it over with Felix, if you like.'
For John Harewood, not having any strong musical bias, did not greatly
appreciate the career that Lance had chalked out for himself; and
while thrilled by the boy's devotional feeling, thought it tinged
by enthusiasm, and had seen enough of Cathedral singing-men to have
no wish to see him among them. If the loss of time was to prevent
a University career, he thought book-selling under Felix's eye the
preferable occupation.
Discussion was, however, deferred by the arrival of a home friend, who
had sought him out at the hotel; and Lance had to go home without him,
and wear through the day between dawdling, drawing, and playing with
Stella, as best he might, till after school-hours; when, eager to turn
to the account of his wardrobe these moments when Wilmet was free from
her Captain, he drew her into his room.
Presently after, Felix heard the most amazing noises to which his
family had ever treated him, and thankful that the wet day had reduced
the denizens of the reading-room to one deaf old gentleman, he hurried
upstairs, and beheld through the open door of Mr. Froggatt's room,
Bernard raving, roaring, dancing, and stamping, in an over-mastering
passion, and tearing some paper up with teeth and hands. Just then
Lance grasped his collar, and tried in vain to rescue the paper; but
he fought with fists, bites, and kicks, like something frantic, until
Felix, with a bound forward, suddenly captured him, and dragged him
back, still tearing and crunching the paper.
'For shame! Be quiet! You are heard all over the place.--Shut the door.'
The door was shut by Wilmet, while Bernard stood quailing under the
stern face, strong hand, and tone of displeasure in which Felix
demanded, 'What is the meaning of this?'
'That Bernard refuses to wear Lance's outgrown clothes,' said Wilmet.
'Do you mean that this is the cause of this disgraceful outbreak?'
'I--I don't see why--' growled Bernard, 'why I should wear everybody's
beastly old things.'
'It is right you should hear the whole, Felix,' said Wilmet. 'When
I showed him that Lance would have some still shabbier clothes of
Clement's altered for him, he said if Lance chose to be a snob, he
would not. Lance answered that it was a choice between that and
petticoats; and then he fell into this extraordinary state, when I can
only hope he did not know what he was saying or doing.'
'He was drawing me,' bellowed Bernard, 'drawing me in his brute of a
book!' and he was so infuriated, that words never before heard by his
sister followed, as he quivered and stamped even under Felix's grasp,
which at length forced him into desisting; but the command, 'Go up
to your room this instant,' could only be carried out by main force,
amid tremendous kicking and struggling, Felix carrying him, and Wilmet
following to unfasten the hands that clutched at the rail; while Lance
stood aghast at one door, and Cherry in an agony at another, and Stella
crept into a corner, and hid her face in terror.
'Well, we never had the like of this before!' said Felix, coming down,
having locked him in, and heard him begin to bounce about the barrack,
like prisoners in the breaking-out frenzy. 'Can it be all about the
clothes?'
'I don't think you know what a grievance the having to take to old ones
has always been to him, poor little boy!' said Cherry, very nearly
crying, for Bernard was so much her own child, that in spite of his
having cast her off, she was in full instinct of defence; 'and he
dislikes Lance's most of all, because of the Cathedral peculiarities.'
'Ah! you have always humoured him by taking off that chorister's
frill,' said Wilmet; 'but there _could_ be no objection to those
trousers. They were almost new when Fulbert left them, and Lance has
only had them for best one winter.'
Felix could not help laughing. 'Long had she worn, and now Belinda
wears,' he quoted. 'My dear Mettie, the effect is better than the
detail. You should spare us the pedigree, however respectable.'
'Well, I said nothing about it,' said Wilmet. 'Was it what you said
about petticoats, Lance?'
'Lance does tease and aggravate that child unbearably!' exclaimed
Cherry, too much vexed not to be relieved to turn her blame upon
somebody; 'and it is very unkind of him, for he knows Bernard cannot
bear to be laughed at.'
'Hush! Cherry,' said Wilmet; 'if Lance did, he didn't mean it. It has
been quite too much--'
'Indeed it has, said Felix. 'You had better lie down at once, Lance.'
A good deal more than Bernard's outbreak had gone to the pain and
dizziness that prevented Lance from even attempting to reply to
Cherry's accusation, but made him turn quietly back into his room;
while Felix was obliged to hurry downstairs again; and Alda made her
frequent remark that 'those boys were really unbearable.'
'Poor Lance! it was not his fault,' said Wilmet.
'You don't know, Wilmet!' said Cherry indignantly. 'I did hope that
when he came home, my poor little Bernard might get better managed--he
used to be so fond of him; but he has done nothing but worry and laugh
at him, and I don't at all wonder it has come to this. I shall go up
and see about the poor little fellow.'
'Do you mean to let her go and pet him after such outrageous
naughtiness?' asked Alda, as Cherry moved to begin the difficult ascent.
'I should not do it myself,' said Wilmet; 'but I daresay she will do
him good.'
Alda held up her hands in wonder. How many quarrels might have been
going on at that moment, if three of the family at least had not
exercised the forbearance she so little understood.
Cherry and her Lord Gerald mounted the attic stairs. It was for the
first time in her life, and she was so imperfect in the geography of
the upper floor, that she had to open one or two doors before she found
'the barrack,' with Bernard lying kicking his heels fiercely at the
beam across the low room. The amazing presence of Geraldine suspended
this occupation. 'How did you come here?' he gasped.
'I came to see you, Bear. My poor Bear! I am so sorry!' said Cherry,
sitting down on one of the beds; 'how could you go on so?'
There was rebuke and pain in her voice, and Bernard resented it.
'They've no business to bait me,' he said. 'I've no peace in my life!'
'But that doesn't make it right to fly into such dreadful passions.'
'I wouldn't do it if they'd let me alone. I don't see why I should be
the one to wear every one's nasty old clothes.'
'Why, Felix and Clement couldn't well wear yours!'
'It was all Lance's doing. Lance has bothered me out of existence ever
since he came home.'
'But you should try to bear it, if he _is_ a little cross and tiresome.
You know he is not at all well yet, and all this has quite knocked him
up.'
'I'm glad of it!' said Bernard viciously. 'Served him right for setting
Wilmet on, and then drawing his abominable pictures; as if it wasn't
enough to have spoilt all my pleasure, and sold Stingo!'
'What was Stingo?'
'Oh, just a dog--'
'A dog!'
'Yes, my dog; and Lance went and sold him, and then drew a beastly
picture of him and me.'
'But, Bernard, how could you have a dog?'
'Oh, I bought him with some money Travis gave me, and a cad down in the
town kept him for me; but then Travis didn't give me any more--'
'But, Bernard, you must have known you ought not. Did you get into
debt?'
'Ay, just for a few shillings; and the brute threatened me so that I
just asked Lance--'
'Was he such a dangerous dog? O Bear!'
'No, no--the man that kept him. I thought Lance would tackle him
without making a row.'
'And did he?'
'Ay. He said he hadn't got a penny, and he kept me waiting ever so
long; but I fancy he got it from Harewood. He might as well have let me
keep Stingo!'
Cherry's views of the relations between Lance and Bernard had begun
to adjust themselves, and she began to reason on the impropriety of
keeping the dog; but she soon perceived that this was only ranging
herself on the side of the enemy, and exciting the obduracy of her
favourite, who was determined to be a victim. In truth, Bernard was
not repentant enough to treat her with confidence, and his world was
so entirely beyond her knowledge, that she did not possess the threads
that would have led to it. All that she did perceive was, that much of
Bernard's irritation was at the endeavour to keep him out of mischief,
and that her own gentle persuasions were almost as distasteful as
Lance's jests. She sat on, arguing, talking, entreating, till it had
long been quite dark; and Wilmet at last came up to say that she must
not stay any longer in the cold, and to ask Bernard whether he would
say he was sorry.
'I didn't want her to come here bothering,' was Bernard's grateful
remark.
'Well, I advise you to take care you are in a better mood before Felix
comes,' said Wilmet.--'Come, Cherry, it is not safe for you to go down
alone.'
Cherry could only entreat, 'Do, Bear, do,' and try to kiss the averted
cheek.
She did not know that as soon as the door was shut on him and the
little flicker of gas, Bernard fell into an anguish of sobs and tears,
the work of her persevering love, softening and lessening the obstinate
pride so far that the next visitors met with a much better reception
than they might have done. The first came stumbling up with a weary
step, and pushed open the door, saying, 'Here, Bear, don't bear malice.
I'm awfully sorry I ever drew that thing! I'll never do you again. So
shake hands, and have done with it.'
'All right,' returned Bernard, outstretching his hand as one who felt
that amends were made him, but could not receive them graciously; and
Lance's weary and confused senses were satisfied. He never perceived
hard lumps of offence unless he ran his head very hard against them,
and even now little guessed the amount of annoyance his raillery had
given.
And next came a quick, resolute tread that made the little fellow
shiver with apprehension, never guessing at his brother's self-debate
whether obstinate impenitence ought not to bring the rod, and wondering
recollection of his own displeasure when Mr. Audley recommended its
disuse in the fatherless household. Felix held by the spirit rather
than the letter, and had decided that unless he found submission,
signal punishment must ensue.
It was an immense relief to him to detect by eye and ear that the child
had been crying, and to be able to say that seeing that he was sorry
made it possible to attend to Lance's kind entreaty not to be hard upon
him. Absolute words of penitence Felix did not try to exact; but after
a few words of sympathy, which Bernard had by no means expected, on the
hardship of the second-hand wardrobe, and a reminder of the necessity,
he proceeded to rebuke for the passionate behaviour, and above all
for the language Bernard had used; expressing to the full how much it
had shocked and appalled him, by showing what sort of associates the
boy must have chosen since he had learnt such words at all, and what
a shame and disgrace he felt it that one of the brothers should ever
have uttered them. And Bernard--who had learnt that Satanic primer
with a certain shame and repugnance, under the strong desire to show
himself neither girl, muff, nor choir-boy, and certainly would never
in his right senses have betrayed his proficiency at home--was a good
deal impressed, and finally began to cry again, and to promise to cure
himself.
Believed to have thus fulfilled the least pleasing of all his duties,
Felix went down to his long-delayed evening meal, and therewith to a
family council. Lance was gone to bed, and his proposal was the more
freely discussed, as well as his relations with Bernard.
'That boy must go at once to Stoneborough,' said Felix. 'I shall write
to Dr. Cheviot to-night.'
Wilmet sighed. 'I suppose I ought not to have objected,' she said; 'but
I did think Lance would have kept him in order.'
'He has tried,' said Felix.
'O Felix!' cried Cherry, turning to him with tears in her eyes, 'I am
afraid I was unjust to Lance just now, and I am so sorry! Do you know,
the naughty little fellow had been keeping a dog and got into debt; and
Lance paid all--I can't think how!'
'That I believe I can tell,' said John Harewood, 'though I am afraid it
is a breach of confidence. He sold his violin.'
'That violin that I was so angry with him for buying!' said Wilmet.
'Well, he is a dear little fellow!'
'And I scolded him for being unkind!' cried Cherry, in despair. 'Oh, is
he asleep? I should like to beg his pardon,' and her hand clasped Lord
Gerald.
'About the worst thing you could do to the poor boy, Cherry,' said
Felix, 'when he is only lying there trying to get his head quiet enough
to let him sleep.'
'Nor must you betray me,' added John, smiling at poor
conscience-stricken Cherry.
'And it is a mercy the fiddle is gone!' said Alda. 'I used to hear him
playing it somewhere among the out-houses in the spring, and it was
enough to distract one, added to Theodore's dronings.'
'It must have been like parting with a bit of his life,' sighed Cherry;
'and yet Bernard would not mind him, and they _did_ quarrel!'
'Boys who deal well with juniors at school do sometimes fail with
little brothers,' said John. 'Besides, I observe that where there is
pride there is always a distaste and dread of those who have much power
of ridicule.'
'I suspect, too,' said Felix, 'that Lance has made the turn in life
when one gets superfluously earnest, and nothing so upsets influence. I
have felt it myself.'
'So all this trouble and vexation has been weighing on the dear little
fellow,' said Wilmet. 'No wonder he is not half so well as when he came
home!'
'No,' said Felix; 'I wonder whether the Froggatts would let him come to
them for a week or two, or whether it would be too dull to be good for
him.'
'If his mind were settled about the future, it would be rest rather
than dullness,' said John; 'but I think a good deal of his trouble is
caused by Manby's verdict, and for that perhaps the best cure would be
letting him have his wish.'
'You, John!' exclaimed Felix; 'I thought you would have put that out of
his head!'
'On the contrary, he made me think there was a good deal in his
arguments. First, as regards you, would he be of any real use?'
'Never mind that,' said Felix. 'I heard something to-day that would
make it practicable; but I can't have that boy wasted.'
'The point is, what is waste? Now his strongest aptitude never was for
classical work; and if he is not to touch a Latin book till Christmas,
and then only cautiously, I do not see what chance he would have, even
if Will were out of the way.'
'And if not at Minsterham, so much the less anywhere else,' said
Wilmet. 'Besides, it might be a dreadful risk if his head were to be
overstrained.'
'And in the meantime, the being kept here doing nothing, and vexing
himself, is wearing his spirits, and hurting him more than any light
occupation, especially what he felt to be a labour of love.'
'That is quite true again,' said Felix. 'I quite believe he would be
much happier if he began working with me to-morrow; but it might be
letting a mere fit of impatience and despondency fix him for life in an
uncongenial business.'
'I thought you preferred it!' exclaimed Wilmet.
'Oh yes,' said Felix, with a sort of half contempt in his tone; 'but
these boys of ours are a different sort of stuff, and we have seen that
it will never answer to pin them down to plod.'
'Lance would never be like Edgar!' exclaimed Wilmet; 'as if Edgar ever
thought of doing anything so unselfish in his life!'
'O Wilmet! indeed he _thought!_' cried Cherry.
'Yes, but always of five or six years hence!' said Wilmet.
'Lance is very like Edgar,' said Felix. 'He has what I believe belongs
to the artist temperament; and that he is the bravest, the most
uncomplaining little fellow I ever came across, and probably would
never break off what he had begun, makes me the more anxious not to let
this access of generosity--ay, and tedium--lead to taking any decided
step while he is so young.'
'When you come to artist temperament, I don't understand,' said Wilmet.
'Lance doesn't even draw anything like Cherry or Edgar--much good does
that do! and as to his music, it would not be much of a living.'
'I believe he thinks that the alternative,' said John.
'For goodness' sake!' cried Alda, 'he doesn't want to get taken on
in London! To have him singing and fiddling in public would be worse
than anything. You put that out of his head, I hope, John. Even if he
changed his name--'
'It never was in his head,' said John. 'He never thought of anything
but his old line--Cathedral music: and the sacrifice to him is of that,
not of the chance of the University.'
'That's not so bad,' said Alda, 'because it is a great chance whether
any one ever heard of it.'
'But I doubt if it be a very desirable life, as things are at present
constituted,' said John. 'I am not sure that it is not better to give
the musical talent freely for that service, than to make it one's trade
and livelihood.'
'I think you are right there,' said Felix. 'I suppose there is always
some degree of disenchantment.'
'What did you say made his notion practicable?' said Wilmet.
'I've had Mr. Lamb with me this evening--'
'Mr. Bruce's managing clerk,' explained Wilmet to the Captain. 'Does he
want you to have Ernest?'
'Yes. He has missed the exhibition from the grammar-school; and as he
can't go to Oxford, fancies (deluded youth!) that he will get more
reading in this line than any other. He is ready to give a premium with
him, and spoke what Mr. Froggatt would call very handsomely about our
house being one where he could trust him. I believe Mr. Froggatt will
be gratified, and accept him.'
'Ernest Lamb--Serious mutton,' repeated Cherry; 'doesn't he look very
heavy?'
'Yes; he is bookish without being quick. I don't expect he will be of
much use just yet, but he is as steady as old Time; and though he and
Lance would neither of them do alone, yet together I think we could get
on.'
'Then,' said John, 'does it not seem to you, Wilmet, that it would be
a greater positive benefit to accept Lance's offer for the present--on
trial, as one may say--than to leave him to the depression that is
certainly doing him harm?'
'And if Lance was there,' said Wilmet, 'I should have some comfort that
Felix would be properly looked after.'
'Whatever happens,' said Felix, 'I shall send Lance out to Marshlands
for a fortnight, and see if he is in the same mind when he comes back.
After all, it depends on Mr. Froggatt: and he will be afraid people
will say we have turned in the whole Grammar-school behind the counter.
I wonder if Lance is safe not to laugh in the old ladies' faces when
they ask--What number of what magazine, how many years ago, had a
receipt for washing anti-macassars?'
By which they knew him to be very much exhilarated.
That fortnight at Marshlands was not wasted. Lance had faculties
for never being dull. He pottered about with Mr. or Mrs. Froggatt,
fed their chickens, gathered their apples and nuts, petted their
cats, tried to teach words to their parrot and tricks to their dogs,
played cribbage and back-gammon with them in the evening, never had a
head-ache, never was at a loss or upon their hands, gained their hearts
completely, and came home wonderfully benefited by the respite from
noise and harass, and quite decided to stand by his proposal, to which
the partners, with some hesitation, had finally acceded.
END OF VOL. I.