THE POOR RELATION.
TWO HOURS later a note was received from Mrs. Davenport, inviting Tom to
pass the day at her house. It was brought by an errand-boy, and arrived
just as Tom, having arranged his wardrobe, was about to start on a
journey of exploration.
“I’ll come with pleasure,” said Tom. “Say I’ll be round in fifteen
minutes.”
“You see, my dear,” said Mr. Middleton, “Tom has been taken up by the
Davenports; we must take care to gratify him in all his wishes. It will
do us credit to have him at our house.”
“I wonder they have invited him. I am sure he was very impudent to
Squire Davenport.”
“Boys will be boys, my dear, and our young friend is rich.”
“Well, I’m glad of one thing, he’ll be away for two meals.”
“True, my dear, that will be a saving. He certainly has a great
appetite.”
Meanwhile Tom, having brushed his hair and put on a clean collar, walked
round to Lawyer Davenport’s. He found the two boys in front of the
house.
“Good-morning,” said Tom.
“Good-morning,” said James, rather sheepishly.
“Will you let me play with you this morning?” said Tom smiling.
“We didn’t know who you were yesterday,” said James, “but as you’re a
gentleman, we are glad to see you.”
“Thank you. Did you find the ball?”
“Yes. Mike, the errand-boy, found it. Shall we have a toss?”
“I should like it.”
They went into the field before referred to, and spent a couple of hours
very pleasantly. James and Edwin, looking upon their companion as a
young man of fortune, were very courteous and polite. Indeed it was hard
to think of them as the same boys who had treated Tom so rudely the day
before. Our hero was clear-sighted and understood very well the meaning
of the change in their manners, but he took the world as he found it,
and didn’t choose to quarrel with the respect which his wealth procured
him.
At dinner he made acquaintance with Mrs. Davenport. This lady was very
much like her husband and son. When she had heard of Tom’s difficulty
with James, she was very indignant, supposing our hero to be a poor boy.
Now that she had ascertained his circumstances, she was prepared to
receive him cordially.
“I am glad that my son and nephew have found a suitable companion,” she
said affably. “I don’t want to say anything against the village boys,
who are very well in their way, but of course they are not the social
equals of my boys. They are lacking in culture and refinement.”
“They’re low,” said James.
“I was low yesterday,” thought Tom, “but it’s different to-day.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, “you are very obliging.”
“I am told you are to reside with the Middletons, Mr. Temple,” the lady
proceeded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“They are very worthy people—not stylish, but respectable. Was your
father connected with them?”
“He was a school-mate of Mr. Middleton, I believe.”
“I say, Tom,” said James, “you must look out or you will get the gout
there.”
“I’ll take care of that,” said Tom.
“Mrs. Middleton will, if you don’t.”
“James, you should not make such remarks,” said his mother. “It is true,
I believe, that the Middletons are rather economical in their table
expenses, but doubtless out of regard to Mr. Temple they will adopt a
different policy.”
Tom smiled, but said nothing. He did not consider it honorable to refer
to Mr. Middleton’s domestic arrangements.
At this moment two girls entered the room. One was evidently Mrs.
Davenport’s daughter, as she bore a striking resemblance to that
dignified lady. She was by no means pretty, but evidently thought
considerable of herself, and was not troubled with bashfulness. She made
a low courtesy, in the most approved dancing-school style, to Tom, who
was sufficiently well-bred to acquit himself creditably.
“My daughter, Imogene, Mr. Temple,” said Mr. Davenport.
The other girl was probably a year younger, and as pretty as Imogene was
unattractive. But she was plainly dressed, and had a timid, retiring
look. In fact she was a poor cousin, a dependent upon the lawyer’s
bounty, and made to feel her position by all the family.
“Mary Somers, Mr. Temple,” said Mrs. Davenport slightingly.
Mary blushed, and offered her hand timidly to our hero.
“What a pretty girl!” thought Tom. “She’s ever so much prettier than the
other, but I guess from the old lady’s manner that she hasn’t got the
stamps.”
They sat down to the dinner-table, which Tom saw with satisfaction
presented a very different appearance from the frugal board of Mr.
Middleton. It was a capital dinner, and Tom enjoyed it.
“I shouldn’t mind boarding here,” he thought.
There was only one drawback. He was seated next to Imogene, when he
would have very much preferred a seat next to Mary Somers, the poor
cousin.
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