A Dog with a Bad Name Part 45

Mrs Rimbolt gathered herself together, and began.

"I desire to speak to you, Mr Jeffreys, in reference to my niece, Miss Atherton, who, in her father's absence, is here under my protection and parental control."

Jeffreys flushed up ominously.

"It does not please me, Mr Jeffreys, to find you, occupying, as you do, the position of a dependant in this house, so far forgetting yourself as to consider that there is anything in your respective positions which justifies you in having communications with Miss Atherton other than those of a respectful stranger."

Jeffreys found himself frivolously thinking this elaborate sentence would be an interesting exercise in parsing for the head cla.s.s at Galloway House. He barely took in that the remarks were intended for him at all, and his abstracted look apparently disconcerted Mrs Rimbolt.

"I must request your attention, Mr Jeffreys," said she severely.

"I beg your pardon. I am all attention."

"I am quite willing to suppose," continued she, "that it is ignorance on your part rather than intentional misconduct which has led you into this; but from henceforth I wish it to be clearly understood that I shall expect you to remember your proper station in this house. Miss Atherton, let me tell you, has no need of your attentions. You perfectly understand me, Mr Jeffreys?"

Jeffreys bowed, still rather abstractedly.

"You do not reply to my question, Mr Jeffreys."

"I perfectly understand you, madam."

"I trust I shall not have to speak to you again."

"I trust not," said Jeffreys, with a fervour which startled the lady.

He left the room, outraged, insulted, sorely tempted to shake the dust of the place once and for all from off his feet. The evil temper within him once more a.s.serted itself as he flung himself into his room, slamming the door behind him with a force that made the whole house vibrate.

The narrow room was insupportable. It stifled him. He must get out into the fresh air or choke.

On the doorstep he met Mr Rimbolt, alighting from his brougham.

"Oh, Jeffreys, so glad to have caught you. Look here. I find I must be in the House to-night and to-morrow, and I intended to go down to Exeter to attend that four days' sale of Lord Waterfield's library. I must get you to go for me. You have the catalogue we went through together, with the lots marked which I must have. I have put an outside price against some, and the others must be mine at any price--you understand. Stick at nothing. Take plenty of money with you for travelling and expenses.

Do things comfortably, and I will give you a blank cheque for the books.

Mind I must have them, if it comes to four figures. Go down by the Flying Dutchman to-night, and send me a telegram at the end of each day to say what you have secured."

The proposal came opportunely to Jeffreys. He was in the humour of accepting anything for a change; and this _carte blanche_ proposal, and the responsibility it involved, contained a spice of excitement which suited with his present mood.

He went down to Exeter that night, trying to think of nothing but Lord Waterfield's books, and to forget all about Raby, and Percy, and Mrs Rimbolt, and Scarfe.

The last-named hero and his two friends duly presented themselves at Clarges Street next day. Scarfe was in great good-humour with himself, and even his antipathies to the world at large were decidedly modified by the discovery that Jeffreys was out of town.

His two friends were of the gay and festive order--youths who would have liked to be considered fast, but betrayed constantly that they did not yet know the way how.

Percy, with his usual facile disposition, quickly fell into the ways of the trio, and rather enjoyed the luxury of now and then getting a rise out of the undergrads by showing that "he knew a thing or two" himself.

They spent their first few days together in "going it"--that is, in seeing and doing all they could. Scarfe's friends began shyly, feeling their way both with their host and hostess and with their son. But then they saw that Mr Rimbolt was far too engrossed to think of anything beyond that they should all enjoy themselves and do as they liked--when they saw that Mrs Rimbolt swore by Scarfe, and, to use the choice language of one of them, "didn't sit up at anything as long as the Necktie was in it"--and when they saw that Percy was a cool hand, and, whatever he thought, did not let himself be startled by anything, these two ingenuous youths plucked up heart and "let out all round."

They haunted billiard saloons, but failed to delude any one into the belief that they knew one end of a cue from another. They went to theatres, where the last thing they looked at was the stage. They played cards without being quite sure what was the name of the game they played. They smoked cigars, which it was well for their juvenile stomachs were "warranted extra mild"; and they drank wine which neither made glad their hearts nor improved their digestions; and they spiced their conversation with big words which they did not know the meaning of themselves, and would certainly have never found explained in the dictionary.

Percy, after a few days, got sick of it. He had never "gone it" in this style before; and finding out what it meant, he didn't see much fun in it. Late hours and unwholesome food and never-ending "sport" did not agree with him. He had looked forward to seeing a lot of the boat practice on the river, and hearing a lot about University sport and life. But in this he was disappointed. The "boats" were voted a nuisance; and whenever the talk turned on Oxford it was instantly tabooed as "shop." Scarfe sneered to him in private about these two fools, but when with them he "went it" with the rest, and made no protest.

"Percy," said Raby, two or three days after this sort of thing had been going on, "you look wretchedly pale and tired. Why do you stay out so late every night?"

"Oh," said Percy wearily, "I don't know--we humbug about. Nothing very bad."

"If it makes you ill and wretched, I say it is bad, Percy," said the girl.

"Oh, I don't know. Scarfe goes in for it, you know."

"I don't care a bit who goes in for it. It's bad."

"You don't mean to say you think Scarfe is a bad lot?"

"Don't speak to me of Mr Scarfe. I hate him for this!"

Percy whistled.

"Hullo, I say! here's a go!" he cried. "Then you're really spoons on Jeff after all? How awfully glad he'll be when I tell him!"

"Percy I shall hate _you_ if you talk like that!" said the girl. "I hate any one who is not good to you; and it is certainly not good to you to lead you into folly and perhaps wickedness."

This protest had its effect on Percy. The next day he struck, and pleaded an excuse for accompanying the precious trio on an expedition to Windsor, to be consummated by a champagne supper at the "Christopher."

They urged him hard, and tempted him sorely by the prospect of a row on the river and any amount of fun. He declined stubbornly. He was f.a.gged, and not in the humour. Awfully sorry to back out and all that, but he couldn't help it, and wanted to save up for the Sports and Boat Race on Friday and Sat.u.r.day.

They gave him up as a bad job, and started without him.

He watched them go without much regret, and then, putting on his hat, walked off towards Paddington to meet Jeffreys, who was due in about an hour.

The quiet walk through the streets rather revived him; and the prospect of seeing Jeffreys again was still more refres.h.i.+ng.

Of course he knew he should have to tell him of his folly, and Jeff would "sit on him" in his solemn style. Still, that was better than getting his head split open with cigars, and having to laugh at a lot of trashy jokes.

Jeffreys was delighted to see him; and the two were leaving Paddington arm-in-arm when Scarfe and his two friends, alighting from a cab, suddenly confronted them.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE BAD NAME.

Percy was riotously greeted by Scarfe's two friends. "Hullo, old man!"

cried one of them; "then you thought better of it, after all, and mean to join us! That's the style!"

"Bring your handsome friend with you. More the merrier. There'll be champagne enough for the lot."

"Look alive," said Percy; "you'll lose your train. Jeff and I aren't coming."

"Why not?" said they.