Roger Ingleton, Minor Part 17

"Mother," said he, "what do you think that idiot Pottinger has been up to? He's taken it into his wise head to threaten to turn old Hodder out of his cottage unless he pays a higher rent in future. I went to row him about it, but he's far too dense to see what a scoundrelly thing it is."

"How shocking!" said Mrs Ingleton. "Poor old Hodder has been in that place all his life. Your father was always fond of him, Roger. I wouldn't have him disturbed for the world."

"You'll have to tell Pottinger so yourself," said Roger. "He says he's bound to screw all he can out of the old chap in my interests, if you please."

The captain had listened to this parley with anything but comfort, and was about at this point to explain, when Mr Armstrong seeing his chance adroitly stepped in.

"You may make yourself easy about the matter, Roger. Evidently Mr Pottinger has acted most unwarrantably on his own responsibility. I have been to see him this morning, and told him in future he is not to take upon himself to do anything about the estate without consulting Mrs Ingleton, and Captain Oliphant, and myself--"

"Then Hodder is not to be disturbed?" inquired Rosalind.

"I have seen that the notice is withdrawn. I, for one, should certainly never sanction it."

"Oh, how delightful you are," said the young lady. "How happy you will have made the poor old man. Father, do get that horrid Pottinger sent away. He's a monster. I told him so yesterday, but he wouldn't believe me."

"Rosalind," said her father, whose lunch was not agreeing with him at all, "it vexes me to see you interfere in matters in which you have no concern. It seems to me, my dear Eva," he added, addressing Mrs Ingleton, whom he had already taken to calling by her Christian name, "that these business questions had much better be left for discussion among ourselves, and not at the family meal."

"Perhaps so," said Mrs Ingleton; "only we are all so interested in poor old Hodder, we hardly regard this as a business question. However, I am delighted to hear it is all right now. I only wish Mr Pottinger had consulted you, Edward, before he took such a step."

"Oh, he did," blurted out Rosalind. "But, as I told him, of course papa not knowing what a villain he was, would believe all he said. It was all the more shame of him to go and impose on papa, who hasn't had time to get to know all the people about the place, instead of going to Auntie or Mr Armstrong, who know all of them. I don't think he'll do it again," said the young lady, firing up like a charming Amazon, at the remembrance of her interview.

Captain Oliphant pushed his chair brusquely back from the table and got up, looking, so Armstrong thought, not as proud of his loyal daughter as he should have been.

"Eva," said he drily, "I shall be in the library if you want me. Will you tell Raffles to bring me in the _Times_ when it arrives?"

"I'm afraid papa will be very angry with me," said Rosalind dolefully, as she and Roger walked back across the hall. "But if he won't stand up for himself some one must. I'm quite sure he would give the impression, to any one who did not know him, that he had purposely been harsh to poor Hodder."

As it happened, Captain Oliphant displayed no anger. The question of Hodder was allowed to drop, and no further reference was made to his threatened eviction. Mr Pottinger during the week meekly submitted an agreement to permit him to remain where he was, which the trustees sanctioned unanimously; and when the old man's champions at Maxfield rejoiced in the discomfiture of the man of the law.

Captain Edward Oliphant said nothing in his defence.

After this matters went on quietly, as they will do when one storm has blown over and the next is yet below the horizon. Armstrong settled down to his duties with his two pupils--or rather his three pupils, for Miss Jill made a point of receiving lessons too. Miss Rosalind worked away at her painting, and succeeded in evoking a glimmering interest in art in the Philistine b.r.e.a.s.t.s of her two students. The young people divided their leisure between riding, cricket, tennis, and yachting.

Mrs Ingleton, as the weeks went by, not only grew more pale, but began to be aware of the attentions of her sympathetic kinsman, and to be sorely perplexed and disturbed thereat. And the Captain himself received his Indian letters regularly by each mail, and confessed to himself that, but for two considerations--one appertaining to love, the other to hate--he had better far have remained in Her Majesty's service abroad.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

TWO ENDS OF A ROPE.

The summer pa.s.sed, and even Captain Oliphant began to grow reconciled to his surroundings. That is to say, he discovered that at present it was his policy to make himself agreeable, even to his co-trustee.

Armstrong, with the position he held at Maxfield as Roger's friend and Mrs Ingleton's trusted servant, was not to be disposed of quite as easily as the gallant officer had at first antic.i.p.ated. At the same time, while he remained where he was, the Captain felt himself decidedly embarra.s.sed in the working out of sundry little projects which floated in his ingenious brain. Besides which, time was getting on. Roger would be twenty in November, and a year later--

Captain Oliphant had reached this pleasant stage in his meditations one morning, as he sipped his coffee in his own room, when Raffles entered with the letters.

"Eightpence to pay on this one, please, sir."

It was a letter with an Indian post-mark, unstamped.

The Captain regarded it with knitted brows; then tossing it on the table, said--

"Give it back. I won't take it in, Raffles." Raffles, reflecting within himself that the Captain must have a vast amount of correspondence if he could afford to chuck away an interesting doc.u.ment like this, took the letter and retired.

"Wait a minute," called the Captain, as the door was closing. "Let me look at it again."

Raffles guessed as much, and brought the missive back triumphantly. The Captain again regarded it with expressions of anything but cordiality, and seemed half inclined to reject it once more. But he took it up again and posed it in his hand.

"You can leave it, Raffles," said he presently; "give the postman the eightpence."

It was some time before Captain Oliphant opened the letter. He sipped his coffee and glared at it viciously, as it lay on the table beside him.

"What game is the scoundrel up to now?" muttered he. "I began to hope I was rid of him. What does he want now?"

He opened the letter and read--

"Dear Comrade,--You have not answered my last three letters, and I feel quite anxious to know of your welfare. You will be pleased to hear that I have arranged to take my leave home during the coming autumn--"

The Captain put the letter down with an exclamation which startled the sparrows on the window-ledge, and set the breakfast cup shaking in its saucer.

"Coming home!" he gasped. Then he read on.

"I look forward to inquiring personally after your health and prospects, in which, as you know, my dear fellow, I am much interested. It would be very nice of you, as the only friend I have in England, to ask your old comrade on a visit to you in your comfortable quarters. A particular advantage in such an arrangement would be that it would prevent my coming without being asked. I am due by the 'Nile' about the first week in October. Come and meet me in town. I have no doubt I shall get a line at Southampton to say at which hotel I shall find you. I fear you will find me financially in low water. But I shall have with me papers relating to the regimental accounts previous to your regretted departure from India, which, no doubt, some people would regard as valuable, _Au revoir_, my dear fellow--

"Yours ever,--

"R.R.

"_P.S_.--Commend me to your charming family, I look forward with particular pleasure to make the acquaintance of the young ladies, of whom I have heard delightful reports over here."

Raffles, when he came in to remove the breakfast things, could not help being struck with the narrow escape Captain Oliphant had had of throwing away, for the sake of a paltry eightpence, a most interesting and appetising letter.

The Captain sat holding it abstractedly in his hand, nor was it till the door opened half an hour later and Rosalind sailed in that he hastily pulled himself together, and crumpled the paper away in his pocket.

"Why, papa, what is the matter? Is there any bad news in that letter."

"On the contrary, it announces the arrival from India of a very dear old comrade."

"Oh," said Rosalind. "You will like to hear all about the people over there. Does he belong to our regiment?"

"No, dear. But I shall expect you to be very agreeable to him when he comes here."

"But he's not coming _here_, is he?" she asked, in amazement.

"Where else do you suppose he would be likely to come to visit me?"

"Oh, but, papa, we cannot--we must not ask people here. As it is, think of all four of us living here on Roger's money. It isn't fair."

"Rosalind, you use expressions which, to anyone but your father, would be positively offensive. Rest a.s.sured that I do not require my own child to correct me."