Round the Corner in Gay Street Part 5

"Glad to have you," said Peter, wondering what Jane would say to this second unexpected introduction.

Murray, as he walked slowly toward the house in Gay Street, felt distinctly glad of the chance. Since his illness he had led a lonely life, and he longed for comrades near at hand. From behind the curtains he had done not a little watching of the coming and going in Gay Street, and had been strongly attracted toward each one of the household across the way. He liked the faces of those people. He had wished that he could make their acquaintance.

"Walk in!" invited Peter, throwing the door hospitably open; and Murray, his quick, curious eyes taking in everything at a glance, entered the small front room, which was just then unoccupied. He heard voices and laughter near at hand, but for the moment, while Peter went to summon his mother, he had time to look about him.

There was not very much in the room, and there was nothing of value, as that word was used in the Townsend house, yet the visitor could not help finding the place warmly attractive. There was a homelike look about it, and there was an indefinable air of refinement. The furniture was old and very nearly shabby, but it was not the cheap and tawdry furniture one might have expected to find in such a house. The pictures on the walls were all good copies of great pictures, or photographs set under gla.s.s. Piles of music lay on the old-fas.h.i.+oned square piano, and a few papers and magazines, all of good selection, were upon the table, in the centre of which burned a brilliant lamp. But most of all, the character of the household was shown by the books--as it inevitably is.

Of these there were a surprising number. Murray felt his respect for the Bell family rising immensely as he noted the contents of the rows of home-made book-shelves. They were in plain, worn bindings, most of them, quite unlike the stately rows in the great library at home; but they were the same old friends, in common clothes, and Murray rejoiced at the sight.

Peter was quickly back, bringing with him the lady whom Murray recognised as the mother of the family. She _was_ a lady--no doubt of that. He had been sure of it before. Now, as he listened to her voice--the test incontrovertible--he knew beyond question.

She greeted him cordially. He was charmed with her face, with her manner, with everything about her. Then Peter brought all the others in, and Murray shook hands with them all. s.h.i.+rley appeared, clinging to Nancy's hands, and s.h.i.+rley was so happy, and begged so hard in his ear to stay a few minutes longer, that he willingly delayed their departure.

Fine fellows, Peter and Ross and Rufus proved to be on acquaintance.

Not in the least overawed by the presence of the rich man's son from Worthington Square, they talked business and football and politics and various other things in those few minutes, in a hearty, half-boyish, decidedly manly fas.h.i.+on that he thoroughly enjoyed.

It happened that Murray said less to Jane than to any of the others, but he noticed her not a little. He thought he had never seen a girl who looked so spirited and sweet and gay and gentle all in one. He felt that his sister Olive must learn to know her at once, that she might learn what it is to be pretty without seeming aware of the fact, and how it is possible to make a stranger feel wholly at his ease without appearing to exercise any arts.

"I suppose I ought to be taking my sister home," Murray said at last, getting to his feet. "The truth is, she has wanted to know Miss Nancy since she first saw her, and so----"

"Murray wanted to know you, too," said s.h.i.+rley, in Nancy's ear; but as her brother paused, the words were audible to everybody.

"To know _me_?" queried Nancy, in surprise, and everybody smiled.

"I'm sure my mother and sister will call--soon," said Murray, trying to feel sure of that rather doubtful proposition as he made it.

The moment would have been an awkward one in some small houses, for it was impossible not to remember that the Worthington Squares do not make many calls in the Gay Streets, but young Rufus, studying s.h.i.+rley with interest, broke in, without intention, upon his mother's reply. Rufus was quite untroubled by the social inequalities existing between localities divided only by a stone's throw.

"That 's a dandy tennis-court you will have there when you put it out,"

he remarked.

"It's pretty fair--and we shall have it in shape early this year,"

replied Murray, smiling. There was a beauty about Murray's rare smile which quite transformed his pale face. His eyes met Jane's as he spoke.

"It 's too bad to grow up past the point of breaking the ice so easily, is n't it?" she said, merrily, as he shook hands.

"We 'll have to follow their wise example," he replied.

"I hope that you 'll find your way over to Gay Street often in the future," declared Peter, shaking hands.

"I mean to, thank you, if you'll let me?" Murray looked into Mrs.

Bell's eyes, and a shade of wistfulness crept into his own, which she saw, and recognising, was sure she understood.

"Please come, if you care to," she said, cordially, and he felt her warm, firm hand give his a friendly pressure, which quite completed the capturing of his heart.

A ringing step on the porch outside, a knock at the door--it boasted no bell--and everybody looked up surprised, for it was nearly ten o'clock.

Ross opened the door.

"I beg your pardon," said a gay and careless voice outside, "but I came to look for my brother and sister. They seem to be lost, and I 'm told they 're here."

"Come in!" said Ross, and the owner of the voice appeared upon the threshold. Standing there, surveying the company with his characteristically a.s.sured expression, his handsome face taking on a saucy smile as his eyes fell on his brother, Forrest Townsend was carefully and formally presented by Murray to each one of the household in turn.

He looked a fine figure in his evening clothes, his long outer coat falling open, his hat in his hand. His audacious young eyes fell on Jane before he was presented to her, and his manner acquired a sort of laughing gallantry rather effective. "It was a very lucky fire for us,"

he said, gaily, as he bowed. "I only wish I had been at home."

CHAPTER IV

FORREST PLAYS A TRICK

"It's no more than civil, mother, that you and Olive should go over and call!" insisted Murray Townsend, with heat.

"I can't see that it is necessary at all," replied Mrs. Townsend, with offsetting coolness. "The young man has been properly thanked for his services; indeed, I should say that between you and Forrest and s.h.i.+rley the entire family have had quite fuss enough made over them."

"I didn't make much of the fuss," Forrest said. "I was only there five minutes at the end of the show. Time enough to see, though, that those people are n't off the same piece as the usual tenants of that house.

They 've seen better days, or I miss my guess."

"Not at all. They 've never had much money, but they 're educated people, just the same--self-educated, a mighty good sort. You 've only to look at the books that fairly line that little room to see for yourself. Is n't there any rule for sizing up men but by the dollars they 've made--or women but by the clothes they wear?"

The vehemence of Murray's speech was so unusual, and his ordinarily quiet and indifferent expression had given place to one so eager, that the family all turned with one accord to look at him. They were at dinner, one late April evening, a week after the fire. The dining-room was the one place in the house where all the family were accustomed to meet; therefore any question of the sort which Murray had proposed was brought up there as a matter of course.

Mr. Townsend himself answered his son's pointed observation, forestalling the rejoinder about to fall from his wife's lips:

"It's the way of the world, Murray, and an unjust one in many cases.

Still, one can't help feeling that a man who has lived to the age of Joseph Bell without reaching a position higher than the one he holds with the Armstrong Company can't be possessed of a very unusual endowment of brains."

"I should say that depends on whether making money has been his ambition, or something else."

"He certainly hasn't achieved the something else," was Olive's comment.

"Not even a decent home."

"Decent!" Murray turned on her. "It's a home worthy the name--I can tell you that! And if you refuse to call on these people that live in it, after Peter Bell saved ours over our heads, I say you 're acting like sn.o.bs!"

"Murray!" His mother spoke very sharply. Forrest laughed. He enjoyed the scene, being inclined, by his remembrance of Jane, to take his brother's side. Mr. Townsend came to the rescue.

"You are rather rough in your language, Murray, but I think you are right in your notions about the call. It's only a courtesy, surely, Eloise, to go over and make one call. You don't need to continue the acquaintance unless you wish, but I should be glad myself if you would go. It is several days now since----"

"It's a week," said Murray.

"He knows--no doubt of that!" laughed Forrest. "He's cultivated the acquaintance, anyhow. I saw him walking up the street yesterday with the pretty girl of the family."

"You walked up with her yourself the day before!" cried s.h.i.+rley.

Forrest threw back his head and laughed. "You 're a little spy. Well, I don't mind owning that I did. She's a trim-looking girl on the street, too, if she does n't wear the furbelows Olive does. She----"

"We may as well go over and call, mother," said Olive, with emphasis.