A Drake by George! Part 25

"Take that woman away," snapped Miss Yard, "and make her stop growing.

She gets worse every day."

"I finished long ago, thankye, miss," said Bessie.

"What a wicked story! She's done a lot since yesterday," complained Miss Yard. "Do let me have one peep at my dear little Nellie before they take her away."

The young lady herself cried out and hoped they would all be taken away.

Peace was restored, after Miss Yard had tumbled down happily, convinced that the age of miracles was not past.

George woke the next morning with a sense of prosperity which required a safety valve when the inevitable letter from Mr. Hunter, who had now shrunk icily into a solitary initial beneath the signature Cross and Martin, announced, "the probate of your late aunt's will has been granted, and you are now at liberty to draw cheques against the balance of two hundred pounds lying in the bank."

George felt sufficiently healthy to dig potatoes, make love, or perform any other menial act. He ate a huge breakfast, then climbed into an apple tree and whistled for half an hour: Miss Yard, sitting at the window, declared she had never heard the blackbirds sing so beautifully.

While thus relieving his high spirits a light carriage could be heard approaching; its wheels rattled down the hill; the driver shouted to the horse; and the conveyance drew up beside the garden gate.

"Here's another millionaire!" George chuckled, as he dropped from the branches. But there was n.o.body except the driver, whom George recognised as belonging to the princ.i.p.al hotel of the neighbouring town.

"I was to give you this letter, sir, and to bring you this box, and to wait for an answer," said the man.

"Did a gentleman called Jenkins send you?" George faltered, receiving the box with the dignity of an author taking back his rejected masterpiece.

"That's right, sir. I was to get back as quick as I can, for the gentleman wants to catch a train. Here's the letter, sir; and I was to be sure and take back an answer."

George hurried indoors, his knees wobbling; tore open the envelope and read:

"It's worse than a falling birth rate, but the vases are fakes. I have examined them carefully with strong gla.s.ses and discovered marks which show beyond a doubt they are not more than a hundred years old. These pieces would deceive any amateur and quite a few experts: they fairly hocussed me till I turned on the gla.s.ses. This will make your soul sick, I guess, but you've still got Crampy. I won't say anything to queer your business; but take my advice and don't hawk the things about, or some other fellow may get notions. Your best chance is Crampy, right now, while he's innocent. The longer you keep the vases the more they'll smell. Kindly return s.h.i.+nplasters by bearer, and pile up my sympathy to your credit."

George sprang to the box and wrenched off its lid; but a glance dispelled his suspicions. The vases had not been exchanged for local beauties; they had been returned undamaged but condemned. Crampy was honest, and Jenkins was genuine; and he himself had lost a fortune.

"I don't want to gammon a decent fellow like Crampy, but I can't afford to lose a thousand pounds," George muttered, after the driver had departed with the banknotes. "I'll walk over to Brimmleton and send him a telegram. If it goes from here Mrs. Cann will talk all over the village. And on the way back I'll look in at Black Anchor, and try to find out what young Sidney is up to."

Before starting he told Nellie of his intentions, which were still honourable; but the young lady was indifferent to the point of malice.

"They are nothing to me, and the sooner they clear out of the place the better," she said firmly.

"I'm going to give the lad a little friendly advice. The people are complaining that he's making Highfield more like London every day; and naturally they are getting angry about it," said George.

"Oh, don't talk to me about it," cried Nellie.

"Shall I talk to you when I come back?"

"That will depend upon what you have to say."

"It can't possibly be good news," said George cheerfully. "I knew Sidney was a bad egg the first time I saw him. He never took his eyes off my boots, and that's a sure sign of a nasty character."

So George walked to Brimmleton, where he was a foreigner, and despatched the telegram to Crampy, accepting his offer for the vases and pressing for a reply immediately, as he was very much afraid Jenkins might leak a little upon his return to London. Then he turned aside to the lonely farm, where half-savage children no longer rolled in the mud, noting with approval the effect of hard labour in the shape of reclaimed land and well drained fields. The Brocks, if vicious, were at least not idle; and George was always well pleased at discovering signs of human industry which convinced him that the race was by no means decadent.

Nearing the house he walked warily; and here a shocking spectacle was presented. He saw a young girl--the same infamous young person--most daintily attired, seated upon a boulder near the door, wearing over her pretty frock a deplorable type of beribboned and belaced ap.r.o.n, perusing a volume with a lurid binding which a.s.suredly was teaching her terrible things. And he saw the old man--the grandfather--approach with a mattock on his shoulder; and he pulled her hair; while she shouted at him--some nameless jest, doubtless, but happily George could not hear the words.

Presently Sidney appeared--for it was nearly dinner time--and the worst happened. The abandoned young creature jumped up and ran towards him, with an expression, described mentally by George as one of ready-made affection, upon her pretty face; and, as they walked into the house, the wicked young man pa.s.sed his arm around the waist of the shameless damsel.

The watcher groaned in spirit, although he could not altogether escape from the idea that the unG.o.dly were not necessarily to be pitied in this world. Then he walked to the house and knocked at the door. The scuffling sound of young women in flight caused him to shake his head again.

"So 'tis you, Mr. Drake! You'm quite a stranger," exclaimed Sidney readily enough, though in George's opinion his face wore a hunted look.

"I'd like to have a few words with you," he replied.

"Right," said Sidney, looking back into the house to call, "Tell Dolly not to hurry wi' the dinner, grandfather."

"Dolly!" groaned George, somewhat enviously. He had clung to the hope that the girl's name might turn out to be Jane.

"You know, Sidney, I don't bear you any ill-feeling," he began, when they stood a few paces from the house, although his eyes were stricken with horror at discovering the young woman had been reading a book printed in French. "But there's some very loud talk up in Highfield about you and your goings on with the ladies."

"We have nought to do wi' Highfield volk, and we don't care that much vor their talk," replied Sidney, snapping his fingers.

"They are threatening to mob you," George whispered.

"Not they," laughed Sidney. "They ain't got it in 'em, and if a crowd did come down along me and grandfather would settle the lot."

"It's pretty bad to have young women here--from France too--one after the other. You can't blame the people for being a bit upset."

"If that's all you've got to say, Mr. Drake, I'll thank ye kindly, and tell ye I don't want to hear no more of it. Dolly is staying vor a week or two, and when she goes I'll get another," said the young outcast fiercely.

"I thought I'd just look in and warn you as I was pa.s.sing," said George.

"You know, Sidney, I don't blame you, and I think you're quite right not to give way to them. If I can help you in any way I shall be only too glad. These ignorant people don't understand men of the world like you and me."

"I reckon," said Sidney, with the deplorable grin of a completely dissipated soul.

"I mustn't keep you from your dinner, Sidney--and from the ladies. Give my best wishes to your grandfather, and my respects to Miss Dolly. I do hope she is enjoying her visit," said the double-faced George. Then he ambled off, trying to smile and frown with the same face, entirely satisfied that Sidney would never again be permitted to approach within speaking distance of Miss Blisland.

He was unable to report the result of this visit, beyond mentioning he had discovered things too terrible for words; and, although Nellie did appear for one moment inclined to listen, George could do nothing except place a hand across his eyes and declare he could not face her after the scenes of sheer depravity he had been compelled to witness at Black Anchor. Nellie was well aware George would exaggerate if he could; but this did really appear to be a case where exaggeration was impossible.

"You do get a lot of these nasty things, Mr. George," remarked Kezia, as she approached with a telegram which suggested to her nothing except murder and sudden death.

"In this case I shall attend the funeral," said George cheerfully, when he discovered the deluded Crampy would meet him at the station upon the following day.

"Who's gone now?" asked Kezia.

"Next week I am going into business," explained George with suitable emotion. "This telegram is from a friend who wants to go into partners.h.i.+p with me."

"I hope he ain't coming here then," said Kezia, who was beginning to resent the visits of strange gentlemen, because they walked upon her carpets and sat upon her chairs. "What be you going to sell, Mr.

George?" she asked with much interest.

"China," he replied.

"I do hope and pray as how you may succeed," gasped Kezia; and off she went to inform Bessie that Mr. George was about to start a cloam shop.

Bessie quite believed it, as Mr. George had always been so fond of handling cups and saucers.

Miss Yard also was fond of tea drinking, but she had no tenderness for china, and would generally release her cup in a vacuum, instead of placing it fairly upon the table; and express a vast amount of amus.e.m.e.nt at the ridiculous laws of nature when the cup exploded upon the carpet.

She was particularly robust that afternoon and insisted upon pouring out tea herself. When the fragments, which filled two small baskets, had been removed, the steaming carpet mopped, and dryness restored, George seated himself beside the old lady, produced a sheet of foolscap covered with writing, and said in his most silvery voice: