A Humble Enterprise Part 20

After all, it was past eleven before they arrived; for the right track was difficult to find while the moon was shut off from it by the tall scrub, and its many pitfalls had to be encountered with care. Hand in hand, and cautious step by step, the affianced lovers came down from their mount of transfiguration, and could hardly believe their ears when, still high above the town, they counted the chimes that told them they had been more than three hours together.

"Never mind," said Anthony. "In for a penny, in for a pound. And we shall be able to give a good account of ourselves when we do get back."

"Shall you give an account to-night?" she asked.

"Certainly. In the first place, to justify this expedition; in the second, to prove my right to take you home to-morrow, and otherwise to control the situation. Isn't that what you wish?"

She a.s.sented with a pressure of his hand. "When I see my aunt's face--when I see them all knocked backwards by the shock--then perhaps I shall believe in the miracle of being engaged to you," she said. And he replied with truth, that if she didn't believe it now, it was not his fault.

The aunt's face it was which met them at the bank door. Mrs. Rogerson believed that a deliberate a.s.signation had been planned--and that on a Sunday, when respectable young folks should have been at church--and was properly concerned and scandalised. At the same time she was deeply interested and flattered by the fact that it was Mr. Churchill who thus took liberties with her household; and she felt there were mysteries to be unravelled before she could decide upon any course of action. She fell upon Jenny first, and her voice was a decided reprimand.

"My _dear_ child! where _have_ you been? And _do_ you know what time it is?" Then with a gush, "Oh, Mr. Churchill, this _is_ an unexpected pleasure! Won't you walk in?"

He shook hands and walked in. "I am afraid it's late," he said; "but you must blame me, not Jenny. I took her for a little turn to see if the air would do her headache good, and it got dark before we knew it, and we lost our way. But I knew you would not be anxious, knowing she was with me."

"Oh, no--certainly. Do come in. My husband will be so pleased to see you. You are quite a stranger in these parts."

She led the way to the dining-room, where an entirely new supper had been arranged, on purpose for him, and where he was impressively received by the urbane father and his fluttering daughters.

"Our friends are gone, Jenny," said Clementine, all eyes for the great man. "And Mrs. Simpson was so anxious to see you--to tell you she was going down by Tuesday morning's train instead of to-morrow afternoon."

"Oh!" said Anthony, "that doesn't matter. I am going down myself to-morrow afternoon, and I'll take care of Jenny. I know she is anxious to get home--aren't you, dear?"

It was like an electric shock striking through the room. The eyes of the startled family interrogated each other and Jenny's blus.h.i.+ng face.

"Oh, it's quite proper," said Anthony lightly, "since we are engaged people--engaged with the consent of our families, moreover. She could not have a more eligible escort. _Is_ that chicken-pie, Miss Rogerson?

May I have some? I came away from Wandooyamba without my dinner, and I am simply ravenous."

The effect of the plain statement was all that Jenny had antic.i.p.ated.

They were so stupefied for the moment that they could only gape and stare, marvelling at the inscrutable ways of Providence and the incalculable caprices of rich men. Perhaps the first sensation was one of personal chagrin, in that the virtue of consistent gentility had gone unrewarded, while the enormity of a tea-room was so unjustly condoned; but personal pride in the prospective connection was the permanent and predominating sentiment. Exclamations, questions, interjections, kisses, hugs, wrapped Jenny as in a whirlwind; while her lover calmly ate his pie and drank his bottled ale, as if it were an old story that interested him no longer. He was not ashamed to ask for a second helping.

"And you never saw her on the platform last night?" said Clem archly, as she waited upon him.

"Good heavens, no! What platform?"

"Our platform. She must have known you were coming--I know she saw you jump out of the carriage--and she never made a sign! And she's never given us the faintest hint at all!"

"That's her native modesty. And there are some things one doesn't talk about, you know--except to one's nearest and dearest."

"Who can be nearer than we?" demanded Mrs. Rogerson, caressing her niece.

"Oh, I don't know," he drawled carelessly. "There's nothing in being mere relatives. I don't tell things to my relatives, and--a--you have not been so _very_ intimate, you know--at least, not since I've known her."

An uncomfortable pause was broken by a protest from Alice, who was given to the saying of things that were better left unsaid. "I'm sure, never--until the tea-room----"

The mention of that bone of strife brought angry blushes to the family cheek, and glares which stopped her from going further.

"Don't speak ill of the tea-room, if you please," he said. "It is the most admirable inst.i.tution that I know. But for the tea-room I should not have found my pattern wife--should not have known half her good qualities."

Jenny's intimacy with _him_--years old since eight o'clock--made her fearless of what she said or did, and, as has been intimated before, she was a person of spirit, with a good deal of human nature in her. She moved to his side, laid her hand on his shoulder for a moment, and said, with an ineffable air of self-justification, "_He_ is not ashamed of the tea-room."

"On the contrary, dear, I am proud of it," he responded quickly, touching the little hand.

"Nevertheless," proceeded Jenny, "I will give it up now. It has been a success--I have earned a great deal of money--but I will dispose of it when I go home."

"We needn't talk about these things now," said Anthony, with a slight frown.

"But, my dear sir," the urbane uncle interposed, "I am her natural guardian, don't you see. Joseph is a good boy--a very superior youth, in fact--but he is _only_ a boy. It is my duty, as her nearest male relative, standing in the place of her father, to attend to her affairs at this juncture."

"I merely wanted to say," proceeded Jenny, with an air of resolution, "that I wish to please those who have been so good to me--who have not despised me because of what I did to make a living. I will not wait in the tea-room again--for their sakes; and of course my mother and sister must not work there without me. I will think of something else, that shall not--not be disagreeable to anybody."

"You don't want to think any more, Jenny," said Anthony quietly. "I am going to do the thinking now."

"Still," urged Mrs. Rogerson, with tardy generosity and misguided zeal, "we can't allow _you_ to be saddled with my sister and her children, Mr.

Churchill. They must not live on _your_ money."

"They won't," said Jenny.

"I know they won't," said Anthony, "if they are made of the same stuff as you. But please leave all that now, dear. And go to bed, or you will be tired for your journey to-morrow."

On the way to his hotel he confounded the impudence of her relatives in many bad words, and laughed at the notion that she was going to "boss"

the family arrangements as heretofore.

CHAPTER XX

SHE CARES NOT

Next morning, while he was sitting with his _fiancee_ in the bank drawing-room, the ladies of the house having discreetly pleaded domestic engagements, Mrs. Oxenham was announced--to see Miss Liddon.

Jenny rose from the sofa, pale and palpitating. Anthony neither moved nor spoke, but watched his sister narrowly.

"I have come," said Mary; and then she stopped, and held out her arms.

Jenny rushed into them, sobbing; and it was made evident that all opposition was at an end, as far as this Churchill was concerned.

"I am not _de trop_, am I?" she inquired, with a tremulous laugh. "You don't mind my sitting here with you for a few minutes, do you, Tony?"

He got up, and solemnly kissed her. "You are a good old girl, Polly," he said, in a deep voice. "Sit down, and tell us that you wish us joy--it's about the only thing that could make us happier than we are already."

"I came on purpose," she replied, "to wish you joy, dears, and to fetch you both back to Wandooyamba. Jenny, you will come back to me, my darling? I understand now--I didn't before. And Harry--he is your devoted admirer, you must know--he commissioned me to say that he expects you."

Jenny looked at her lover, who shook his head.

"Can't," he said. "We have telegraphed to her mother, and have arranged to go down by this afternoon's train."