A Dog with a Bad Name Part 46

"Because we're going the other way," replied Percy, who, when his mind was made up, did not appreciate anybody's importunity. "I've not seen Jeff for a week."

"Who is this precious Jeff?" said one of Scarfe's friends, pointing over his shoulder to the librarian.

"He's a gentleman employed by the month to look after Percy's morals,"

said Scarfe, with a sneer.

"A parson! What a game! No wonder Percy draws in his horns a bit when he comes home. Anyhow, we must save him from the paws of the lion if we can. I say, Percy, you must come, old man. We made all the arrangements for four, boat and everything; and if you don't want to stay late we'll give up the supper. Only don't spoil our day, there's a good fellow. You'll be able to see lots of your friend when we've gone."

"You be hanged," observed Percy, now in an uncomplimentary mood; "haven't I told you I'm not coming? What more do you want?"

"Oh, of course, if you're so taken up with this reverend thing of beauty," said one of them sulkily, "we're out of it. I should have thought he could have snuffled to himself for a day without wanting you to help him."

Scarfe all this time stood by in a rage. The sight of Jeffreys was to him like the dead fly in the apothecary's ointment. It upset him and irritated him with everybody and everything. He had guessed, on receiving no reply to his recent polite letter, that he had exposed his own poor hand to his enemy, and he hated him accordingly with a double hatred.

He contrived, however, to keep up an appearance of scornful indifference.

"You are still reaping the rewards of virtue, pious homicide," he sneered.

"I still envy the upright man who does his duty," replied Jeffreys, scarcely less bitterly.

"What do you mean, you--"

"I mean what I say," said Jeffreys, turning on his heel, and taking Percy's arm.

They walked home, and before Clarges Street was reached Percy had told his friend an unvarnished story of the follies of the last few days, and enlisted his support in his determination to pull up.

There was something touching in the mingled shame and anger of the proud boy as he made his confession, not sparing himself, and full of scorn at those who had tempted him. Jeffreys was full of righteous wrath on his behalf, and ran up a score against Scarfe which would have astonished that worthy, listlessly loafing about at Windsor, had he guessed it.

"I've promised to go and see the Boat Race with them," said Percy; "but you must come too. I know you'll hate it, and so will they; but somehow I can't do without a little backing up."

"I'll back you up, old fellow, all I can, I only wish," added he, for the boy's confidence in him humiliated him, "I had a better right to do it."

"Why, Jeff, I don't suppose you ever did a bad thing in your life."

"Don't say that," said Jeffreys almost appealingly, "I have!"

The boy looked up at him, startled for a moment by his tone. Then he said, with a return of his old look of confidence--

"Poor old Jeff! That's what makes you so blue sometimes. If it weren't for you, I'd have a precious good right to be in the blues too."

Jeffreys, who had not entered the house since his interview with Mrs Rimbolt, felt anything but comfortable as he again set foot within it; and had it not been for Percy's countenance, he would have felt it still more of an ordeal.

He had, however, plenty to occupy his mind during the hour or two which followed. Mr Rimbolt was waiting for him eagerly, to hear all about the sale and the purchases which had been made.

"You've done a capital stroke of business for me, Jeffreys," said he, when the report had been concluded. "Those three Caxtons I would not have missed for anything. I am quite glad that business will take me North next week, as I shall be able to run over to Wildtree and see some of the treasures unpacked. I shall, however, leave them for you finally to arrange when we all go back in June. You've seen Percy? I fancy he has been racketing rather too much with these friends of his; but I imagine Scarfe would see he went into no mischief. However, I am glad you have come back, for the boy's sake, as you understand him. This summer I think you should take him a little run in Normandy or Switzerland. It would do him good, and you, too, to knock about abroad for a week or two. However, there's time enough to talk about that.

And I dare say you will be glad now to get a little rest after your journey."

Jeffreys returned to his room very contentedly. The confidence Mr Rimbolt reposed in him was soothing to his spirits, and went far to obliterate the memory of that hideous interview last week.

Percy was out when, after washing and changing his travelling garb, he came down to the morning-room, which he usually occupied during the afternoon.

To his surprise, and even consternation, Raby was there, writing.

She rose, brightly, almost radiantly, as he entered.

"Oh, Mr Jeffreys, how glad I am to see you back! Poor Percy has been in such want of you! These Oxford friends of his, I am certain, have not been doing him any good. Have you seen him? I am so happy you have come back!"

Jeffreys was not made of adamant, and a greeting like this, even though it was offered on some one else's behalf, was enough to drive Mrs Rimbolt completely out of his head.

"I am very fortunate to be able to make you happy so easily," said he.

"Yes, I have seen Percy, and heard all his troubles. How could any one help being grateful for a confidence like his? You know, Miss Atherton, I would do anything for him."

"I believe you," said she warmly. "You are good and unselfish."

"Do you mind my saying," said Jeffreys, colouring, "that it is an additional pleasure to do what I can for Percy if it makes you happy?"

"I don't mind your saying it if it is true. It does make me happy."

And her face was the best witness to her sincerity.

Jeffreys was not the only person who saw that bright smile. Mrs Rimbolt, entering the room at that moment, saw it too, and heard the words which it accompanied.

She glared round witheringly on Jeffreys.

"So, Mr Jeffreys, _you_ are here. What brings you here?"

"Mr Jeffreys--" began Raby, feeling and looking very confused.

"Silence, Raby, I asked Mr Jeffreys."

"I came here not knowing the room was occupied. It was a pleasant surprise to find Miss Atherton here, and she has been making me happy by talking to me about Percy."

"Mr Jeffreys," said the lady, "allow me to say I do not believe you."

"Auntie!" exclaimed Raby, firing up in a manner unusual to her; "it is true. Mr Jeffreys always tells the truth!"

"Raby, my dear, you had better leave the room."

"No, auntie!" exclaimed the girl. "You have no right to charge Mr Jeffreys with saying what is not true. It's not fair--it's wrong--it's wicked!"

"You forget, my dear, of all persons you should not address me like this."

"No," said the girl, going to the door, which Jeffreys opened for her.

"I don't forget, and I shall not forget. You have no right to say it.

I wish father was home again, and would take me away!"

In the midst of his own indignation, Jeffreys could not help admiring this outbreak of righteous indignation on the part of the spirited girl.