A Dog with a Bad Name Part 61

Raby and her father were occupied with Forrester, and Jeffreys and his old employer were left undisturbed.

What they talked about I need not repeat. It chiefly had reference to Storr Alley and to Percy.

"He is down at Watford seeing a friend to-night. We expect him back to- morrow morning. How happy he will be! By the way," added Mr Rimbolt, a moment afterwards, "now I remember, there is a train leaves Euston for Overstone at 12:30, half an hour after Percy's train comes in. How should you like to meet him, and run down with him for a week or two to Wildtree? He sadly wants a change, and my books sadly want looking after there. You will have the place to yourselves, but perhaps you won't mind that."

Jeffreys flushed with pleasure at the proposal. It was the very programme he would have selected. But for a moment his face clouded, as he glanced towards Forrester.

"I don't know whether I ought to leave him?"

"He is with his guardian, you know, and could not be in better quarters."

"Then--you know I have--that is, you know--there are two--babies."

Raby, however, when the question was subsequently discussed, expressed herself fully equal to the care of these promising infants until a home could be found for them; and Forrester, for his part, declared that Jeffreys must and should go to Wildtree.

"Can't you see I don't want you any more?" said he. "This sofa's so comfortable, I'm certain I shall sleep a fortnight straight away, and then my guardian and I have no end of business to talk over, haven't we, guardian? and you'd really be in the way."

So it was settled. The whole party retired early to bed after their exciting day. Jeffreys slept for the last time between the babies, and could scarcely believe, when he awoke, that he was not still in Storr Alley.

Still less could Tim when he awoke realise where he was. For the John he was accustomed to stood no longer in his weather-beaten, tattered garments, but in the respectable librarian's suit which he had left behind him at Clarges Street, and which now, by some mysterious agency, found itself transferred to his present room.

Tim resented the change, and bellowed vehemently for the s.p.a.ce of an hour, being joined at intervals by his younger brother, and egged on by the mocking laughter of young Forrester, who was enjoying the exhibition from the adjoining chamber.

For once Jeffreys could do nothing with his disorderly infants, and was compelled finally to carry them down one under each arm, to the sitting- room, where Raby came to the rescue, and thus established her claim on their allegiance for a week or so to come.

In a strange turmoil of feelings Jeffreys at mid-day walked to Euston.

Mr Rimbolt was there with Percy's travelling bag and the tickets, but he did not remain till the train from Watford came in.

"I may be running down to the North myself in about a fortnight," said he, as he bade good-bye; "we can leave business till then--good-bye."

The train came in at last. Jeffreys could see the boy pacing in a nonchalant way down the platform, evidently expecting anything but this meeting.

His eyes seemed by some strange perversity even to avoid the figure which stood waiting for him; nor was it till Jeffreys quietly stepped in front of him, and said "Percy," that they took him in and blazed forth a delighted recognition.

"Jeff," he said, "you've come back--really?"

"Yes, really."

"To stay--for good?"

"For good--old fellow."

Percy heaved a sight of mighty content as he slipped his arm into that of his friend. And half an hour later the two were whizzing northwards on their way to Wildtree, with their troubles all behind them.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A FRESH START.

It is supposed to be the duty of every well-conducted author, after the curtain has fallen on the final tableau of his little drama, to lift it, or half lift it, for a momentary last glimpse at the princ.i.p.al actors.

I am not quite sure whether this is not an encouragement to laziness on the part of the reader. In most respects he is as well able to picture the future of Jeffreys, and Raby, and Percy, and Tim as I am.

I cannot show them to you in all the dignity of an honoured old age, because they are only a year or two older to-day than they were when Percy and Jeffreys took that little run together down to c.u.mberland.

Nor can I show them to you, after the fashion of a fairy tale, "married and living happily ever afterwards," because when I met Jeffreys in the Strand the other day, he told me that although he had just been appointed to the control of a great public library in the North, it would still be some months, possibly a year, before he would be able to set up house on his own account.

However, he seemed contented on the whole to wait a bit; and in a long talk we had as we walked up and down the Embankment I heard a good many sc.r.a.ps of information which made it possible to satisfy the reader on one or two points about which he may still be anxious.

Jeffreys and Percy stayed at Wildtree for a month, and the time was one of the happiest both of them ever spent. They did nothing exciting.

They read some Aristophanes, and added some new "dodge" to their wonderful automatic bookcase. They went up Wild Pike one bright winter's day and had a glorious view from the top. And on the ledge coming back they sat and rested awhile on a spot they both remembered well. Julius's grave was not forgotten when they reached the valley below; and the "J" upon the stone which marks the place to this day was their joint work for an hour that afternoon.

As for the books, Jeffreys had sprung towards them on his first arrival as a father springs towards his long-lost family. They were sadly in want of dusting and arranging, as for a month or two no one had been near them. On the floor lay the parcels, just as they had arrived from the sale in Exeter; and altogether Jeffreys had work enough to keep him busy, not for one month only, but for several. He was not sorry to be busy. For amid all the happiness and comforts of his new return to life he had many cares on his mind.

There was Forrester. He had imagined that if he could only find him, all would be right, the past would be cancelled and his bad name would never again trouble him. But as he thought of the helpless cripple, lying there unable to move without a.s.sistance, with all his prospects blighted and his very life a burden to him, he began to realise that the past was not cancelled, that he had a life's debt yet to pay, and a life's wrong for which, as far as possible, to make amends. But he bravely faced his duty. Forrester's letters, which came frequently, certainly did not much encourage melancholy reflections.

"I'm in clover here," the boy wrote about a week after Jeffreys had gone North. "One would think I'd done something awfully fine. My guardian is a trump--and is ever tired of telling me about my father. Do you know I'm to have a pension from a grateful country? What wouldn't Black Sal say to get hold of me now? What I value quite as much is his sword, which I keep by my couch like a Knight Templar. So mind what you're up to when you come back.

"Here am I writing about myself, when I know you are longing to hear about (turn over-leaf and hide your blushes)--the babies! They are tip- top. Timothy, ever since I got my sword, has shown great respect for me, and sits on the pillow while I sketch. By the way, do you recognise enclosed portrait? It's my first attempt at a face--rather a pleasant face too, eh? Oh, about the babies. The young 'un's cut a tooth. The whole house has been agitated in consequence, and the colonel is as proud as if he'd captured a province. So are we all. They are to go to an orphanage, I believe, in a week or two; but not till you come back and give your parental benediction. My guardian is going to write you all about it. He promises military openings for both when they arrive at the proper age; and Tim is practising already on a drum which _she_ has given him.

"She, by the way, never mentions you, which is an excellent sign, but rather rough on me when I want to talk about you. She occasionally is drawn out to talk about a certain Mr John at Storr Alley; but, as you know, she only knew about him from hearsay. How's that boy who has got hold of you down in c.u.mberland? Are he and I to be friends or enemies?

Tell him I'm game for either, and give him choice of weapons if the latter. But as long as he lets me see you now and then and treats you well, we may as well be friends. I'm flourishing and awfully in love.

Stay away as long as you can; you're not wanted here. The lady of Clarges Street came to see me yesterday. She sent you really a kind message; so even in that quarter you may yet look for a friend. Good- bye--remember me to that chap. Tim sends his duty; and _she_ when I mentioned I was writing to you and asked if there was any message, did not hear what I said.--G.F."

There was plenty in this bright letter to give comfort to Jeffreys. He rejoiced humbly in its affectionate tone towards himself. He treasured the portrait. He was gratified at the unenvious references to Percy, and he was relieved at the prospect before his babies.

The part that referred to Raby left him less room for jubilation.

Forrester evidently thought, as Percy did, that in that quarter everything was plain sailing. They neither of them realised the gulf between the two, and they neither of them knew of that miserable October afternoon in Regent's Park. Forrester's jocular reference to Raby's silence and reserve seemed to Jeffreys but a confirmation of what he believed to be the truth.

He was to her what any other friend in distress might be, an object of sweet pity and solicitude. But that was all. He had a bad name, and much as she would brave for him to help him, she did not--how could she?--love him.

At the end of a month Mr Rimbolt wrote to say he was coming down to Wildtree, and would be glad if Percy and Jeffreys would meet him with the carriage at Overstone.

They did so, and found that he was not alone. Mr Halgrove stepped pleasantly out of the train at the same time and greeted his quondam ward with characteristic ease.

"Ah, Jeffreys--here we are again. I'm always meeting you at odd places.

How fresh everything looks after the rain!"

"Mr Halgrove is my brother-in-law, you know, Jeffreys," said Mr Rimbolt, in response to his librarian's blank look of consternation. "I brought him down, as he wanted to see you and have a talk. If you two would like to walk," added he, "Percy and I will drive on, and have dinner ready by the time you arrive."

"Good-hearted fellow, Rimbolt," said Mr Halgrove, as they started to walk, "he always was. That's Wild Pike, I suppose?"

"Yes," said Jeffreys, greatly puzzled at this unexpected meeting.

"Yes, Rimbolt's a good fellow; and doesn't mind telling bad fellows that they aren't. You'll smile, Jeffreys; but he has actually made me uncomfortable sometimes."

"Really?" said Jeffreys, thinking it must have been some very remarkable effort which succeeded in accomplishing, that wonder.

"Yes. I told him once casually about an unpleasant ward I once had, whom I rather disliked. I thought he would sympathise with me when I related how delicately I had got rid of him and sent him adrift when it did not suit me to keep him any longer. Would you believe it, Rimbolt wasn't at all sympathetic, but asked what had become of my ward's money!