A Little World Part 16

"My dear Li, what a groomy individual you do make yourself! Throw that cigar away, and let's have a quiet evening's reading."

"Likely! I shall just have another cigar, and then we'll go and see something. Open that window--there's a good fellow," and he leaned back in the lounge of their handsomely furnished room.

Harry rose, opened the low window, admitting the loud rattle of the traffic, and then returned to his seat, which he drew nearer to his companion.

"Look here," he said; but there was no reply; the young man only lay back with half-closed eyes, lit a fresh cigar, and luxuriously watched the blue rings of smoke curling up towards the ceiling.

"Look here, Lionel," said Harry again, after a pause; this time eliciting for response, the one word--

"Bother!"

"I really cannot stand this sort of thing any longer," said Harry, without noticing the other's coolness. "You know why I am here--you know why your father wished me to be with you; and really I cannot consent to go on, week after week, in this unsatisfactory manner."

"Why not?" said the other, coolly emitting a puff of smoke.

"Why not? Because I feel as if I were robbing him. A month gone to-day, and what have we done?"

"Done! Seen no end of life, my boy--studied from nature. What more would you have?"

"Life!" exclaimed Harry, bitterly; "do you call that wretchedly artificial existence that we have seen by gaslight, life? If I were a moralist, I should call it the well-lighted ante-chamber of the pit; but I won't preach."

"No, don't, that's a good fellow. Daresay you're quite right, but it's a very pleasant way of getting down to the pit all the same. But I say, Harry, don't bother; you've been very jolly so far. Let's go on just the same."

"And your father?"

"Bless his old heart! what about him? Sent me a cheque, this morning-- extra, you know--and hoped we get on well together. He's got a first-rate opinion of you. By the way, write and acknowledge the cheque, and say we get on first-rate."

"But, Redgrave, pray be serious."

"So I am," exclaimed the other, pettishly, as he dashed his cigar out of the window, and suddenly rose to a sitting posture. "Now, look here, Clayton. I like having you with me, 'pon my soul, I do; you act like ballast to me, you do indeed. I'm given to carrying too much sail, and if it was not for you, I should be like my little yacht, the _Kittiwake_, in a squall, and on my beam ends in no time."

Harry tapped the table impatiently with his fingers.

"Now, look here, Harry," continued Lionel; "as to robbery, don't you be a fool. You're saving the governor no end by keeping down my expenses; for you know, Harry, I am rather afraid of you, I am indeed; but I want you to stop with me all the same. Don't speak; it's my turn to preach now. As to reading, and all that sort of thing, studying, and working up--I can't read, and I won't read. I'm not clever, and cla.s.sics are no use to me, and never will be, with my income. What the deuce do I care about Homer and Virgil, and all the rest of the Greek and Roman humbugs?

It's right enough for a clever fellow like you--all brains. But, 'pon my soul, Harry, if you bother me any more, I'll swear, and then I'll bite, so there's an end of it."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, and then in despair closed the book at his side, gazing the while, with a serio-comic look of chagrin, in the handsome Saxon face of the speaker.

"'Taint your fault, Harry; so just hold your tongue and have a cigar, and pitch me over another, for I'm dog tired."

Saying which, he contrived to catch the roll of tobacco leaf, lit a fusee on the sole of his boot, and then threw himself back, but only--as there came a smart rap at the door--to yell out impatiently--

"Come in!"

The door was opened, and a smart-looking maid brought in a letter, which was evidently for the master of the chambers; but as his hands were locked together behind his reclining head, and the exertion of loosening them seemed to be more than he cared to encounter, Harry took the missive from the girl, and glanced at the superscription.

"For you," he said, as the girl retired.

"'Taint from the governor, I can see at this distance," said Lionel.

"Open it and see what's inside, there's a good fellow. Tailor's bill I'll be bound."

"No," said Harry, turning the note over uneasily; "it is evidently a lady's hand."

"Lady's hand! Gammon! Who'd write to me?"

"Lady's hand--evidently French," continued Harry, and then he read from the envelope--

"To Mr--Mr L.R., 70 Regent Street."

"Why, it's an answer to the advertis.e.m.e.nt," cried Lionel, bursting into a loud laugh. "Read it out, old boy."

Harry seemed as if he were attracted by the delicacy of the handwriting; for, instead of tearing open the missive, he took out a penknife and cut the paper, heedless of Lionel Redgrave's sneering laugh.

"What a model of care you are, Harry," he exclaimed; "fold your clothes up every night when you go to bed, I'll swear."

Harry smiled, and then read aloud:--

"Honoured Sir,--Seeing your advertis.e.m.e.nt in to-day's _Times_, I believe I know a gentleman who was followed by a dog answering the description of your bull-tarrier; so I will do myself the honour of waiting upon you this evening, at eight o'clock.--Your obedient servant,

"Fancy."

"Your obedient servant," repeated Lionel.

"'To command' scratched out," said Harry.

"That's a rum sort of letter to come in a lady's hand, and in French style--isn't it? Is it spelt right?"

"Perfectly, and the writing is exquisite."

"Dog-stealing cad safe, and he has got some one to write for him."

"He'll be here directly, if he keeps his appointment," said Harry, referring to his watch; "it only wants a few minutes to eight. What shall you do? See Mr Fancy, or hand him over to the police?"

"See him, of course! What's the good of handing him over to the police?

Cost me just as much money, and I should not get my dog."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, while Lionel lay back a little farther on his lounge, so that he could hold up and admire the set of his close, groomy-looking, drab trousers.

"Not a bad fit, are they, Hal?" he said, after a pause.

"Excellent for a stable-helper," was the sarcastic reply.

"H'm! Perhaps so. But they are like the real thing, though, ain't they? Bilstob's an out-and-outer for taking up an idea, if you give it him."

"Stably ideas, I suppose," said Harry.

"Yes, if you like," said Lionel, rather sulkily; and then the young men smoked on in silence, till, forgetting the sneers of his companion, Lionel again spoke.

"Wonder whether this chap will turn up, Clayton? Try another advertis.e.m.e.nt if he don't. I wouldn't have lost that dog for twenty pounds."