Christopher Hibbault, Roadmaker Part 12

Aymer looked aggrieved.

"May I ask the precise sum, Renata?" he inquired pointedly, "that earns so gracious a reward."

"It's three figures," she answered, regarding the precious slip of paper affectionately before replacing it in its imposing envelope.

"Ninety-two pounds, fifteen and sixpence more," he groaned; "it's a lot for a photograph of a mere baby, but I can't be left out in the cold."

"Perhaps I can let you have one without a frame for less, only father's must be the best."

"Nevil," remarked Aymer severely, "I would call your attention to the fact that your wife is beginning to weigh men's merits by their means."

Nevil only laughed.

"I hear she has raided you of all you possess. Six pounds odd."

"Seven pounds four and sixpence," corrected Aymer. "I should like the correct sum printed in good plain figures on your list, Renata. Being my all, it is a superior present to more pretentious donations."

"Six pounds four and sixpence, however," persisted Nevil.

Aymer looked up quickly.

"Did you count it?"

Nevil nodded.

"It must have dropped," said Aymer slowly. "I'll send it you with the interest, Renata."

But he knew it had not been dropped.

Mr. Aston began telling them of a deputation from the Friends of the Canine Race he had received that day, and no more was said on the other matter.

CHAPTER VI

Although Christopher's habit of acquisitiveness had given Aymer some uneasy moments, yet there had been so far no very serious conflict of the question of meum and tuum. Aymer had sought rather to overwrite the rude scrawl of Marley Sartin than to erase it. The most serious aspect that had shown itself hitherto was Christopher's readiness to accept tips from over-generous callers and even to put himself to ingenious trouble to invite them. Constantia Wyatt was a great offender in this and brought down a severe scolding on her own head from her brother when he at last learnt of Christopher's propensity.

"He does it so neatly and with such a charming, innocent face,"

pleaded Constantia, half laughing; "it's no harm, Aymer. All boys like tips: I know my boy does."

But she rather libelled Master Basil Wyatt, who, though not averse to a donation, would have scorned to solicit it. Aymer had told Christopher that gentlemen did not do these things and had taken care to keep the boy out of the way of departing visitors. But this had been before his first lecture on the obligations of money, and Christopher had taken that lesson to heart and quite outgrown his childish and perfectly innocent habit of inviting tips.

Aymer was furiously angry with himself for the quick suspicion which connected the boy with the missing sovereign. He tried honestly to put it away from himself as unwarrantable and dangerous. But there it was, a wretched little poisonous thought, tugging at his heart, unreasonably coupled with a recollection of a conversation between Patricia and Christopher that he had overheard one afternoon at tea-time, anent the construction of an amateur brickwork bridge across an inconvenient stream. Patricia had said they could buy bricks at the brick-yard, and Christopher had said he had no money left; it would cost lots and lots and they must wait till pay-day.

He mentioned the loss of the sovereign to Christopher and asked if he had dropped the money on the stairs, and Christopher had composedly answered in the negative, and had volunteered the remark that if it had been dropped in the room it could not have rolled far on the thick carpet. Aymer had been for the moment convinced of the injustice of his own suspicion. He made no attempt to discover any other solution to the problem; rather he evaded what might prove a difficult task, and contented himself with solemnly sending Renata a cheque for the remainder "with interest," and neither Renata nor Nevil spoke of the matter again, at least to him. Nevil may have had his own opinions about it, and if he had they were quite certainly communicated to his wife. The worrying uncertainty, however, proved too much for Aymer, and the following evening when he was alone with his father he told him the story, half hoping to be scolded for harbouring uncharitable suspicions. Now, Mr. Aston had been scrupulous to a fault in avoiding the offer of any suggestions or advice on Christopher's upbringing. He desired above all things to leave Aymer free in his chosen task, but he realised at once this was a point where Aymer was quite as likely to hurt himself as Christopher, and, therefore, that he, Aymer's father, must make an exception to his rule and he did not like it. He began drawing vague lines on his shirtcuff with a pencil, an evil habit of his when uneasy in mind. Aymer watched him with disapproval.

"After all our efforts," he sighed gravely, "you still persist in your old bad ways, sir. How often have I entreated you to remember a poor valet's feelings, and how often has Nevil begged you to recollect the sorrows of the washerwoman?"

Mr. Aston laughed and put away his pencil.

"Nevil once indited an ode to me ent.i.tled 'The Lament of the Laundress.' I fear I'm incorrigible."

"What displeases you, sir?" demanded his son after a little pause; "it's no use pretending there's nothing wrong; you only do that when you want to say something you think won't be acceptable."

"Well, then, Aymer, I say this: Christopher is your concern. I don't doubt your power to manage him, but I can speak of yourself, and I tell you it's a very bad thing to live with an unsatisfied suspicion; particularly bad for you. If you don't clear this up you will never feel quite at ease with the boy. It is so already, is it not?"

Aymer admitted reluctantly that it was indeed the case.

"Don't let anything stand between you, Aymer. I am thinking of you, of course," he added hastily.

"Are you sure you are not thinking of yourself?" returned his son, half laughing, half ruefully; and his father flushed a little.

"Perhaps I was," he said humbly. "It would worry me if you were not happy with him."

Aymer laughed outright at that and a.s.sured him he knew how to make allowances for his well-known selfishness. But he took his advice and grappled with the difficulty next afternoon. Christopher was mending a rod, seated on the floor as usual.

"We've not found that sovereign," said Caesar abruptly.

Christopher looked up quickly, and then went on with his work after a brief "Oh!"

"Did you take it, Christopher?"

He asked the question quite slowly and looked at the boy, who got scarlet but went on tying his rod and appeared to be considering the question carefully, weighing it in his mind as it were, and when he answered, it was as deliberately as Aymer had questioned him.

"No, sir."

Aymer felt a sudden sense of relief, for lying had not been one of Christopher's faults. Then almost immediately he found himself wondering first, why the boy was not angry, and secondly, why it had taken so much thought to answer at all. However, he let the matter drop and told himself he was satisfied. Christopher finished mending his rod and then sat still considering deeply. Presently he took out a penny from his pocket and began rolling it on the thick carpet, and, as he had remarked to Caesar, it did not roll far, try as he would. At last he jumped up with a satisfied mien and went out. Caesar heard him whistling as he went down the pa.s.sage and felt easier in his mind.

Renata and the babies paid their usual visit after tea, and Miss Charlotte, after a brief conversation with her uncle, slid off the sofa and trotted away to the end window, where she appeared to be diligently playing hide-and-seek with herself. Suddenly her elders were startled with a prolonged cry of anguish and Renata flew to the rescue.

"I tan't find it; naughty mousie taken my booful golden penny," sobbed Charlotte in her mother's arms. Renata could make nothing of her grief and persisted in thinking that she was hurt, and cuddling her. Aymer, listening attentively, said suddenly to Renata in his imperious way:

"Give Charlotte to me, Renata, and take baby away."

Renata obeyed meekly. People had a weak way of obeying Aymer on occasions, even against their will.

"Now, Miss Charlotte," said Aymer, when the young lady was safely deposited by him, "tell me about it. What golden penny was it?"

But Charlotte got suddenly red and stopped crying.

"Were you playing with it yesterday in the window?" asked her uncle.

Charlotte nodded.

"Was it your penny or mine?"

"Wasn't n.o.body's, only mummy's. You _said they_ were for her.

Charlotte wasn't naughty."