Johnny Ludlow Sixth Series Part 25

"They say you are not steady, Val," she spoke in a whisper; "that you neglect your business; that unless you pull up, you will go to the bad."

For a few moments Valentine remained quite still; you might have thought he had gone to sleep. Then he put out his hand, drew Jane gently to him, and bent down his head to her with a long-drawn sigh.

"I _will_ pull up, Jane. It is not as bad as story-tellers make out. But I will pull up; I promise you; and I'll begin from this day."

Jane Preen did not like to remind him that he had said the same thing many times before; rather would she trust to his renewed word. When a girl is in love, she has faith in modern miracles.

Valentine held her to him very closely. "You believe me, don't you, my darling?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Down came a voice to them from some remote path near the house, that was anything but a whisper. "Jane! Jane Preen! Are you in the garden? or are you upstairs with Julietta?"

Jane stole swiftly forward. "I am here, Clementina--it is cool and pleasant in the night air. Do you want me?"

"Your boy is asking how long he is to wait. The horse is fresh this evening, and won't stand."

"Has the gig come!" exclaimed Jane, as she met Miss Clementina. "And has Sam brought it! Why not Oliver?"

Clementina Chandler shook her head and the yellow ribbons which adorned it, intimating that she did not know anything about Oliver. It was the servant boy, Sam, who had brought the gig.

Jane hastily put on her bonnet and scarf, said good night, and was helped into the gig by Valentine--who gave her hand a tender squeeze as they drove off.

"Where is Mr. Oliver?" she inquired of Sam.

"Mr. Oliver was out, Miss Jane. As it was getting late, the missis told me to get the gig ready, and bring it."

After that, Jane was silent, thinking about Valentine and his renewed promises. It might be that the air was favourable to love catching: anyway, both the young Preens had fallen desperately into it; Jane with Valentine Chandler and Oliver with Emma Paul.

Duck Brook was soon reached, for the horse was swift that evening.

On the opposite side of the road to the Inlets, was a large field, in which the gra.s.s was down and lying in c.o.c.ks, the sweet smell of the hay perfuming the air of the summer night. Leaping across this field and then over its five-barred gate into the road, came Oliver Preen. Jane, seeing him, had no need to wonder where he had been.

For across this field and onwards, as straight as the crow flies, was a near way to Islip. Active legs, such as Oliver's, might get over the ground in twenty minutes, perhaps in less. But there was no path, or right of way; he had to push through hedges and charge private grounds, with other impediments attending. Thomas Chandler, Conveyancer and Attorney-at-law, had laughingly a.s.sured Oliver that if caught using that way, he would of a surety be had up before the justices of the peace for trespa.s.s.

"Stop here, Sam," said Jane. "I will get out now."

Sam stopped the gig, and Jane got down. She joined her brother, and the boy drove on to the stables.

"It was too bad, Oliver, not to come for me!" she cried.

"I meant to be home in time; I did indeed, Jane," he answered; "but somehow the evening slipped on."

"Were you at Mr. Paul's?"

"No; I was with MacEveril."

"At billiards, I suppose!--and it's very foolish of you, Oliver, for you know you can't afford billiards."

"I can't afford anything, Janey, as it seems to me," returned Oliver, kicking up the dust in the road as they walked along. "Billiards don't cost much; it's only the tables: anyway, MacEveril paid for all."

"Has MacEveril talked any more about going away?"

"He talks of nothing else; is full of it," answered Oliver. "His uncle says he is not to go; and old Paul stopped him at the first half-word, saying he could not be spared from the office. d.i.c.k says he shall start all the same, leave or no leave."

"d.i.c.k will be very silly to go just now, when we are about to be so gay," remarked Jane, "There's the picnic coming off; and the dance at Mrs. Jacob Chandler's; and no end of tea-parties."

For just now the neighbourhood was putting on a spurt of gaiety, induced to it perhaps by the lovely summer sunshine. Oliver's face wore a look of gloom, and he made no answer to Jane's remark. Several matters, cross and contrary, were trying Oliver Preen; not the least of them that he seemed to make no way whatever with Miss Emma.

When we left school for the midsummer holidays that year, Mr. and Mrs.

Todhetley were staying at Crabb Cot. We got there on Friday, the eleventh of June.

On the following Monday morning the Squire went to his own small sitting-room after breakfast to busy himself with his accounts and papers. Presently I heard him call me.

"Have you a mind for a walk, Johnny?"

"Yes, sir; I should be glad of one." Tod had gone to the Whitneys for a couple of days, and without him I felt like a fish out of water.

"Well, I want you to go as far as Ma.s.sock's. He is a regular cheat; that man, Johnny, needs looking after---- What is it, Thomas?"

For old Thomas had come in, a card between his fingers. "It's Mr.

Gervais Preen, sir," he said, in answer, putting the card on the Squire's table. "Can you see him?"

"Oh, yes, I can see him; show him in. Wait a bit, though, Thomas," broke off the Squire. "Johnny, I expect Preen has come about that pony. I suppose we may as well keep him?"

"Tod said on Sat.u.r.day, sir, that we should not do better," I answered.

"He tried him well, and thinks he is worth the price."

"Ay; ten pounds, wasn't it? We'll keep him, then. Mr. Preen can come in, Thomas."

Some few days before this the Squire had happened to say in Preen's hearing that he wanted a pony for the two children to ride, Hugh and Lena. Preen caught up the words, saying he had one for sale--a very nice pony, sound and quiet. So the pony had been sent to Crabb Cot upon trial, and we all liked him. His name was Taffy.

Mr. Preen came into the room, his small face cool and dark as usual; he had driven from Duck Brook. "A fine morning," he remarked, as he sat down; but it would be fiery hot by-and-by, too hot for the middle of June, and we should probably pay for it later. The Squire asked if he would take anything, but he declined.

"What of the pony--Taffy--Squire?" went on Mr. Preen. "Do you like him?"

"Yes, we like him very well," said the Squire, heartily, "and we mean to keep him, Preen."

"All right," said Mr. Preen. "You will not repent it."

Then they fell to talking of horses in general, and of other topics. I stayed on, sitting by the window, not having received the message for Ma.s.sock. Mr. Preen stayed also, making no move to go away; when it suddenly occurred to the Squire--he mentioned it later--that perhaps Preen might be waiting for the money.

"Ten pounds, I think, was the price agreed upon," observed the Squire with ready carelessness. "Would you like to be paid now?"

"If it does not inconvenience you."

The Squire unlocked his shabby old bureau, which stood against the wall, fingered his stock of money, and brought forth a ten-pound bank-note.

This he handed to Preen, together with a sheet of paper, that he might give a receipt.