The Eldest Son Part 47

"Now d.i.c.k has come to reason!" repeated Humphrey bitterly. "d.i.c.k stands exactly where he's always stood. It's you who've changed your mind, and you expect me to fall in and take it smiling. I say again, it's grossly unfair."

"That's not the way to talk to me," said the Squire hotly. "You're forgetting yourself. If you're not precious careful you won't get the money I'd put aside for you, let alone anything else."

Humphrey got up from his chair. "I'd better go," he said. "If your word means nothing at all, I may as well break off my engagement. I thought it was good enough to get married on," and he left the room.

The Squire lay and fumed. A pretty return he was getting for all he had promised to do for Humphrey! Was ever such ingrat.i.tude? His mind dwelt wholly on the very handsome provision that was to be made for his immediate marriage, and he grew more and more indignant as he asked himself, again and yet again, what younger son of a plain country gentleman could possibly expect more. At last he rang his bell and told his servant to ask Captain Clinton to come to him.

But before d.i.c.k arrived Mrs. Clinton came in again, and to her he unburdened himself of some of his indignation at Humphrey's ingrat.i.tude.

She heard him without comment, and then said slowly, "I think Humphrey and Susan ought to have the dower-house, Edward."

"What!" exclaimed the Squire. "Turn d.i.c.k out of the place that has always been his, and put a younger son into it! You say I ought to do that, Nina? What can you be thinking of?"

"_Has_ d.i.c.k's place always been his, Edward?" she asked, with her calm eyes on his.

"What do you mean?" he snapped at her; and then went on quickly in his loud, bl.u.s.tering tone, "d.i.c.k and I fell out, it's true, and if he had married without my sanction I should have acted in a way I'm not going to act now. I've come round--I don't deny I've come round--to be in favour of his marriage, and I'm not going to make him suffer for the misunderstanding."

At this point d.i.c.k came into the room, and the Squire said, "Well, I'll talk to you later, Nina. I want to get things settled up with d.i.c.k now."

But d.i.c.k looked at her kindly. "Mother may as well stay and take a hand in the discussion," he said. "We owe it to her that we're all friends again, and I think she's got a better head than any of us."

"Your mother was just saying," said the Squire, "that I ought to let Humphrey and Susan have the dower-house. I'm not going to do anything of the sort. There _was_ a sort of an understanding that they should live there when I thought you and I weren't coming together again. I had to make _some_ arrangements. But even if I didn't want you there, I don't know that I should consent to it now. Humphrey has taken up a most extraordinary att.i.tude, and I'm very much annoyed with him. He's going to be most handsomely treated, more handsomely than he could ever have expected. Yet he's just been up here and flung out of the room in a rage because I won't promise to leave him Partisham, if you please."

"Leave him what?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Partisham; and all the land that came in with it; and Checquers too.

No, I'm wrong; I'm instructed to leave that to Walter. I say it's a scandalous position for a son to take up. I'm not an old man, and I hope I've got a good many years to live yet, and I'm to have my sons quarrelling already about what I'm to do with my property after I'm dead."

"I suppose he saw his chance when I was out of favour," said d.i.c.k, "and is wild because what he hoped for didn't come off. What did you actually promise to do for him?"

"I promised to make him an allowance of fifteen hundred a year, and I'm prepared to keep my word, of course."

"Well, that's pretty good to begin with."

"But, good gracious me, that isn't all of what he's going to have. Old Aunt Laura is going to give him another five hundred, and she's consulted me about leaving him the bulk of her money when she goes."

"Aunt Laura! Five hundred a year!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, in utter surprise.

"Can she do it?"

The Squire gave a short laugh. "I might have known that the old ladies had saved a good deal," he said, "but I never thought much about it.

At any rate that's a definite offer from her--the allowance, I mean.

Whether I let her make a will almost entirely in his favour, is another matter; and if he doesn't behave himself I shall do all I can to stop it."

"He must have been pretty clever in getting round her," said d.i.c.k. "I know he's been working hard at it. Rather a dirty trick, to my mind--working on an old woman for her money. Still, different people have different ideas. Did you promise him the dower-house?"

The Squire began humming and hahing, and Mrs. Clinton broke in. "It was a very definite understanding," she said. "I must take Humphrey's part there. It was understood that he should give up the Foreign Office as soon as possible, and settle down here to help look after the property."

"_If_ things had been as we then feared they would be," said the Squire. "That was always understood."

Mrs. Clinton was silent, and d.i.c.k said, rather unwillingly, "You'd better let him have the dower-house--say for two years. I can't throw Spence over now, and I can't do my best for him under that."

The Squire expostulated loudly. He wanted d.i.c.k and Virginia near him.

He was getting on in years. He might be in his grave in two years'

time. But d.i.c.k remained firm. "I don't want to rake up old scores,"

he said. "But you mustn't forget that until a week or so ago you were going to cut me off with a shilling. I had to find a job, and I was precious lucky to get this one. I owe something to the fellow who gave it to me."

"I think you do," Mrs. Clinton said before the Squire could speak; "and, Edward, I think you must remember, in justice to Humphrey, that what applies to d.i.c.k applies to him too. You took a certain course, very strongly, and both d.i.c.k and Humphrey acted on it."

"I don't want to hear any more about Humphrey," said the Squire. "I don't want him in the dower-house, nor Susan either."

"Well, you must settle that with him," said d.i.c.k. "I dare say he'll be quite ready to make a bargain with you. He seems rather good at it.

He hasn't concerned himself much with my side of the question, and I'm not going to stick up for his, especially as he comes off so well, anyhow."

That was practically the end of the discussion, and the Squire was left lamenting the frowardness of human nature.

CHAPTER XXIX

BROTHERS

When d.i.c.k went downstairs again he said to Virginia, "Put on your hat and let's go and have tea with old Aunt Laura." She went obediently upstairs, and presently they were walking down the drive together in the gathering dusk.

"Is everything going to be all right?" Virginia asked him. "Are we quite forgiven, and is our own to be restored to us?"

"I don't think we shall have much difficulty in getting all we're ent.i.tled to," replied d.i.c.k.

Virginia put her arm into his. "It's nearly dark and n.o.body's about,"

she said in apology. "Dear d.i.c.k, it is nice to be here on these terms.

I do really feel that I belong to you, now--and to Kencote."

d.i.c.k pressed her hand to his side. "I nearly had to give up Kencote to get you," he said. "Now I've got you _and_ Kencote, and I've nothing left to ask for. My experience in life is that you generally get all you want if you go to work in a straightforward way."

"Then your experience in life is a very fortunate one," replied Virginia. "I've never had what I wanted before, although I think I've been fairly straightforward. But I've got it now, dear d.i.c.k, and _I_ won't ask for anything further, either. I feel very happy and comfortable, and if we weren't near the lodge I should lift up my voice in song."

Aunt Laura was, it is needless to say, both flattered and genuinely pleased at their visit, for this modest old lady liked company, but was diffident of her own powers of attracting it. "This is the nicest thing that could have happened," she said, when she had settled down in close proximity to her tea-table. "The dear children came in this morning with their new governess--a very competent person, I should say, though not quite so respectful in her manner as Miss Bird used to be--not that she was in any way _rude_, I don't mean that, but Miss Bird was always cheerful and bright, and yet knew her place; and Humphrey paid me a visit this afternoon; so I said to myself as I sat down to tea, 'I have had two very pleasant visits to-day and can hardly hope for a third. I must drink my tea by myself.' However, here you both are, and I am very pleased indeed to see you, very pleased indeed.

Your dear father is none the worse since I last had word, I hope, d.i.c.k?"

"He's as well as can be, and talks about getting up for dinner,"

replied d.i.c.k.

"Oh, indeed, he must not do that," said Aunt Laura earnestly. "It would be the greatest mistake. He has such courage and vitality that he cannot realise what a terrible shock he has undergone. His only chance, if he is to escape all ill effects from it, is to keep as quiet as possible for a long time yet. I am sure when I think of what _might_ have happened to him, if you, my dear, had not been, so mercifully, on the spot, I go cold all over. Indeed, his escape was, in the highest sense of the word, providential, and I am sure we are all deeply grateful for it, and can lift up our hearts in thanksgiving.

Humphrey told me the whole story, in the most graphic way, and while it made me shudder it also made me rejoice, that you were there, my dear, to give such ready a.s.sistance. He made much of it."

"That was very kind of him," said Virginia. "But it was nothing to make much of. I only went for help. And I've been well rewarded, you know. Mr. Clinton didn't like me much before, and now he likes me very much indeed. That makes me very happy."

"Of course it does," said Aunt Laura kindly. "Edward is a man whose good opinion is worth having, for he does not give it without reason, but, once given, it can be depended on. Well, as I say, it is very good of you to come and see me. I'm sure the kind and thoughtful way in which I am treated by one and all is highly gratifying. You have not met Susan Clinton, I think, dear Humphrey's bride that is to be?