The Street Called Straight Part 44

"I don't care a hang about his big simple type. What I want to know is how to take him. Is he a confounded sentimentalist?--or is he still putting up a bluff?"

"What difference does it make to you?"

"If he's putting up a bluff, he's waiting out there at Michigan for me to call it. If he's working the sentimental racket, then I've got to be the beneficiary of his beastly good-will."

"If he's putting up a bluff, you can fix him by not calling it at all; and as for his beastly good-will, well, he's a beneficiary of it, too."

"How so?"

"Because beastly good-will is a thing that cuts both ways. He'll get as much out of it as you."

"That's all very fine--"

"It's very fine, indeed, for him. We've an old saying in these parts: By the Street called Straight we come to the House called Beautiful. It's one of those fanciful saws of which the only justification is that it works. Any one can test the truth of it by taking the highway. Well, friend Davenant is taking it. He'll reach the House called Beautiful as straight as a die. Don't you fret about that. You'll owe him nothing in the long run, because he'll get all the reward he's ent.i.tled to. When's the wedding? Fixed the date yet?"

"Not going to fix one," Ashley explained, moodily. "One of these days, when everything is settled at Tory Hill and the sale is over, we shall walk off to the church and get married. That seems to be the best way, as matters stand."

"It's a very sensible way at all times. And I hear you're carrying Henry off with you to England."

Ashley shrugged his shoulders. "Going the whole hog. What? Had to make the offer. Olivia couldn't leave him behind. Anything that will make her happy--"

"Will make you happy."

"That's about the size of it."

Having locked the last drawer and put out the desk light, Temple led his guest down the long gallery and across the Yard to the house on Charlesbank. Here Ashley pursued kindred themes in the company of Mrs.

Fane, finding himself alone with her at tea. He was often alone with her at tea, her father having no taste for this form of refreshment, while her mother found reasons for being absent.

"Queer old cove, your governor," Ashley observed, stretching himself comfortably before the fire. The blaze of logs alone lit up the room.

"Is that why you seem to have taken a fancy to him?"

"I like to hear him ga.s.sing. Little bit like the Bible, don't you know."

"He's very fond of the Bible."

"Seems to think a lot of that chap--your governor."

A nod supposed to indicate the direction of the State of Michigan enabled her to follow his line of thought.

"He does. There's something rather colossal about the way he's dropped out--"

"A jolly sight too colossal. Makes him more important than if he'd stayed on the spot and fought the thing to a finish."

"Fought what thing to a finish?"

He was sorry to have used the expression. "Oh, there's still a jolly lot to settle up, you know."

"But I thought everything was arranged--that you'd accepted the situation."

He stretched himself more comfortably before the fire. "We'd a row," he said, suddenly.

"A row? What kind of a row?"

"A street row--just like two hooligans. He struck me."

"Rupert!" She half sprang up. "He--"

Ashley swung round in his chair. He was smiling.

"Oh, I _beg_ your pardon," she cried, in confusion. "I can't think what made me call you that. I never _do_--never. It was the surprise--and the shock--"

"That's all right," he a.s.sured her. "I often call you Drusilla when I'm talking to Olivia. I don't see why we shouldn't--we've always been such pals--and we're going to be a kind of cousins--"

"Tell me about Peter."

"Oh, there's nothing much that stands telling. We were two idiots--two silly a.s.ses. I insulted him--and he struck out. I called him a cad--I believe I called him a d.a.m.ned cad."

"To his _face_?"

"To his _nose_."

"Oh, you shouldn't have done that."

"And he got mad, by Jove! Oh, it didn't last. We pulled off in a second or two. We saw we were two idiots--two kids. It wasn't worth getting on one's high horse about--or attempting to follow it up--it was too beastly silly for heroics--except that--that he--"

"Except that he--what?"

"Except that he--got the better of me. He has the better of me still.

And I can't allow that, by Jove! Do you see?"

"I don't see very clearly. In what way did he get the better of you?"

"In the whole thing--the way he carried it off--the whole silly business."

"Then I don't see what's to be done about it _now_."

"Something's got to be done, by Jove! I can't let it go at that."

"Well, what do you propose?"

"I don't propose anything. But I can't go through life letting that fellow stay on top. Why, considering everything--all he's done for Olivia and her father--and now this other thing--and his beastly magnanimity besides--he's frightfully on top. It won't do, you know. But I say, you'll not tell Olivia, will you? She'd hate it--about the row, I mean. I don't mind your knowing. You're always such a good pal to me--"

It was impossible to go on, because Mrs. Temple bustled in from the task of helping Olivia with the packing and sacking at Tory Hill. Having greeted Ashley with the unceremoniousness permissible with one who was becoming an intimate figure at the fireside, she settled to her tea.

"Oh, so sad!" she reflected, her little pursed-up mouth twitching nervously. "The dear old house all dismantled! Everything to go! I've asked Henry to come and stay here. It's too uncomfortable for him, with all the moving and packing going on around him. It'll be easier for dear Olivia, too. So hard for her to take care of him, with all the other things she has on her hands. There's Peter's room. Henry may as well have it. I don't suppose we shall see anything more of Peter for ages to come. But I do wish he'd write. Don't you, Colonel Ashley? I've written to him three times now--and not a line from him! I suppose they must be able to get letters out there, at Stoughton, Michigan. It can't be so far beyond civilization as all that. And Olivia would like it. She's worried about him--about his not writing--and everything. Don't you think, Colonel Ashley?"

Ashley looked blank. "I haven't noticed it--"