The Tree of Knowledge Part 30

"I should soon have caught you up," he said peacefully, raising his hat with a smile. "How are you this morning, Mr. Allonby? Still convalescent?"

"I don't think the present participle is any longer applicable. I am convalesced--completely convalesced, and, it seems to me all the better for my accident."

"So you are not cursing me for having recommended the Combe as a hunting-ground?"

"Not in the least, I a.s.sure you."

"Did you ever hear, Mr. Haldane," cried the girl, with a burst of laughter, "that the detective tried to a.s.sign poor old Osmond's blow on the head to your machinations?"

"No! Really! You flatter me; what made him do that?" asked he, with imperturbable and smiling composure.

"He thought you had some _arriere pensee_ in sending Osmond down here to paint."

"Well, so I had."

"You had?"

"Of course. I knew he'd like the place so much that he'd want to spend all the summer here; and then I thought you and your sisters would come down; and then I thought I'd come down; and I have, you see."

Jacqueline laughed merrily.

"We're going to have such a good time to-day," she cried, "and, please, listen to me. You and Wyn are _not_ to talk shop. The first of you that mentions the R. A. Schools, or the gold medal pictures, or the winter exhibition, shall be sent to Coventry at once! Remember! You are under orders."

"Well, I don't think I'm likely to forget it, as long as you are here to remind me, Miss Jacqueline. By-the-by, aren't you getting bored down here? Surely the Combe falls a trifle flat after the gaieties of Cowes?"

"We are getting on pretty well so far, thank you; a school-treat the day after we arrived, an expedition to the quarries yesterday, a pic-nic to-day! I am managing to exist, but I can't think what we shall do to-morrow. The blackberries are not yet ripe, there are no ruins to explore, and not another school-feast for miles; there will be nothing for it but to go out in a boat and get drowned."

"All right; I'll come too."

"You can go out in a boat and get drowned to-day, if you like,"

suggested Osmond. "Boats are in the programme."

"So they are! I had forgotten. How late this Mr. Fowler is! Don't you think we had better go on, Osmond, and leave you and Wyn to follow?"

"Certainly, if you like. Who is packing?"

"_Need_ you ask? Hilda, of course. She always does everything she should. Wyn! Wyn! Are you ready?"

"Coming!"

Wyn emerged from the dark entry, and shook hands with Mr. Haldane.

"I will send Hilda to you," she said, vanishing, and in a minute or two there appeared on the scene another tall girl, closely resembling Jacqueline in height and general appearance, and dressed exactly like her, down to the minutest detail. In fact the family likeness in all four Allonbys was strong, something distinctive in the curve of the chin, the setting on of the head, the steady glance of the eye, which made them all noticeable, whether handsome or not. They were, all four, people who, having once been seen, were not likely to be forgotten. Of his two younger sisters Osmond was justly proud. Their height, grace, and slenderness were striking, and the want of likeness in their dispositions completed the charm, by the rare virtue of being unexpected.

Hilda was as reserved as Jacqueline was communicative, as statuesque as she was animated, as diligent and capable as she was lavish and reckless. The difference between them was this morning, however, much less obvious than the likeness, for Hilda was full of spirits, the whole of her sweet face irradiated with pleasure.

They set off with young Haldane, chattering eagerly, the sound of their light laughter tossed behind them on the breeze as they climbed the steep gra.s.sy hillside to Edge, to join the rest of the party.

They were hardly out of sight when Mr. Fowler and his dog-cart appeared down the road, the black horse's glossy flanks and polished harness reflecting the brightness of the sun.

"Good morning," cried Osmond, blithely; "what a fresh lovely morning! We are ready and waiting for you."

"We? Then I am to have the pleasure of driving Miss Allonby! That's all right. Cranmer came down yesterday evening, looking rather jaded; he seemed very glad to get here. He has gone on foot to join the others,"

said Mr. Fowler, alighting and entering the dark cool pa.s.sage of the inn.

"Are you there Miss Allonby?"

"Yes, here I am. Good morning, Mr. Fowler. Come and help me with this strap."

He entered, and took her hand.

"So you are all established here! What did Mrs. Battishill say to your desertion?"

"She was very unhappy, but I could not help it. She totally declined to accept a penny for rent, and I wanted to have Hilda and Jac down, so I was obliged to move. I could not quarter my entire family upon her, it was too barefaced. There, how neatly you fastened that buckle! Now everything is ready. I'll call Tom to carry the hamper to the carriage."

"You'll do no such thing; I shall take it myself. We are favored in our weather, are we not?"

"That we are. In fact, everything is favorable to-day. My mental barometer is up at 'set-fair.' I have a mind to tell you why, and receive your congratulations all to myself. I heard from Barclay's to-day that my novel is to be put into a second edition. What do you think of that?"

Mr. Fowler thought the occasion quite important enough to justify a second energetic grasping of Miss Allonby's little slim hand in his vigorous square palm; and the dialogue might have been for some time prolonged, had not Osmond cried out, from his position at the horse's head,

"Now then, you two!"

In a few minutes Wyn was enthroned beside Mr. Fowler in the high dog-cart, her brother had swung himself up behind with the hamper, and the swift Black Prince was off, delighted to be tearing along in the sunshine.

"I am going to enjoy myself to-day, and forget all vexations," said Henry Fowler, in his quiet voice.

"Vexations? Are you vexed? What is it?" asked Wyn, anxiously.

"I am--a good deal vexed--about my Elsie," he answered, with a sigh.

"Poor little la.s.s! I think she is deeply to be pitied."

"So do I," said Wyn, promptly; and Osmond cut in from behind.

"I should like to lick that cheeky little beast of a boy."

"There's the rub--you can't lick the child, he's too delicate," said Henry, with a sigh. "I took him by the shoulder and shook him the other day, and he turned as white as a sheet and almost fainted. He is a ma.s.s of nerves, and has no const.i.tution; careful rearing might have done something for him, but he is accustomed to sit up all night, lie in bed all day, drink spirits, and smoke cigars--a poor little shrimp like that! It is a terrible trial to Elsie; one that I'm afraid she's not equal to," he concluded, slowly, his eyes rivetted on the lash of his whip, with which he was flicking the flies from Black Prince's pretty p.r.i.c.ked-up ears.

"She ought never to be called upon to endure it--they ought to send the little imp away," said Osmond, indignantly.

"He does not show himself in his true colors before the Miss Willoughbys--this is where I can't forgive him," returned Mr. Fowler, sternly. "The child is a habitual liar--you never know for a moment whether he is telling the truth or not. His dog worried two of my sheep yesterday; the shepherd absolutely saw the brute in the field, and he--G.o.dfrey--coolly told me that Ven had been chained in the yard all that morning. It was then," he added, with a half-smile, "that I shook him; I would have liked to lay my stick about him, but one can't touch such a little frail thing; and his language--ugh! That Elsa should ever hear such words makes one grind one's teeth. I never saw such a young child so completely vitiated."

"What a misfortune!" said Wyn.

"You are right; it is a real misfortune. I am very doubtful as to what steps I ought to take in the matter. Did you hear of his setting his bull-dog at Saul Parker, the idiot? The poor wretch had one of his fits, and his mother was up all night with him. Little cur! Cruelty and cowardice always go together: but think what his bringing up must have been."

"I wonder Mr. and Mrs. Orton are not ashamed to send him visiting; Osmond knows something of the Ortons, you know."

"Indeed!"