The Vicar's People Part 24

"That's the only good trait in your character, boy, you do know a good cigar. He, he, he! You should try some I keep for Rumsey, and fellows like that."

"Thanks, no," said Geoffrey.

"Ah! I told you how it would be," continued the old man, as they entered the look-out and took their seats. "I told you how it would be.

I knew it well enough. So I did."

They sat looking at each other for a few moments.

"You can't get an engagement then, my lad, eh?"

"No," said Geoffrey, lighting up; "not yet."

"No; nor you won't. That you won't," chuckled the old man, as Geoffrey sat himself on the summer-house table, and, thrusting his hands in his pockets, began swinging one leg backwards and forwards.

"I've tried at twenty mines in the month I've been here," said Geoffrey, "and pointed out ways of saving that would pay me a good salary ten times over, and put money in the proprietors' or shareholders' pockets."

"Yes, and they laugh at you, don't they?"

"Confoundedly," said Geoffrey.

"Keep that leg still," said the old man, poking at the swinging member with his cane.

Geoffrey gave the cane a kick, and sent it flying out on to the gra.s.s-plot, making Uncle Paul turn white with rage; but the young man got leisurely down and picked it up, retaining it in his hand as he reseated himself, and began making pa.s.ses with it at a knot in the wood.

"Give me my cane," said the old man, angrily.

"They're as blind as moles to their own interests," said Geoffrey.

"Do you hear? Give me my cane."

"And treat all my advances as if I were trying to trick and defraud them."

"I say, give me my cane!" cried the old man.

"They flatly tell me that my plans are new-fangled and foolish, and that they'll have none of them."

"Confound you, you insolent puppy! Will you give me my cane?"

"They're as hard to move as so many mules," said Geoffrey, handing the cane, and smiling in the old man's face.

Uncle Paul s.n.a.t.c.hed the cane, and made a threatening gesture as if about to strike, when Geoffrey held out one hand, school-boy fashion, for a cut on the palm, and the old man made as if to give it a vicious blow; but, as the other did not flinch, he checked the fall of the cane, and sat showing his yellow teeth.

"I'm glad of it, very glad," he snarled. "I told you so; and now you may pack up and be off, for I'm sick of you, and want to see your back."

"But I'm not going," said Geoffrey, coolly. "I wouldn't move for the world. You do me so much good."

"I do you good, puppy?"

"To be sure you do. I get as bilious and acid, and put out with my ill-luck as can be, and then I come and take a dose of you, and it seems to put me right again."

"You're--you're the most insolent, cool, impertinent puppy I ever met?"

cried the old man; "and--and I wish you all the ill-luck you can get."

"Thanky," said Geoffrey. "Well, good-by for the present. I'm going to take a walk down to the Cove."

"Of course," snarled Uncle Paul. "Hi! here. Madge! Madge!"

"Yes, uncle," she cried, running eagerly out of the porch, and across the gra.s.s-plot.

"Yes, uncle," he snarled. "You jade. You were listening, and waiting for a chance for another look, or a word, with this puppy here."

"Oh, uncle!" cried the girl, colouring up, for the old man had guessed the truth.

"Pray don't protest, my dear Miss Mullion," said Geoffrey, coolly. "Say you were. There's no harm in it."

"Harm in it?" cried the old man, fiercely, "harm? Why, you don't suppose I'm going to let you, a mining adventurer, flirt and play tricks with my brother's child, and then go off and never come back?"

"Youth is the time for folly, Mr Paul."

"Yes; but there shall be no follies here, sir. Look here, Madge, this fellow's not to be trusted. He's always going over to the Cove, to make eyes at handsome Bess Prawle; so don't you listen to him."

Madge looked at Geoffrey inquiringly.

"It's quite true, Miss Mullion," said Geoffrey, bowing a.s.sent to the old man's words, "I am going over to the Cove; and I dare say I shall see Miss Prawle the pretty. By the way, Mr Paul, are women any the better for being pretty?"

"You--you impudent jackanapes! You, you--There, ha, ha, ha! Look at her!" he cried, chuckling at the effect of his words. "She's run indoors in a huff, and she'll cry as soon as you're gone."

"Then I hope you feel happy, sir?"

"I do," said the old man, rubbing the ivory top of his cane. "Look here, boy, do you mean any thing by being so civil to that girl?"

"What girl, sir?"

"Don't aggravate me, boy. Her--Madge--that smooth-faced, good-looking cat."

"I don't mean any thing but to be civil."

"Not marriage?"

"Well, seeing that I can barely keep myself," said Geoffrey, laughing, "no."

"Marry Miss Pavey, then," chuckled the old man, maliciously. "Sweet creature. False teeth, false hair, false ways, false voice--falsetto.

Lovely woman. See what a dresser she is. What a useful piece of furniture for a house."

"Marry her yourself," said Geoffrey; "you are an old bachelor."

"Bah!" exclaimed the old man. "But look here, sir. My niece!"

"Still harping on my daughter."