Thereby Hangs a Tale Part 67

As she spoke, plainly enough heard from the upper room came the painful endors.e.m.e.nt of the woman's words.

Richard went across the way thoughtfully; and as he looked from his place a few minutes after, it was to see his plants placed in the best position in the window; and he caught a grateful look directed at him by his little neighbour, "Poor girl!" said Richard.

A very strange feeling of depression came over him as his thoughts went from her to one he loved; and he sighed as he sat making comparisons between them.

An hour after, Mrs Fiddison came in, with her head on one side, a widow's cap in one hand, a c.r.a.pe bow in the other, and a note in her mouth, which gave her a good deal the look of a mourning spaniel, set to fetch and carry.

Mrs Fiddison did not speak, only dropped the note on the table, gave Richard a very meaning look, and left the roam.

"What does the woman mean?" he said, as he took up the note. "And what's this?"

"This" was a simple little note from Netta Lane, written in a ladylike hand, and well worded, thanking him for the flowers, and telling him that "mamma" was very grateful to him for the attention.

A week after, and Richard had called upon them; and again before a week had elapsed, he was visiting regularly, and sitting reading to mother and daughter as they plied their needles.

Then came walks, and an occasional ride into the country, and soon afterwards Frank Pratt called upon his old friend, to find him leading Netta quietly into the Jenkles's house, and Pratt stood whistling for a moment before knocking at Mrs Fiddison's door, and asking leave to wait till his friend came across.

Mrs Fiddison had a widow's cap c.o.c.ked very rakishly over one ear, and she further disarranged it to rub the ear as she examined the visitor, before feeling satisfied that he had no designs on any of the property in the place, and admitting him to Richard's sanctum.

At the end of half an hour Richard came over.

"Ah, Franky!" he exclaimed, "this is a pleasure."

"Is it?" said Pratt.

"Is it?--of course it is; but what are you staring at?"

"You. Seems a nice girl over the way."

"Poor darling!--yes," said Richard, earnestly.

"Got as far as that, has it?" said Pratt, quietly.

"I don't understand you," said Richard, staring hard.

"Suppose not," said Pratt, bitterly. "Way of the world; though I didn't expect to see it in you."

"'Rede me this riddle,' as Carlyle says," exclaimed Richard. "What do you mean, man?"

"Only that it's as well to be off with the old love before you begin with the new."

"Why, Franky, what a donkey you are!" said Richard, laughing. "You don't think that I--that they--that--that--well, that I am paying attentions to that young lady--Miss Lane?"

"Well, it looks like it," said Pratt, grimly.

"Why, my dear boy, nothing has ever been farther from my thoughts," said Richard. "It's absurd."

"Does the young lady think so too?"

Richard started.

"Well, really--I never looked at it in that light. But, oh, it's ridiculous. Only a few neighbourly attentions; and, besides, the poor girl's in a most precarious state of health."

"Hum!" said Pratt. "Well, don't make the girl think you mean anything.

Who are they?"

"I asked no questions, of course--how could I? They are quite ladies, though, in a most impecunious state."

"Hum!" said Frank, thoughtfully, and he rose from his chair to make himself comfortable after his way; that is to say, he placed his feet in the seat, and sat on the back--treatment at which Mrs Fiddison's modest furniture groaned. "Old lady object to this?"

Frank tapped the case of his big pipe, as he drew it from his pocket in company with a vile-scented tobacco pouch.

"Oh no, I'm licenced," said Richard, dreamily; for his thoughts were upon his friend's words, and he felt as if he had unwittingly been doing a great wrong.

"I'm going to take this up, d.i.c.k," said Pratt, after smoking a few minutes in silence.

"Take what up?" said Richard, starting.

"This affair of yours, and these people."

"I don't understand you."

"Perhaps not," said Pratt, shortly. "But look here, d.i.c.k, you're not going to break faith with some one."

"Break faith, Frank!" exclaimed Richard, angrily. "There is no engagement now. The poor girl is free till I have made such a fortune"--he smiled bitterly--"as will enable me once more to propose.

There, there, don't say another word, Franky, old man, it cuts--deeper than you think. I wouldn't say this much to another man living. But as for that poor child over the way, I have never had a thought towards her beyond pity."

"Which is near akin to love," muttered Frank. Then aloud--"All right, d.i.c.k. I could not help noticing it; but be careful. Little girls'

hearts are made of tender stuff--some of them," he said, speaking ruefully--"when they are touched by fine, tall, good-looking fellows."

"Pish!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Richard. "Change the subject."

"Going to," said Pratt, filling his pipe afresh, and smoking once more furiously. "Better open that window, these pokey rooms so soon get full. That's right. Now, then, for a change. Look here, old fellow, you know I'm going ahead now, actually refusing briefs. Do you hear, you unbelieving-looking dog?--refusing briefs, and only taking the best cases."

"Bravo!" said Richard, trying to smile cheerily.

"I'm getting warm, d.i.c.k--making money. Q.C. some day, my boy--perhaps.

But seriously, d.i.c.k, old fellow, I am going ahead at a rate that surprises no one more than yours truly. When I'd have given my ears for a good case, and would have studied it night and day, the beggars wouldn't have given me one to save my life, even if I'd have done it for nothing. Now, when I'm so pressed that it's hard work to get them up, they come and beg me to take briefs. This very morning, one came from a big firm of solicitors at ten o'clock, marked fifty guineas, and I refused it. At one o'clock, hang me if they didn't come back with it, marked a hundred, and a fellow with it, hat in hand, ready, if I'd refused again, to offer me more."

"Frank," cried Richard, jumping up, and shaking his friend warmly by the hand, "no one is more delighted than I am."

"Mind what you're up to," said Pratt, who had nearly been tilted off his perch by his friend's energy. "But I say, it don't seem like it."

"Why?"

"Because you won't share in it. Now, look here, d.i.c.k, old fellow, you must want money, and it's too bad that you won't take it."

"I don't want it, Frank--I don't, indeed," cried Richard, hastily.

"Living as I do, I have enough and to spare. I tell you, I like the change."