Tom Moore Part 37

"Mr. Moore," said Buster.

"Yes, my lad."

"Was that Lord Brooking?"

"Yes, Buster. Why do you ask?"

"Coz Hi thought as 'ow he was a bloomin' hangel," said Buster.

"Ah, lad, I 'm not sure that you are not right," answered Moore, and there was no laughter in his voice.

_Chapter Fourteen_

_SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE IS FAVORED BY FORTUNE_

Moore lost no time before setting out to make a little payment on account to all of his creditors residing in the neighborhood, so Buster, left to his own devices, extended a broomstick towards Lord Castlereagh in a manner tempting in the extreme. Being of a congenial and obliging disposition, the bulldog secured a firm grip and then endeavored to wrest it from his master's grasp. A rough and tumble tug-of-war ensued, the finish being an aerial performance by Lord Castlereagh, who made a flying trip around Buster as that worthy youth, exerting his muscle to the utmost, swung stick, dog and all in a circle clear of the floor.

Having exhausted himself without accomplishing the release of the stick from the bulldog's jaws, Buster had a brilliant inspiration and outraged precedent by washing his face and hands, it being his custom to perform ablutions only on arising in the morning unless detected and otherwise admonished by his master. Before he had finished drying himself a warning growl from his four-legged playfellow gave notice that some one was approaching.

Buster opened the door in answer to a loud knock and found himself confronted by two elegantly attired gentlemen, who willingly entered the room in response to his hospitable greeting.

"Hullo," said Sir Percival, coolly eying Buster through his gla.s.s with an amused smile. "Who are you?"

Buster was distinctly pleased with the baronet. Sir Percival's stalwart form was clad in the latest fashion, which set off his handsome person to great advantage, but in spite of his distinguished appearance, his manner in addressing the boy was so genuinely affable and good-natured that it placed them in sympathy at once. Where Buster liked he was p.r.o.ne to admire eventually; when he both liked and admired at first sight he became like clay in the potter's hands.

"Who am Hi, sir?" repeated he, "Why Hi 'me the Reverend Doctor Buster of Hall Souls's Chapel."

"Indeed?" observed Sir Percival. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Doctor."

"We want none of your slack," growled the baronet's companion.

"Tut!" said Sir Percival, "let the boy have his joke. Is Mr. Moore at home?"

"No, sir," replied Buster, giving a hard look at Farrell, for Sir Percival's companion was none other. "'Ee 's never 'ome at such times, sir."

"What times?" demanded Farrell, gruffly.

"Times wen 'ee is hout," replied the boy, delighted at having entrapped the object of his dislike, for he was as much displeased with the young man as he was favorably impressed with his more amiable companion. Sir Percival laughed gently at his companion's discomfiture.

"I am an old friend of Mr. Moore," he said to Buster. "May I wait till he returns?"

"Yessir," replied Buster. "You can make yourself comfortibble in my habsence. I ham about to give his lordship a breather."

"His lordship?" echoed Sir Percival. "May I ask whom you so designate?"

"Certingly. Come 'ere, Pupsy."

The bulldog gambolled across the room to the boy, and standing up on his hind legs playfully attempted to bite off one of his trouser b.u.t.tons.

"Sich manners, hand hin front o' comp'ny too," said Buster, chidingly.

"Down, sir. Hallow me to hintroduce Lord Castlereagh, the champeen fighter of the neighborhood. Say 'ow-dy-do, Pupsy."

Lord Castlereagh obediently threw up his great head and barked cheerfully in welcome. This done, he sat down on his haunches and extended his paw, which the baronet shook heartily.

"Who named the dog?" demanded Sir Percival, helping himself to a seat on the stool nearest him.

"I hasked Mr. Moore to suggest a suitable cognomy, hand that's wot 'ee chose. 'Ee hallows has 'ow hit was wonderously happropriate, sir."

"I quite agree with your master," replied the baronet. "You said you were going out. Pray do not let me detain you."

"Hall right, sir," said Buster, taking his cap from its nail behind the door. "Mr. Moore will return from 'is drive in 'Yde Park in 'arf an hour. Hi won't be very long. Come hon, Pupsy."

Opening the door he hurried along the hall and down the stairs with Lord Castlereagh yelping delightedly in headlong pursuit as Sir Percival rose from his seat and strolled carelessly around the attic, humming softly to himself as he prosecuted his investigation. Meanwhile Farrell, seated in Moore's arm-chair, preserved a gloomy silence.

"So," said the baronet, disdainfully, "this is the abode of genius?

Upon my word, as bare and unattractive a kennel as I have ever explored."

"You dragged me here against my will, Sir Percival," responded Farrell, uneasily. "When you have satisfied your curiosity let us go. I have no wish to encounter Moore."

"Tut," said Sir Percival, reprovingly, "there is no necessity for our haste, we saw the worthy gentleman leave here, Terence. Walking at the rate at which he started he must be half way to Pall Mall by this time."

"If he does not turn back," objected Farrell. "You can't be sure how long he intended to continue in that direction, Sir Percival."

"That can hardly be considered as a disadvantage," responded the baronet, airily, "since it adds a pleasant tinge of risk to our adventure which otherwise could not be termed hazardous, though what difference discovery would make I really fail to see."

"That is all very well for you," said Farrell, crossly, "but I want no more such beatings as he gave me in Ireland. I was in bed a week."

"You were suitably recompensed for your discomfort, Terence. Thanks to you, Bessie and her father accepted my proposition to come to London, turning a deaf ear to the impa.s.sioned explanations of the worthy but misguided Thomas."

"Oh, I 'm smart enough to accomplish the wishes of other people,"

replied Farrell, bitterly, "but I cannot seem to materially advance my own fortunes."

"Yet, I see little reason for your dissatisfaction. Finding myself in need of such a clever brain in London I brought you here ostensibly to read law. You have the benefit of my popularity in the social world.

Surely for a young and unknown Irishman to be comparatively intimate with the Prince's own set is an honor? You don't know when you are well off, my young misanthrope."

"That is as it may be," said Farrell, not at all impressed by his patron's eulogy of the advantage afforded him by his present situation.

"But," said Sir Percival knowingly, "think what an education for a young and ambitious beau a close and personal study of George Brummell must of necessity be. By the way he spoke very highly of you at Sam Rogers's house only yesternight."

"Did he?" asked Farrell, eagerly. "May I ask you to repeat his words, Sir Percival?"

"To be sure, my boy," said the elder man, genially. "Let me see. If I recollect correctly, his exact words were, 'Young Farrell possesses great sartorial possibilities now in a state of gradual but progressive development, his innate refinement of taste being at the present time slightly obscured and handicapped by a provincial anarchism of selection due to youth's inevitable cheerfulness in the choice of color, and rather crude harmonizing of shade.' There is a tribute for you, Terence."

Farrell flushed with pleasure. Secretly ambitious to outshine even the great leader of fashion himself, he found his aspirations seriously interfered with by the limited income allowed him by his patron. It must not be thought, however, that Sir Percival was n.i.g.g.ardly in his treatment of Farrell. In truth he was far more generous than ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have been under the same circ.u.mstances, but it could hardly be expected that the allowance given even by a free-handed patron to a clever protege would suffice to dethrone such an all-powerful monarch of society as at this time was George Brummell, familiarly known in the circle he graced as the Beau.

Nevertheless the handsome face and tasteful costumes of the young Irishman had begun to attract some little attention in London society, a circ.u.mstance that filled his heart with more than ordinary satisfaction, for Farrell was clear-headed enough to see that the vogue of Brummell, who was almost as renowned for wit and impertinent frankness as for dress, even in his a.s.sociation with Royalty itself, must sooner or later come to an end when by some characteristically insolent jest he should lose the favor of the Prince of Wales, now his close friend and patron.