Jacob's Ladder

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER X

  Houses sprang up like mushrooms on the Cropstone Wood Estate, andrents were soon at a premium. Mr. Littleham's activities weretransferred, by arrangement with Jacob, to a builder of moreconservative type, and the Estate speedily became one of the showplaces of the neighbourhood. It combined the conveniences of a suburbwith the advantages of a garden city. The special motor-omnibuses run by the Company, connected the place with the railway. Thetelephone company were induced to open an exchange, and the Cropstonetradespeople, speedily abandoning their attitude of benevolentindifference, tumbled over themselves in their anxiety to obtain theorders of the neighbourhood. Jacob somewhat surreptitiously furnisheda room for himself over the offices of the company and, soon after thecoming of Mrs. Bultiwell and her daughter, paid a visit to the place.In fear and trembling he stole out, after an early dinner on the nightof his arrival, and, seated on a hummock at the top of the ridge,looked down at the little colony.

  It was not long before the expected happened. A girl in a white gownappeared in the garden immediately below him, singing softly toherself and wielding a watering can. Presently she saw Jacob andpaused in her task. Jacob raised his hat and she came slowly towardshim. His heart thumped against his ribs. He thought of "Maud" andother sentimental poems, where the heroine was scornful and of highdegree, and the lover very much her slave. Sybil Bultiwell'sexpression was certainly not encouraging.

  "You don't mean to tell me, Mr. Pratt," she began coldly, "that youare coming to live out here yourself?"

  "No idea of it," Jacob hastened to explain, as he sprang to his feet."I have just furnished a room over the office, so as to spend a nightor two here, now and then, and see that everything is going on allright. A new enterprise like this needs a watchful eye. No intentionof making a nuisance of myself, I can promise you, Miss Bultiwell."

  In her relief she forgot that the watering can was half full. Jacobstepped quickly backwards, glancing a little disconsolately at hisbespattered trousers.

  "I am exceedingly sorry, Mr. Pratt," she apologised, biting her lip.

  "No consequence at all," he assured her. "My fault entirely. By thebye, I hope you are quite comfortable. No complaints?"

  "None whatever," she conceded a little grudgingly.

  "Water supply all right?"

  "Quite."

  "And the lighting?"

  "Excellent. In fact," the girl went on bitterly, "the place is aperfect Paradise for paupers and people who have to earn their ownliving."

  "There is no need for you to do that," he ventured.

  She looked at him in most disconcerting fashion. All the pleasantlights which lurked sometimes in her blue eyes seemed transformed intoa hard stare. Her eyebrows were drawn together in an ominous frown.Her chin was uplifted.

  "What do you mean?" she demanded.

  Jacob hesitated, floundered and was lost. Not a word of all theeloquence which was stored up in his heart could pass his lips. He whohad already made a start, and later on was to hold his own in theworld of unexpected happenings, shrank like a coward from the muteantagonism in the girl's eyes.

  "You know," he faltered.

  "The only alternative I am aware of to earning my own living," shesaid quietly, "is charity. Were you proposing to offer me a share ofyour wonderful fortune?"

  "Only if I myself were attached to it," he answered, with a spark ofcourage.

  She turned and looked at him.

  "I am afraid," she said, "that you are inclined to take advantage ofyour position, Mr. Pratt."

  "I want to say nothing to worry or annoy you," he assured her. "It isonly an accident that I am interested in this estate. I am not yourbenefactor. You pay your rent and you are quite independent."

  "If I felt that it were otherwise," she replied, "we should not behere."

  "I am sure of it," he declared. "I am only taking the privilege ofevery man who is honest, in telling the truth to the girl whom heprefers to any one else in the world."

  "You are an ardent lover, Mr. Pratt," she scoffed.

  "If I don't say any more," he retorted, "it is because you paralyseme. You won't let me speak."

  "And I don't intend to," she answered coldly. "If you wish to retainany measure of my friendship at all, you will keep your personalfeelings with regard to me to yourself."

  Jacob for a moment cursed life, cursed himself, his nervousness, andthe whole situation. A little breeze came stealing down the hillside,bringing with it an odour of new-mown hay, of honeysuckle and wildroses from the flower-wreathed hedges. The girl lifted her head andher expression softened.

  "It is a wonderful country, this," she admitted. "You are to becongratulated upon having discovered it, Mr. Pratt. We ought toconsider ourselves very fortunate, my mother and I, in having such apleasant home."

  "It isn't half good enough for you," he declared bluntly.

  She treated him to one of her sudden vagaries. All the discontentseemed to fade in a moment from her face. Her eyes laughed into his,her mouth softened into a most attractive curve.

  "Some day," she said, as she turned away, "I may find my palace, but Idon't think that you will be the landlord, Mr. Pratt.--Bother!"

  Her ill-temper suddenly returned. A tall, elderly lady had issued fromthe house and was leaning over the gate. She was of a severe type ofcountenance, and Jacob remembered with a shiver her demeanour on hisvisit to the Manor House in the days of the Bultiwell prosperity. Shewelcomed him now, however, with a most gracious smile, and beckonedhim to advance.

  "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Pratt," she said, as they shook hands."I have not had an opportunity of congratulating you upon your accessto fortune."

  "Very good of you, I'm sure," Jacob murmured.

  "We," Mrs. Bultiwell continued, "are progressing, as you perceive, inthe opposite direction. I suppose it is an idea of mine, but I feelall the time as though I were living in a sort of glorifiedalmshouse."

  "It must seem very small to you after the Manor," Jacob repliedpolitely, "but the feeling you have spoken of is entirely misplaced.The Estate is conducted as a business enterprise, and will, withoutdoubt, show a profit."

  "You are, I believe," Mrs. Bultiwell said, "connected with theEstate?"

  Jacob admitted the fact. Sybil, who had recommenced her watering, drewa little closer.

  "There are a few things," Mrs. Bultiwell observed, "to which I thinkthe attention of the manager should be drawn. In the first place, thegarden. It all requires digging up."

  "Surely that is a matter for the tenants," Sybil intervened.

  "Nothing of the sort," Jacob pronounced. "It is a very carelessomission on the part of the owners. I will give orders concerning itto-morrow."

  Mrs. Bultiwell inclined her head approvingly. Having once tastedblood, she was unwilling to let her victim go.

  "If you will step inside for a moment, Mr. Pratt," she went on, "thereare one or two little things I should like to point out to you. Thecupboard in Sybil's room--"

  "Mother," Sybil protested, "Mr. Pratt has nothing to do with thesematters."

  "On the contrary," Jacob replied mildly, "I am just the person who hasto do with them. You are paying a very good rent, Mrs. Bultiwell, andany little thing the Estate can do to make you more comfortable--"

  "Come this way, Mr. Pratt," Mrs. Bultiwell interrupted firmly....

  Sybil was still watering the garden when he came out. She waited untilhe had exchanged cordial farewells with Mrs. Bultiwell, and thensummoned him to her. Mrs. Bultiwell was still standing on thethreshold, smiling at them, so she was compelled to moderate heranger.

  "What have you been doing in there with mother?" she demanded.

  "There were one or two little things my clerk of the works hasneglected," he answered. "I promised to see to them, that's all."

  "You know perfectly well that we arranged for the house as it was."

  "I don't look upon it in that way," he said. "There are certainomissions--"

  "Oh, be quiet!" she interrupt
ed angrily. "And the garden, I suppose,should all have been prepared for us?"

  "Certainly it should have been all dug up," he declared, "and not onlythat little bit where you have your roses."

  "Of course," she answered sarcastically, "and asparagus beds made, Isuppose, and standard roses planted!"

  "I think, Miss Bultiwell," he ventured, "that you might allow me theprivilege of having the place made as attractive as possible for you."

  She glanced back towards the house. Mrs. Bultiwell, well pleased withherself, was still lingering. Sybil conducted their visitor firmlytowards the gate.

  "Mr. Pratt," she said, "I will try and not visit these things uponyou; but answer me this question. Have you given my mother anyindication whatever of your--your ridiculous feelings towards me?"

  "Your mother gave me no opportunity," he replied. "She was too busytalking about the house."

  "Thank goodness for that, anyhow! Please understand, Mr. Pratt, thatso far as I am concerned you are not a welcome visitor here at anytime, but if ever you should see my mother, and you should give herthe least idea of what you are always trying to tell me, you will makelife a perfect purgatory for me. I dislike you now more than any one Iknow. I should simply hate you then. You understand?"

  "I understand," he answered. "You want me, in short, to join in a sortof alliance against myself?"

  "Put it any way you like," she said coldly.

  "I am a perfectly harmless person," he declared, "who has neverwronged you in thought or deed. It is my misfortune that I have acertain feeling for you which I honestly don't think you deserve."

  She dropped the watering can and her eyes blazed at him.

  "Not deserve?" she repeated.

  "No!" he replied, trembling but standing his ground firmly. "Everynice girl has a feeling of some sort for the man who is idiot enoughto be in love with her. I am just telling you this to let you knowthat I can see your faults just as much as the things in youwhich--which I worship. And good night!"...

  Jacob sat out on the hillside until late, smoking stolidly anddreaming. Inside the little white-plastered house below, from whichthe lights were beginning to steal out, Sybil was busy preparingsupper and waiting upon her highly-pleased and triumphant parent.Later, she too sat in the garden and watched the moon come up frombehind the dark belt of woodland which sheltered the reservoir.Perhaps she dreamed of her prince to come, as the lonely man on thehillside was dreaming of the things which she typified to him.