What Timmy Did

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

  CHAPTER V

  Close on eight that same evening, Timmy Tosswill stood by the open centrewindow of the long drawing-room, hands duly washed, and his generallyshort, rough, untidy hair well brushed, whistling softly to himself.

  He was longing intensely for his godfather's arrival, and it seemed sucha long time off to Friday. A photograph of Radmore, in uniform, sent himat his own request two years ago, was the boy's most precious personalpossession. Timmy was a careful, almost uncannily thrifty child, withquite a lot of money in the Savings Bank, but he had taken out 10/- inorder to buy a frame for the photograph, and it rested, alone in itsglory, on the top of the chest of drawers that stood opposite his bed.

  There had been a time when Timmy had hoped that he would grow up tolook like his godfather, but now he was aware that this hope wouldnever be fulfilled, for Radmore, in this photograph, at any rate, hada strongly-featured, handsome face, very unlike what his mother had oncecalled "Timmy's wizened little phiz."

  It seemed strange to care for a person you had never seen since you werea tiny child--but there it was! To Timmy everything that touched hisgodfather was of far greater moment than he would have admitted toanyone. Radmore was his secret hero; and now, to-night, he asked himselfpainfully, why had his hero left off loving Betty? The story he hadoverheard this afternoon had deeply impressed him. For the first time hebegan to dimly apprehend the strange and piteous tangle we call life.

  Suddenly there broke on the still autumn air the distant sound of sharpbarks and piteous whines. Much against his will, the little boy had hadto bow to the edict that Flick should be shut up in the stable. Dolly,who so seldom bothered about anything, had seen to this herself, becauseMrs. Crofton, who was coming to supper, hated dogs. Timmy inhospitablyhoped that the new tenant of The Trellis House would very seldom honourOld Place with a visit. It would be impossible for them always to hideFlick away like this!

  He moved further into the pretty, old-fashioned room. Like mostold-fashioned country drawing-rooms of the kind, it was rather over-fullof furniture and ornaments. The piano jutted out at right angles to abig, roomy sofa, which could, at a pinch, hold seven or eight people, thepinch usually being when, for the benefit of Timmy, the sofa was supposedto be a stage coach of long ago on its way to London. The Tosswills hadbeen great people for private theatricals, charades, and so on--Timmy'sown mother being a really good actress and an excellent mimic, but shedid not often now indulge in an exhibition of her powers.

  At last Timmy looked round at the clock. It was ten minutes to eight, andhis mother would not be down for another five minutes. So he went back tothe window. All at once he saw in the gathering twilight, two peoplewalking up the avenue which led to the house. The little boy feltsurprised. "Who can they be?" was his immediate thought.

  As far as he could make out the one was an elderly-lookinggentleman--Timmy could just see the rough grey Norfolk jacket andknickerbockers--by whose side there walked, sedately, a wire-hairedterrier. What an extraordinary thing! Surely that dog, walking by thestranger, was _Flick_--Flick, having escaped from the stable, andbehaving for all the world as if the stranger were his master. But againthere fell on his ears Flick's distant squeals of anger and annoyance andhe felt a queer sensation of relief.

  Timmy turned his attention to the other figure, that of the young ladywho, dressed all in black, tripped gracefully along by the side of hercompanion. Evidently some tiresome old gentleman, and his equallytiresome daughter. He told himself crossly that his absent-minded,kind-hearted father, or his incurably hospitable mother, forgetting allabout Mrs. Crofton, had asked these two people in to supper. If that wasso, Timmy, who was as much at home in the kitchen as in the drawing-room,knew that there would not be quite enough to go round comfortably. Thiswas all the more irritating, as he himself was looking forward to-nightto tasting, for the first time, an especially delicious dish. This waslobster pie, for which Old Place had been famed before the War, butwhich, owing to the present price of lobsters, was among the manydelightful things which the War had caused to vanish from poor littleTimmy's world. One of the few sensible people in the world who knowwhat other people really like in the way of a present had sent byparcels-post a lot of lobsters to Timmy's mother--hence the cominglobster pie to-night.

  Realising that the strangers must be very near the front door by now, heedged towards the door of the drawing-room, meaning to make a bolt for itinto what was still called the schoolroom. He did not wish to be caughtby himself in the drawing-room. But he was caught, for the door suddenlyopened, and his mother came in.

  Janet Tosswill "paid for dressing" as the old saying is. She lookedcharming to-night, in a rather bright blue evening dress, and Timmy,slipping his hand into hers, said softly: "You do look nice, Mum."

  She smiled, touched and pleased, for her child was not given tocompliments. Also, she had told herself, when glancing at her slim,active figure in the early Victorian cheval glass which had belongedto her husband's mother, that this blue dress was really _very_old-fashioned, and would probably appear so to Mrs. Crofton.

  In view of Timmy's pleasant compliment, she did not like to ask him if hehad washed his hands and brushed his hair. She could only hope for thebest: "I hope we shall like Mrs. Crofton," she said meditatively. "Youknow she's a friend of your godfather, my dear."

  "Yes, I know that," he announced, in rather an odd voice, and she feltjust a little surprised. How did Timmy know that? Then she remembered herhusband had read aloud Mrs. Crofton's pretty, well-turned letter--theletter which explained that the writer was looking out for a countryhouse, and would like to find one at Beechfield if possible, as herfriend, Godfrey Radmore, had described it as being the most beautifulvillage in England.

  Timmy let go his mother's hand--then he looked searchingly into her face:"Do you suppose," he asked, "that my godfather is in love with Mrs.Crofton?"

  She was taken aback, and yes, shocked, by the question: "Of course not.Whatever put such an extraordinary idea into your head, Timmy?"

  The words had hardly left her lips when the door opened, and the villagegirl, who was staying on for two hours beyond her usual time because ofthis visitor, announced in a breathless voice:--"Mrs. Crofton, ma'am."

  Timmy saw at once that the visitor was the young lady he had seen walkingup the avenue. Then the old gentleman and his dog--the dog which wasso extraordinarily like Flick--had only brought her as far as the door.And then, while his mother was shaking hands with Mrs. Crofton, andshepherding her towards the sofa, Timmy managed to have a good, long lookat the new tenant of The Trellis House.

  Grudgingly he admitted to himself that she was what most people--suchpeople, for instance, as Rosamund and Betty--would call "very pretty."

  Mrs. Crofton had a small three-cornered face, a ridiculously little,babyish mouth, and a great deal of dark, curly hair which matched in aqueer kind of way the color of her big, pathetic-looking eyes. Timmytold himself at once that he did not like her--that she looked "a muff".It distressed him to think that his hero should be a friend of thisweak-looking, sly little thing--for so he uncompromisingly described EnidCrofton to himself.

  Hostess and guest sat down on the big, roomy sofa, while Timmy movedaway and opened a book. He was afraid lest his mother should invite himto leave the room, for he wanted to hear what they were saying. Timmyalways enjoyed hearing grown-up people's conversation, especially whenthey had forgotten that he was present. All at once his sharp ears heardMrs. Crofton's low, melodious voice asking the question he had beenhalf-expecting her to ask: "Do you expect Mr. Radmore soon?"

  "Yes, he's coming down on Friday." There was a pause, then Timmy heardhis mother say: "Have you known Godfrey Radmore long?"

  Janet really wanted to know. Somehow, she found it difficult to imaginea friendship between Godfrey and this little fribble of a woman. But asto that, Janet Tosswill showed less than her usual intelligence. Shestill thought of Godfrey Radmore as of the rather raw, awkward, thoughclear-headed and determined lad of twe
nty-three--the Radmore, that is,of nine years ago.

  "My husband and I first met him in Egypt," said Mrs. Croftonhesitatingly. The delicate colour in her cheeks deepened. "One day hebegan to talk about himself, and he told me about Beechfield, what abeautiful village it was, how devoted he was to you all!"

  Janet Tosswill glanced at the clock. "It's already five minutes pasteight!" she exclaimed. "I must go and hurry my young people--their fatherlikes them to be absolutely punctual. The gong will go in a minute."

  After his mother had left the room, Timmy crept up close to the sofa,and so suddenly appeared, standing with his hands behind his back, beforethe visitor. She felt just a little startled; she had not known thestrange-looking boy was still there. Then she told herself quickly thatthis surely must be Godfrey Radmore's godson--the child to whom he hadsent one of her late husband's puppies.

  There came over pretty Mrs. Crofton a slight feeling of apprehension anddiscomfiture--she could not have told why.

  "When did you last see my godfather?" he asked abruptly, in an unchildishvoice, and with a quaintly grown-up manner.

  "Your godfather?" she repeated hesitatingly, and yet she knew quite wellwho he meant.

  "I mean Major Radmore," he explained.

  She wondered why the disagreeable little fellow had asked such anindiscreet question.

  Then, reluctantly, she made up her mind she had better answer it truly:"I saw him the day before yesterday." She forced herself to go onlightly. "I suppose you're the young gentleman to whom he sent apuppy last year?"

  He nodded, and then asked another disconcerting question: "Did you leaveyour dog outside? Dolly thought you didn't like dogs, so my terrier,Flick, has been shut up in the stable. I suppose you only like your owndog--I'm rather like that, too."

  "I haven't got a dog," she answered nervously. "It's quite true that Idon't like dogs--or, rather, I should like them if they liked me, butthey don't."

  "Then the dog that was with you belonged to the old gentleman?"

  "Old gentleman?" repeated Mrs. Crofton vaguely. This time she didn't inthe least know what the child was talking about, and she was relievedwhen the door opened, and the Tosswill family came streaming throughit, accompanied by their step-mother.

  Laughing introductions took place. Mrs. Crofton singled out instinctivelyher gentle, cultivated-looking host. She told herself with a queer senseof relief, that he was the sort of man who generally shows a distantlychivalrous regard for women. Next to her host, his eldest son, JackTosswill, came in for secret, close scrutiny, but Enid Crofton alwaysfound it easy and more than easy, to "make friends" with a young man.

  She realised that she was up against a more difficult problem in theladies of the family. She felt a little frightened of Mrs. Tosswill, ofwhom Godfrey Radmore had spoken with such affection and gratitude. Janetlooked what Mrs. Crofton called "clever," and somehow she never got onwith clever women. Betty and Dolly she dismissed as of no account.Rosamund was the one the attractive stranger liked best. There is nogreater mistake than to think that a pretty woman does not like to meetanother pretty woman. On the contrary, "like flies to like" in this, asin almost everything else.

  But how did they regard her? She would have been surprised indeed had shebeen able to see into their hearts.

  Mr. Tosswill, who was much more wideawake than he looked, thought hera poor exchange for the amusing, lively, middle-aged woman who hadlast lived at The Trellis House, and who had often entertained there apleasant, cultivated guest or two from London. Jack, though sufficientlyhuman to be attracted by the stranger's grace and charm, was inclined toreserve his judgment. The three girls found her very engaging, and theirstep-mother, if more critical, was quite ready to like her. As is oftenthe case with people who only care for those near and dear to them, theworld of men and women outside Janet Tosswill's own circle interestedher scarcely at all. She would make up her mind as to what any givenindividual was like, and then dismiss him or her once for all from herbusy, over-burdened mind.

  One thing, however, both Janet and the three girls did notice--that wasthe way their new acquaintance was dressed. Her black frock was not onlybecoming, but had that indefinable look which implies thought, care, andcost--especially cost. All four ladies decided immediately that Mrs.Crofton must be much better off than she had implied in the letter shehad written to Mr. Tosswill some weeks ago.

  Timmy, alone of them all, on that first evening, felt strongly abouttheir visitor. Already he was jealous of the pretty, pathetic-lookingyoung widow. It irritated him to think that she was a friend of hisgodfather.

  After they had all gone into the dining-room, and had sorted themselvesout, the guest being seated on her host's right, with Jack on the otherside of her, Janet announced: "This is supper, not dinner, Mrs. Crofton.I hope you don't mind lobster? When I first came to Old Place, almost thefirst thing I learnt was that it was celebrated for its lobster pie!Since the War we have not been able to afford lobsters, but a kind friendsent us six from Littlehampton yesterday, so I at once thought of ourdear old lobster pie!"

  Mrs. Crofton declared that, far from minding, she adored lobsters! Andthen after she had been served, Timmy's fears were set at rest, for hismother, very improperly the rest of the family thought, served him next,and to a generous helping.

  As the meal went on, the mistress of Old Place realised that she had madeone mistake about Mrs. Crofton; their visitor was far more intelligent,though in a mean, rather narrow way, than she had at first supposed.Also, Mrs. Crofton was certainly very attractive. As the talk turned toLondon doings, his step-mother was amused to notice that Jack was becominginterested in their guest, and eagerly discussed with her a play they hadboth seen.

  And the visitor herself? During supper she began to feel most pleasantlyat home, and when she walked into the long, high-ceilinged sitting-room,which had such a cosy, homelike look she told herself that it was nowonder Godfrey Radmore liked the delightful old house, and these kindly,old-fashioned, and--and unsuspicious people.

  Two tall Argand lamps cast a soft radiance over the shabby furniture andfaded carpet. It was a lovely evening, a true St. Martin's summer night,and the middle one of the three long French windows was widely open on tothe fragrant, scented garden.

  Mrs. Crofton, a graceful, appealing figure in her soft, black chiffongown, hesitated a moment--she wondered where they wanted her to sit?And then Mrs. Tosswill came forward and, taking her hand, led her to thebig sofa, while one of the girls fetched an extra cushion so that shemight sit back comfortably. The talk drifted to the War, and Enid Croftonwas soon engaged in giving an animated account of some of her ownexperiences--how she had managed to spend a very exciting fortnight notfar from the Front, in a hospital run by a great lady with whom she had aslight acquaintance. Soon, sooner than usual, Mr. Tosswill and his threesons came into the drawing-room, and they were all talking and laughingtogether happily when a most unlucky, and untoward, accident happened!Timmy's dog, Flick, having somehow escaped from the stable, suddenly ranin from the dark garden, straight through the window opposite the sofaround which the whole of the party was now gathered together. When abouta yard from Mrs. Crofton, he stopped dead, and emitted a series of short,wild howls, while his hair bristled and stood on end, and his eyes flamedblood red.

  They were all so surprised--so extremely taken aback by Flick'sbehaviour--that no one moved. Then Mrs. Crofton gave a kind of gasp, andcovering her face with her hands, cowered back in the corner of the sofa.

  Timmy jumped up from the stool where he had been sitting, and as he didso, his mother called out affrightedly: "Don't go near Flick, Timmy--helooks mad!"

  But Timmy was no coward, and Flick was one of the few living things heloved in the world. He threw himself on the floor beside his dog."Flick," he said warningly, "what's the matter, old chap? Has anythinghurt you?" As he spoke he put out his skinny little arms, and Flick,though still shivering and growling, began to calm down.

  The little boy waited a moment, Flick pan
ting convulsively in his arms,then he gathered the dog to him, and, getting up from the floor, walkedquickly through the open window into the garden.

  For a moment no one stirred--and then Mr. Tosswill, who had been sittingrather apart from the rest of the party, got up and shut the window.

  "What a curious thing," he said musingly. "I have always regarded Flickas one of the best tempered of dogs. This is the first time he has everbehaved like this."

  Mrs. Crofton dragged herself up from her comfortable seat. Her facelooked white and pinched. In spite of her real effort to control herself,there were tears in her eyes and her lips were trembling. "If you are onthe telephone," she said appealingly, "I should be so grateful if youshould send for a fly. I don't feel well enough to walk home." She triedto smile. "My nerves have been upset for some time past."

  Janet felt vexed and concerned. "Jack will drive you home in our old ponycart," she said soothingly. "Will you go and bring it round, Tom?"

  Tom slipped off, and there arose a babel of voices, everyone saying howsorry they were, Dolly especially, explaining eagerly how she herself hadpersonally superintended the shutting up of the dog. As for Betty, shewent off into the hall and quietly fetched Mrs. Crofton's charmingevening cloak and becoming little hood. As she did so she told herselfagain that Mrs. Crofton must be much better off than they had thoughther to be from her letter. Every woman, even the least sophisticated,knows what really beautiful and becoming clothes cost nowadays, and Mrs.Crofton's clothes were eminently beautiful and becoming.

  As Betty went back into the drawing-room, she heard the visitor say:--"Iwas born with a kind of horror of dogs, and I'm afraid that in someuncanny way they always know it! It's such bad luck, for most nice peopleand all the people I myself have cared for in my life, have been doglovers."

  And at that Dolly, who had a most unfortunate habit of blurting out justthose things which, even if people are thinking of, they mostly leaveunsaid, exclaimed:--"Your husband bred terriers, didn't he? Flick camefrom him."

  Mrs. Crofton made no answer to this, and Janet, who was looking at her,saw her face alter. A curious expression of--was it pain?--it looked morelike fear,--came over it. It was clear that Dolly's thoughtless words hadhurt her.

  Suddenly there came the sound of a tap on the pane of one of the windows,and Mrs. Crofton, whose nerves were evidently very much out of order,gave a suppressed cry.

  "It's only Timmy," said Timmy's mother reassuringly, and then she wentand opened the window. "I hope you've shut Flick up," she said in a lowvoice.

  "Of course I have, Mum. He's quite quiet now."

  As the boy came forward, into the room, he looked straight up into Mrs.Crofton's face, and as she met the enquiring, alien look, she toldherself, for the second time that evening, what a pity it was that thesenice people should have such an unpleasant child.

  Tom came in to say that the pony cart was at the door, and that Jack waswaiting there for Mrs. Crofton.

  They all went out in the hall to see her off. It was a bright, beautiful,moonlight night, and Rosamund thought the scene quite romantic.

  Mr. Tosswill handed his guest into the pony cart with his usual, ratheraloof, courtesy; and after all the good-byes had been said, and as Jackdrove down the long, solitary avenue, Enid Crofton told herself that inspite of that horrible incident with the dog--it was so strange thatFlick should come, as it were, to haunt her out of her old life, thelife she was so anxious to forget--she had had a very promising andsuccessful evening. The only jarring note had been that horrid littleboy Timmy--Timmy and his hateful dog.

  And then suddenly Enid Crofton asked herself whether Godfrey Radmore waslikely to go on being as fond of Timmy Tosswill as he seemed to be now.She had been surprised at the reminiscent affection with which he hadspoken of his little godson. But there is a great difference between anattractive baby-child of three and a forward, spoilt, undersized boy oftwelve. About a week ago, while they were enjoying a delicious littledinner in the Berkeley Hotel grill-room, he had said:--"Although ofcourse none of them know it, for the present at any rate, Master Timmy ismy heir; if I were to die to-night Timmy Tosswill would become a verywell-to-do young gentleman!"

  Even at the time they had been uttered, the careless words had annoyedEnid Crofton; and now the recollection of them made her feel quite angry.All her life long money had played a great part in this very prettywoman's inmost thoughts.