A Drake by George!

by John Trevena

  CHAPTER VI

  HONOURABLE INTENTIONS

  Every evening at nine Mrs. Drake drank a cup of coffee. This was acustom of some historical importance, and it originated after thefollowing manner:

  Captain Drake had a great liking for a small glass of whisky and waterafter his evening pipe; but, during the first few weeks of married life,refrained from divulging this weakness to his wife, who could notunderstand why he became so restless at the same time every evening. TheCaptain explained that, when he had finished smoking, he suffered froman incurable longing to arise and walk about the house. Mrs. Drakeadvised him to take exercise by all means, and the Captain did so,wandering towards the dining room at nine o'clock, and returning aboutten minutes later in a thoroughly satisfied state of mind. But oneevening the lady heard him whisper to the servant, "Water, my child!Water!"--the Captain never could whisper properly--and upon anotherevening she distinguished the creak of a corkscrew, while every eveningshe was able to detect a subtle aroma which could not have beenintroduced as one of the ordinary results of walking about the house.

  "So you are fond of whisky," she said sharply.

  "Well, not exactly fond of it, my dear," stammered the Captain. "ReallyI don't care for whisky, but I like the feeling it gives me."

  "I don't like hypocrisy, and I dislike still more the feeling it givesme. In future we will drink together. When you take your glass ofwhisky, I will have a cup of coffee," she replied.

  After the arrival of Miss Yard at Windward House, she too was offeredthe cup, but declined, as she abhorred coffee.

  "But it's cocoa," explained Kezia.

  "Why do you call it coffee then?" asked Miss Yard, who had quite enoughto perplex her poor brain without this unnecessary difficulty.

  "Mrs. Drake used to have coffee once, but, as she never cared for itmuch, she took to cocoa. She has drunk cocoa for twenty years, but wealways call it coffee."

  Bessie and Robert stayed every evening to drink coffee, which wasgenerally cocoa, but sometimes beer. One evening Nellie was so late thatKezia declared she should wait for her no longer. It was Thursday, andNellie, who sang in the choir, had gone out to attend the weeklypractice. Suddenly Robert withdrew his head from a steaming bowl anddeclared he heard voices in the garden. All listened, and presentlyNellie's laughter passed in at the back door, which stood open as thenight was warm, but Nellie did not accompany it.

  Robert made a signal to the others, and they tiptoed out like so manyconspirators, to discover the young lady enjoying a confidentialconversation with somebody else who sang in the choir, and whose voicehad been described by the schoolmaster-organist as a promising baritone.It looked as if it was promising then.

  A few minutes later Kezia and Bessie appeared in the parlour, and askedMrs. Drake if she had any objection to Sidney Brock drinking a cup ofcoffee.

  "Who is Sidney Brock?" demanded Mrs. Drake, like a learned judge of theKing's Bench.

  "He'm the grandson of Eli Brock, and he sings in the choir."

  Mrs. Drake expressed her approval, but required to know more about thefamily before she could issue a permit to Sidney entitling him to drinkcoffee.

  "They'm the new folk to Black Anchor," explained Bessie. "Mr. Brock usedto keep a post office, they ses, but it failed, and now he'm farming wi'Sidney, and they ha' got no woman, and they took Black Anchor because'twas to be had vor nothing nearly, and 'tis wonderful, Robert ses,what a lot they ha' done already."

  "The post office failed!" exclaimed Miss Yard, who had been listeningintently with a hand behind her ear. "What a pity! Now I shan't be ableto write any more letters."

  "Mr. Brock's post office, miss," cried Bessie. "It was a shop as well,but it didn't pay."

  "How much does he want?" asked Miss Yard, searching for her reticule.

  "Nothing, miss."

  "What's he come for then? I hope he hasn't brought a telegram."

  "He's one of the choirmen, Sophy," exclaimed Mrs. Drake, adding, "But Idon't know why he should come here."

  "He's just brought your Nellie home," said Kezia.

  "Oh, I am so thankful!" cried Miss Yard. "I knew Nellie would be lost,going out these dreadful dark nights."

  "She only went to choir practice, miss. Sidney is her young man now, andthey'll make the best looking couple in Highfield," said Bessie.

  "How silly of you to tell her that!" said Mrs. Drake crossly.

  Miss Yard said nothing for a few moments. She stared at the mummy, thenat the grandfather clock, which was no longer in working order; andpresently her poor old face began to twitch and tears rolled down hercheeks. She tried to rise, but Kezia restrained her with kindly hands,saying, "Don't worry, miss. Sidney is a very nice young man, and I'msure Nellie couldn't do much better."

  "She never told me," sobbed Miss Yard.

  "Perhaps she did, but you know you don't remember anything," said Mrs.Drake soothingly.

  "My memory is as good as yours. I can remember you eating a lot ofchocolate on your fifth birthday, and being suddenly sick in the fender.Nellie has run away and got married--and I never gave her a weddingpresent--and I can't get on without her. You know, Maria, I never didlike that fat woman at the post office."

  "What has she got to do with Nellie?"

  "You told me Nellie had to marry the man because the post officefailed--and that woman opens my letters and reads them."

  "Call Nellie and tell her to put Miss Sophy to bed," ordered Mrs. Drake.

  "The young man's waiting outside," Kezia reminded her.

  "Ask him in, and give him a cup of coffee. And, when she has gone tobed, tell him to come in here. I want to see what he is like. GetNellie, quick!" cried the lady; for Miss Yard had got away from herchair and was knocking things over.

  Nellie appeared in full flower, to scold her mistress for not remainingdormant until her usual bedtime; but on this occasion Miss Yard rebelledagainst discipline.

  "You have deceived me," she said bitterly. "You have been a littleviper. Everybody in this house deceives me, and keeps things from me,except George. He is the only gentleman here. He's the only one whoknows how to behave properly. When I hit my head upon the door, he wassorry for me; but you laughed, and my sister laughed, and everybody'slaughing now except George. He knows how hard it is to walk out of aroom without hurting yourself."

  "It's so easy to laugh somehow," said Nellie.

  "Why did you marry the postman without telling me?"

  "I have not married the postman, and I'm not thinking of gettingmarried; and what's more I won't marry while I have you to look after,"Nellie promised.

  "But you went out and got lost, and some man found you, and they all sayyou married him."

  "There wasn't time," said Nellie. "Now come away to bed, and we'll talkabout it in the morning."

  "I hope we shall be able to forget all the malice and wickedness. Maria,do let us try to begin all over again," said Miss Yard earnestly. "Thisevil speaking and slandering is so dreadful. You tried to take awaypoor Nellie's character; you heard Kezia say she was a regular bad girl;and that horrid Bessie, who will _not_ stop growing, said it was becausethe woman at the post office couldn't sell her stamps, and then thepostman tempted her to run off with him."

  "But he didn't succeed," said the laughing girl, as she conveyed MissYard towards the stairs.

  As they disappeared George entered the house, and observed to his auntthat the night was warm. Mrs. Drake felt cold towards her nephew, whoseletter of appointment had not yet arrived, but she thawed sufficientlyto inquire whether he knew anything about the Brocks. George becamesuspicious, and answered guardedly:

  "The old man is a marvel. He cooks the food and keeps the house tidy,and puts in a good day's work as well upon the worst farm in the parish.But the people don't like him much."

  "Why not?" demanded Mrs. Drake.

  "They think it's queer a man should do a woman's work; and some of themsay it's not quite decent."

  His voice died away into a gasp of amaze
ment, for that moment Keziaannounced Sidney, and that young fellow appeared upon the carpet. Georgehad been about to give him a remarkably good character, but was nowdisposed to reconsider his decision; especially when Mrs. Drake, after afew preliminary remarks, introduced the name of Nellie. Georgeimmediately withdrew to a back window and began to search for flies.

  "She is a very good girl, and my sister is wonderfully attached to her,"Mrs. Drake resumed.

  "Same here," said Sidney promptly.

  "I don't know whether you are engaged to her," said Mrs. Drake.

  "Well, we don't exactly get engaged. We just walk together until we canget married, and then we do it," exclaimed Sidney.

  "I hope you won't ask her to marry you while my sister is alive."

  "Nellie wouldn't leave Miss Yard, and 'twould be no gude my asking her."

  "Do you think the farm will pay?" was Mrs. Drake's next question.

  "We'll get a living out of it, sure enough," replied Sidney cheerfully."The last folk left it in a pretty bad state--they let the bog get intothe best field, and the whole place is vull of verm--but there's plentyof gude soil. 'Twill take a year to get straight, and after that weshall go ahead. Grandfather's past seventy, but he's vor ten hours a dayyet."

  "An example for some men," commented the lady, with a shrug of hershoulders towards the fly killer. "The finest man in the world--that'sgrandfather. There ain't hardly a job he can't do, whether 'tis man'swork or woman's work."

  "How old are you?"

  "Past nineteen."

  "Would you marry a girl older than yourself?"

  "If her name wur Nellie Blisland, I would."

  "I hope you will get on," said Mrs. Drake in her kindliest fashion. "Youmay come in any evening for a cup of coffee with the others, and tellyour grandfather to stay to supper with you on Sundays after church."

  "Thankye kindly," said Sidney.

  "That's what I call a man, though he is only nineteen," observed Mrs.Drake, when she and her nephew were alone again.

  "Oh yes, he's a nice boy, a clever boy. A bit mealy-mouthed, and allthat sort of thing," said George indifferently.

  "Do you know anything against him?"

  "I can see what's going on. The old man is one of the best, but Sidneyisn't quite straight. This singing in the choir, you know, is just ablind. Nellie's not the only girl."

  "Do you mean to say the boy is a humbug--like you are?"

  "Find out for yourself," replied George fiercely, and stalked out of theroom.

  Local rumour was brought to Windward House every day by Robert, butMrs. Drake had no direct communication with him. She inquired of Keziaconcerning Sidney's character, and Kezia appealed to Bessie, who knewquite as much as her husband, although she could not speak with hisauthority. Robert declared he liked Sidney, and had never seen him withmore than one young woman at a time; but he admitted some rather unkindthings were being said against the two occupants of the lonely farm,especially by the women, who were of opinion that old Brock had disposedof his former relations by means of those illegal methods which made theordinary Sunday newspaper such interesting and instructive reading. Atall events, a man who was independent of female labour could not expectto be regarded as a Christian, even though he did attend church and hadgrown a patriarchal beard. The Brocks, in short, were not like othermen; they were therefore mysteries; and anything of a mysterious naturewas bound to be intimately connected with secret crime.

  These things Robert admitted, quite forgetting--if the fact had everdawned upon him--that it was the custom in Highfield, as in other placesabout the Forest of Dartmoor, for the parishioners to revile each otheramongst themselves, and to defend one another against all outsiders. Inthe bad old days a certain vicar of Highfield had been a notoriousdrunkard, and was so hated by his people that he could hardly appear inthe street without being insulted; but when the authorities sought toprocure evidence against him, all were for their vicar, and the very menwho had carried him home drunk the previous night swore they had neverknown him the worse for liquor. Mrs. Drake did not know of thispeculiarity, and was therefore forced to the conclusion that Mr. Brockhad a past, which was not wonderful considering his age; and that, ifNellie married Sidney and went to live at Black Anchor, it was quitepossible she would not have a future. So she instructed Kezia not toencourage the young man, and advised Nellie to fall out of love astactfully as possible.

  In the meantime, George appeared to be passing through the throes ofreformation. Although actually the same unprofitable person, hesucceeded, by a skilful change of methods, in making his aunt believeindustry was now the one and the only thing he lived for. He displayed apassion for railways; talked of little but express trains andtimetables; constructed a model of a railway station out of a fewpacking cases; and drew caricatures of locomotives. He fumed everymorning because the long expected letter from headquarters still failedto arrive. Mrs. Drake, who was easily deceived, quite supposed Georgehad turned over a new leaf; and he had done so, but without changinghis book. He had not the slightest intention of quitting Windward House,but he could see no prospect of carrying out his programme bypersevering in the old methods. He continued to idle away his time; buthe did so in a different fashion.

  His next step was to develop the programme, and to indulge a few of theleading items to the other person whose name was writ large upon it.This was no easy matter, since opportunity, resolution, and guilelessspeech would have to be obtained simultaneously. George's eloquence wasof the meanest description; he was master of no honeyed phrase, whilehis method of expressing affection for another consisted in advertisingthe virtues of himself.

  One afternoon he was lying beneath a favourite apple tree, when a finespecimen of the fruit fell upon his chest. He sat up, rubbed his eyes,and looked round. Then he ate the apple and listened. The silence wasprofound; he seemed to be indolent monarch of a lazy world. Georgeremembered that, shortly before sleep had gently touched his eyelids,Mrs. Drake and Kezia had passed out of the garden. Miss Yard would becontentedly muddling through the maze of some missionary magazine. Whilethe only other person in the house might be sitting beside a window atthe back.

  George comprehended that the falling apple had been a call to seize theopportunity; resolution he seemed to have acquired by devouring it;eloquence alone was wanting. But big words, he knew, could never failbrave people.

  Fortune was smiling in the kindest way from the little upstairs window,where Nellie's head was bobbing over a sewing-machine, which she fedwith yards of summer-cloud material. George went on steadily reformingand strenuously gazing; but Nellie did not condescend to throw a glancein his direction.

  "There's a nice view from your window," he said at last; an unfortunatebeginning, as the girl could see little except himself.

  "Lovely," she said, without looking around.

  "Are you sewing?" George inquired gently.

  "Learning the typewriter," she replied.

  George wanted to go into the house and procure a glass of cider, butdared not lose the opportunity.

  "Nellie," he said, making as many syllables possible of her name, "doyou mind me talking to you a little about yourself?"

  "I can't prevent it unless I shut the window, and don't want to dothat," she said.

  "I wanted to say that--to remind you that my aunt is not going to livefor ever," George continued.

  "That's not talking about me."

  "Ah, but I'm coming to you presently."

  "You can stay where you are," she said coldly.

  "Miss Yard won't live for ever either," said George, more confidently."She can't leave you anything, because all her money goes to my beastlycousin Percy. I know she is always promising to leave you money, but shecan't do it."

  "I am to have her furniture anyhow," said Nellie, removing her handsfrom the machine, and turning at last towards the window.

  "Oh no! I get that. Aunt Sophy's furniture is to go with the rest."

  "Is that really true?" asked Nellie, who
had good reason to besuspicious of Miss Yard's promises.

  "Yes, it all comes to me," said George eagerly. "I shall have thefurniture, and the house, and the cash my aunt leaves. The two Chinesevases aunt keeps underneath her bed are worth a thousand pounds; that'sa great secret, and I wouldn't tell any one but you. The other thingswill fetch five hundred pounds. Then I shall have the money that auntleaves--perhaps another five hundred. Then the property will bringanother thousand. So you see, when the old ladies die, I shall have potsof money."

  "It will mean more to be you then than it does now," said Nellie darkly.

  "Yes, I shall be quite rich. You see, there's no reason why I shouldwork, as aunt is well past seventy."

  "But I thought you were going to do something great and wonderful on therailway?"

  "That was an idea, but I can't afford to leave the place; that's anothersecret, Nellie, and I wouldn't tell any one but you. I am so afraid auntmay give away the vases. She's getting a bit queer in her memory too,and she's always giving away things. When I went to see about a job onthe railway she sent a lot of my things to a rummage sale. She has givenKezia the bed she sleeps on, and a lot more things; but they all belongto me, and I shall claim them when she dies."

  "She has promised me the round table in the parlour," said Nellie.

  "Of course I don't mind what she gives you," said George awkwardly.

  "Many thanks. Now I must go and put on the kettle for tea. You have toldme such a lot about myself."

  "Yes, and I've got still more to say. I shall have quite three thousandpounds--and my tastes are very simple. I don't expect much, and I don'task for much. It's my own belief that I can put up with almost anybody."

  "Now I'm in for it!" Nellie murmured, with a scorching glance at thesomewhat dejected figure in the garden.

  "I have always flattered myself," George rambled on, with the feelingthat eloquence had come to him at last, "I can get along anyhow withanyone."

  "You mustn't be too complimentary. Flattery alone is not worth much, youknow," she said carelessly.

  "I mean all that I say, and--and I'm not so idle as they make out, butwhat's the good of breaking your back when you are coming intothousands? It's only taking a job from some other fellow. I can drawquite well, and paint, and prune roses, and I shall have all my uncle'sfamous furniture, and the house, and the money--"

  "Oh, for goodness' sake, don't keep on talking about me," cried Nellie.

  "If you won't let me say anything more, I'll write it all down," saidGeorge delightedly. "I have tried, but it's so hard to find a word torhyme with Nellie, while Nell is just as bad. Now if your name had beenMary, there's dairy, and fairy, and hairy--"

  "And wary," laughed the girl, as she ran away from the window.