Barrie, J M - When A Man's Single

by When A Man's Single

  Mr. Licquorish looked in at the door of the re- porters' room to ask pleasantly if they would not like a fire. Had Protheroe been there he would havo said "No;" but Billy Kirker said "Yes." Mr. Lic- quorish had thought that Protheroe was there.

  This was the first fire in the reporters' room that season, and it smoked. Kirker, left alone, flung up the window, and gradually became aware that some- one with a heavy tread was walking up and down the alley. He whistled gently in case it should be a friend of his own, but, getting no response, resumed his work. Mr. Licquorish also heard the footsteps, but though he was waiting for the new reporter, he did not connect him with the man outside.

  Rob had stopped at the door a score of times, and then turned away. He had arrived at Silchester in the afternoon, and come straight to the Mirror office to look at it Then he had set out in quest of lodg- ings, and, having got them, had returned to the passage. He was not naturally a man crushed by a sense of his own unworthiness, but, looking up at these windows and at the shadows that passed them every moment, he felt far away from his saw-mill. What a romance to him, too, was in the glare of the gas and in the Mirror bill that was being reduced to pulp on the wall at the mouth of the close ! It had

  48 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  begun to rain heavily, but he did not feel the want of an umbrella, never having possessed one in Thrums.

  Fighting down the emotions that had mastered him so often, he turned once more to the door, and as he knocked more loudly than formerly, a compos- itor came out, who told him what to do if he was there on business.

  "Go upstairs," he said, "till you come to a door, and then kick."

  Rob did not have to kick, however, for he met Mr. Licquorish coming downstairs, and both half stopped.

  " Not Mr. Angus, is it? "asked Mr. Licquorish.

  " Yes," said the new reporter, the monosyllable also telling that he was a Scotsman and that he did not feel comfortable.

  Mr. Licquorish shook him warmly by the hand, and took him into the editor's room. Rob sat in a chair there with his hat in his hand, while his new employer spoke kindly to him about the work that would begin on the morrow.

  "You will find it a little strange at first," ho said; "but Mr. Kirker, the head of our reporting staff, has been instructed to explain the routine of the office to you, and I have no doubt we shall work well together."

  Rob said he meant to do his best.

  " It is our desire, Mr. Angus," continued Mr. Lic- quorish, " to place every facility before our staff, and

  ROB GOES OUT INTO THE WORLD. 49

  if you have suggestions to make at any time en any matter connected with your work we shall be most happy to consider them and to meet you in a cordial spirit."

  While Rob was thanking Mr. Licquorish for his consideration, Kirker in the next room was wonder- ing whether the new reporter was to have half a crown a week less than his predecessor, who had be- gun with six pounds a month.

  "It is pleasant to us," Mr. Licquorish concluded, referring to the novelist, " to know that we have sent out from this office a number of men who subsequently took a high place in literature. Perhaps our system of encouraging talent by fostering it has had some- thing to do with this, for we like to give every one his opportunity to rise. I hope the day will come, Mr. Angus, when we shall be able to recall with pride the fact that you began your literary career on the Mirror"

  Rob said he hoped so too. He had, indeed, very little doubt of it. At this period of his career it made him turn white to think that he might not yet be famous.

  "But I must not keep you here any longer," said the editor, rising, " for you have had a weary jour- ney, and must be feeling tired. We shall see you at ten o'clock to-morrow?"

  Once more Rob and his employer shook hands

  heartily.

  4

  50 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  "But I might introduce you," said Mr. Licquorish, "to the reporting room. Mr. Kirker, our chief, is, I think, here."

  Rob had begun to descend the stairs, but he turned back. He was not certain what you did when j~ou were introduced to any one, such formalities being unknown in Thrums ; but he held himself in reserve to do as the other did.

  "Ah, Mr. Kirker," said the editor, pushing open the door of the reporting-room with his foot, " this is Mr. Angus, who has just joined our literary staff."

  Nodding genially to both, Mr. Licquorish darted out of the room ; but before the door had finished its swing, Mr. Kirker was aware that the new reporter's nails had a rim of black.

  " What do you think of George Frederick?" asked the chief, after he had pointed out to Rob the only chair that such a stalwart reporter might safely sit on.

  " He was very pleasant," said Rob.

  "Yes," said Billy Kirker, thoughtfully, "there's nothing George Frederick wouldn't do for any one if it could be done gratis."

  "And he struck me as an enterprising sort of man."

  "'Enterprise without outlay' is the motto of this office," said the chief.

  "But the paper seems to be well conducted," said Rob, a little crestfallen.

  ROB GOES OUT INTO THE WORLD. 51

  "The worst conducted in England," said Kirker cheerfully.

  Rob asked how the Mirror compared with the Argus.

  " They have six reporters to our three," said Kir- ker, " but we do double work and beat them."

  " I suppose there is a great deal of rivalry between the staffs of the two papers?" Rob asked, for he had read of such things.

  " Oh, no !" said Kirker, " we help each other. For instance, if Daddy Walsh, the Argus chief, is drunk, I help him ; and if I'm drunk, he helps me. I'm going down to the Frying Pan to see him now."

  " The Frying Pan? "echoed Rob.

  "It's a literary club," Kirker explained, "and very exclusive. If you come with me I'll introduce you."

  Rob was somewhat taken aback at what he had heard, but he wanted to be on good terms with his fellow-workers.

  "Not to-night," he said. " I think I'd better be getting home now."

  Kirker lit another cigarette, and saying he would expect Rob at the office next morning, strolled off. The new reporter was undecided whether to follow him at once, or to wait for Mr. Licquorish's reap- pearance. He was looking round the office curiously, when the door opened and Kirker put his head in.

  "By the by, old chap," he said, "could you lend me five bob?"

  52 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  "Yes, yes," said the new reporter.

  He had to undo the string of his money-bag, but the chief was too fine a gentleman to smile.

  "Thanks, old man," Kirker said carelessly, and again withdrew.

  The door of the editor's room was open as Rob passed.

  "Ah, Mr. Angus," said Mr. Licquorish, "here are a number of books for review ; you might do a short notice of some of them."

  He handed Rob the two works that happened to lie uppermost, and the new reporter slipped them into his pockets with a certain elation. The night was dark and wet, but he lit his pipe and hurried up the muddy streets to the single room that was now his home. Probably his were the only lodgings in his street that had not the portrait of a young lady on the mantelpiece. On his way he passed three noisy young men. They were Kirker and the two reporters on the Argus trying which could fling his hat highest in the rain.

  Sitting in his lonely room Rob examined his books with interest. One of them was Tennyson's new volume of poems, and a month afterwards the poet laureate's publishers made Rob march up the streets of Silchester with his chest well forward, by advertis- ing "The Silchester Mirror says, 'This admirable volume.'" After all, the great delight of being on the press is that you can patronize the Tennysons.

  ROB GOES OUT INTO THE WORLD. 53

  Doubtless the poet laureate got a marked copy of Rob's first review forwarded him, and had an anxious moment till he saw that it was favorable. There had been a time when even John Milton felt a thrill pass through him as he saw Messrs. Besaut and Rice
boasting that he thought their " Chaplain of the Fleet" a novel of sustained interest, "which we have read without fatigue."

  Rob sat over his empty grate far on into the night, his mind in a jumble. As he grew more composed the Mirror and its staff sank out of sight, and he was carrying -a dead child in his arms along the leafy Wunny road. His mouth twitched, and his head drooped. He was preparing to go to bed when he sat down again to look at the other book. It was a novel by " M. " in one thin volume, and Rob thought the title, " The Scorn of Scorns," foolish. He meant to write an honest criticism of it, but never having reviewed a book before, he rather hoped that this would be a poor one, which he could con- demn brilliantly. Poor Rob ! he came to think more of that book by and by.

  At last Rob wound up the big watch that neigh- bors had come to gaze at when his father bought it of a pedlar forty years before, and took off the old silver chain that he wore round his neck. He went down on his knees to say his prayers, and then, re- membering that he had said them already, rose up and went to bed.

  CHAPTER IV. "THE SCORN OF SCORNS."

  ST. LEONARD'S LODGE is the residence of Mr. William Meredith, an ex-mayor of Silchester, and stands in the fashionable suburb of the town. There was at one time considerable intercourse between this house and Dome Castle, the seat of Colonel Abinger, though they are five miles apart and in different counties; and one day, after Rob had been on the press for a few months, two boys set out from the castle to show themselves to Nell Meredith. They could have reached the high-road by a private walk between a beech and an ivy hedge, but they preferred to climb down a steep path to the wild running Dome. The advantage of this route was that they risked their necks by taking it.

  Nell, who did not expect visitors, was sitting by the fire in her boudoir dreaming. It was the room in which she and Mary Abinger had often discussed such great questions as Woman, her Aims, her In- fluence ; Man, his Instability, his Weakness, his De- generation ; the Poor, how are we to Help them ; why Lady Lucy Gilding wears Pink when Blue is obvi- ously her Color.

  Nell was tucked away into a soft arm-chair, in 64

  "THE SCORN OF SCORNS." 55

  which her father never saw her without wondering that such a little thing should require eighteen yards for a dress.

  "I'm not so little," she would say on these occa- sions, and then Mr. Meredith chuckled, for he knew that there were young men who considered his Nell tall and terrible. He liked to watch her sweeping through a room. To him the boudoir was a sea of reefs. Nell's dignity when she was introduced to a young gentleman was another thing her father could never look upon without awe, but he also noticed that it soon wore off.

  On the mantelpiece lay a comb and several hair- pins. There are few more mysterious things than hairpins. So far back as we can go into the past we see woman putting up her hair. It is said that mar- ried men lose their awe of hairpins and clean their pipes with them.

  A pair of curling-tongs had a chair to themselves near Nell, and she wore a short blue dressing-jacket. Probably when she woke from her reverie she meant to do something to her brown hair. When old gen- tlemen called at the lodge they frequently told their host that he had a very pretty daughter; when younger gentlemen called they generally called again, and if Nell thought they admired her the first time she spared no pains to make them admire her still more the next time. This was to make them respect their own judgment.

  56 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  It was little Will Abinger who had set Nell a-dreaming, for from wondering if he was home yet for the Christmas holidays her thoughts wandered to his sister Mary, and then to his brother Dick. She thought longer of Dick in his lonely London cham- bers than of the others, and by and by she was saying to herself petulantly, " I wish people would go dying and leaving me money." Mr. Meredith, and still more Mrs. Meredith, thought that their only daugh- ter, an heiress, would be thrown away on Richard Abinger, barrister-at-law, whose blood was much bluer than theirs, but who was, nevertheless, under- stood to be as hard up as his father.

  The door-bell rang, and two callers were ushered into the drawing-room without Nell's knowing it. One of them left his companion to talk to Mrs. Mere- dith, and clattered upstairs in search of the daughter of the house. He was a bright-faced boy of thir- teen, with a passion for flinging stones, and, of late, he had worn his head in the air, not because he was conceited, but that he might look with admiration upon the face of the young gentleman downstairs.

  Bouncing into the parlor, he caught sight of the object of his search before she could turn her head.

  "I say, Nell, I'm back. "

  Miss Meredith jumped from her chair.

  "Will!" she cried.

  When the visitor saw this young lady coming toward him quickly, he knew what she was after,

  "THE SCORN OF SCORNS." 5?

  and tried to get out of her way. But Nell kissed him.

  "Now, then," he said indignantly, pushing her from him.

  Will looked round him fearfully, and then closed the door.

  " You might have waited till the door was shut, at any rate," he grumbled. " It would have been a nice thing if any one had seen you !"

  " Why, what would it have mattered, you horrid little boy !" said Nell.

  "Little boy! I'm bigger than you, at any rate. As for its not mattering but you don't know who is downstairs. The captain "

  " Captain ! "cried Nell.

  She seized her curling-tongs.

  "Yes," said Will, watching the effect of his words, " Greybrooke, the captain of the school. He is giv- ing me a week just now."

  Will said this as proudly as if his guest was Napo- leon Bonaparte, but Nell laid down her curling- irons. The intruder interpreted her action and resented it.

  "You're not his style," he said; "he likes bigger women."

  " Oh, does he?" said Nell, screwing up her little Greek nose contemptuously.

  "He's eighteen," said Will.

  "A mere schoolboy."

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  "Why, he shaves. "

  " Doesn't the master whip him for that?"

  " What ? Whip Greybrooke !"

  Will laughed hysterically.

  " You should just see him at breakfas t with old Jerry. Why, I've seen him myself, when half a dozen of us were asked to tea by Mrs. Jerry, and though we were frightened to open our mouths, what do you think Greybrooke did?"

  "Something silly, I should say."

  " He asked old Jerry, as cool as you like, to pass the butter ! That's the sort of fellow Greybrooke is. "

  "How is Mary?"

  " Oh, she's all right. No, she has a headache. I say, Greybrooke says Mary's rather slow."

  " He must be a horror," said Nell, " and I don't see why you brought him here."

  " I thought you would like to see him," explained Will. "He made a hundred and three against Rugby, and was only bowled off his pads."

  " Well," said Nell, yawning, " I suppose I must go down and meet your prodigy."

  Will, misunderstanding, got between her and the door.

  "You're not going down like that," he said, anx- iously, with a wave of his hand that included the dressing-jacket and the untidy hair. " Greybrooke's so particular, and I told him you were a jolly girl."

  "THE SCORN OF SCORNS." 59

  "What else did you tell him?" asked Nell suspi- ciously.

  "Not much," said Will, with a guilty look.

  " I know you told him something else?"

  "I told him you you were fond of kissing people."

  " Oh, you nasty boy, Will as if kissing a child like you counted!"

  " Never mind," said Will soothingly, " Greybrooke's not the fellow to tell tales. Besides, I know you girls can't help it. Mary's just the same."

  " You are a goose, Will, and the day will come when you'll give anything for a kiss."

  " You've no right to bring such charges against a fellow," said Will indignantly, strutting to the door.

  Half-way downstairs he
turned and came back.

  "I say, Nell," he said, "you you, when you come down, you won't kiss Greybrooke?"

  Nell drew herself up in a way that would have scared any young man but Will.

  "He's so awfully particular," Will continued apologetically.

  " Was it to tell me this you came upstairs?"

  "No, honor bright, it wasn't. I only came up in case you should want to kiss me, and to to have it over."

  Nell was standing near Will, and before he could jump back she slapped his face.

  The snow was dancing outside in a light wind when Nell sailed into the drawing-room. She could

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  probably still inform you how she was dressed, but that evening Will and the captain could not tell Mary. The captain thought it was a reddish dress or else blue; but it was all in squares like a draught-board, according to Will. Forty minutes had elapsed since Will visited her upstairs, and now he smiled at the conceit which made her think that the captain would succumb to a pretty frock. Of course Nell had no such thought. She always dressed carefully because well, because there is never any saying.

  Though Miss Meredith froze Greybrooke with a glance, he was relieved to see her. Her mother had discovered that she knew the lady who married his brother, and had asked questions about the baby. He did not like it. These, he thought, were things you should pretend not to know about. He had contrived to keep his nieces and nephews dark from the fellows at school, though most of them would have been too just to attach any blame to him. Of this baby he was specially ashamed, because they had called it after him.

  Mrs. Meredith was a small, stout lady, of whose cleverness her husband spoke proudly to Nell, but never to herself. When Nell told her how he had bilked, she exclaimed, " Nonsense I" and then waited to hear what else he had said. She loved him, but probably no woman can live with a man for many years without having an indulgent contempt for him, and wondering how he is considered a good man of