EPILOGUE
It was Saturday afternoon. The spacious lawn in front of Mr. Crawshay'shouse was spread with bamboo tables and deck-chairs. At the porch stoodMr. Crawshay and Mr. Ambrose Pratt side by side, smoking long cigars,chatting and laughing with the familiarity of old friends. Mr. Pratt'sright arm was in a sling.
"It's time they came," said Mr. Crawshay, taking out his watch. He worea large panama, and his suit of spotless ducks gave him a festal air.
"They're probably squabbling for precedence," said Mr. Pratt; "not onsocial grounds, but for modesty. It's an ordeal, you know, Crawshay;and when they see your rig, and that purple tie of yours, they'll beabashed."
"What'll they say to the women, then?" returned Mr. Crawshay. "Upon mysoul, Pratt, I think you are right to come in your old clothes; they'llfeel more at home. It never occurred to me."
"Oh, well, you're lord of the manor; I dare say you're right to look thepart. But here they come, in a bunch. Mrs. Rogers is, perhaps, a shadeahead."
Mr. Crawshay turned and called through the open door. His daughter, ina dainty confection of muslin and lace, and a straw hat trimmed withpink silk, came running out, followed by her mother, an impressivefigure in blue, and our three campers, in flannels and blazers.Armstrong also had an arm in a sling.
Grouped in front of the porch they awaited the coming of the party thathad just entered the drive. Mrs. Rogers, in stiff black silk, and awonderful bonnet, marched along a little in advance of her husband,hardly recognisable in his Sunday suit of blue serge and a bowler hatsitting uneasily on the back of his head. Samuel Blevins, the generaldealer, had affected a long frock coat and a tall hat. Henery Drew,magnificent in a brown bowler and a suit of large-checked tweed, walkedbeside Hardstone, the constable, disguised in habiliments that mighthave become a prosperous plumber. The rest of the company, whose nameswe do not know, were alike in one respect; all had donned their "Sundaybest." Every face, without exception, wore an air of deep solemnity.
Mr. Crawshay took a step forward.
"Glad to see you, neighbours," he said, genially. "We are lucky in afine afternoon."
He shook hands with them individually, a greeting that inflicted on themvarious degrees of embarrassment, deepened by the smiling welcome of hiswife and daughter. Mr. Pratt contented himself with a generalsalutation; it was not until the boys began to crack jokes with themthat the prevailing gloom lightened.
"You didn't bring your sister, Rogers?" said Mr. Crawshay to theinnkeeper.
"True, sir; she bain't come along."
"She couldn't face 'ee, sir," added Mrs. Rogers. "I always did say asshe was making a rod for her back, though never did I think Rod was sucha downright wicked feller. And Henery Drew, as would have made her agood husband as far as husbands do go, and now he can't marry herwithout committing bigamy."
"Well, well! We must hope for the best," said Mr. Crawshay. "Now, myfriends, we're all here. Take your seats, and we'll have tea."
The company seated themselves. Maids brought from the house traysfilled with good things. Mrs. Crawshay poured out tea, and Lilian andthe boys carried round the eatables. Under the influence of good cheerthe villagers' stiffness wore off, and they began to descant upon themoving events of the past days. For the first time in its history thevillage had become a place of importance. Visitors had flocked to itfrom all parts; journalists with cameras had interviewed the actors inthe drama, and expressed themselves very freely on Mr. Pratt's refusalto admit them to his grounds, and to pose for his photograph. Hismodesty in this respect was a standing puzzle to his humble neighbours.Mrs. Rogers, for instance, was extremely proud of the portrait of herhusband that had appeared in the previous day's picture paper.
"The scar shows beautiful," she said, complacently.
"Dear me," said Mrs. Crawshay, with a discreet glance at Rogers's broadface, "I wasn't aware----"
"Take off your hat, Joe, and show the lady."
Removing his hat, Rogers displayed a red furrow that ran across hisshiny pate.
"What a narrow escape!" exclaimed Mrs. Crawshay.
"Ay sure, ma'am, 'twas so," said Mrs. Rogers. "And I'm certain a widow'scap wouldn't have suited me."
"Well, Mrs. Rogers, you won't be so particular about Joe's wig afterthis," said Percy Pratt. "You see, if he'd worn his wig, his scalpwouldn't have been touched; think what millions of people have had thepleasure of admiring your husband, talking about his bravery, discussingthe track of the bullet across his skull. No one wanted to take myphotograph."
"They took 'ee unbeknownst, then, becos there you be, next to Joe, with'Pepper and Salt' printed underneath; very clever, I call it, Joe beingonce a sailor."
"Oh, I say," exclaimed Pratt, "did they get the others too?"
"No, sir. Not as I think it a very good likeness. You've got your twoeyes half shut, and your mouth is a very queer shape, like as if you wasexpecting of somebody to pop something in it--a drop of physic, maybe."
The villagers looked merely interested, the others frankly amused.Pratt blushed.
"He must have caught you when you were singing a particularlysentimental song, old chap," said Warrender, smiling.
"That reminds me," said Mrs. Crawshay. "Do bring out your banjo, Mr.Pratt, and sing us something."
"Wait a minute," said Mr. Crawshay. "Before we beginthe--entertainment, shall I call it?--I want to say a word or two."
"Hear, hear!" exclaimed Blevins. "'Tis what I call an event."
"No heroics, for goodness' sake, Crawshay," murmured Mr. Pratt.
Mr. Crawshay assumed the look of one determined not to be interferedwith.
"I just want to say, neighbours," he proceeded, "how glad I am to seeyou all here this afternoon, in celebration of what Mr. Blevins rightlycalls an event in the simple history of our little parish. You all had apart in the frustration of the most nefarious criminal conspiracy thathas ever come within my long experience as a county magistrate. Thanksto the ingenuity and perseverance of my dear young friends, theirrefusal to be intimidated, their sleepless vigils and untiringwatchfulness, the secrets of that criminal conspiracy were laid bare, myold friend and neighbour was rescued from a most distressing situation,and you, anticipating the slow operation of the law, but sanctioned bythe presence among you of an officer of the law, were able to secure theapprehension of the whole band of criminals, who are now awaiting in thedarkness of the county gaol the due reward of their deeds. Our villageis to be congratulated on the visit of three young men, typical productsof our renowned public school system, and on the public spirit of itsown inhabitants, who, when the call for action came, forgetting allclass distinctions, regardless of personal risk, braved the murderousweapons of unscrupulous villains, and nobly carried out the first dutyof the patriotic citizen. I am speaking the mind of you all," theworthy magistrate went on, warming to his subject, "when I say that weshall long treasure the memory of our young friends, their high spirits,their unfailing cheerfulness under persecution, their courage andingenuity; and it is a matter of regret that, yielding to paramountclaims, the claims of parental affection, they are leaving us to-day.But it will please you all to hear that, in response to my invitation--Imay say to my insistence--they have agreed to visit us again next year;and I understand from my old friend and neighbour, Mr. Pratt, that heintends to acquire No Man's Island, so long derelict, and restore thecottage as a holiday hostel for boys of our public schools."
Here there were general cheers.
"Dear old Father!" whispered Lilian to the boys. "He gets so fewchances of making a speech, and he does love it so."
"I won't detain you longer," Mr. Crawshay went on. "No doubt Mr. Prattwould like to say a few words."
"Hate it!" exclaimed Mr. Pratt. "One thing only. I've had a bad time.I deserved it. I was over-hasty. My old servants are scattered; if anyof you know where they are, tell them to come to me. I'll reinstatethem--if we can agree about wages."
Unde
r cover of the villagers' applause, Percy seized the opportunity ofunbosoming himself to a select audience, his companions and LilianCrawshay.
"Are we blushing, Miss Crawshay?" he asked. "I don't think we are,because, you see, we are supremely conscious of each other's merits. Wereally are benefactors, you know--public and private. Who would everbelieve that the two old gentlemen were not long ago calling each otherluna----"
"Now, Mr. Pratt," the girl interrupted.
"Well, X and Y then," rejoined Pratt. "It's undeniable, isn't it, thatthey're reconciled through us? And as for my uncle and me, we're quitepally; the old feud is healed, and before long I expect my father andUncle Ambrose will kiss again with tears. Tennyson, you know. Anyway,it's been a ripping holiday, and----"
"Now, Mr. Pratt, we are all waiting," said Mrs. Crawshay, amiably.
Pratt obediently went into the house, brought out his banjo, and trolledout ditties of the most sentimental order. Presently Warrenderannounced that it was time to go if they meant to reach Southamptonbefore dark. The whole company trooped down to the bank with them, andwatched them board the motor-boat, already loaded with their campequipment. Last good-byes were said; Warrender opened the throttle; andas the boat panted down stream there came to the ears of the silentspectators the gentle strumming of the banjo, and Pratt's melodioustenor--
"Our hearts were once divided, But now they beat as one; The clouds roll by across the sky, And yonder shines the sun."
THE END
No Man's Island Page 27
