by W. W. Jacobs
mood passed at the samemoment that Mr. Hurst passed the window.
"Better have him in and get it over," he said, irritably.
Miss Garland shuddered.
"Never!" she said, firmly. "He'd be down on his knees. It would be toopainful. You don't know him."
"Don't want to," said Mr. Mott.
He finished his breakfast in silence, and, after a digestive pipe,proposed a walk. The profile of Mr. Hurst, as it went forlornly past thewindow again, served to illustrate Miss Garland's refusal.
"I'll go out and see him," said Mr. Mott, starting up. "Are you going tobe a prisoner here until this young idiot chooses to go home? It'spreposterous!"
He crammed his hat on firmly and set out in pursuit of Mr. Hurst, who waswalking slowly up the street, glancing over his shoulder. "Morning!"said Mr. Mott, fiercely. "Good morning," said the other.
"Now, look here," said Mr. Mott. "This has gone far enough, and I won'thave any more of it. Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, chivvyinga young lady that doesn't want you. Haven't you got any pride?"
"No," said the young man, "not where she is concerned."
"I don't believe you have," said the other, regarding him, "and I expectthat's where the trouble is. Did she ever have reason to think you werelooking after any other girls?"
"Never, I swear it," said Mr. Hurst, eagerly.
"Just so," said Mr. Mott, with a satisfied nod. "That's where you made amistake. She was too sure of you; it was too easy. No excitement.Girls like a man that other girls want; they don't want a turtle-dove infancy trousers."
Mr. Hurst coughed.
"And they like a determined man," continued Miss Garland's uncle. "Why,in my young days, if I had been jilted, and come down to see about it,d'you think I'd have gone out of the house without seeing her? I mighthave been put out--by half-a-dozen--but I'd have taken the mantelpieceand a few other things with me. And you are bigger than I am."
"We aren't all made the same," said Mr. Hurst, feebly.
"No, we're not," said Mr. Mott. "I'm not blaming you; in a way, I'msorry for you. If you're not born with a high spirit, nothing'll give itto you."
"It might be learnt," said Mr. Hurst. Mr. Mott laughed.
"High spirits are born, not made," he said. "The best thing you can dois to go and find another girl, and marry her before she finds you out."
Mr. Hurst shook his head.
"There's no other girl for me," he said, miserably. "And everythingseemed to be going so well. We've been buying things for the house forthe last six months, and I've just got a good rise in my screw."
"It'll do for another girl," said Mr. Mott, briskly. "Now, you get offback to town. You are worrying Florrie by staying here, and you aredoing no good to anybody. Good-bye."
"I'll walk back as far as the door with you," said Mr. Hurst. "You'vedone me good. It's a pity I didn't meet you before."
"Remember what I've told you, and you'll do well yet," he said, pattingthe young man on the arm.
"I will," said Mr. Hurst, and walked on by his side, deep in thought.
"I can't ask you in," said Mr. Mott, jocularly, as he reached his door,and turned the key in the lock. "Good-bye."
"Good-bye," said Mr. Hurst.
He grasped the other's outstretched hand, and with a violent jerk pulledhim into the street. Then he pushed open the door, and, slipping intothe passage, passed hastily into the front room, closely followed by theinfuriated Mr. Mott.
"What--what--what!" stammered that gentleman.
"I'm taking your tip," said Mr. Hurst, pale but determined. "I'm goingto stay here until I have seen Florrie."
"You--you're a serpent," said Mr. Mott, struggling for breath. "I--I'msurprised at you. You go out before you get hurt."
"Not without the mantelpiece," said Mr. Hurst, with a distorted grin.
"A viper!" said Mr. Mott, with extreme bitterness. "If you are not outin two minutes I'll send for the police."
"Florrie wouldn't like that," said Mr. Hurst. "She's awfully particularabout what people think. You just trot upstairs and tell her that agentleman wants to see her."
He threw himself into Mr. Mott's own particular easy chair, and, crossinghis knees, turned a deaf ear to the threats of that incensed gentleman.Not until the latter had left the room did his features reveal thetimorousness of the soul within. Muffled voices sounded from upstairs,and it was evident that an argument of considerable length was inprogress. It was also evident from the return of Mr. Mott alone that hisniece had had the best of it.
"I've done all I could," he said, "but she declines to see you. She saysshe won't see you if you stay here for a month, and you couldn't do that,you know."
"Why not?" inquired Mr. Hurst.
"Why not?" repeated Mr. Mott, repressing his feelings with somedifficulty. "Food!"
Mr. Hurst started.
"And drink," said Mr. Mott, following up his advantage. "There's no goodin starving yourself for nothing, so you may as well go."
"When I've seen Florrie," said the young man, firmly.
Mr. Mott slammed the door, and for the rest of the day Mr. Hurst saw himno more. At one o'clock a savoury smell passed the door on its wayupstairs, and at five o'clock a middle-aged woman with an inane smilelooked into the room on her way aloft with a loaded tea-tray. By supper-time he was suffering considerably from hunger and thirst.
At ten o'clock he heard the footsteps of Mr. Mott descending the stairs.The door opened an inch, and a gruff voice demanded to know whether hewas going to stay there all night. Receiving a cheerful reply in theaffirmative, Mr. Mott secured the front door with considerable violence,and went off to bed without another word.
He was awakened an hour or two later by the sound of something falling,and, sitting up in bed to listen, became aware of a warm and agreeableodour. It was somewhere about the hour of midnight, but a breakfastsmell of eggs and bacon would not be denied.
He put on some clothes and went downstairs. A crack of light showedunder the kitchen door, and, pushing it open with some force, he gazedspellbound at the spectacle before him.
"Come in," said Mr. Hurst, heartily. "I've just finished."
He rocked an empty beer-bottle and patted another that was half full.Satiety was written on his face as he pushed an empty plate from him,and, leaning back in his chair, smiled lazily at Mr. Mott.
"Go on," said that gentleman, hoarsely. Mr. Hurst shook his head.
"Enough is as good as a feast," he said, reasonably. "I'll have somemore to-morrow."
"Oh, will you?" said the other. "Will you?"
Mr. Hurst nodded, and, opening his coat, disclosed a bottle of beer ineach breast-pocket. The other pockets, it appeared, contained food.
"And here's the money for it," he said, putting down some silver on thetable. "I am determined, but honest."
With a sweep of his hand, Mr. Mott sent the money flying.
"To-morrow morning I send for the police. Mind that!" he roared.
"I'd better have my breakfast early, then," said Mr. Hurst, tapping hispockets. "Good night. And thank you for your advice."
He sat for some time after the disappearance of his host, and then,returning to the front room, placed a chair at the end of the sofa and,with the tablecloth for a quilt, managed to secure a few hours' troubledsleep. At eight o'clock he washed at the scullery sink, and at teno'clock Mr. Mott, with an air of great determination, came in to deliverhis ultimatum.
"If you're not outside the front door in five minutes, I'm going to fetchthe police," he said, fiercely.
"I want to see Florrie," said the other.
"Well, you won't see her," shouted Mr. Mott.
Mr. Hurst stood feeling his chin.
"Well, would you mind taking a message for me?" he asked. "I just wantyou to ask her whether I am really free. Ask her whether I am free tomarry again."
Mr. Mott eyed him in amazement.
"You see, I only heard from her mot
her," pursued Mr. Hurst, "and a friendof mine who is in a solicitor's office says that isn't good enough. Ionly came down here to make sure, and I think the least she can do is totell me herself. If she won't see me, perhaps she'd put it in writing.You see, there's another lady."
"But"
