A Drake by George!

by John Trevena

  CHAPTER V

  GEORGE TACKLES THE LABOUR PROBLEM

  The following summer Percy Taverner visited his aunts. This gentleman,who was younger than George, would in due course inherit the money leftby the late Mr. Yard to his sons and daughters, of whom the two ladiesof Highfield were now the sole survivors. Therefore Percy had nothing tolose by being uncivil, although as a matter of fact he had onlyneglected Mrs. Drake because he disliked her husband. His Aunt Sophy heloved with good reason, for he made a living by mortgaging his fruitfarm, and when the borrowed money was spent he had only to explainmatters to Miss Yard, and she would pay off the mortgage and immediatelyforget all about it. Percy was not an idler like George, but hepossessed little business capacity, and had selected a form ofoccupation about which he knew nothing whatever; and as he would bequite a rich man when his aunts departed, he did not take the trouble tolearn. Nor did he care to consider such examples of longevity as thegiant tortoise and the Yellow Leaf.

  Miss Yard was delighted to see Percy, but greatly distressed when hedeclined to kiss his own sister; at least he was willing, but Nelliepositively refused. The usual explanations were gone through, and thegood lady tried hard to understand.

  "Of course you are right not to kiss Nellie as she's your cousin. Youngpeople who can marry must not get into the habit of kissing each other,"she said.

  Mrs. Drake was inclined to be chilly towards Percy, but thawed quicklywhen he revealed himself as an attentive and obliging young man. She wasquite sorry he had to sleep across the road in Bessie's cottage becausethere was no spare room in Windward House; and was almost indignant whenPercy declared upon the second day he could not stay until the end ofthe week, as he dared not neglect his tomato plants.

  "Your foreman can look after them," she said. "I have not seen you foryears, and after all there's nothing like one's own relations. It's apleasure to have some one to talk to, for your poor Aunt Sophy isgetting so stupid, and George is no company at all. What do you think ofGeorge?" she asked suddenly.

  "Not much," replied Percy with a laugh.

  "I want to speak to you about George," Mrs. Drake continued. "You're thehead of my family, so I should like your advice about thegood-for-nothing creature. He is getting on for forty, and has neverdone a day's work in his life. He sleeps here, and takes his meals, andgrumbles, and begs money--and, my dear Percy, he has been seen comingout of the public house. He does nothing whatever. He won't even dig upthe potatoes."

  "He knows you can't leave him anything?" asked Percy.

  "Of course he knows it. He will have the furniture and all thecuriosities collected by the Captain; I think that's only right, andbesides, I promised my husband he should have them. But the things won'tbe of much use if he hasn't got a home."

  "He can sell them," said Percy.

  "Second-hand furniture goes for next to nothing," replied Mrs. Drake.

  "That depends," said Percy. Then he pointed to the mantelpiece andcontinued, "If I were you, Aunt, I should wrap those two Chinese vasesin cotton-wool, and put them away."

  "Are they really valuable? My dear husband thought they were, but I'mafraid he didn't know much about such things, and he would exaggeratesometimes. He used to say they were worth a hundred pounds apiece."

  "He was under the mark," said Percy. "I'm not an expert, but I know moreabout Chinese vases than I do about tomatoes, as a friend of mine dealsin the things, and I've picked up a lot from him. I believe those vasesare worth a heap of money."

  "Well, that is a surprise!" cried Mrs. Drake. "I shall take your adviceand pack them away. Don't mention it to George."

  "Certainly not," said Percy, somewhat indignantly.

  "And now what can you suggest?" Mrs. Drake continued, waddling to themantelpiece and flicking a disreputable blowfly from one of the vases."I have told George plainly a hundred times he must do something for aliving, but he won't take a hint. I suppose you wouldn't care to givehim employment? He ought to know something about fruit, as he spendshalf his time leaning against an apple tree."

  "He wouldn't work under me. Besides, I'm doing a losing business as itis. It's a jolly difficult problem, Aunt."

  "Will you open his eyes to his folly and wickedness? If you can't makehim ashamed, you may be able to frighten him. Tell him, if he works, Iwill help him; but, if he won't work, I'll do nothing more for him."

  "All right, Aunt. I'll shift the beggar," said Percy cheerfully; and hewent out to search for his victim.

  George was reclining upon a seat which his uncle had dedicated to thepublic for ever, to commemorate the return of the Drakes to Highfield.When he saw the enemy approaching he closed his eyes; for his cunningnature suggested that Percy would respect his slumbers unless he came asa special messenger. When the footsteps ceased, and the ferrule of astick was pressed gently against his ribs, George realised that acertain amount of trouble awaited him.

  "I was sound asleep. It's a tiring day, and I've been a long walk," heexplained amiably. "Sit down, old chap, and look at the view; but if youwant to admire the sunset, I should advise you to go higher up."

  "I don't want to admire the sunset," replied Percy. "I've been having atalk with Aunt Maria----"

  "And I've been to Black Anchor," broke in George. "I don't supposeyou've read my uncle's history of the parish. It's a classic, and thereare nine hundred copies at home. People called Slack were living therewhen we came; a regular bad lot and a disgrace to the village."

  "Friends of yours?" asked Percy.

  "Not likely! They were no better than savages. The man hobbled off oneday and has never been seen since, and the woman was sent to prison forstealing, and the children were taken into a Home. The farm has beenwithout a tenant for the last two years, and now an old man named Brockhas taken it."

  "Perhaps he would give you a job," suggested Percy.

  "That's a good idea. I'm sorry I forgot to ask him when I went over thisafternoon," said the amiable George, perfectly well aware in whichdirection the wind was blowing. "Unluckily the old chap hasn't anymoney. He cooks the grub while his grandson drains the bogs. Everybody'stalking about it; they can't get over the idea of two men running a farmwithout a woman. Sidney, the young chap, wants to go into the Navy, buthe sacrifices his future to help his grandfather. Funny idea that! Nowif my uncle had been alive he would have got young Brock on a trainingship, I warrant."

  "Funny idea he should want to do some good for his grandfather?"

  "No; but it's queer that a chap who wants to go into the Navy shouldcome to Black Anchor with all its associations of us Drakes," saidGeorge loftily. Then he added, "I'm rested now, so I'll take a stroll."

  "Just as you like. We'll sit here and talk, or we'll stroll and talk,"said the pestilential Percy.

  "Go on then," said George sourly.

  So Percy in his capacity of ambassador delivered the ultimatum: AuntMaria had borne with her husband's nephew for a great number of years,postponing vigorous action out of a mistaken kindness, but she was nowfirmly resolved upon the act of expulsion. "It's for your sakeentirely," he continued. "Naturally Aunt wants to see you settled insome business, as she knows she can't leave you anything."

  "Except the furniture," remarked George indifferently.

  "That's not exactly a fortune," replied Percy, wondering how much hiscousin knew about Chinese vases.

  "My uncle promised I should have the furniture," said the monotonousGeorge.

  "Every man should work," observed Percy virtuously.

  "I could manage tomatoes," retorted George.

  "I shall be a rich man when the aunts die, while you will have nothing.I don't require to build up a business. Don't you want a home of yourown, wife and children, and all that sort of thing?"

  "No," said George.

  "What do you want then?"

  "Board and lodging, and some one to look after me," replied the candidcousin.

  "Aunt Maria has said her last word. She won't keep you in idleness anylonger. And I'm going to stay h
ere until you leave the place."

  "They never brought me up to do anything," argued George for thedefence.

  "They did their best, but you wouldn't work."

  "They ought to have made me. I was young then, and it was their duty tomake me submit to discipline. Now I'm middle-aged."

  "Thirty-eight is still young."

  "With some men; not with me. My habits are formed."

  "When you find something to do--"

  "That's just what Aunt Maria says," George interrupted bitterly. "Shenever suggested anything but once, and then she said I might have goneabroad as a missionary if I hadn't been unfit for the job. It's all verywell to talk about doing something in this beastly overcrowded world,but what can a middle-aged bachelor do except put his trust inProvidence? My uncle was at least practical: he did suggest I shouldturn pilot or harbour-master, although he knew the very sight of the seaputs my liver out of order."

  "You might open a shop to sell fruit and flowers; and I'll supply you."

  "I don't understand buying and selling, and I can't do accounts. Youwould take the profit, and I should have the losses."

  "You must make up your mind. Aunt is perfectly serious," declared Percy.

  "I don't want to offend her, and of course I couldn't abuse herkindness," said George slowly; "but just suppose I did refuse to leavehome--suppose I insisted upon staying here and leading the sort of lifethat suits my health--what could she do?"

  "If you were rotten enough for that, I suppose she could appeal to themagistrates for an ejectment order," replied Percy hazily.

  "She is much too kind for that. Besides, I am her nephew."

  "Only by marriage. You are not a blood relation; you can't claim to bedependent on her."

  "I was thinking what a scandal it would make in the parish. Aunt and Idon't get on well together, but I'm sure she would never turn me out."

  "You ought to have heard her just now. I had no idea Aunt Maria could beso determined. She will give you money--she will help you--but go youmust."

  "Did she say where?"

  "That's for you to decide. Isn't there any sort of job that takes yourfancy?"

  "I like railways. I always feel at home in a big railway station,"George admitted.

  "Station-master,--or traffic-manager--might suit you."

  "Do you know I really believe it would," said George brightly.

  "Now we've found it!" exclaimed Percy. "I'm going the day aftertomorrow, and you had better come with me. We will travel up toWaterloo, and you can see the directors there about getting a job asstation-master. I don't know if there's a premium, but, if there is,Aunt will pay it. You might get a small suburban station to start with.We'll go on Friday--that's a bargain, George?"

  "Right, old chap! It's a long time since I had a holiday," came theominous reply.

  Mrs. Drake opened her heart and purse when she discovered George wasabout to accept a position as station-master. Miss Yard said she wassorry to hear he was giving up tomatoes, then in the same breathimplored Percy to keep away from junctions where people were lost andtrains collided with distressing frequency. Kezia mended linen, packed,and uttered many a dark saying about men who left their homes on Fridayin the pride of life and were not heard of again. Percy assured hisaunts they might always rely upon him to settle any difficulty. WhileGeorge basked in popularity, like a sleek cat upon a windowsill, andtook all that he could get in the way of cash, clothing, andcompliments.

  "You must come here sometimes. I expect you won't be able to get awayfor a year or two; but when you do get leave remember this is alwaysyour home," said Mrs. Drake warmly.

  "I feel sure we shall soon meet again," said George hopefully.

  "A year anyhow: you cannot expect a holiday before then. I'm sure therailway will be lucky to get such a fine looking man, though it's a pityyou stoop, and I wish you were not quite so stout. Perhaps the King willget out at your station some day; and you will have the honour ofputting flower-pots on the platform and laying down the red carpet. Youmay be knighted, George, or at the very least get a medal fordistinguished service."

  George was not thinking about honours much; for he had glanced towardsthe mantelpiece and discovered that the pair of vases were missing.

  "I have put them away," explained Mrs. Drake. "They are wrapped upsafely in a box underneath my bed."

  "I was afraid Percy might have taken them," said George cautiously.

  "He did advise me to put them away, as he thought perhaps we ought totake care of them," Mrs. Drake admitted.

  "I hate the chap," muttered George.

  "I was afraid Aunt Sophy might break them. She is always knockingthings over. She takes an ornament from the mantelpiece, and when shetries to put it back she misjudges the distance. It's the same withtables and teacups. She has broken such a lot of crockery."

  "Uncle said I was to have the vases and everything else that belonged tohim," said George firmly.

  "Oh, you needn't worry," Mrs. Drake replied. "Now that you are reallygoing to work for your living, I will let you into a little secret. WhenI married your uncle he insisted upon going to a lawyer and making hiswill leaving everything to me, although the dear fellow had nothing toleave except his odds and ends. So then of course I made a will leavingeverything to him, although I thought I had nothing to leave; but thelawyer explained that any money I should have in the bank, together withthe proportion of income reckoned up to the day of my death, would go tohim. Then we adopted you, so I went to the lawyer again, and he put onsomething called a codicil, which said that, in the event of uncle dyingfirst, everything that I left would go to you."

  "Then there is no reason why I should work for my living," said Georgecheerfully.

  "How are you going to live upon the interest of two or three hundredpounds?"

  "A man of simple tastes can do with very little," declared the nephew.

  Fruit grower and prospective railway magnate went off together on Fridaymorning, but the only despatch to reach Windward House came from Percy,who announced he had reached his mortgaged premises in perfect safety,after leaving George upon the platform of Waterloo station surrounded byofficials. This might have signified anything. Mrs. Drake supposed itmeant that all the great men of the railway had assembled to greet theirnew colleague upon his arrival. What it did mean was that Percy hadfreed himself of responsibility at the earliest possible moment,abandoning his cousin to a knot of porters who claimed the honour anddistinction of dealing with his baggage, which probably they supposedwas the property of a gentleman about to penetrate into one of theunexplored corners of the earth.

  Not a postcard came from George. He disappeared completely; but Mrs.Drake was delighted to think he was attending to his new duties sostrenuously as to be unable to write; while Miss Yard remembered himonly once, and then remarked in a reverential whisper that she wouldvery much like to visit his grave.

  It was the fourteenth day after the flight of George into the realm oflabour; and during the afternoon Mrs. Drake set out upon her weeklypilgrimage to the churchyard, accompanied by Kezia, who carried a basketof flowers, and Bessie with a watering pot. Nellie had settled Miss Yardin her easy chair with the latest report of the Society for Improvingthe Morals of the Andaman Islanders, and had then retired to her bedroomto do some sewing. The giant tortoise was clearing the kitchen garden ofyoung lettuces; the monkeys were collecting entomological specimens. Oneof the intelligent parrots exclaimed, "Gone for a walk;" a still moreintelligent bird answered, "Here we are again!" Then George passed outof the sunshine and entered the cool parlour.

  "Oh dear! I'm afraid I had nearly gone to sleep," said Miss Yard, risingto receive the visitor, and wondering whoever he could be, until sheremembered the churchwarden had promised to call for a subscription tothe organ fund.

  "Do please sit down," she continued and tried to set the example; butshe missed the chair by a few inches and descended somewhat heavily uponthe footstool. The visitor helped her to rise, and was much thanked
."You will stay to tea? My sister will be here presently," Miss Yardcontinued, while she fumbled in her reticule, and at last produced asovereign. "You see I had it all ready for you. I remembered I hadpromised it," she said triumphantly.

  George pocketed the coin, and thanked her heartily. He mentioned that itwas very dusty walking, and he was weary, having travelled aconsiderable distance since the morning. Then he proposed to leave MissYard, who shook hands, and said how sorry her sister would be not tohave seen him; and went to his bedroom, which he was considerablyannoyed to find had been converted into a place for lumber.

  "Maria, you have missed the vicar!" cried Miss Yard excitedly, themoment her sister returned. "I gave him a sovereign for the AndamanIslanders, and he told me what a lot of sleeping sickness there is inthe village."

  "What are you talking about? The vicar can't have been here, for we sawhim in the churchyard, and he never mentioned any sickness in thevillage."

  "Perhaps I was thinking of something I had just read about. One getsmuddled sometimes. But the vicar--or somebody--has been, and there wasnearly a dreadful accident. He caught his foot in the hearth rug, butluckily my footstool broke his fall."

  At that moment footsteps descended the stairs. With a feeling that thesounds were horribly familiar, Mrs. Drake hurried into the hall, thereto discover her nephew, who appeared delighted to be home again upon athoroughly well earned holiday. "George, I have prayed that youwouldn't do this," she cried.

  "It's all right, Aunt," came the cheery answer. "Though perhaps it _was_rather silly of me to start work upon a Friday. The railway professionis very much overcrowded just now, and there's not a single vacancy forstation-master anywhere. They have put my name on the waiting list, andas soon as there's a job going, they will write and let me know. I amquite content to wait, and I may just as well do it here as in expensivelodgings."

  "How long do you expect to wait?"

  "Can't tell. It may be a slow business, but it's sure. A station-mastertold me you may have to wait year after year, but promotion is bound tocome at last--if you live long enough."

  "Then you may do nothing for years."

  "I'm not going to take anything; I owe it to my uncle's memory to occupya respectable position. Still, if I can't get a terminus after a fewmonths' waiting, I'll put up with a small junction. Rather than not workat all, I would condescend to act as a mere Inspector," said George withdignity.

  "I wish the vicar would shave off his moustache," Miss Yard murmured.