Meet Mr. Mulliner
Page 17
The girl was seated on the porch. Over her there bent the taU soldierly figure of a man with keen eyes and graying hair. The housekeeper raced up.
" Oh, miss ! Toto ! In the river ! He saved him ! He plunged in and saved him ! ''
The girl drew a quick breath.
" Gallant, damme ! By Jove ! By gad !
Yes, gallant, by George ! " exclaimed the soldierly man.
The girl seemed to wake from a reverie.
" Uncle Henry, this is Mr. Rodman. Mr. Rodman, my guardian, Colonel Carteret."
" Proud to meet you, sir," said the colonel, his honest blue eyes glowing as he fingered his short crisp moustache. " As fine a thing as I ever heard of, damme ! "
" Yes, you are brave—brave," the girl whispered.
" I am wet—wet," said James, and went upstairs to change his clothes.
When he came down for lunch, he foimd to his relief that the girl had decided not to join them, and Colonel Carteret was silent and preoccupied. James, exerting himself in his capacity of host, tried him with the weather, golf, India, the Government, the high cost of living, first-class cricket, the modem dancing craze, and murderers he had met, but the other still preserved that strange, absent-minded silence. It was only when the meal was concluded and James had produced cigarettes that he came abruptly out of his trance.
" Rodman," he said, " I should like to speak to you."
" Yes ? " said James, thinking it was about time.
" Rodman," said Colonel Carteret, " or rather, George—I may call you George ? " he added, with a sort of wistful dif&dence that had a singular charm.
" Certainly," replied James, " if you wish it. Though my name is James."
" James, eh ? Well, well, it amounts to the same thing, eh, what, damme, by gad ? " said the colonel with a momentary return of his bluff soldierly manner. " Well, then, James, I have something that I wish to say to you. Did Miss Maynard—did Rose happen to tell you anything about myself in—er—in connection with herself ? "
" She mentioned that you and she were engaged to be married."
The colonel's tightly drawn lips quivered.
" No longer," he said.
" What ? "
" No, John, my boy."
" James."
" No, James, my boy, no longer. WTiile you were upstairs changing your clothes she
told me—breaking down, poor child, as she spoke—that she wished our engagement to be at an end."
James half rose from the table, his cheeks blanched.
" You don't mean that ! " he gasped.
Colonel Carteret nodded. He was staring out of the window, his fine eyes set in a look of pain.
" But this is nonsense ! " cried James. " This is absurd ! She—she mustn't be allowed to chop and change like this. I mean to say, it—it isn't fair "
" Don't think of me, my boy."
"I'm not—I mean, did she give any reason ? "
" Her eyes did."
" Her eyes did ? "
" Her eyes, when she looked at you on the porch, as you stood there—young, heroic —having just saved the hfe of the dog she loves. It is you who have won that tender heart, my boy."
" Now listen," protested James, " you aren't going to sit there and tell me that a girl falls in love with a man just because he saves her dog from drowning ? "
" Why, surely," said Colonel Carteret surprised. " Miat better reason could she have ? " He sighed. " It is the old, old story, my boy. Youth to youth. I am an old man. I should have known—I should have foreseen—yes, youth to youth."
" You aren't a bit old."
" Yes, yes."
" No, no."
" Yes, yes."
" Don't keep on saying yes, yes ! " cried James, clutching at his hair. " Besides, she wants a steady old buffer—a steady, sensible man of medium age—to look after her."
Colonel Carteret shook his head with a gentle smile.
" This is mere quixotry, my boy. It is splendid of you to take this attitude ; but no, no."
les, yes.
" No, no." He gripped James's hand for an instant, then rose and walked to the door. " That is aU I wished to say, Tom."
" James."
" James. I just thought that you ought to know how matters stood. Go to her, my
boy, go to her, and don't let any thought of an old man's broken dream keep you from pouring out what is in your heart. I am an old soldier, lad, an old soldier. I have learned to take the rough with the smooth. But I think—I think I will leave you now. I—I should—should like to be alone for a while. If you need me you will find me in the raspberry bushes."
He had scarcely gone when James also left the room. He took his hat and stick and walked blindly out of the garden, he knew not whither. His brain was numbed. Then, as his powers of reasoning returned, he told himself that he should have foreseen this ghastly thing. If there was one type of character over which Leila J. Pinckney had been wont to spread herself, it was the pathetic guardian who loves his ward but rehnquishes her to the younger man. No wonder the girl had broken off the engagement. Any elderly guardian who allowed himself to come within a mile of Honeysuckle Cottage was simply asking for it. And then, as he turned to walk back, a sort of duU defiance gripped James. Why, he asked, should he be put upon in this manner ? If
the girl liked to throw over this man, why should he be the goat ?
He saw his way clearly now. He just wouldn't do it, that was all. And if they didn't hke it they could lump it.
Full of a new fortitude, he strode in at the gate. A tall, soldierly figure emerged from the raspberry bushes and came to meet him.
" Well ? " said Colonel Carteret.
" Well ? " said James defiantly.
" Am I to congratulate you ? "
James caught his keen blue eye and hesitated. It was not going to be so simple as he had supposed.
" Well-^r " he said.
Into the keen blue eyes there came a look that James had not seen there before. It was the stem, hard look which—probably— had caused men to bestow upon this old soldier the name of Cold-Steel Carteret.
" You have not asked Rose to marry you?
" Er—no ; not yet."
The keen blue eyes grew keener and bluer.
" Rodman," said Colonel Carteret in a strange, quiet voice, " I have known that
little girl since she was a tiny child. For years she has been all in all to me. Her father died in my arms and with his last breath bade me see that no harm came to his darling. I have nursed her through mumps, measles—aye, and chicken pox— and I live but for her happiness." He paused, with a significance that made James's toes curl. " Rodman," he said, " do you know what I would do to any man who trifled with that httle girl's affections ? " He reached in his hip pocket and an ugly-looking revolver glittered in the sunhght. " I would shoot him like a dog." " Like a dog ? " faltered James. " Like a dog," said Colonel Carteret. He took James's arm and turned him toward the house. " She is on the porch. Go to
her. And if " He broke off. "But
tut! " he said in a kindher tone. " I am doing you an injustice, my boy. I know it." " Oh, you are," said James fervently. " Your heart is in the right place." " Oh, absolutely," said James." " Then go to her, my boy. Later on you may have something to tell me. You will find me in the strawberry beds."
It was very cool and fragrant on the porch. Overhead, Uttle breezes played and laughed among the roses. Somewhere in the distance sheep bells tinkled, and in the shrubbery a thrush was singing its evensong.
Seated in her chair behind a wicker table laden with tea things. Rose Maynard watched James as he shambled up the path.
" Tea's ready," she called gaily. " Where is Uncle Henry } " A look of pity and distress flitted for a moment over her flower-Hke face. " Oh, I—I forgot," she whispered. "He is in the strawberry beds," said James in a low voice.
She nodded unhappily. " Of course, of course. Oh, why is Ufe Hke this ? " James heard her whisper.
&
nbsp; He sat down. He looked at the girl. She was leaning back with closed eyes, and he thought he had never seen such a little squirt in his Hfe. The idea of passing his remaining days in her society revolted him. He was stoutly opposed to the idea of marrying anyone ; but if, as happens to the best of us, he ever were compelled to perform the wedding ghde, he had always hoped it would
be with some lady golf champion who would help him with his putting, and thus, by bringing his handicap down a notch or two, enable him to save something from the wreck, so to speak. But to Unk his lot with a girl who read his aunt's books and hked them ; a girl who could tolerate the presence of the dog Toto ; a girl who clasped her hands in pretty, childish joy when she saw a nasturtium in bloom—it was too much. Nevertheless, he took her hand and began to speak.
" Miss Maynard—Rose "
She opened her eyes and cast them down. A flush had come into her cheeks. The dog Toto at her side sat up and begged for cake, disregarded.
" Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a lonely man who lived in a cottage all by himself "
He stopped. Was it James Rodman who was talking this bilge ?
" Yes ? " whispered the girl.
" but one day there came to him out
of nowhere a httle fairy princess. She "
He stopped again, but this time not because of the sheer shame of listening to his own voice. WTiat caused him to interrupt
his tale was the fact that at this moment the tea table suddenly began to rise slowly in the air, tilting as it did so a considerable quantity of hot tea on to the knees of his trousers.
** Ouch ! " cried James, leaping.
The table continued to rise, and then fell sideways, reveaUng the homely countenance of William, who, concealed by the cloth, had been taking a nap beneath it. He moved slowly forward, his eyes on Toto. For many a long day William had been desirous of putting to the test, once and for all, the problem of whether Toto was edible or not. Sometimes he thought yes, at other times no. Now seemed an admirable opportunity for a definite decision. He advanced on the object of his experiment, making a low whistling noise through his nostrils, not unhke a boiHng kettle. And Toto, after one long look of incredulous horror, tucked his shapely tail between his legs and, turning, raced for safety. He had laid a course in a bee line for the open garden gate, and Wilham, shaking a dish of marmalade off his head a Uttle petulantly, galloped ponderously after him. Rose Maynard staggered to her feet.
" Oh, save him ! " she cried.
Without a word James added himself to the procession. His interest in Toto was but tepid. What he wanted was to get near enough to WiUiam to discuss with him that matter of the tea on his trousers. He reached the road and found that the order of the runners had not changed. For so small a dog, Toto was moving magnificently. A cloud of dust rose as he skidded round the comer. WiUiam followed. James followed WiUiam.
And so they passed Farmer Birkett's bam. Farmer Giles' cow shed, the place where Farmer Willetts' pigsty used to be before the big fire, and the Bunch of Grapes pubhc house, Jno. Biggs propr., hcensed to seU tobacco, wines and spirits. And it was as they were turning down the lane that leads past Farmer Robinson's chicken run that Toto, thinking swiftly, bolted abruptly into a small drain pipe.
" WiUiam ! " roared James, coming up at a canter. He stopped to pluck a branch from the hedge and swooped darkly on.
W^iUiam had been crouching before the pipe, making a noise like a bassoon into its
interior; but now he rose and came beamingly to James. His eyes were aglow with chumminess and affection ; and placing his forefeet on James's chest, he licked him three times on the face in rapid succession. And as he did so, something seemed to snap in James. The scales seemed to fall from James's eyes. For the first time he saw WilUam as he really was, the authentic type of dog that saves his master from a frightful peril. A wave of emotion swept over him.
" WiUiam ! " he muttered. " WiUiam ! "
WiUiam was making an early supper off a half brick he had found in the road. James stooped and patted him fondly.
" WiUiam," he whispered, " you knew when the time had come to change the conversation, didn't you, old boy! " He straightened himself. " Come, WiUiam," he said. " Another four mUes and we reach Meadowsweet Junction. Make it snappy and we shall just catch the up express, first stop London."
WiUiam looked up into his face and it seemed to James that he gave a brief nod of comprehension and approval. James
turned. Through the trees to the east he could see the red roof of Honeysuckle Cottage, lurking like some evil dragon in ambush.
Then, together, man and dog passed silently into the sunset.
That (concluded Mr. MuUiner) is the story of my distant cousin James Rodman. As to whether it is true, that, of course, is an open question. I, personally, am of opinion that it is. There is no doubt that James did go to live at Honeysuckle Cottage and, while there, underwent some experience which has left an ineradicable mark upon him. His eyes to-day have that unmistakable look which is to be seen only in the eyes of confirmed bachelors whose feet have been dragged to the very brink of the pit and who have gazed at close range into the naked face of matrimony.
And, if further proof be needed, there is William. He is now James's inseparable companion. Would any man be habitually seen in public with a dog Uke William unless he had some soHd cause to be grateful to him,—unless they were hnked together by some deep and imperishable memory ? I think not. Myself, when I observe William
coining along the street, I cross the road and look into a shop window till he has passed. I am not a snob, but I dare not risk my position in Society by being seen talking to that curious compound.
Nor is the precaution an unnecessary one. There is about William a shameless absence of appreciation of class distinctions which recalls the worst excesses of the French Revolution. I have seen him with these eyes chivvy a pomeranian belonging to a Baroness in her own right from near the Achilles Statue to within a few yards of the Marble Arch.
And yet James walks daily with him. in Piccadilly. It is surely significant.
THE END
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P. G. WODEHOUSE
Mr, Wodehouse is a national humourist."— Manchester Guardian.
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