He was up and about in the morning; but when at noon Bernard rushed in from school, he was neither in the drawing-room, garden, nor office, and the door of his-or rather Mr. Froggatt's-bedroom was locked. Bernard bounced at it, calling, 'Let me in, I say; I'll not make a row.'
'There aren't any more of you?' parleyed Lance.
'No! Let me in, I say!'-kicking at the panels-'I must speak to you!'
'I'm coming; hold your din!' And Lance revealed himself without coat or boots.
'Holloa-how dark! You were never asleep? I came, because one can never catch you without a string of girls and babies after you.'
'Cut on,' said Lance resignedly, shaking up his horse-hair pillow: while Bernard seated himself on the table, and in the half-light of the shuttered room began to disentangle some knotted twine.
'Did you come here to do that?' said Lance, wanting to finish his nap, and chiefly restrained by the trouble of the thing from kicking the intruder out.
'Only, I say, Lance, have you any tin?'
'Not the valley of a brass farthing!' (The last pence of the Vale Leston sovereign had gone into Stella's jam.)
'Wouldn't Felix give you some?'
'I don't know.' (Very gruffly.)
'I wish you'd ask.'
'You have as many tongues as I.'
'Well, you see Felix is not half a bad fellow for one's governor, but he doesn't know what's what; and Sims says he'll go to him if I don't come down with something before to-morrow.'
'Sims! Sims in Smoke-jack Alley? Is that your sort?' demanded Lance, in ineffable disgust.
'He's been keeping a dog for me,' said Bernard sulkily.
'A dog!' Lance sat up in astonishment immeasurable.
'Yes. Its the thing, and no mistake,' said Bernard eagerly.
'His name is Stingo; only we are not quite sure whether he is a bull-terrier or a short-haired King Charles.'
Lance dropped back, wriggling in suppressed convulsions, as he demanded, 'Where did you steal this unmistakeable animal?'
'I bought him,' said Bernard, with a certain magnificence intended to be overawing.
'Then where did you steal the money!'
'Travis,' said Bernard, who considered Christian names unworthy of male lips. 'He always used to tip me a sovereign, and Ben Bowyer, the dog-fancier, said Stingo was worth thirty shillings any day, only he let me have him for eight and six, because he wanted to sell off his stock.'
'I thought as much. And Sims keeps him for you?'
'At ninepence a week; but the brute is at me for ever, and says it is twelve weeks.'
'Pray, how were you to raise ninepence a week? By waiting on Providence or turning coach-wheels?'
'I had some then; and Froggy sometimes gives one half a crown, but the old beast hasn't lately, just because I wanted it-nor Travis either, bad luck to him! quoth this grateful young man. 'I put them all off, making sure of him; and now he's cut and never tipped me at all! It's an abominable sell, and they are all at me.
'All! what more? Have it out,' grunted Lance, with a sound of bodily pain in his tone such as would have silenced any one above ten years old, and a bored contemptuous manner that would have crushed any attempt at confidence-if he had been the right person to confess to.
Nevertheless, Bernard mumbled, 'Shooting-gallery. And Mother Goldie vowed she would lug me up to Wilmet if I don't fork out!'
'Mother Goldie! You little disgusting ape! You've been tucking in what you owed in pies and tarts! cried Lance, who was too constitutionally heedless of the palate to have any charity for its temptations.
'It's all Wilmet's fault,' said Bernard. 'She never gives one anything fit to eat. There was that beastly lamp out there went and got broke, and what does she do but crib it out of our grub! Now, Lance, was any living soul served like that before? She gave us only that beastly stir-about at breakfast' (Bernard worked his single adjective hard),' no butter nor sugar at tea, and no pudding, except when there's that beastly mess of rice.'
'I'm sure I've seen pudding.'
'Oh! she came round when Felix came home. She knew he wouldn't stand it. Alda used to buy marmalade and anchovy on her own hook, so I don't see why I shouldn't.'
'Alda didn't go on tick, I suppose.'
'Serve Wilmet right if we all did. I don't believe there's a beggar so badly fed. Nares says-'
'You unnatural little sneak, you haven't been and gone and complained to him!'
'No; but all the town is crying out upon her shabbiness. They say it is a perfect shame how little butcher's meat she gets. Nares's mother and sisters do nothing but laugh at it, and Nares says nothing will make us comfortable but a bankruptcy. Hollo!'
For a well-aimed swing of the bolster laid him sprawling on the floor.
'Take that for mentioning such a word!'
'My eyes, Lance, is it swearing?' said Bernard, with a little affectation of innocence. 'How you have been and bumped my knees;' and he sat on the floor, pulling up his trousers to gain a view; 'there'll be a bruise as big as half a crown! Well, but Nares says it was a real blessing to them; for before it old Nares was always in a rage, and his mother boohooing; and now it is over they live like fighting-cocks, on champagne, and lobster-salad, and mulli-what's his name?-first chop; and the women dress in silks and velvets and feathers, no end of swells! and they say it is regular stoopid to pinch like that, for no one will believe we ain't going to smash while she is such a screw!'
'If you weren't nothing but a little donkey,' said Lance, sitting coiled up with his head on his knee, grimly contemplating him, 'you'd be a show specimen of precocious depravity.'
'I declare,' persisted Bernard, 'Nares says it is coming as sure as fate; for his governor, and Jackman, and Collis are going to stump up the old Pursuivant with their new Bexley Tribune, and Redstone is to be sub-editor.'
'The black-hearted rascal!' cried Lance, bounding on his feet in a rage. 'He ought to be kicked out of the shop this instant!'
'Now don't, Lance,' entreated Bernard, 'for Nares will pitch into me for telling. He says they've got an opening through the Pur backing up that mean beggar Smith; and Collis and Jackman will find the cash, and Nares's father is to be editor, and they vow Froggatt and Underwood will be beat out of the field.'
'Catch them,' said Lance, and he stood leaning against the solid old carved bed-post in silence, till Bernard returned to the insolvency at present far more pressing.
'Won't you help me about Stingo?' he said.
'Do you want me to send him to the dog-show, ticketted "The Real Animal and no mistake"?'
'Don't, Lance,' said the boy peevishly. 'I thought you were good- natured, and would lend me some tin, or at least stop the blackguard from being such a baboon. He's found out that Travis has cut, and he says he'll come to Felix this very day,' ended he, not far from crying.
'I can't anyhow, to-day, Bear,' said Lance, more kindly. 'My head is very bad, and you've not mended it.'
'It was well enough when you broke my knees,' grumbled Bernard. 'Come, Lance, you used to be a fellow to help one.'
'I can't, I tell you,' said Lance, hastily throwing himself back on the bed, and shutting his eyes. 'It isn't that I won't, but I can't. I couldn't walk straight down the street for giddiness; and if I did, I don't suppose I could talk sense.'
Bernard was startled by the tone as well as the words; but he had not arrived at much pity for any one but himself, and he whined, 'But what shall I do, then?' repeating it dolefully, as Lance lay for some moments silent and with closed eyes.
'Bother!' he broke out angrily at last. 'Look here. Tell the blackguard-let me see-I don't well know what I'm saying. Tell him you've spoken to me-no, to your brother-mind, you needn't say which-and that he'll come and see about it. Now give me that bolster, and take yourself off. Tell them I want no dinner, and don't let any one come! Get along, and shut the door.'
Bernard could extract no more, and departed as the dinner-bell rang, leaving him without energy even to lock the door. P
resently Felix was standing anxiously over him; but he reiterated that he could not bear to think of food, and only wanted to be left alone; but just as his brother was leaving him, he said, 'Fee, do you know that Redstone is going over to the enemy?'
'The opposition paper? Nothing more likely. How did you hear?'
'Bear picked it up. I say, wasn't that little beggar to have gone to Stoneborough?'
'Not possible, Lance, I've gone into it with Wilmet. She is in trouble about household expenses, as it is; and with this rival paper on our hands, I can't undertake anything extra. Has he been bothering you? I'm very sorry, but we must keep him here.'
Lance shut his eyes without reply; but no sooner was he left alone than he rolled over, gave vent to a heavy groan from the bottom of his heart, and clenched his hands as he lay. Then followed some heavy sobs, and a few great tears; but gradually a look of purpose and hope came over his face, and he slept. He was lying between sleeping and waking, when a quiet step and cautious knock made him call out, 'Come in, Jack.'
'Your sister wants to know if you are better, and ready for some tea.'
'Thank you, I'm mending. Is Wilmet come home?'
'Yes, but only to become the prey of an ancient female.'
'Mrs. Bisset! Come to inspect you!'
'She won't, then! Shall I get you some tea?'
'No, thank you. But, I say, Jack, do you see my big box that we brought home yesterday? Would you just dig into it for me?'
John Harewood applied himself to disentangle a frightful knot, observing, 'This looks like Bill's handiwork.'
'Ay! Bill put all my traps together when our other fellows came back.'
'Together indeed!' said the Captain, looking at the heterogeneous collection.
'There's nothing to hurt,' said Lance. 'Do you see a green box?'
'A fiddle-case, you boy?'
'A violin-case,' said Lance, with dignity. 'Give it me.' And taking out his purse, he produced its only contents-namely, the key-tried to sit up to unlock his treasure, but was forced by giddiness to lie back again with a gasp, and hold out the key to his friend.
'Come, I should think a fiddle the last thing you could want just now,' said John.
'Just so. I'm afraid it is. Only, just let me see if she is all right. Ay!' and then, after a gaze, a fond touch or two, an irrepressible sigh strangled in the midst, 'lock her up again! You ain't by any chance going home to-morrow?'
'Do you want anything?'
'Why, when I got her at old Spicer's sale for twenty-two and sixpence, Poulter was beside himself at my luck, and said she was worth double that any day, and he would give it me if I got tired of her. Now, if I'd only known yesterday, I could have done it myself, but I can't go, and I can't write-but if you could but send or take it to Poulter, and get the money for me!'
'Do you feel bound to give Poulter the refusal! for if it is really a good instrument, it ought to be worth more than that.'
'Poulter has been very good to me. He taught me to play on it,' said Lance; 'that is, he showed me a little; but Robin made me lock it up and give her the key all last spring, for fear of hindering my mugging; and I can't touch her now, so she has been very little use to me. I promised Poulter, and I think he should have her. Besides, I want the money slick at once. It's no good sticking it in a window to wait for some one to give what it is worth.'
John marvelled what need of money could have come upon the boy in the last twenty-four hours, but he was too discreet a friend to take advantage of necessity to ask questions, and said, 'The fact was, I was thinking of running up to town to get a sewing-machine for your sister, but if I start by the earlier train, I can see Poulter on the way, and if he does not want it himself, he can tell me where to dispose of it to the best advantage.'
'Only it must be ready money,' said Lance; it must be owned with scarcely the alacrity of gratitude John deserved. 'If it didn't make much difference, I wish Poulter could have her, for then I should sometimes see her and handle her again, and I think he would use her well.'
'Very well, I'll tell him.'
'And don't tell any one here,' added Lance. 'You don't go and tell W. W. everything, do you?' he added, wistful and perplexed.
'Not other people's secrets,' said John. 'Now I am going to fetch you some food; you are looking quite faint, you have had nothing since yesterday's dinner.'
Poor Lance! when John was gone, he turned with another groan, once more took the violin in his arms, laid it on his shoulder, and made the motions of playing, then kissed it, and whispering, 'Poulter will be good to you, my pretty. It's not for that little beggar of a Bear! It's for Felix, for Felix-' and then at a sound of steps hastily replaced it, shut the box, and fell back again, dizzy and exhausted.
The next day, he betook himself to a refuge more impregnable to Bernard than even Mr. Froggatt's bedroom, namely the office, which suited his sociable nature, and where he was always welcome. He found employment there, too, in cutting out extracts from newspapers, labelling library books, and packing parcels, and sometimes also, it must be owned, in drawing caricatures of the figures he spied through the chinks of the door.
CHAPTER XXIII. SMOKE-JACK ALLEY
Launce. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost, for it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd.
Panthino. What's the unkindest ty'd?
Launce. Why, he that's ty'd here-Crab, my dog.
SHAKESPEARE.
John Harewood returned, bringing with him what Alda took for a dressing-case, and Cherry for a drawing-box, but which proved to contain a wonderful genie to save the well-worn fingers many a prick. To Lance he first administered the magical words, 'All right,' and then making an opportunity, he put five sovereigns into his hand. Lance's first impulse was, however, not to thank, but to exclaim, 'Then Poulter has not got it?'
No, Poulter's conscience had forbidden him to purchase 'little Underwood's' treasure at what he knew to be so much beneath its value; but he had given Captain Harewood his best advice and recommendations, and by that means the violin had been taken at a London shop, still at a price beneath his estimate, but the utmost that could be expected where ready money was the point. Lance ought to have been delighted, and his native politeness made him repeat, 'Thank you'; but he could not quite keep down his regret-'Now I shall never see or hear her again.'
However, the next day, when Bernard flew upon him at twelve o'clock, asseverating that there was shade all the way, he allowed himself to be persuaded, prudently carrying with him only ten shillings, and trusting to his blue umbrella rather than to Bernard's shade, which could hardly have been obtained by sidling against the walls.
Bernard did not seem to have enjoyed much more of Stingo's society than Lance of his violin's-the produce of the same bounty. He confessed that he had only ventured on taking the dog out three times in a string, and on one of these occasions he had broken loose after a cat, on another had fought with Nares's dog, and on the third had snapped at Angela.
'You didn't take Angel into these places!'
'No, she came to meet me.'
'That's a sign of grace, but, Bear, I can't stand these diggings at all. I've a great mind to turn back.'
'You won't!' cried Bernard. 'You must have been here often when. you were a grammar-school fellow.'
'Not we! This is a cut below us! Fulbert would never have been caught here!'
'But you are going to get me out of this fix?'
'Haven't I said I will? only hold your tongue, and let me alone to manage the rascal. If you open your mouth, I've done with it.'
Bernard was forced to acquiesce, though Lance's manner vexed and irritated him. Popular and valuable as Lance had been with the choristers, he was not dealing as well with his brother, perhaps partly because he was more consciously trying to influence him; and likewise because the state of his health and his prospects so far affected his manner, that though never ill-humoured, it had lost some of the easy careless sweetness of high spirits, and assumed an ironic
al tone, exasperating to a child who could not brook ridicule. He was ashamed and dismayed at the place where Bernard was leading him, so low and disreputable that the boys of his time had never haunted it, and his own gamin propensities had never extended so far. It was a tumble-down quarter; the houses, deplorable hovels, run up hastily for the workmen at the potteries, and every third or fourth a beershop; and in the midst dwelt Mr. Sims, a maimed poacher, who kept a large live-stock with which to trade on the sporting tastes of the youth of Bexley.
Probably he was gratified to see that 'my brother' meant nothing more imposing than the chorister; but Lance had so cultivated his opportunities at Dick Graeme's home, as to be more knowing on the subject than Felix would have been. Indeed, it did not take much science to estimate the value of the 'real animal,' whose market price seemed to have fallen considerably. Lance, as he looked at the pied, bandy-legged, long-nosed cur, felt it impossible to set his cost against his keep, nor was he designed by nature for driving bargains; but Sims' expectations were founded on the probable, and the debt was annulled for three-and-sixpence and Stingo himself. Much civility was expended on Lance; dogs, rabbits, and other curiosities were exhibited, and an invitation given to come with the other young gents to admire the favourite terrier's exploits upon a cage of rats shortly expected, admission free.
'You will come, won't you?' cried Bernard eagerly, as they went out.
'What? To all the vilest sports in the place!'
'But, Lance, you told me about the rat hunt at Mr. Graeme's.'
'What? Turning out the barn, with Mr. Graeme himself, and Bill, and all the rest? Do you think that's like letting a lot of wretched beasts out of a trap to be snapped up by a cur of a dog, with no end of drinking foul-mouthed blackguards betting on him?'
'You are always so savage, Lance; and now you've gone and paid away all the money.'
The Pillars of the House, V1 Page 58
