Luke Ross did not know why he should feel uneasy about Cyril Mallow being back; it was nothing to him. He was a bit of a scamp, and so on, but he was not so bad as Frank Mallow, who had been obliged to get off to New Zealand after the scandal about a couple of the Gatton village girls, and the fight with Lord Artingales keepers, in which he was said to have joined Jock Morris. The Lawford people said it was from this that the Rector became non-resident, as much as from having overrun the constable.
It was tantalising to a degree, for, strive hard as he would, these things seemed to dance before Luke Rosss eyes; while as to the questions themselves, as he read them through and through, not one did it seem that he could answer.
And so it was morning after morning during the few busy days that the examination lasted. Every night he went to bed almost in despair; every morning he gazed blankly at the various questions.
But, in spite of his self-depreciation, first one and then another of the masters, who gathered up the papers at each sittings end, gave him a friendly nod of approval, and glanced with interest at the closely-written sheets.
Ive made a dismal failure, sir, he exclaimed at last, as night closed in upon his fifth days work.
The assistant master in whose hands lay the everyday subjects taught at the
institution laughed as he clapped the young man upon the shoulder.
I wish every man in the college had made as great a failure, Ross, he said. There, there, you are weary and nervous. Get out of doors and have a good blow and as much exercise as you can till you have regained your tone. I ought not to say so, perhaps, but, Ross, you might, if you liked, look higher than a schoolmasters life; that is, if you have any ambition in your soul.
At that moment Luke Rosss highest ambition was to win Sage Portlocks regard, and to acquit himself so creditably as the new master of Lawford School, that there might be no room for that modern Shimei, Humphrey Bone, to say hard words against his management and power of training the young. Later on circumstances caused him to undergo a complete revolution of thought.
Part 1, Chapter XII. A Question of Income
A few friends were expected next night, and busy preparations were being made by Mrs Portlock and her niece, whose pleasant-looking, plump, white arms were bloomed to the elbow with flour, to which was soon to be added the golden-looking yolks of a dozen eggs, being beaten up in a large white basin in the most unmerciful way by Mrs Portlock herself.
It was a comfortable-looking country kitchen where they were busy, in thorough, old-fashioned style. Not from necessity, for from the back kitchen and room beyond came the sound of voices where the two maids were engaged over other household duties. In the low, wide window, in spite of the season, were some brightly blooming geraniums, between which could be seen the home close, dotted with sheep, and through which field meandered the path leading down to the town.
Dont forget the salt, Sage, said Mrs Portlock, and put in a dash of carbnate. For goodness sake lets have the cake light, and why, what ails the girl now?
Sage had darted back from the table, and torn off the large bibbed apron she wore so roughly that she snapped one of the tape strings, before hastily wiping the flour from her arms, and pulling down her pinned-up sleeves.
The reason was plain enough, and to be seen through the geraniums, where Luke Ross was making his way across the home close, looking fresh and eager in the crisp January air, as he gazed straight before him at the farm.
There, get on with thy work, child, cried Mrs Portlock, in a half-petulant, half-laughing way; theres nothing to be ashamed of in making a cake. If you marry Luke Ross you wont have many cakes to make, she added petulantly.
Oh, for shame, aunt! How can you? cried Sage, looking conscious and uncomfortable, as her cheeks turned scarlet.
Because thats what he has come for, Ill be bound. There, go and let him in.
Oh, no, aunt! Id Id rather not, faltered Sage.
Such stuff, child! Just as if I couldnt see you were longing to go. There, if you dont run and open the door, Ill go myself, and tell him you were ashamed.
Ill go and open the door, said Sage, quietly; and there was a curious, introspective look in her countenance, as, after waiting till the imperative rap of the young mans knuckles was heard, she hastily replaced the apron, turned up her sleeves, and floured her hands, before going to let the visitor in.
Im not ashamed of making cakes, aunt, she said, quietly.
Bless the girl, what a strange one she is! muttered Mrs Portlock, apostrophising the great eight-day clock, and then pausing in the beating of eggs, to listen, with the greatest eagerness, as Luke Rosss voice was heard at the door, and Sages directly after, but in quite a low buzz, for the intervening door was shut.
I dont know what to say to it, said Mrs Portlock, querulously. Hes very nice, and kind, and good-looking, but Id a deal rather she married a farmer. Schoolmastering dont fill bacon-racks, nor the tub with pickled pork.