Mind your own business, growled Frank Mallow. I say!
Well?
That blackguard regularly frightened Ju. She hasnt looked the same girl since.
No, said Cyril. Pity the shooting seasons over.
Why?
We might have peppered the blackguard by accident if he had shown himself here again.
Master would like to see you, sir, in my mistresss room, said the butler, entering the study where the young men were smoking.
Oh, all right, Ill come, said Cyril, impatiently. Hang it, Frank, if you were half a brother youd go halves with me, and take me back to your place. Im sick of this life. Theres a lecture about
something, I suppose.
Caning, I should think, said Frank, with a sneering laugh. There, go and get it over; and look here, Ill give up Lewby to-day, and drive over with you to Gatley. Lets get a game at billiards and dine with Artingale. Its no use to have a lord after your sister if you dont make use of him.
All right. No. Ive an engagement to-night.
Go and keep it then, and be hanged. I shall go to Lewby, growled Frank.
Blackberrying? sneered Cyril. I say, mind you dont Rue going.
If you say that again, Cil, Ill get up and kick you, growled Frank. Every fellow isnt such a blackguard as you.
Oh no, laughed Cyril, especially not dear brother Frank. There, Im off.
Youre a beauty, Cil! growled Frank, and he lit a fresh cigar. Share! Go halves with me! Ha, ha, ha! I dare say he would. How people do believe in stories of the gold mines. I wonder whether anything is to be made out of that poet fool.
Want to talk to me, father? said Cyril, entering the room where his mother lay upon the couch, with a terrible look of anxiety upon her pallid face. Oh, lets see; will my smoking worry you, mamma?
Always so thoughtful for me, said the fond mother to herself. Then aloud
I dont mind it, Cyril, but I dont think your father
She stopped short, for the Rector interrupted her, sternly.
Is an invalid ladys room a suitable place for smoking pipes, Cyril?
Dont see that it matters what the place is so long as the invalid dont mind. But there, dont make a bother about it, he cried, tapping the burning tobacco out on to the hob; I can wait until I go down again.
Shall we go down, papa? said Julia, rising with Cynthia from where they sat in the window.
No, my dears; you must hear what I am going to say, so you may as well hear it now.
Oh, no, Eli, moaned the invalid.
Very well, my dears, you had better go, said the Rector, and he led his daughters to the door, which he opened and closed after them with quiet dignity.
Row on! muttered Cyril. Well, ma, dear, how are you?
Not not quite so well, Cyril, she said, fondly; and her voice trembled, as she dreaded a scene. Will you come and sit down here by me? she added, pointing to a chair.
Yes, I may as well, he said, laughingly, and you can take care of me, for I see somebody means mischief.
The Rector bit his lips, for his was a painful task. He wished to utter a severe reprimand, and to appeal to the young mans sense of right and wrong, while here at the outset was the mother bird spreading her protecting wing before her errant chick, and ready, the Rector saw, to stand up boldly in his defence.
Let me punch up your pillow for you, dear, said Cyril, bending over the couch, and raising the slight frame of the sick woman, whose arms closed softly round the young mans neck, while he beat and turned the soft down pillow, lowering the invalid gently back into her former place, and kissing her tenderly upon the brow.
Thats better, he said. I hate a hot pillow, and its so comfortable when its turned.
Mrs Mallow clung fondly to her son for a few moments, smiling gratefully in his face; and the Rector sighed and again bit his lip as he saw how moment by moment his task was growing more difficult.
If he would only study her feelings in the broader things of life, he said to himself; and he took a turn or two impatiently about the room.
Now, governor, Im ready, said Cyril, facing round suddenly, his mother holding his hand between hers. Whats the last thing Ive done amiss?
Heaven knows, cried the Rector, startling his wife by the way in which he suddenly flashed into anger. The last thing that I have to complain of is that I cannot trust my own son.
Ah, you mean with money, father, said the young man, lightly. Well, it does go rather fast.
I mean my sons word, said the Rector, quickly. Cyril, last night you told me a lie.
Oh, no, no, no, cried the mother, quickly. It is some mistake, dear. Cyril would not tell you what was not true.
The Rector, after years of patience, was so thoroughly out of temper with the discovery of that day that he retorted hotly
A lie I say he told me a deliberate lie.
Nonsense! said the young man. People tell lies when they are afraid to tell the truth. Im not afraid to tell you anything.
You told me last night, sir, that you had been down in the town with Frank, whereas I find this morning that you had been at Kilby Farm.
Ha, ha, ha! laughed Cyril. Why, what a discovery, father. You asked me where I had been, and I told you down the town. So I had. You did not ask me whether I had been anywhere else, or I