Chapter V

It speaks very well for Reggie Ballard's simplicity that within a week or so of his hearing the glorious news of his friend's fortune he had, honestly, ceased to envy him.

The news had been conveyed in a solemn and august manner, in the same tea-shop where so many other confidences had been exchanged. Hither he had come, at the lunch-hour, a day after Percy's first learning of the facts, in obedience to a note that gave no hint of the tremendous disclosure that was to be made — to find his friend looking rather rigid and severe from beyond a little marble-topped table. There was no one else in that corner of the room.

"Well, old chap," said Reggie, "what's the trouble? Another "

He broke off, struck by the terrific gravity of the other's face. Banter, he perceived, would not be in place.

" What is it? " he asked again, sitting down.

Percy opened his lips, and closed them again. Then he tried once more.

" It's a very big thing indeed," he said.

Reggie glanced at him a little anxiously.

" Good or bad?"

" I suppose most people would call it good," pronounced Percy.

" Well, then "

" I had better tell you straight out," said Percy. " But you understand it's between you and me." (This was the phrase he had already used five or six times that morning to various acquaintances — to all, in fact, whom he could

Digitized by Google buttonhole for a sufficient space of time. There had been two in the train, and three or four later.)

" Right you are/' said Reggie. " Can I order lunch first, by the way? "

" The news won't take a moment," said Percy in a rather high voice. " It's only that my people have been left a fortune, and two places — one in town and one in the country; and that I shall leave the City in a week or two."

It need hardly be said that Reggie's lunch was not ordered till after an interval of at least ten minutes. Details had to be told — as to the exact amount of the fortune, the manner of its coming, the circumstances under which the news had been received. Hands had to be grasped in congratulations; and little broken sentences uttered, expressing amazement and joy and wonder.

"What a time you'll have," said Reggie. "And — oh! I say — as it'll all be yours some day, you'll be able to make it a Catholic estate."

Percy nodded gravely.

" That's the chief reason I'm pleased," he said, really believing it with one part of his consciousness. "We must make some plans together, Reggie I "

Reggie beamed.

The general lines of those plans, then, had been immediately sketched. Percy was careful to say that of course nothing could be done at present; that he must feel his way; that he must learn all about the estate, and the rest; and he reminded Reggie that there was no entail of any kind; that it was all his mother's property, and entirely at her disposal.

" We must be very careful and not talk too much," he said — lowering his voice a little, as a stout man with a gold watch-chain came in and sat down not far away.

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And Reggie felt himself, with a glow of pleasure, to be moving amongst high politics and laudable conspiracies.

Envy had, of course, succeeded to his generous glow; and it appeared to Reggie more than once during the following days that Providence really had been a little ill-advised in transporting Percy to such paradises of wealth and influence, while he, Reggie, still had to devote his powers to the shipping business. A long letter from Percy the next Monday morning, full of suggestions and hints, did not greatly allay his envy; for, among other proposals — all of which, however, were carefully and prudently guarded — was one that Reggie should come down very often indeed for week-ends, in order to pursue his acquaintance with the Brandreth-Smiths with a view perhaps, some day, to becoming some kind of agent to Percy when he should come into his kingdom. Most of the suggestions were of this gloriously vague and roseate kind, yet the very glory of them, however vague, was not soothing: it seemed to Reggie singularly unfair that Percy should be able to throw off such proposals so royally, and that he himself could only gape and wonder at them.

Well; Reggie was a good boy, dutiful and conscientious, even if a little limited; he went to confession like a man, acknowledged that he had given way on five or six occasions to the Sin of Envy; and then resolutely embraced his own lot. He would be a friar, he told himself once more, so soon as circumstances made it possible, and thus avoid entirely the realm where pecuniary ambitions reign.

The prospect of week-end visits, however, still remained to console him. Percy had been very distinct about this, and had even suggested setting aside a room at Marston

Digitized by Google which Reggie was to consider his own, and to which, he could " run down " whenever he felt inclined. The sheer glory of this had been to him like sunlight. Week-ends, so far, had been spent, nineteen times out of twenty, at Wimbledon. At least he had slept at Wimbledon as usual, and, after a furious day at St. Francis', Kensington,, had returned there for a late supper on Sunday night. To have then a place in the country to which he could go when the humour took him — a place, moreover, of the magnificence of Marston — this, even in prospect, was glorious. A letter had followed later, however, from Mars-ton itself, telling him that just for the present the plan must be postponed; there were so many things to be arranged that Percy did not quite like to add this other; but after Easter, at any rate, it must be done.

Then the weeks had begun to slip by, and not even a single isolated visit was suggested.

A certain resigned depression fell upon Reggie one Saturday afternoon towards the beginning of December, as he made his way homewards.

First, it was a wet day, and, having found two omnibuses entirely full, he had had to walk more than he liked in his City boots; and next, determined to get home as soon as he could, he had postponed lunch, and was, in consequence, in a state of rather low vitality.

As he trudged along, therefore, there came to him with particular poignancy, a vision of the contrast between his own and Percy's lot. He did not know much about country-houses — in fact, he knew really nothing of them at all, except what he had seen, as a tourist, on one or two show days at important places. But he knew enough to picture to himself their extraordinary comfort, their spaciousness and their atmosphere of leisure. On such a day as this,

Digitized by Google for instance, he supposed that Percy would either be shooting, in proper outdoor clothes, with a macintosh, or, if he were indulgently inclined, would spend the afternoon in a billiard-room, in slippers, with as many cigarettes (of the best Turkish quality) as he wanted, and a roaring fire. At any rate the inhabitant of a country house would be his own master, under perfectly comfortable conditions, with a practically infinite series of independent and lordly days to follow; while he, Reggie, must be content with about forty hours of peace (of which about sixteen must be spent in sleep), passed in a house in a small road at Wimbledon, before taking up once more the grind of the City.

"One is taken," he considered, once more with a touch of bitterness; " and the other left."

It was not a very nice little house in which he and his mother and sister lived together. It was quite new; and everything, therefore, had a way of going wrong; the new wood of the doors gaped and let draughts through; smells rose from the kitchen with an astonishing poignancy; and the partitions and floors were so thin that a person on the first floor walked upon what was, practically, a sounding-board to the room below.

Mrs. Ballard was a little round-about lady, who wore a little red velvet bow in her cap on Sundays, who read a sermon aloud to herself when she could not go to church, and was entirely and impregnably certain that her own point-of-view, on every subject, was the only one. She had been a most excellent mother to Reggie and Mamie, educating them at the cost of severe self-sacrifice, and placing them, when they were old enough, in what she considered to be excellent social positions: Reggie, as has been seen, was a clerk; and Mamie, of course, was a typist.

It was this very serenity and contentment of his mother

Digitized by Google that Reggie found so hard this afternoon. There was a little cold beef and pickles for his lunch, with the remnants of a bread-and-butter pudding — all set out from the cupboard within ten minutes of his arrival and of his announcement that he hadn't had anything to eat. Mamie, he was informed, had said before leaving that morning, that she would probably not be back till late.

Even the little back-room, which was called a "breakfast-room " and used as a dining-room, seemed unusually pinched and meagre after his dreams of Marston. It was quite nicely and properly furnished. It had an enlarged photograph of the late Mr. Ballard over the chimney-piece — (his profession had been that of an engineer) — the chairs were mahogany and horse-hair; the curtains were clean and decent; the fire-irons and fender were of the highest polish of which black-lead is capable. It was all distinctly within the margin of propriety; it was sufficient and adequate and conventional; and it was kept so by continual economy and carefulness and self-sacrifice. Mrs. Ballard was determined, as she said to herself sometimes, that her children " should have a nice home to come back to."

Yet Reggie felt terribly discontented to-day. Honestly, he was not envious of Percy; even though it was the thought of Percy's opulence that suggested his own discontent. He was displeased, not that Percy was happy and free, but that he himself was not; and he did think that Percy might have fulfilled his week-end promises before now. To-day, for example, how pleasant it would have been to have caught the one-twenty from London Bridge; he would very nearly have been at Marston by now.

" There's no letter for me, I suppose," he said rather gruffly, as his mother pushed the bread-and-butter pudding within his reach.

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"No, my dear. Were you expecting one? " " I thought there might be one."

" You can finish the pudding, my dear. I've got a Swiss-roll for supper to-night." Reggie said nothing.

" I don't think I'll go to the early mass to-morrow," he remarked presently. " I'm tired."

Mrs. Ballard's face assumed a controlled expression. She had yielded to her son's conversion with an Evangelical's distress; but she was not going to take back her generosity.

"As you wish, my dear."

Ill

He was carving a little deal panel for his prie-dieu when Percy's letter did actually arrive. He had his "things," as they were called, in the cupboard of the real dining-room in front, which was, in fact, the room where all three sat in the evenings. The " drawing-room " was seldom entered, except if one of them was not quite well, or when visitors came, or for tea on Sundays.

These " things," all kept upon two special shelves, combined the most diverse articles. (Mamie had her " things " on two higher shelves.) At present they were chiefly bits of white wood, with three chisels, bought in a pawnshop, and some designs on paper; there was also a broken rosary that Reggie proposed to mend as soon as a bit of decent wire turned up; three or four frilled little cards with pious pictures on them; a lump of incense; and a paint-box, and an account-book. He had got out a selection of these articles on to the table, as soon as it was evident that the rain was not going to leave off, and had set himself to finish his conventional lily, which, when completed and stained, was to form part of a small reredos which he de-

Digitized by Google sired to affix to his prie-diem in his bedroom. Mrs. Ballard encouraged such occupations, in spite of the aroma of popery which seemed now so inseparable from her son's ambitions, oat of the excellent desire of keeping her boy at home. She had the most lurid views of the fate of young men who " went out " too much when they were off duty.

He got up the very instant that the letter rattled on the oil-cloth of the little hall, so preoccupied was his subconsciousness with the thought of Percy and Mars ton; and as he came in again, the letter was already out of the envelope, and he reading it But his air was such as he fitted the letter back into its envelope, and both into his pockets, that his mother made a remark from over her mending.

"What is the matter, my dear? "

His lips tightened.

" Percy Smith wants me to go to a theatre with him."

"When?"

" He doesn't say."

He bent again over his carving.

Yet within there was a storm of resentment; and his mother knew it: and he knew that she knew it. But she was puzzled as to what in such a letter could have made him angry: she did not know that Percy had once more said that the week-end plan must be put off for a bit, as they were having hardly any guests at present; but that Reggie and he must do a theatre together some time: and, How was Reggie, and, How beastly the City must be in the weather they were having!

Mrs. Ballard had sufficient tact to say nothing at all for a minute or two; but she had not enough tact to be silent any longer, and, still more, not enough to avoid the subject of Percy altogether.

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"And how is he? " she asked, after the pause. " Seems all right,'* said Reggie shortly. Mrs. Ballard laid down the sock upon her lap. "What is the matter, my dear?" she said. u Nothing," said her son.

He got better, however, after supper.

Reggie was quite a little person; and there simply was not room in him for large sinister emotions; there was only room for the clean and elementary Christian virtues, though even these could not rise in him to very heroic heights. There is at least that advantage in not being great souled, that, so long as actual meanness is not permitted, practically nothing else except what is fairly wholesome can find any room at all. And Reggie was precisely of this type; he could not bear to be envious or resentful for long at a time, because he found it so very uncomfortable; it was actually easier for him — as it was for his mother in her desires to make a nice home for her children — to sweep such things out as soon as possible, and put the furniture in its proper place. Nothing was, at present at least, on the grand scale with him at all: his religion precipitated itself in little carved prie-dieux; his virtues in being as nice as he could be at home, and in doing his work in the City honestly and conscientiously; his ambitions, in being some day, perhaps, a real friar like Father Hilary.

These are not qualities that will shake the world; but, after all, there is the best authority for believing that they are of considerable importance in the world that is to come....

So Reggie, after eating some more cold beef and the Swiss-roll which his mother had mentioned; after inquiring

Digitized by Google from Mamie whether she wasn't tired; and after fetching, on his own initiative, his mother's knitting from her bedroom — felt better, and decided, after all, to go to St Francis, for the eight o'clock mass.

Yes; he would write a nice letter to Percy, without any of the ice-cold irony which he had at first contemplated; and he would call him Old Chap; and say how ripping it would be to go to a theatre with him.

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