“I told my brother so when he first proposed it,” replied Miss Burton calmly. “But, although he is one of the best fellows in the world, he is frightfully obstinate. He had stayed at an hotel here for a few days some years ago, and he had taken a violent fancy to the place. He was quite sure everybody would make a rush for us, the moment we arrived.”
Miss Burton proceeded to draw on her gloves. During this explanatory conversation, she had consumed her second cup of tea. She called the waitress and paid her bill.
“I must be going now,” she said. “I have quite enjoyed this little chat, although I am sure you will think very badly of me for having confided so much to a stranger. I really don’t know what made me do it—I suppose I got tired of having kept silence for so long.”
Yes, he could understand that. Poor, pretty little girl, just at an age when all the pleasures of youth should be open to her, and to have to pass her life in the society of that rather common-looking brother, good fellow as she declared him to be.
“I have enjoyed the meeting immensely, too,” said Hugh heartily. “I only wish we could come across each other at some of these Blankfield houses, stupid and dull as they generally are.”
And then, the pretty Miss Burton fired her last shot as she rose to leave:
“I have been unconventional enough from the beginning, and if I can do it without blushing, I am going to be more unconventional still. If you cared to come up to Rosemount one afternoon, I am sure my brother would be pleased to see you.”
Murchison was very embarrassed by the suggestion, although she did not proffer it in any bold fashion.
“I shall be delighted,” he stammered. “I will run up one afternoon.” Of course when he said this he had very little intention of keeping his promise. To enjoy a mild sort of flirtation with an exceedingly pretty girl was one thing. To go to her house and make the acquaintance of her brother, who he was certain was not a gentleman, was quite a different proposition, and might land him in all sorts of unpleasant complications.
He also had an uneasy conviction that Miss Burton was remarkably self-assured for such a young woman. She had spoken of blushing when she gave him the invitation, but she had not done so. Not the faintest colour showed on her cheek, and the glance that met his was perfectly steady and unwavering. She must either be very innocent, or, young as she was, she had acquired the experience and self-possession of a much older woman. He would like to think it all out.
The girl nodded in a friendly fashion, and tripped away, leaving Hugh Murchison to finish his tea, and ponder over what had happened.
Chapter Two.
When Hugh got back to his quarters the first thing he did was to hunt up his great friend Jack Pomfret. He found that young gentleman stretched in front of a blazing fire—it was a very chilly March—and smoking a cigar nearly as big as himself. Jack Pomfret, it may be said, was quite a small man, of about the size and weight that would be associated with the coxswain of a ’Varsity boat.
Next to Murchison, perhaps Pomfret was the most popular man in the regiment. He was certainly the poorest, for although he came of an aristocratic family, the said family had very little to bless themselves with.
If it had been left to his immediate relatives, Jack would have had to enter a line regiment, and subsist on his pay, supplemented by more or less regular small remittances from his hard-up father.
But fortune had smiled on Jack when he was in his cradle. A rich great-aunt had been his godmother, and from the date of his christening had taken him under her wing. She had been crossed in love when quite a girl, and would never marry. Jack Pomfret had a handsome, but not an extravagant, allowance now, and he would come into his great-aunt’s fortune when she died.
Jack always complained that his aunt was a bit thrifty, and did not fully understand the imperative necessities of a young subaltern in an expensive regiment like the Twenty-fifth.
As a matter of fact, Miss Harding, his mother’s youngest sister, suffered from acute indigestion, existed principally on soda-water and biscuits, lived in a comparatively small house with one manservant and two maids, and saved a great deal every year out of a large income. She loved Jack very much, but she had little or no sympathy with the follies and indiscretions of youth. She had a hazy sort of idea that an officer should live within his pay, as she lived well within her income. Needless to say that Jack had long disabused her of this silly idea.
“Great tidings, old man,” cried Murchison, breaking in upon the meditative little man, blowing great clouds of smoke. “I’ll give you six guesses.”
“Not in a guessing mood,” returned Jack shortly. “All my brain-power is used up. I am trying to concoct a letter to the dear old aunt—God bless her, she is one of the best!—insinuating gently that a cheque for a couple of hundred would be very convenient at the present moment.”
Murchison took a seat. “Silly old ass,” he said in a kindly tone, “if you want a couple of hundred have it from me, and don’t worry about the aunt. You can pay me when she stumps-up. From what you have told me about your respected relative, it might be a lengthy business. I suppose you will plead debts. She might offer to discharge them, and ask the names of the creditors. In that case, old chap, you wouldn’t handle much personally, would you?”
Pomfret laughed genially. He was always very hard-up, but he was never depressed for very long. There was always a silver lining to every cloud.
“She’s the sweetest, dearest soul on God’s earth,” he said in a tone of conviction. “But you know, Hughie old man, she doesn’t understand—I say emphatically, she doesn’t understand—you know what I mean. She is early Victorian. As to your suggestion, I appreciate it very much, but emphatically, no.” He added, with a whimsical smile: “Yours is a loan, I should have to pay back; Heaven knows when I could do so. The dear old aunt, well, it is a gift, no question of paying back. I haven’t thought it all out yet, but in the early cool of to-morrow morning, I shall write her a beautiful and touching letter. I know by experience it will bring a cheque.”
“You’re an artful young devil, I know,” said Murchison. Straight as a die himself, he was not too appreciative of his friend’s diplomatic methods.
On the other hand, was he justified in criticising? He had a magnificent allowance from his opulent father. Poor Jack, with a somewhat puritanical and niggardly aunt at his back, had just to worry along, and live in this expensive regiment from hand to mouth.
There was no more to be said on this subject.
“Well, Jack, are you in a mood to listen to my news?”
Pomfret leaned forward, and flicked the ash off his cigar. “Yes, I think I am. Begone dull care! I shall write that letter the first thing to-morrow morning.”
“Well, I have made the acquaintance of that pretty Burton girl, whom nobody in Blankfield visits.”
Mr. Pomfret emitted a little chuckling sound. “Lucky devil. How did you do it? I thought she was unapproachable. She walks down the High Street, ‘with a haughty stare, and her nose in the air,’ and looks neither to left nor right. How did you manage it, old man?” Hugh laughed. “Oh, as easy as anything. Just dropped in to Winkley’s, expecting to see a lot of you fellows with your best girls. Not a soul there I knew. Room full—every table full, save for one at which Miss Burton was sitting alone—sat at the one table, vis-à-vis with Miss Burton. There it is in a nutshell.”
Mr. Pomfret grinned broadly. “Oh, Hughie, what I would have given for your chance. You know I am awfully gone on that girl, she is so sweet and dainty,