“Then do not make strangers believe that—”
“Hold your tongue, Magdalen. Do you disobey me intentionally? You should be ashamed to speak to me.”
The young lady bit her lip and reddened. “I think—” she began.
“Be silent.” cried her father, seizing his umbrella and rapping it peremptorily on the floor. Jack sprang up.
“Sir,” he said: “how dare you behave so to a lady?”
“This lady is my daughter, k — k — confound your impertinence,” replied the other irascibly.
“Then don’t treat her as if she were your dog,” retorted Jack “I am an artist, sir — an artist — a poet; and I will not permit a young and beautiful woman to be tyrannized in my presence.”
“It I were a younger man—” began the gentleman, grasping his umbrella
“If you were,” shouted Jack, “you would have nothing but tenderness and respect for the lady; or else, by the power of sound, I would pulverize you—” allegro martellatissimo — on the spot.”
“Do not threaten me, sir,” said the old gentleman spiritedly, rising and confronting his adversary. “What right have you to interfere with the affairs of strangers — perfect strangers? Are you mad, sir; or are you merely ignorant?”
“Neither. I am as well versed in the usages of the world as you; and I have sworn not to comply with them when they demand a tacit tolerance of oppression. The laws of society, sir, are designed to make the world easy for cowards and liars. And lest by the infirmity of my nature I should become either the one or the other, or perhaps both, I never permit myself to witness tyranny without rebuking it, or to hear falsehood without exposing it. If more people were of my mind, you would never have dared to take it for granted that I would witness your insolence towards your daughter without interfering to protect her.”
To this speech the old gentleman could find no reply. He stared at Jack a few moments, and then, saying, “I request you to mind your own business, sir. I have nothing to say to you,” went back in dudgeon to his seat. The lady then leaned forward and said haughtily, “Your interference is quite unnecessary, thank you. I can take care of myself.”
“Aye,” retorted Jack, frowning at her: “you are like other children. I was not such a fool as to expect gratitude from you.” The girl blushed and looked away towards the landscape. Her father again stared at Jack, who resumed his seat with a bounce; folded his arms; and glowered. Five minutes later the train stopped; and the guard came for their tickets.
“I relied on you,” said the gentleman to him, for an empty carriage. Instead of that, I have had a most unpleasant journey. I have been annoyed — damnably annoyed.”
“Ha! ha!” roared Jack. “Ha! ha! ha!”
The guard turned sternly to him, and said, “Ticket, sir, please,” as though he expected the ticket to prove a third class one. When he received it he held it between his lips, whilst he opened a memorandum and then continued, “I want your name and address, sir, please.”
“What for?”
“For getting in when the train was in motion, sir, at Slough. The Company’s orders are strict against it. You might have been killed, sir.”
“And what the devil is it to the Company whether I am killed or not?”
“Be quick, sir, please,” said the guard, uncertain whether to coax or be peremptory. “Our time is up.”
Jack looked angry for a moment; then shrugged his shoulders and said, “My name is Jack; and I live nowhere.”
The man let his book fall to his side, and mutely appealed to the old gentleman to witness the treatment he was enduring.
“Come, sir,” be said, “what’s the use in this? We’ll only have to detain you; and that won’t be pleasant for either of us.”
“Is that a threat” said Jack fiercely.
“No, sir, There’s no one threatening you. We’re all gentlemen here. I only do my duty, as you understand, sir — none better. What is your name, sir?”
“My name is Jack. I tell you. Mr Owen Jack.”
“Oh! I didn’t take it rightly at first. Now your address, sir, please.”
“I have none. Did you never hear of a man without any home? If the place where 1 slept last night, and where my property is, will do you, you can put care of Mr Charles Sutherland, Beulah, Windsor. Here’s a card for you.”
“I know Mr Sutherland well, sir,” said the guard, putting up his book.”
“And by Heaven,” said Jack, vehemently, “if I hear another word of this, I will complain of you for taking half-a-crown from this gentleman and then shutting me and a lady in with him for a whole journey. I believe him to be insane.”
“Guard,” screamed the old gentleman, quite beside himself. But the guard, disconcerted at Jack’s allusion to the half-crown, hurried away and started the train. Nevertheless the gentleman would not be silenced. “How dare you, sir, speak of me as being insane?” he said.
“How dare you, sir, grumble at a journey which has only been marred by your own peevishness? I have enjoyed myself greatly. I have enjoyed the sunshine, the scenery, the rhythm of the train, and the company of my fellow travellers — except you, sir; and even your interruptions are no worse than untimely pleasantries. I never enjoyed a journey more in my life.”
“You are the most impertinent man I ever met, sir.”
“Precisely my opinion of you, sir. You commenced hostilities; and if you have caught a Tartar you have only yourself to thank.”
“You broke into my carriage.”
“Your carriage, sir! My carriage just as much as yours — more so. You are an unsocial person, sir.”
“Enough said, sir,” said the gentleman. “It does not matter. Enough said, if you please.”
“Well, sir,” said Jack, more good humoredly, “I apologize. I have been unnaturally repressed for the last three months; and I exploded this morning like a bombshell. The force of the explosion was not quite spent when I met you; and perhaps I had less regard for your seniority than I might have shewn at another time.”
“My seniority has nothing to do with the question, sir. My age is no concern of yours.”
“Hush, father,” whispered the lady. “Do not reply to him. It is not dignified.”
The old gentleman was about to make some angry reply, when the train ran alongside the platform at Paddington, and a porter opened the door, crying, “Ensom or foa’ w’eol, sir.”
“Get me a hansom, porter.”
“Right, sir. Luggage, sir?”
“There is a tin box,” said the lady, “a brown one With the initials M. B. on it.”
The porter touched his cap and went away. The gentleman got out, and stood wiih his daughter at the carriage door, awaiting the return of the porter. Jack slowly followed, and stood, irresolute, near them, the only person there without business or destination.
“I wonder what is delaying that fellow with our cab” said the old gentleman, after about fifteen seconds. “The vagabond has been picked up by someone else, and has forgotten us. Are we to stand here all day?”
“He will be here presently” said Magdalen. “He has not had time—”