“No. He is saying something to your father, begging, I am afraid, or he would not stand up and lift his hat”
“How dreadful!”
Herbert laughed. “If, as you suspected, he is hungry, there is nothing very dreadful in it, poor fellow. It is natural enough.”
“I did not mean that. I meant that it was dreadful to think of his being forced to beg. Papa has not given him anything — I wish he would. He evidently wants to get rid of him, and, of course, does not know how to do it. Let us go back.”
“If you wish,” said Herbert, reluctantly. “But I warn you that London is full of begging impostors.”
Meanwhile Mr Sutherland, finding his spectacles where he had left them, took them up; wiped them with his handkerchief; and was turning away, when he found himself confronted by the strange man, who had risen.
“Sir,” said the man, raising his shabby hat, and speaking in a subdued voice of remarkable power: “I have been a tutor; and I am a musician. I can convince you that I am an honest and respectable man. I am in need of employment. Something I overheard just now leads me to hope that you can assist me. I will—” Here the man, though apparently self-possessed, stopped as if his breath had failed him.
Mr. Sutherland’s first impulse was to tell the stranger stiffly that he had no occasion for his services. But as there were no bystanders, and the man’s gaze was impressive, he became nervous, and said hastily, “Oh, thank you: I have not decided what I shall do as yet.” And he attempted to pass on.
The man immediately stepped aside, saying, “If you will favor me with your address, sir, I can send you testimonials which will prove that I have a right to seek such a place as you describe. If they do not satisfy you, I shall trouble you no further. Or if you will be so good as to accept my card, you can consider at your leisure whether to communicate with me or not.”
“Certainly, I will take your card,” said Mr. Sutherland, flurried and conciliatory. “Thank you. I can write to you, you, know, if I—”
“I am much obliged to you.” Here he produced an ordinary visiting card, with the name “Mr. Owen Jack” engraved, and an address at Church Street, Kensington, written in a crabbed but distinct hand in the corner. Whilst Mr. Sutherland was pretending to read it, his daughter came up, purse in hand, hurrying before Herbert, whose charity she wished to forestall. Mr. Owen Jack looked at her; and she hid her purse quickly. “I am sorry to have delayed you, sir,” he said. “Good morning.” He raised his hat again, and walked away.
“Good morning, sir,” said Mr Sutherland. “Lord bless me! that’s a cool fellow,” he added, recovering himself, and beginning to feel ashamed of having been so courteous to a poorly dressed stranger.
“What did he want, papa?”
“Indeed, my dear, he has shown me that we cannot be too careful of how we talk before strangers in London. By the purest accident — ,the merest chance, I happened, whilst we were sitting here five minutes ago, to mention that we wanted a tutor for Charlie. This man was listening to us; and now he has offered himself for the place. Just fancy the quickness of that. Here is his card.”
“Owen Jack!” said Mary. “What a name!”
“Did he overhear anything about the musical difficulty?” said Herbert. “Nature does not seem to have formed Mr Jack for the pursuit of a fine art.”
“Yes: he caught up even that. According to his own account, he understands music — , in fact he can do everything.”
Mary looked thoughtful. “After all,” she said slowly, “he might suit us. He is certainly not handsome; but he does not seem stupid; and he would probably not want a large salary. I think Archdeacon Downes’s man’s terms are perfectly ridiculous.”
“I am afraid it would be rather a dangerous experiment to give a responsible post to an individual whom we have chanced upon in a public park.” said Herbert.
“Oh! out of the question,” said Mr Sutherland. “I only took his card as the shortest way of getting rid of him. Perhaps I was wrong to do even that.”
“Of course we should have to make inquiries,” said Mary. “Somehow, I cannot get it out of my head that he is in very bad circumstances. He might be a gentleman. He does not look common.”
“I agree with you so far,” said Herbert. “And I am not sorry that such models are scarce. But of course you are quite right in desiring to assist this man, if he is unfortunate.”
“Engaging a tutor is a very commonplace affair,” said Mary; “but we may as well do some good by it if we can. Archdeacon Downes’s man is in no immediate want of a situation: he has dozens of offers to choose from. Why not give the place to whoever is in the greatest need of it?”
“Very well,” cried Mr. Sutherland. “Send after him and bring him home at once in a carriage and pair, since you have made up your mind not to hear to reason on the subject.”
“After all,” interposed Herbert, “it will do no harm to make a few inquiries. If you will allow me, I will take the matter in hand, so as to prevent all possibility of his calling on or disturbing you. Give me his card. I will write to him for his testimonials and references, and so forth; and if anything comes of it, I can then hand him over to you.”
Mary locked gratefully at him, and said, “Do, papa. Let Mr Herbert write. It cannot possibly do any harm; and it will be no trouble to you.”
“I do not object to the trouble” said Mr Sutherland. “I have taken the trouble of coming up to London, all the way from Windsor, solely for Charlie’s sake. However, Herbert, perhaps you could manage the affair better than I. In fact, I should prefer to remain in the background. But then your time is valuable—”
“It will cost me only a few minutes to write the necessary letters — minutes that would be no better spent in any case. I assure you it will be practically no trouble to me.”
“There, papa. Now we have settled that point, let us go on to the National Gallery. I wish we were going to your studio instead.”
“You must not ask for that yet,” said Herbert earnestly. “I promise you a special private view of The Lady of Shalott on Thursday next at latest.”
CHAPTER II
Sir — In answer to your letter of the 12th instant, I am instructed by Miss Wilson to inform you that Mr. Jack was engaged here for ten months as professor of music and elocution. At the end of that period he refused to impart any further musical instruction, to three young ladies who desired a set of finishing lessons. He therefore considered himself bound to vacate his post, though Miss Wilson desires me to state expressly that she did not insist on that course. She has much pleasure in testifying to the satisfactory manner in which Mr. Jack maintained his authority in the school. He is an exacting teacher, but a patient and thoroughly capable one. During his stay at Alton College, his general conduct was irreproachable, and his marked personal influence gained for him the respect and good wishes of his pupils. —
I am, sir, your obedient servant,
Phillis Ward, F.C.P., etc.
14 West Precinct, Lipport Cathedral, South Wales.
Sir — Mr. Owen Jack is a native of this town, and was, in his boyhood, a member of the Cathedral Choir. He is respectably connected, and is personally known to me as a strictly honorable young man. He has musical talent of a certain kind, and is undoubtedly qualified to teach the rudiments of music, though he never, whilst under our guidance, gave any serious consideration to the higher forms of composition — more, I should add, from natural ineptitude than from want of energy and perseverance. I should be glad to hear of his obtaining a