“No.”
You should go there and see what real life is. We’re all asleep here. I only left England last March; and I’ve started six branches of our company since that, besides obtaining judgment against two scoundrels who infringed our patent. Quick work, that.”
“Is it?”
“I should think so. It would have taken two years to do here. More: five years perhaps. The Americans can’t resist a new thing as we do. But no matter, unless they look alive here, they will be driven out of the market by foreign manufacturers using our cheap power.”
“Your cheap power! What is that?”
“I thought you knew. Why, the Conolly electro-motor, which will drive any machinery at half — aye, at a quarter of the cost of steam. You have heard of it, of course.”
“I think so. I have met Mr. Conolly. He does not seem like a man who could do anything badly.”
“Badly! I should think not. He’s an amazing man. They talk of Seth Jones’s motor; and Van Print claims to be the original inventor of Conolly’s commutator. But they are a couple of thieves. I can shew you the report of Conolly versus the Pacific—”
“Johnny!” exclaimed Mrs. Phipson, entering. “I thought it was your voice.”
“How d’ye do, Nan?” said he. “How are the bairns?”
“Oh, we’re all first rate. Have you been here long?”
“It seems only half a minute, Miss Sutherland has been entertaining me so pleasantly.” And he winked and frowned at Mrs Phipson, to intimate that he desired to be introduced.
“Then you know each other already,” she said. “This is my brother, Mr Hoskyn. I hope you have not been bothering Mary with your electro business.”
“Mr Hoskyn was giving me a most interesting account of it when you came in,” said Mary.
“You can finish it some other time,” said Mrs Phipson. “Inflict it on the next person who has the misfortune to get shut into a railway carriage with you. When did you come back?”
Mr Hoskyn glanced apprehensively at Mary, and did not seem to like his sister’s remark, though he laughed goodhumoredly at it. The conversation then turned upon his recent movements; the length of time he expected to remain in London; and so forth.
Mary gathered that he had invested money in the Conolly Electro-Motor Company, and that he occupied himself in traveling to countries where the electro-motor was yet unknown, establishing companies for its exploitation; and making them pay for the right to use it. Mrs. Phipson was evidently tired of the subject, and made attempts to prevent his dwelling on it; but, in spite of her, he boasted a good deal of the superiority of Connely’s invention, and predicted ruin for certain other companies which had been set on foot to promote rival projects. He was effectually interrupted at last by the appearance of the younger children, who were excited by the arrival of Uncle Johnnie, and, Mary thought, looked forward to being the richer for his visit. Mr Hoskyn’s attention to them, however, flagged after the first few minutes; and Mrs Phipson, who was always impatient of her children’s presence, presently bade them to go and tell their father that Uncle Johnnie had come. They were, she added, on no account to return to the drawingroom. Their faces lengthened at this dismissal; but they did not venture to disregard it. Then Mr Phipson came; and his brother-in-law said much to him of what he had said before. Mary took no part in the conversation; but she occupied a considerable share of Mr Hoskyn’s attention. Whenever he pronounced an opinion, or cracked a joke, he glanced at her to see whether she approved of it, and always found her in the same attitude, self-possessed, with her upper lip lifted a little from her teeth by the poise of her head, which she held well up in order to maintain her glasses in their position; and by a slight contraction of her brows to shade her eyes from the superfluous rays.
“I need hardly ask whether Miss Sutherland sings,” he said, when he had repeated all his news to Mr Phipson.
“Very seldom,” replied his sister. Now Mary had a powerful and rather strident contralto voice, which enabled her to sing dramatic music with startling expression and energy. Mrs Phipson, who did not like these qualities, said “Very seldom,” in order to deter her brother from pressing his suggestion. But Mr Phipson, who relished Mary’s performances, and was also fond of playing accompaniments, immediately went to the piano, and opened it.
“I would give anything to hear you,” said Hoskyn, “if you will condescend to sing for such an ignorant audience as me.”
“I had much rather not,” said Mary, shewing signs of perturbation for the first time. “I sing nothing that would amuse you.”
“Of course not,” said he. “I know you don’t sing ballads and such trash. Something Italian, I should like to hear.”
“Come,” said Mr. Phipson. “Give us Che faro senza Euridice, And he began to play it.
Mary, after a moment’s hesitation, resigned herself, and went to the instrument. Mrs Phipson sighed. Hoskyn sat down on the ottoman; leaned attentively forward; and smiled continuously until the song was over, when he cried with enthusiasm: “Bravo! Splendid, splendid! You are quite equal to any professional singer I ever heard, Miss Sutherland. There is nothing like real Italian music after all. Thank you very much: I cannot remember when I enjoyed anything half so well”
“It is not Italian music,” said Mary, resuming her former attitude in the causeuse. “It is German music With Italian words.”
“It might as well be Chinese music fur all he knows about it.” said Mrs Phipson spitefully.
“I know that I enjoyed it thoroughly, at any rate,” said Hoskyn. “I have taken such a fancy to that picture on the wall that I should like to see some of your sketches, if you will favor me so far.”
Mary felt bound to be civil to Mrs Phipson’s brother: else she might have lost patience with Mr Hoskyn. “My sketches are in that book,” she said, pointing to a portfolio. “But they are not intended for show purposes, and if you have no real curiosity to see them, pray do not be at the trouble of turning them over. I do not paint for the sake of displaying an extra accomplishment.
“I quite understand that. It is as natural to you to do all these things as it is for me to walk or sleep. You can hardly think how much pleasure a song or a sketch gives me, because, you see, they are everyday things with you, whereas I could no more paint or sing in Italian than little Nettie upstairs. So, if you’ll allow me, I’ll take a peep. If I bring them over here, you can show them to me better.” And, on this pretext, he got into the causeuse with her at last.
“Fool!” commented Mrs. Phipson through her teeth to Mr Phipson, who smiled and strummed on the piano. Hoskyn meanwhile examined the sketches one by one; demanded a particular account of each; and, when they represented places at which he had been, related such circumstances of his visit as he could recollect, usually including the date, the hotel charges, and particulars of his fellow travelers; as, for instance, that there were two Italian ladies staying there; or that a lot of Russians took the whole of the first floor, and were really very polite people when you came to know them. Mary answered his questions patiently, and occasionally, when he appealed to her for confirmation of his opinions, gave him a cool nod, after each of which he grew more pleased and talkative. He praised her drawings extravagantly; and she, seeing that the worst satisfied him as well as the best, made no further attempt to deprecate his admiration, listening to it with self-possessed indifference. Mrs Phipson yawned conspicuously all the time. Failing to move him by this means, she at last asked him whether he would take supper with them, or return at once to wherever he was staying. He replied that he was staying round the corner at the Langham Hotel, and that he would wait for supper, to which Mrs Phipson assented with a bad grace. Just then Mary, hearing screams from the nursery pretended that she wished to see what was the matter, and left the room. She did not return; and Hoskyn, on going down to supper, was informed, to his heavy disappointment,