Read Ebook: Halfway House: A Comedy of Degrees by Hewlett Maurice

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Ebook has 1643 lines and 107769 words, and 33 pages

"My dear," said Lady Cantacute suddenly, "you look very hot." She now looked hotter, but she laughed as she admitted the fact. Laughing became her. Mr. Germain admired her teeth--small, white, and, so far as he could see, perfect. He formed a higher opinion of Lady Cantacute's character--an old friend. To make a young girl smile and show her teeth is to use both tact and benevolence--natural benevolence.

"It is a very hot afternoon," he said, as if delivering a considered judgment, and as he blinked upon her she flashed him one of her hasty looks.

"Yes, it is, Mr. Germain."

"And I think you must be a most unselfish young lady."

"Oh, no, Mr. Germain, indeed." She was quite pleased, and looked very pretty when pleased.

"But I must maintain that you are. You put us luxurious people to shame. Now, Miss Cecily and I will undertake to help you after tea. Is that a bargain, Miss Cecily?" Cecily looked dogged, and said, "If he liked."

"All well at home, dear child?" Mrs. Bingham asked here, and made Cecily snort. I am afraid, too, that she nudged her sister Agatha.

Miss Middleham promised, and retired with veiled eyes and an inclination of the head; but Cecily asked, "May I go with her, mother?" and went without the answer.

Their backs turned, the rail safely over, there was a different Miss Middleham to be found, the sparkling, audacious, merry Miss Middleham of Oranges and Lemons who, to Cecily Bingham's "I say, I can run," replied, "And so can I, you know," and egged Cecily on to propose "Let's race to that clump of grass." Miss Middleham flew, and Cecily tumbled on to her at the winning post. They resumed their way close together.

Her arm within Mary Middleham's, Cecily talked in jerks, between breaths. "I say--old Germain talked a lot about you." The colour flew over Mary's face, was reflected in her eyes.

"No! Did he really?"

"I swear he did. He called you Atalanta. He said--I say--wasn't it rot of Mother, asking after your people? She hadn't the faintest idea whether you had any, and didn't--I suppose you have, though?"

"I have indeed--lots. I've got four sisters."

"Oh, sisters! No brothers?" She shook her head.

"I've got one," said Cecily, "and he's at Eton all the summer. Jolly for him."

"Very jolly, I should think. Now I am to tell Mr. Soames about the tea. Don't run away."

"Rather not. I'll wait here for you. I hate curates. Father's got two--one tame one and one wild one. We call them Romulus and Remus, after some puppies we had once." They separated with eye-signals.

Mr. Soames--the Rev. Seymour Soames, B.A.--was explicitly a curate, flaming-haired, crimson, spectacled, and boyish. He was very enthusiastic, and when enthusiastic could not always rely upon his voice. Being now told his affair, he said "I see" very often, and concluded, "Very well, Miss Mary, I'll do as I'm told--as you tell me, you know. You're the queen of this beanfeast. I'm not above taking orders from the head of affairs, you see." It was indeed to be seen that he was not. "Thank you, Mr. Soames," said the Mary of laughing eyes, and as she went he sighed, collected himself and plunged into hectoring the urn-bearers. Miss Middleham and her young friend strolled off arm-in-arm, and the last thing to be heard spoken between them was, "What did Mr. Germain really say?" The rest was whispers.

II MR. GERMAIN REVELS SEDATELY

Conversation within the Rectory garden did not, could not, revive until the young footman, released from his urn-bondage, could bring out the tea-tray. Punctually with that glittering apparatus came the Rector and Lord Cantacute, prosperous, clean, leisurely gentlemen both: the peer with a huntsman's face and white whiskers, a square-topped felt hat and neatly folded white tie with a foxhead pin, Mr. James Germain, thin, smiling, and fastidious, amused at his own benevolence. A little desultory talk flickered up on their approach; the Rector was packed off to say Grace for what the revellers might be about to receive. Lord Cantacute took his tea and asked, "Where's Hertha?" Miss Hertha de Speyne was only child of his noble house.

"Hertha's gone to play tennis at the cottage--in this grilling heat," said her ladyship. "But she's to be here to tea. Mrs. Duplessis is very sadly, I'm told. Ah!" and she put up her lorgnette. "Here they come, dear things."

A tall young man in white flannels accompanied a tall young lady, also in white, round the house.

"What a pair!" murmured Mrs. Bingham to her eldest daughter, and caused Lady Cantacute to say rather sharply, "Not at all. They've known each other from the cradle."

Mr. Tristram Duplessis was this young man--a cousin of Mrs. James Germain's. He was good-looking, every foot of him, and there were six, high-coloured, light in the eye. He had a profusion of fair and straight hair, which he was accustomed to jerk away from his forehead, and a trick of knitting his brows, as if he scowled, and of biting his cheek, as if he was annoyed. Very frequently he was. Apart from these peculiarities, his manners were easy--Mr. John Germain thought, much too easy. One of his least pleasing habits was his way of looking at you in conversation as if you were either ridiculous or his property. Mr. Germain, very sure of being neither, did not pretend to like this youth.

He was greeted with "How's your mother, Tristram?" from Lady Cantacute, and replied, "I believe she's ill--at least, she says so;" whereat the second Miss Bingham choked in her tea-cup, and Mr. Duplessis looked at her for a minute with narrowed eyes.

Mr. John Germain, seeing his chair in possession--and in that of Duplessis--crossed the railing and walked over the field towards the trestle-tables where the scholars feasted. Miss Bingham--the eldest--and Duplessis were now side by side. "Your young lady has made another conquest," she told him, and nodded towards the severe, retreating form. Duplessis observed her calmly. "It's no good, Mildred," he said. "You can't get a rise out of me, you know." She laughed. "I think I've been saved the trouble, I was only calling your attention to it. He is greatly interested." The young man's answer was to look at Mr. Germain, retreating still in a stately manner, and then at Mildred Bingham. Graphic commentary enough.

When Mr. Germain approached the tables, Miss Middleham, who had been very aware of his coming, became instantly circumspect. He advanced deliberately and stood by her side for a while without speaking: he then offered himself to hand tea-cups, and when she assured him that the work was done, held to his post without any more words or seeming embarrassment. He was affable to Mr. Soames, if somewhat lofty; spoke of cricket and cricketers, the performances of Somerset, and of its champion, whom he was careful to call Mr. Palairet. For Berks, his own county, he apologized. He had a theory, not fully worked out yet, that the Scandinavian blood in us produced the best athletes. Consider Yorkshire and Lancashire. Kent, too: there was an undoubted strain of the Norseman in Kent. Surrey was against him--apparently; but he could not admit it. Of course, London gave the pick of everything; Surrey, a metropolitan shire, could hardly be reckoned, nor, by a parity of reasoning, Middlesex. Mr. Soames, who had not hitherto considered the ethnological side of his game, shook his head and said, "No, by jingo!" then plunged to another table and appeared to be busy. Mr. Germain turned to Miss Middleham and begged to know how he could be of service. "I must make good my boast: I rely upon the loyalty of Miss Cecily Bingham. Do you play after tea?" She said that there would be games. "For instance?" he inquired, and Mr. Soames, who was now hovering near again, said, "We shall finish the match. Perhaps you would care to umpire?" But Mr. Germain had picked up a small wooden implement and was turning it about like a fan. Bat, trap, and ball, he supposed? She laughed him yes. "Very well, then," said he, "you shall allow me to help you in bat, trap, and ball." Cecily Bingham's eyes had now to be avoided at all costs.

The tall, stiff-shouldered gentleman made good his word--if that can be called playing the game where a player never hits the ball, frequently himself, and once the boy fielding behind him. Grouped girls admired with open mouths; but the temptation to giggle when he caught himself for the second time upon the elbow and betrayed something of the torment he suffered was not to be resisted. Miss Middleham bit her lip, but turned to rend one of her pupils. "Gracie," she said in a fierce whisper, "if you dare to laugh I'll never speak to you again."

"Here comes Tristram," said Cecily, but Miss Middleham had no need to be told that. She was very busy teaching a small boy how to wield the bat which Mr. Germain now hastened to discard. "Thank you, Mr. Germain," she said sincerely. "It's very kind of you."

"I am delighted to have been of the least service to you," he replied with a bow. "You set us all an example which I, for one, am proud to follow."

The games languished, flickered out under the calm eyes of Mr. Duplessis, but he took no part in reviving them. Nor did Miss Middleham do more than pretend to instruct. He stood, hands in pockets, for a while, looking at nothing, whistling softly to himself, then strolled towards Mary Middleham and, without looking at her, said two or three words. She listened to them intently without turning her head, said, "Yes," and went on with her business of the moment. Still whistling, Duplessis strolled away, and, in passing, tweaked Cecily Bingham's straight hair.

Mr. Germain, after salutations of a courtly kind, had returned leisurely to the Rectory Garden--to help his sister-in-law feel the early peaches on the wall.

That evening there was a vacant place at the Rectory dinner-table. Tristram Duplessis was to have filled it, but did not appear until dessert. He entered then with smiles and light-hearted apologies.

"It isn't often that I work, you'll say, but when I do, I believe I'm not to be restrained. Thanks, Molesworth, anything will do for me." This was how he put it, first to his hostess, next to the anxious butler, each of whom knew better. He chose to add, for the general benefit, "As a matter of fact, I got interested, and entirely forgot that a man must eat."

"Or behave himself," said the Rector, with lifted brows.

Duplessis paused, soup-spoon in air. "He should, no doubt. That's why I'm so late. I had to dress, you see. Anon Soames must needs come in and talk his cricket. They play Cromberton to-morrow, and are two short. Will I be one, and bring another man? says Soames." The spoon was emptied and put down. "I half promised to bring you, you know, Germain." This was suavely addressed to Mr. John Germain, who unblinkingly received it.

"Where is your match?" Mr. Germain was peeling a peach, and did not look up. He was told, a home match, and then, without faltering before the "You play?" of as rude a young man as these islands can contain, replied deliberately, "I am very ready to oblige Mr. Soames." The hush upon the dinner-table which followed this declaration was its most eloquent commentary. Mrs. James Germain surveyed the walls, as if calling them to witness her secret thoughts. The Rector drained his glass of sherry, and took another.

"My dear fellow, you make me feel an old fogey," he said. "Do you know that I've not had a bat in my hand since I left Cambridge? And you'll forgive me for remarking that you haven't either, to the best of my belief."

Mr. Germain, whose serenity was proof, reflected before he replied that that seemed an excellent reason for having one to-morrow. "Assuredly," he said, "I shall rally to Mr. Soames, with whom I had a little chat this afternoon. He seemed an amiable and intelligent young man."

"I like Soames," the Rector agreed. "He's a worker."

Mrs. James said sharply, "He needs to be," and received a bow. "My dear, it is now you who put me to shame."

"Not in the least, James," cried the lady. "You are as incapable of the feeling as I am of the action."

"While Soames plays cricket, Cousin James writes sound theology," said Duplessis, and got the lady off the rocks.

Mr. John Germain was now sedately sipping his port.

"That was a pleasant girl you had here," he said, and got his sister-in-law's attention. Duplessis did not look up from his plate, but he listened.

"I mean Mrs. Bingham's girl--the youngest of the three. I had a little chat with her, too--over our games. I was pleased with her friendly ways. They sit charmingly upon young ladies who are so apt to think that because their frocks are short their manners may be."

"Which are not capable of holding 'em?" asked the Rector, using his eyebrows.

"Which can have little or no use for them, perhaps."

Mr. Germain, having given this oracle due attention, pronounced upon it as if he were admonishing a poacher. "I am constrained to say that I did not observe a preponderance of ideas in Miss Cecily's conversation."

"Took the rails very neatly, I thought," Duplessis put in, but Mrs. James was not to be balked.

"I don't object to her taking rails or anything else of the sort. But I certainly think it a pity that she should take Mary Middleham's arm, and walk among the children as if they were bosom friends."

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