Read Ebook: A rolling stone by Croker B M Bithia Mary

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Ebook has 1829 lines and 87559 words, and 37 pages

BROTHER AND SISTER

"Well," began Lady Kesters, as the door closed, "I suppose you have seen him?"

"I have very much seen him," replied her brother, who had thrown himself into a chair; "I did a sprint across the park, because I know your ladyship cannot bear to be kept waiting. Everything must be done to the minute in this establishment."

"Yes," she agreed; "and you come from a country where time is no object--everything is for 'To-morrow.' Now, tell me about Uncle Richard. Was he furious?"

"No; I believe I would have got off better if he had been in a rage. He received me in a 'more in sorrow than in anger' frame of mind, spoke as deliberately as if he had written his speech, and learnt it by heart; he meant every word he said."

"I doubt it," said his sister, who had been filling the teapot, and now closed the lid with a decisive snap. "Let me hear all you can remember."

"As if you didn't know that!" she interrupted.

"Yes, yes, yes!" with a wave of her hand. "Tell me something new."

"He says that he is sick of me and my failures--is that new?"

"What does he propose?" asked Lady Kesters.

"He proposes that, for a change, I should try and get along by myself, and no longer hang on to other people."

"Well, there is some sense in that."

"He says that if I continue as I've begun, I'll develop into the awful loafer who haunts men's clubs, trying to borrow half a sov. from old pals, and worrying them with begging letters."

"Yes, yes," said his sister impatiently; "and if you comply with all these conditions?"

"No doubt he will," agreed his sister; "we are--bar accidents--a long-lived stock."

"No fear of that," she interposed; "the old servants will never permit it, and never receive her. But how are you to earn your living and your daily bread?"

"So that is Uncle Richard's programme!" said Lady Kesters reflectively. "Now, let's have some tea," and she proceeded to pour it out. "The little cakes are cold and stodgy, but try these sandwiches. Martin is away to-night--he had to go to a big meeting in Leeds, and won't be home. I shall send for your things. I suppose you are at your old quarters in Ryder Street?"

"Yes; they have been awfully decent to me, and kept my belongings when I was away."

"And you must come here for a week, and we will think out some scheme. I wish you could stay on and make your home here. But you know Martin has the same sort of ideas as Uncle Richard; he began, when he was eighteen, on a pound a week, and made his own way, and thinks every young man should do the same."

"I agree with him there--though it may sound funny to hear me say so, Sis. I hope you don't imagine I've come back to loaf; I shall be only too glad to be on my own."

"I suppose you have no money at all?" she inquired, as she replenished his teacup.

"I have fifteen pounds, if you call that nothing, all my London kit, a pair of guns, and a gold watch."

"But what brought you back so suddenly? You did not half explain to me this morning, when you tumbled from the skies."

"Well, you see," he began, as he rose and put down his cup, "the Estancia I was on was of the wrong sort, as it happened, and a rotten bad one. Uncle Richard was tremendously keen to deport me, and he took hold of the first thing he heard of, some crazy advice from a blithering old club fogey who did not know a blessed thing about the country. The Valencia Estancia, a horse-breeding one, was far away inland--not one of those nearer Buenos Ayres and civilisation,--it belonged to a native. The proprietor, Vincino, was paralysed from a bad fall, and the place was run by a ruffian called Murcia. I did not mind roughing it; it's a splendid climate, and I liked the life itself well enough. I got my fill of riding, and a little shooting--duck, and a sort of partridge--and I appreciated the freedom from the tall hat and visiting card."

"You never used many of those!" she interposed.

"No. From the first I never could stand Murcia; he was such an oily scoundrel, and an awful liar; so mean and treacherous and cruel, both to men and animals. He drank a lot of that frightfully strong spirit that's made out there--fermented cane--and sometimes he was stark mad, knocking the servants and the peons about; and as to the horses, he was a fiend to them. He killed lots of the poor brutes by way of training; lassoed them--and broke their hearts. It made my blood boil, and, as much as I could, I took over the breaking-in business. When I used to jaw him and remonstrate, it made him wild, and he always had his knife into me on the sly."

"How?"

"The stiffest jobs, the longest days, the largest herds, were naturally for the English 'Gringo.'"

"What is that?"

"You did?" leaning forward eagerly.

"Rather! I shouted to him to hold hard, and he only cursed; so I jumped off the horse and went for him straight. He dropped his victim and tried to lay on to me with the whip; but the boot was on the other leg, and I let him have it, I can tell you. It was not a matter of fists, but flogging. My blood was up, and I scourged that blackguard with all my soul and all my strength. He ran round and round the patio yelling, whilst the crowd grinned and approved. I settled some of Murcia's scores on the spot and paid for many blows and outrages! In the end he collapsed in the dust, grovelling at my feet, blubbering and groaning, 'a worm and no man.' I think that's in the Bible. Yes, I gave that hulking, drunken brute a thrashing that he will never forget--and those who saw it won't forget it either. Naturally, after such a performance I had to clear. You may do a lot of things out there; you may even shoot a man, but you must never lay hands on an overseer; so I made tracks at once, without pay, bonus, character, or anything except the adoration of the employ?s, my clothes, and a few pounds. Murcia would have run me in, only he would have shown up badly about the woman. Well, I came down country in a cattle-train, and found I was just short of coin to pay my way home."

Leila stared into the fire in silence; her warm imagination transported her to the scene her brother had described. She, too, was on the campo, and heard the cries of the woman; she saw the Englishman gallop through the gates, saw the cowardly crowd, the maddened ruffian, the victim, and the punishment!

"But what did you do with your salary?" she asked, after an expressively long pause; "surely you had no way of spending it?"

"That's true. As I was to have a bonus, you know, on the year, my salary was small, and I got rid of it easily enough."

"Cards!" she supplemented; "oh, of course. My dear Owen, I'm afraid you are hopeless!"

"Yes, I suppose it's hereditary! After the day's work there was nothing to do. All the other chaps gambled, and I could not stand with my hands in my pockets looking on; so I learnt the good old native game of 'Truco,' but I had no luck--and lost my dollars."

"And after your arrival at Buenos Ayres in the cattle-train, what happened?"

"Owen!"

"Yes; but he said, 'You look like a stoker, don't you? Why, you're a gentleman! You couldn't stand the engine-room for an hour. However, as I see you are not proud and they are short of hands in the stewards' pantry, they might take you on to wash plates.'"

Lady Kesters made no remark; her expression was sufficiently eloquent.

"'All right,' I agreed, 'I'll do my little best.' So I was made over to the head steward. We carried a full number of passengers that trip, and, when one of the saloon waiters fell sick, I was promoted into his place, as I was clean and civil. Needless to say, I was thankful to get away from the horrors of greasy plates and the fag of cleaning knives. I can wait pretty well, the ladies liked me--yes, and I liked them--and when we docked at Southampton yesterday, Owen, as they called me, received nearly six pounds in tips, not to speak of a steamer chair and a white umbrella!"

As he concluded, he walked over to the fire and stood with his back to it. His sister surveyed him reflectively; she was thinking how impossible it was to realise that her well-bred, smart-looking brother, in his admirably cut clothes, and air of easy self-possession, had, within twenty-four hours, been a steward at the beck and call of the passengers on a liner. However, all she said was--

"So at any rate you have made a start, and begun to earn money already."

"Oh, that's nothing new. I was never quite broke;" and, diving into his pocket, he produced a little parcel, which he tossed into her lap.

"For me?"

"For who else?"

He watched her attentively as she untied the narrow bit of red and yellow ribbon, unfolded a flat box, and discovered a beautiful plaque or clasp in old Spanish paste. The design was exquisite, and the ornament flashed like a coruscation of Brazilian diamonds.

"Oh, Owen, how perfect!" she gasped; "but how dare you? It must have cost a fortune--as much as your passage money," and she looked up at him interrogatively.

"Never mind; it was a bargain. I picked it up in a queer, poky little shop, and it's real old, old Spanish--time of Ferdinand and Isabella they said--and I felt I'd like to take something home to you; it will look jolly well on black, eh?"

"There are only the two of us, Sis, and why shouldn't I give myself that pleasure?"

"What a pretty speech!" and she patted his arm approvingly.

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