Not Like Other Girls Part 46

"Pshaw, d.i.c.k! don't chatter such folly. I want to have some talk with Miss Nancy myself."

"All right: I have had my innings," returned naughty d.i.c.k; but he shot a look at Nan that made her blush to her finger ends, and that was not lost on Mr. Mayne.

"Well, now, Miss Nancy, what does all this mean?" he asked, harshly.

"Here we have run down just in a friendly way,--d.i.c.k and I,--leaving the mother rather knocked up after her travels at Longmead, to look you up and see how you are getting on. And now we find you have been deceiving us all along, and keeping us in the dark, and that you are making yourselves the talk of the place, sewing a parcel of gowns for all the townspeople."

Mr. Mayne did not add that his son had so bothered him for the last three weeks to run down to Hadleigh that he had acceded at last to his request, in the hope of enjoying a little peace.

"Draw it mild!" muttered d.i.c.k, who did not much admire this opening tirade; but Nan answered, with much dignity,--

"If people talk about us it is because of the novelty. They have never heard of gentle-people doing this sort of work before----"

"I should think not!" wrathfully from Mr. Mayne.

"Things were so bad with us that we should have all had to separate if Phillis had not planned this scheme; and then mother would have broken her heart; but now we are getting on famously. Our work gives satisfaction, we have plenty of orders; we do not forfeit people's good opinions, for we have nothing but respect shown us, and----"

But here Mr. Mayne interrupted her flow of quiet eloquence somewhat rudely.

"Pack of nonsense!" he exclaimed, angrily. "I wonder at your mother,--I do indeed. I thought she had more sense. You have no right to outrage your friends in this way! it is treating us badly. What will your mother say, d.i.c.k? She will be dreadfully shocked. I am sorry for you, my boy,--I am indeed: but, under the circ.u.mstances----"

But what he was about to add was checked by a very singular proceeding on the part of his son; for d.i.c.k suddenly took Nan's hand, and drew her forward.

"Don't be sorry for me, father: I am the happiest fellow alive. Nan and I have come to an understanding at last, after all these years.

Allow me to present to you the future Mrs. Richard Mayne."

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

d.i.c.k THINKS OF THE CITY.

When d.i.c.k had uttered this audacious speech, Mr. Mayne started back, and his expression of mingled wrath and dismay was so ludicrous that under any other circ.u.mstances his son would have found it difficult to keep his countenance.

"What! what!" he almost shouted, losing all sense of politeness, and even of Nan's presence; "you young fool, what do you mean by trumping up this nonsense and presuming to talk to me in this way?"

d.i.c.k thought it prudent to drop Nan's hand,--and, indeed, the girl shrank away from them both in alarm at this outburst: nevertheless, his countenance and bearing maintained the same admirable _sang-froid_, as he confronted his angry parent:

"Now, father, what is the use of calling me names? When a fellow is of age, and knows his own mind, he does not care a pin for being called a fool. 'Hard words break no bones,' as our copy-leaves used to tell us,--no, I have not got that quite right; but that is about my meaning. Look here, father," he continued, in a coaxing, boyish voice; "I have cared for Nan ever since she was a little creature so high,"

again reverting to the infantile measurement. "I have always meant to marry her,--that is, if she would have me," correcting himself, as Nan drew herself up a little proudly. "Money or no money, there is not another girl in England that I would have for a wife. I would wait for her if I had to wait half my life, just the same as she would wait for me; and so, as I said before, when a fellow has made up his mind, there is nothing more to say." And here d.i.c.k pursed up his lips for a whistle, but thought better of it, and fell to twisting and untwisting the ends of his sandy moustache.

Nan's downcast eyes revealed nothing. But if d.i.c.k could only have seen the happy look in them! What eloquence could ever have been so dear to her as that clear rough-and-ready statement of her lover's feelings for her? "There is not another girl in England that I would have for a wife." Could anything surpa.s.s the beauty of that sentence? Oh, how manly, how true he was, this d.i.c.k of hers!

"Oh, indeed! I am to say nothing, am I?" returned Mr. Mayne, with exquisite irony. "My son is to dictate to me; and I am to be silent!

Oh, you young fool!" he muttered under his breath; but then for the moment words seemed to fail him.

In spite of the wrath that was boiling within him, and to which he did not dare give vent in Nan's presence, in spite of the grief and disappointment that his son's defiance had caused him, d.i.c.k's bearing filled him with admiration and amazement.

This boy of his was worth something, he thought. He had a clear head of his own, and could speak to some purpose. Was a likely young fellow like this to be thrown away on that Challoner girl? Poor Nan! Pretty and blooming as she looked, Mr. Mayne felt almost as though he hated her. Why had she come between his boy and him? Had he a dozen sons, that he could spare one of them? Was not d.i.c.k his only one,--the son of his right hand, his sole hope and ambition? Mr. Mayne could have wept as these thoughts pa.s.sed through his mind.

It was at this moment that Nan thought it right to speak. d.i.c.k had had his say, but it was not for her to be silent.

"Mr. Mayne, please listen to me a moment," she said, pleadingly. "No; I must speak to your father," as d.i.c.k, much alarmed, tried to silence her. "He must not think hard things of us, and misunderstand us."

"No, dear; indeed you had better be silent!" implored d.i.c.k, anxiously; but Nan for once turned a deaf ear to him.

"I must speak," she persisted. "Mr. Mayne, it is quite true what d.i.c.k says: we have been together all our lives, and have grown to care for each other. I cannot remember the time,"--the tears coming into her bright eyes--"when d.i.c.k was not more to me than a brother; it is all of such long standing, it is far, far too late to stop it now."

"We shall see about that, Miss Nancy," muttered Mr. Mayne, between his teeth; but the girl did not seem to hear him.

"d.i.c.k took me by surprise just now. I ought to have been more on my guard, and not have given him that promise."

"What promise?" demanded Mr. Mayne, harshly; and Nan hung her head, and returned, shyly,--

"That I would marry him some time; but indeed--indeed he made me say it, and I was so taken by surprise. No, d.i.c.k; you must let me finish,"

for d.i.c.k was looking at her with piteous entreaty in his eyes. "I know we were wrong to say so much without your leave; but indeed I will do your son no harm. I cannot marry any one else, because I am engaged to him; but as far as he is concerned he is free. I will never marry him without your permission; he shall not come here if you do not wish; but do not be so angry with us;" and here her lip quivered. "If you did not mean this to happen, you should have kept us apart all these years."

"Oh, hush, dear!" whispered d.i.c.k in her ear; but Mr Mayne almost thrust him aside, and laid a rough grasp on the girl's wrist. "Never mind him: answer me one question. Are you serious in what you say, that you will never marry him without my permission?"

"Of course I will not," answered Nan, quite shocked. "d.i.c.k would not ask me to do such a thing; he is far too honorable, and--and--no one would think of such a thing."

"Very well; that is all I wanted to know;" and he released her, not over-gently: "the rest I can settle with Master d.i.c.k himself.

Good-morning, Miss Nancy: under the circ.u.mstances I do not think I will wait to see your mother. I am not quite in the mood for ladies; perhaps, later on, I may have something to say to her."

"Don't you mean to shake hands with me, Mr. Mayne?" asked poor Nan, much distressed at the evil temper of d.i.c.k's father; but there was no sign of softening.

"Yes; I will shake hands with you, and gladly, if you will promise to be sensible and send this boy of mine about his business. Come now, Nan; own for my comfort that it is only a bit of boy-and-girl nonsense, that means nothing. I am not over-particular, and do not object to a bit of flirting with young folk."

"You had better go with your father, d.i.c.k," returned Nan, with much dignity, and quite ignoring this speech.

d.i.c.k seized the little hand that had been so rudely rejected, and kissed it under his father's eyes.

"I will see you again somehow," he whispered, and Nan was quite content with this promise. d.i.c.k would keep his word, she knew: he would not leave Hadleigh without seeing her.

A very unpleasant hour ensued for poor d.i.c.k. Mr. Mayne in one of his worst tempers; he had conducted himself to Nan in an ungentlemanly manner, and he knew it; as d.i.c.k said to himself,--

"It is very hard on a fellow when one's father acts like a cad."

Mr. Mayne had shown himself a cad. No gentleman by birth or breeding would have conducted himself in that offensive way. Bad temper had broken down the trammels of conventionality: never before in his life had d.i.c.k felt so utterly ashamed of his father. Mr. Mayne was conscious of his son's criticism, and it made things worse.

It spoke well for d.i.c.k's prudence and self-command that he let the storm of his father's anger break over his head, and said no word. Mr.

Mayne ranted and raved; I am afraid he even swore once or twice,--at least his language was undesirably strong,--and d.i.c.k walked beside him and held his peace. "Poor old boy, he is terribly cut up about this!"

he thought once.

Mr. Drummond saw them coming along, and wondered at the energy of the older man. Was it the visit to the Friary that had put him out? and then he fell anew into cogitation. Who were these people who were so curious about the Challoners? At least that sulky young fellow had taken no apparent interest, for he had made an excuse to leave them; but the other one had persisted in very close investigation. Perhaps he was some relation,--an uncle, or a distant cousin; evidently he had some right or claim to be displeased. Archie determined to solve the mystery as soon as possible.

"Well, sir, have you nothing to say for yourself?" demanded Mr. Mayne, when he had fairly exhausted himself. He had disinherited d.i.c.k half a dozen times; he had deprived him of his liberal allowance; he had spoken of a projected voyage to New Zealand: and d.i.c.k had only walked on steadily, and thought of the cold trembling little hand he had kissed. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" he vociferated.