A Dog with a Bad Name Part 35

For he knew what was coming, and was resolved on the part he would play.

Whatever he ought to feel, he knew exactly what he did feel; and he was determined he would not be hypocrite enough to pretend anything more.

Whereupon he walked defiantly forth and opened the drawing-room door, this time without knocking.

"Mr Jeffreys," said Mrs Rimbolt, feeling that the present was an "occasion," and worked up accordingly, "I have sent for you, as I have no doubt you will wish to express to Mrs Scarfe the feelings you entertain with regard to her son's brave conduct on the ice to-day."

"Hear, hear, ma!" cried the irreverent Percy, with mock-heroic applause.

"I beg leave to second that."

"Percy, be silent, sir! Louisa, my dear, this is Mr Jeffreys, whose life your son saved."

Mrs Scarfe put up her gla.s.ses and inclined her head languidly in response to Jeffreys' stiff bow.

An awkward silence ensued--so awkward that Percy began to whistle. Mrs Rimbolt having made a wrong start, had not the tact to mend matters.

"Mrs Scarfe would be interested to hear, Mr Jeffreys," said she, after a minute or two, "your impressions of the accident."

"The only impression I had," said Jeffreys solemnly--and he too was worked up, and the master of his nervousness--"was that the water was very cold."

Percy greeted this with a boisterous laugh, which his mother instantly rebuked.

"Surely, Mr Jeffreys," said she severely, "this is hardly an occasion for a joke."

"It was no joke," replied he with dismal emphasis.

Again Percy enjoyed the sport.

"I should rather think it wasn't by the looks of you when you were fished out!" said he; "you were as blue as salmon!"

"Percy, cease your vulgar talk in this room, please!" said Mrs Rimbolt, whose equanimity was beginning to evaporate. "Mr Jeffreys, as we are not likely to be amused by your levity--"

"Excuse me, madam, I am quite serious," said Jeffreys, on whom the apparent jocularity of his last remark had suddenly dawned; "I had no intention of being rude, or treating your question as a joke."

"Then," said Mrs Rimbolt, slightly appeased in the prospect of gaining her object, "when I tell you Mrs Scarfe is kind enough to desire to hear about the accident from your own lips, perhaps your good manners will permit you to tell her about it."

"Get upon the chair and give us a speech, Jeff," said the irrepressible Percy; "that's what ma wants."

Jeffreys proceeded to give his version of the affair, distributing the credit of his rescue in the order in which he considered it to be due, and greatly disappointing both Mrs Rimbolt and her guest by his evident blindness to the heroism of Scarfe. He acknowledged warmly Percy's readiness to come to his help, and his prompt.i.tude in going for the ladder, and he did full justice to Julius's share in the affair. As to Scarfe's part, he stated just what had happened, without emotion and without effusiveness.

He despised himself for feeling so chilly on the subject, and would have been glad, for Mrs Scarfe's sake, had he felt more warmly his obligations to her son. But he spoke as he felt.

"You have had a narrow escape from a watery grave," said Mrs Scarfe, anxious to sum up in the hero's favour, "and my son, I am sure, is thankful to have been the means of saving your life."

Jeffreys bowed.

"I am glad he escaped falling in," said he.

"He had no thought of himself, I am sure," said Mrs Rimbolt severely, "and claims no thanks beyond that of his good conscience."

"We're going to get him a Royal Humane medal, Jeff," added Percy; "a lot of fellows get it for a good deal less."

"I hope he may get one," said Jeffreys. "You and Julius should have one, too. I thank you all."

This was all that could be extracted from this graceless young man, and the unsatisfactory interview was shortly afterwards terminated by Mrs Rimbolt's requesting him to go and tell Walker to bring some more coals for the fire.

His conduct was freely discussed when he was gone. Mrs Rimbolt looked upon it as a slight put upon herself, and was proportionately wrathful.

Mrs Scarfe, more amiable, imagined that it was useless to look for grat.i.tude among persons of Jeffreys' cla.s.s in life. Scarfe himself said that, from what he knew of Jeffreys, he would have been surprised had he shown himself possessed of any good feelings. Percy, considerably puzzled, suggested that he was "chawed up with his ducking." And Raby, still more perplexed, said nothing, and hardly knew what to think.

The next day, as Scarfe was smoking in the park, Jeffreys overtook him.

A night's rest had a good deal softened the librarian's spirit. He was ashamed of himself for not having done his rescuer common justice, and had followed him now to tell him as much.

"Scarfe," said he, "you will have considered I was ungrateful yesterday."

"You were just what I expected you would be."

"I am sorry," said Jeffreys, now beginning to feel he had better far have said nothing, yet resolved, now he had begun, to go through with it, "and I wish to thank you now."

Scarfe laughed.

"It is I who should be grateful for this condescension," said he sneeringly. "So disinterested, too."

"What do you mean? How could it be otherwise?"

"You have a short memory, Cad Jeffreys. Possibly you have forgotten a little event that happened at Bolsover?"

"I have not forgotten it."

"I dare say you have not thought it worth while to mention it to your employer, Mr Rimbolt."

"I have not mentioned it."

"Quite so. That is what I mean when I say it is disinterested in you to come and make friends with me."

"That is false," said Jeffreys glowing. "I neither want nor expect that."

"Kind again. At the same time you are not particularly anxious that people here should hear the tragical history of young Forrester?"

"For heaven's sake be silent, Scarfe!" said Jeffreys, to whom the mention of the name, after so many months, came like a blow. "I cannot bear it."

Scarfe laughed.

"Apparently not. All I want to say is, that I believe less in your grat.i.tude than in your fear, and you can spare yourself the trouble of keeping up that farce."

"I am not afraid of you," said Jeffreys, drawing himself up. "Of my own conscience I am; and of the memory of poor young Forrester--"

"Hold your tongue. I have no wish to hear my friend's name on your lips."

Jeffreys turned to go.