The Admirable Tinker Part 27

"And I came to offer to take you to live with me at Beauleigh Court.

It's a beautiful big house in the country with woods all around it, and hunting and fis.h.i.+ng and shooting and tennis-courts and fruit-gardens, and a cricket-ground, everything that a boy could want."

"And you," said Tinker in the expressionless tone of one adding an item to a catalogue.

"Yes; and me to look after you. You should have a bicycle." And she paused to let the splendour of the gift sink in.

[Ill.u.s.tration: And she paused to let the splendour of the gift sink in.]

"I have a bicycle," said Tinker.

"Well--two bicycles--and a pony----"

"I don't like ponies--they're too slow," said Tinker in a weary voice.

"I always ride a horse."

"Well, you should have a horse--a horse of your own."

"What's the hunting like? But, there, I know; it can't be up to much; it never is in those southern counties. I always hunt in Leicesters.h.i.+re. I've got used to it."

"You hunt in Leicesters.h.i.+re?" said Lady Beauleigh with some surprise.

"Oh course. Where does one hunt?" said Tinker, echoing her surprise.

"But--but--where does your horse come from? I know your father can't afford to keep horses!"

"Sometimes he can," said Tinker. "And if he has had to sell them, a dozen people will always mount us."

Lady Beauleigh paused; and then she made the last, lavish bid. "And I would allow you a hundred a year pocket-money. Why--why, you would be a little Prince!"

"A little Prince! And learn geography! No, thank you!" said Tinker, startled out of his calm. "Besides," he added carelessly, "I've made five thousand in the last year."

"Five thousand what?"

"Pounds."

"Come, come," said Lady Beauleigh, shaking her head, "you mustn't tell me lies."

"It isn't a lie! Tinker never tells lies," broke in Elsie hotly.

"Hold your tongue, you impertinent little minx!" said Lady Beauleigh sharply. "Who asked you to speak?"

"I think you're a horrid----" said Elsie, and was checked by Tinker's upraised hand.

"And when I died," Lady Beauleigh went on, turning again to Tinker, "I should leave you thirty thousand a year--think of it--thirty thousand a year!"

"It all sounds very nice," said Tinker in a painfully indifferent tone.

"But I'm afraid it wouldn't do."

"Wouldn't do? Why wouldn't it do? To live in a beautiful big house in the country, and have everything a boy could want! Why wouldn't it do?" cried Lady Beauleigh, excited by opposition to a feverish desire to compa.s.s the end on which her heart had been set for many months.

"Do you really want to know," said Tinker very gently, but with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Yes; I insist on knowing!" cried Lady Beauleigh.

"Well," said Tinker slowly, p.r.o.nouncing every word with a very deliberate distinctness, "we shouldn't get on, you and I. I don't know how it is; but I never get on with people who keep shops or banks. I'm afraid you're not quite--well-bred."

Stout Lady Beauleigh sprang to her feet.

"Ah, well," said Tinker quietly, "you treated my father and mother very cruelly, you've just said rude things about both of them, and you've been rude to Elsie. The fact is, I don't see that I want a step-grandmother at all; and I can't be expected to want an ill-bred one anyway. So--so--I disown you."

Lady Beauleigh's face quivered with rage; she gathered herself together as if to box Tinker's ears; thought better of it, and hurried away.

Tinker and Elsie looked at one another, and laughed softly.

"Horrid old woman," said Elsie.

"A dreadful person," said Tinker.

As Lady Beauleigh strode out of the gardens, she came full upon Sir Tancred and Dorothy. He raised his hat, she tried to glare through him, and glared at him.

"That's my step-mother," said Sir Tancred. "I wonder what's the matter with her. She looks upset."

"Upset! Why, she looked furious--malignant!" said Dorothy.

Then they saw Tinker and Elsie coming towards them.

"I see," said Sir Tancred softly.

"Oh, if she's met my young charges!" said Dorothy, and she threw out her hands.

"Have you been doing anything to your grandmother, Tinker?" cried Sir Tancred.

"Well--I disowned her," said Tinker.

"Disowned her!"

"Yes; I had to," said Tinker with a faint regret. "She was rude, and she was wearing a gown which would have stood up by itself if she had got out of it--at Monte Carlo--in April--it's impossible!"

He shrugged his shoulders.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

TINKER AND THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE

Dorothy sat gazing over that charming gulf, charming alike for its scenery and its oysters, the Gulf of Arcachon. She gazed on it without seeing it; her beautiful face was clouded, and her brow was puckered in a wondering perplexity.