Roger Ingleton, Minor Part 30

"She doesn't care two straws about me," said he ungratefully; "that is, except in a sisterly way. Why should she? I know nothing about art, which she loves. I'm saddled with pots of money, which she hates. The only way I can interest her is by being ill. I'm not even scape-grace enough to make it worth her while to take me in hand to reform me.

Heigho! It's a pity that brother of mine had not lived. Yes, you," he added, shaking his head at the portrait, "with your wild harum-scarum face and mocking laugh. You'd have suited her, and been able to make her like you--I can't. I believe she thinks more of Armstrong than me.

Not much wonder either. Only, wouldn't he be horrified if any one suggested such a thing!"

And the somewhat dismal soliloquy ended in a some what dismal laugh, as the heir of Maxfield a.s.sumed the perpendicular and pulled up his blind.

Mr Armstrong, fresh from his dip in the sea, came in before he had finished dressing.

"Well, old fellow," said he, "many happy returns! How are you--pretty fit?"

"I'm not sorry there's a year between each," said the boy.

"What's wrong?" said the tutor.

"Oh, nothing; only I don't feel particularly festive. I've been lying awake a long time."

"Pity you didn't get up. Shocking habit to lie in bed after you're awake."

"At that rate I should often be up at two in the morning," said Roger.

"I doubt it--but what's wrong?"

Roger put down his brush, and flung himself on a chair.

"I don't know--yes, I do. Can't you guess?"

"Cheese for supper," suggested the tutor seriously.

"Don't be a fool, Armstrong, and don't laugh at me; I'm not in the mood for a joke. You know what it is well enough."

The tutor's gla.s.s dropped from his eye, and he walked over to the window.

"Quite so. I overtook her in the park a quarter of an hour ago, and she is already in the house, wondering why you are so late down on your birthday."

Roger sprang up and resumed his toilet.

"Has she really come? Armstrong, I say, I wish I knew how to make her care for me."

"I'm not an expert in these matters, but it occurs to me that the sort of thing you want is not made."

"You mean that if she doesn't care for me for what I am, it's no use trying to get her to care for me by being what I am not."

"Roger, you have a brilliant way occasionally of putting things exactly as they should be put."

"That's not much consolation," pursued the boy.

"Possibly," said the tutor; "but, as I say, I am not an expert in these delicate affairs. Much as I would like to prescribe, I rather advise your taking a second opinion--your mother's, say. I was engaged to teach you cla.s.sics and the sciences, but the art of love was not included among the subjects to be treated of."

Mr Armstrong was late for breakfast that morning. For some reason of his own he wasted ten minutes at his piano before he obeyed the summons of the gong, and the chords he played were mostly minor. But when he did appear his gla.s.s was fixed as jauntily as ever, and his pursed lips looked impervious to any impression from within or without.

To his surprise, he found Miss Jill waiting outside the door.

"I didn't mean to go in," said she, "where that horrid man is, till you came. I don't mind a bit now. Come along, dear Mr Armstrong."

Dear Mr Armstrong came along, feeling decidedly compromised, but yet a little grateful to his loyal adherent.

As usual he dropped into his seat at the foot of the table after a bow to Miss Oliphant, and a friendly nod to Tom.

Jill, to her consternation, found a seat carefully reserved for her next to Mr Ratman. Her impulse on making the discovery was to run; but a glance at Mr Armstrong, who sat watching her in a friendly way, rea.s.sured her. To gain time she went round the table and kissed every one (including the tutor), and especially the hero of the day, whom she artfully tried to persuade, in honour of the occasion, to make room for her next to himself. But when that transparent little artifice failed, she bridled up and marched boldly to the inevitable.

"Well, little puss," said Mr Ratman, "haven't you got a kiss for me?"

"No," she replied. "Father says I'm to be civil to you, so I'll say good-morning; but I don't mean it a bit; and I still think you're a horrid, bad man, though I don't say so. I'm not a bit afraid of you, either, because Mr Armstrong is here to punish you if you behave wickedly."

Tom, as usual, improved matters with a loud laugh.

"Good old Jilly!" cried he; "let him have it! Sit on his head! He's got no friends! Never you mind, Ratman--she doesn't--"

"Silence, sir?" thundered his father, "or leave the table instantly."

Tom subsided promptly.

"And you, Jill," continued her father, "do not speak till you're spoken to."

Jill looked down at Mr Armstrong to see if he counselled further resistance; but as he was studiously busy with the ham, she capitulated, and said--

"Then I hope no one will speak to me, because I don't want to talk."

Mr Ratman made an effort to turn the incident off with a laugh, and addressed his further remarks to his host. But as that gentleman found some difficulty in being cordial, and as the rest of the party continued to enjoy the meal without paying much attention to him, he was on the whole relieved when the performance came to an end.

On his way to the captain's room, afterwards, he encountered Mr Armstrong.

The two men glared at one another in a hostile manner for a moment, and then the tutor observed casually that it was a cold day.

"It will be hotter before it's much older," growled the late owner of a certain black eye.

"I can well believe that," said the tutor drily.

"Yes, sir, I shall have something to say to you."

"Delighted, I'm sure, at any time that suits you."

"You and I had better understand one another at once," said Mr Ratman.

"Why not? I flatter myself I understand you perfectly already."

"Do you? Now, look here, my fine fellow. It's easy for you to give yourself airs, but I know a good deal more about you than I dare say you would care to own yourself. If you'll take my advice, the sooner you clear out of here the better. You may think you've a snug berth here, and flatter yourself you pa.s.s for a saint with your pupil and his mamma, but, let me tell you, I could open their eyes to a thing or two which would alter their opinion, as well as the opinion of certain young lady friends who--"

"Who do not require the a.s.sistance of Robert Ratman to keep them out of bad company," retorted the tutor, hotly for him.