Roger Ingleton, Minor Part 8

Jill horrified Mr Armstrong by putting up her face to be kissed.

Indeed the poor gentleman as he shook the gla.s.s out of his eye and gazed down at this forward young person in consternation, presented so pitiable a spectacle, that Rosalind, Roger, and Tom all began to laugh.

"She won't bite," said Tom rea.s.suringly.

Mr Armstrong, thus encouraged, took off his hat, and stooping down, kissed the child on the brow, much to that little lady's satisfaction.

This important operation performed, Captain Oliphant expressed concern for Roger's cough, and proposed that his ward should take the girls and himself to the hotel, while no doubt Mr Armstrong would not mind remaining to help Tom with the luggage. By which excellent arrangement the party succeeded at last in getting clear of the "Oriana."

The tutor had his hands full most of that morning Tom Oliphant's idea of looking after the luggage was to put his hands in his pockets and whistle pleasantly up and down the upper deck; nor was it till Mr Armstrong took him bodily below, and made him point out one by one the family properties (among which, by the way, he included several articles belonging to other owners), that he could be reduced to business at all.

Then for half an hour he worked hard; at the end of which time he turned to his companion with a friendly grin.

"Thanks awfully, Mr Armstrong. I say, I wonder if you'll be my tutor as well as Frank's? I heard father say something about it! Wouldn't it be stunning?"

Mr Armstrong gave a qualified a.s.sent.

"I'm not a bit clever, you know, like Rosalind, but I'd like to have a tutor awfully. I say, haven't we done enough with these blessed boxes?

They'll be all right now. Should we have time to see Christy's Minstrels on our way to the hotel, do you think? I'd like it frightfully."

"My dear boy," said Mr Armstrong, "if we are to get all the things properly cleared and labelled and sent off to Maxfield, we shall have no time for anything else. If the way you stick to your lessons is anything like the way you stick to this task, I don't envy your tutor."

This covert threat at once reduced Tom to a sense of discipline, and he made a gallant effort to secure Mr Armstrong's good opinion.

The tutor was right. It was well on in the afternoon when they had the baggage finally disposed of, and were free to follow to the hotel.

Here they found, instead of the party they expected, a hurriedly scrawled line from Roger.

"Dear Armstrong,--

"Oliphant has taken it into his head to go down to Maxfield at once by the two train. So we are starting. I'm sorry he can't wait, so as all to go together. If you are back in time to come by the evening train, do come. If not, first train in the morning.

"Yours ever,

"R.I."

It was too late to get a train that day; so Mr Armstrong, much disgusted, had to make up his mind to remain. Tom, on the contrary, was delighted, and proposed twenty different plans for spending the evening, which finally resolved themselves into the coveted visit to Christy's Minstrels.

The tutor, in no very festive humour, allowed himself to be overborne by the eagerness of his young companion, and found himself in due time jammed into a seat in a very hot hall, listening to the very miscellaneous performance of the coloured gentlemen who "never perform out of London."

The tutor, who had some ideas of his own on the subject of music, listened very patiently, sometimes pleased, sometimes distressed, and always conscious of the enthusiastic delight of his companion, whose unaffected comments formed to him the most amusing part of the entertainment.

"Isn't that, stunning?"

"Thanks awfully, Mr Armstrong, for bringing me."

"Hooray! Bones again!"

"I say, I'm looking forward to the break-down; ain't you?" and so on.

Whatever Mr Armstrong's antic.i.p.ations may have been as to the rapture of the coming "break-down," he contained himself admirably, and with his gla.s.s inquiringly stuck in his eye, listened attentively to all that went on, and occasionally speculated as to how Miss Rosalind Oliphant was enjoying her visit to Maxfield.

The programme was half over, and Tom was repairing the ravages of nature with a bun, when Mr Armstrong became suddenly aware of a person in the row but one in front looking round fixedly in his direction.

To judge by the close-cropped, erect hair and stubbly chin of this somewhat disreputable-looking individual, he was a foreigner; and when presently, catching the tutor's eye, he began to indulge in pantomimic gestures of recognition, it was safe to guess he was a Frenchman.

"Who's that chap nodding to you?" said Tom with his mouth full. "Is he tipsy?"

"He lays himself open to the suspicion," said Mr Armstrong slowly. "At any rate, as I vote we go put and get some fresh air, he will have to find some one else to make faces at. Come along."

Tom did not at all like risking his seat, and particularly charged the lady next to him to preserve it from invasion at the risk of her life.

Then wondering a little at Mr Armstrong's impatience to reach the fresh air, he followed him out.

The Frenchman witnessed the proceeding with some little disappointment, and sat craning his neck in the direction in which they had gone for some minutes. Then, as if moved by a similar yearning for fresh air, he too left his seat and went out.

The band was beginning to play as he did so, and most of the loiterers were crowding back for the second part.

"You go in; I'll come directly," said Mr Armstrong to the boy.

Tom needed no second invitation, and a moment later had forgotten everything in the delightful prelude to the "break-down." He did not even observe that Mr Armstrong had not returned to his seat.

"Well, Gustav," said that gentleman in French as the foreigner approached him, where he waited in the outer lobby.

"_Eh bien, man cher_," replied the other, "'ow 'appy I am to see you. I can speak ze Englise foine, _n'est ce pas_?"

"What are you doing in London?"

"I am vaiter, _garcon_ at ze private hotel. 'Zey give me foods and drinks and one black coat, but not no vage. _Oh, mon ami_, it is ver'

ver' 'ard."

"And the old man?"

"_Ah, helas_! he is ver' ver' ill. He vill die next week. _Moi_, I can not to him go; and Marie, she write me she must leave Paris this day to her duties. It is sad for the poor old _pere_ to die with not von friend to 'old 'is 'and. Ah! if ze pet.i.te Francoise yet lived, _ma pauvre enfant_, she would stay and--"

"Stop!" said the tutor imperatively. "Is he still in the old place?"

"_Helas_, non! you make ze joke, you. Ve are ver' ver' poor, and 'ave no homes. _Mon pere_, he is to the hopital. Thank 'eaven, they 'ave zere give 'im ze bed to die."

"Which hospital is he at?" said the tutor.

"De Saint Luc."

"I will see him."

The Frenchman gave a little hysterical laugh; then, with tears in his eyes, he seized the hand of the Englishman and wrung it rapturously.

"_Oh, mon ami, mon cher ami_!" cried he, "'eaven will bless you. I am 'appy that you say that. You vill see 'im? Yes? You vill 'old 'is 'and ven he do die? He sall have one friend to kiss his poor _front_?

Oh, I am content; I am gay."