Stan Lynn Part 11

"But they are under you. I suppose you live a good deal by yourself."

"Humph! Yes," said the manager.

"And that, of course, makes you rough."

"P'raps so. But you won't find me so rough when you get used to me.

There! come along and let's see what my cook has got for us this evening. You'll have to take pot-luck. Wing will contrive something better. Come on."

There was a grim, satisfied smile in the manager's countenance as he rose, took a great stride such as his long legs enabled him to do with ease, and clapping Stan on the shoulder, swung him round and looked him straight in the face.

"Why, youngster," he said, "your father must have been wonderfully like you in the phiz when he was your age; but in downright style of speaking and ways you put me wonderfully in mind of your uncle Jeffrey."

"Do I?" said Stan quietly.

"You do; but he's a regular brick of a man."

"That he is," cried Stan warmly; "but that means I'm not a bit like him there."

"Oh, I don't know," said the manager slowly. "One can't say at the end of half-an-hour, but I'm beginning to think you will not be so very bad after all."

"I hope not," said Stan, smiling.

"I thought at first that you would be a regular stuck-up cub. But I don't think so now. Look here, youngster; can you be honest?"

"I hope so."

"Then tell me what you thought of me."

"That you were a disagreeable bully."

"Hah! That's pretty blunt," said the manager, frowning. "So that's what you think of me, is it?"

"You asked me what I thought of you, not what I think."

"Right; so I did. Then what do you think of me?"

"That you're going to prove not so bad as I thought."

"Dinnee all getting velly cold, cookee say, Mistee Blunt," said Wing in a deprecating voice; and they both started to see that the Chinaman had entered quietly upon his thick, soft boot-soles.

"All right, Wing; coming," cried the manager shortly.--"Come along, captain; you and I are going to be great friends."

CHAPTER SIX.

"HE'S JUST LIKE A CHESTNUT."

"Don't think we are going to be great friends," said Stan to himself as he sat down that night upon the edge of his clean, comfortable-looking Chinese bed, in a perfectly plain but very clean little room adjoining that occupied by the manager. "He was very civil, though, and took great care that I had a good dinner. He didn't seem to mind in the least my having spoken as I did.

"Perhaps I oughtn't to have spoken so," he continued after a few minutes' thought about his position. "I don't know, though; I didn't come here as a servant, and he was awfully bullying and rude. Phew!

How hot it is!"

He rose and opened the window a little wider, to look out on the swiftly flowing river, across which the moon made a beautiful path of light, that glittered and danced and set him thinking about the home he had left, wondering the while whether father and uncle were thinking about him and how they were getting on.

"I shall write and tell them exactly how Mr Blunt treated me; but perhaps it would be only fair to wait and see how he behaves to-morrow and next day. I couldn't complain about how he went on to-night. 'Be great friends,' he said half-aloud after a pause. Perhaps we may; but oh, how sleepy I am! Better leave the window as it is. I'll lie down at once. I can think just as well when I'm in bed."

This was not true, for the only thing Stan Lynn thought was that the pillow felt quite hot. Then he was fast asleep, without so much as a dream to deal with; and the next time he was conscious, he opened his eyes in wonder and stared at the open window and the suns.h.i.+ny sky, fancying he heard a sound.

"Do you hear there, squire?" came, with a sharp rapping at the boarded walls of the room. "Time to get up. There's a tub in the next room, and plenty of cold water."

"Yes. Thank you. All right I won't be long."

"Don't," came back, in company with the sound of gurgling and splas.h.i.+ng.

"Breakfast early. Busy day for us." _Bur-r-r_!

"What did he mean by that?" said Stan.

The _bur-r-r_! was repeated, and then there was a rattle which explained the meaning of the peculiar noise.

"Cleaning his teeth," muttered Stan as he sprang out of bed. He sought and found the tub and other arrangements which proved that the manager had surrounded himself with the necessaries for living like a civilised Englishman, even if he was stationed in a lonely place in a foreign land, and he was just putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to his dress when there was a heavy thump from a big fist on the door.

"Look sharp, Squire Lynn! I'm going to tell them to bring in the coffee."

"Nearly ready," cried Stan; and a few minutes later he descended the plain board stairs, which were scrubbed to the whitest of tints.

There was a white cloth on the table, with a very English-looking breakfast spread; and plain and bare as the place was, with nothing better than Chinese mats to act as a carpet, curtain, and blind, there was the appearance of scrupulous cleanliness; and rested by a good night's sleep, and elastic of spirit in the fresh air of a beautiful morning, Stan felt ready to make the best of things if his host proved to be only bearable.

There he sat--his host--reading hard at a letter, and he made no sign for a few moments, and paid no heed to Stan's "Good-morning!" but read on, till he suddenly exclaimed, "'Very faithfully yours, Jeffrey Lynn,'"

and doubled the letter up and thrust it in his pocket.

"Morning, squire," he continued. "Rested? I read all the correspondence before I turned in, and I've just run through your uncle's letter again. I say, he gives you an awfully good character."

"Does he?" said Stan.

"Splendid. Ah! here's old Wing. I'm peckish; aren't you?"

"Yes; I'm ready for my breakfast," replied the boy as Wing entered, smiling, with a big, round lacquer tray loaded with the necessaries for a good morning meal.

"That's right. We'll have it, then, and afterwards see to the unloading. There isn't much consigned to me this time. After that you'd like to see the warehouses and what we've got there, and learn who the different fellows are, before we have an hour or two in the counting-house--eh?"

"Yes; I'm ready," said Stan, smiling, and having hard work to keep from looking wonderingly at the man who had given him so unpleasant a reception the previous evening.

"Is he a two-faced fellow," thought Stan, "and doing all this to put me off my guard? Why, he's as mild as--"

Stan was going to say "mild" again, but at that moment a wild hubbub of angry voices in fierce altercation burst out, the noise coming through the open window from the direction of the wharf beyond which the junk was moored.

"Yah!" roared the manager, springing from his seat and rus.h.i.+ng to the open window, his face completely transformed, as he roared out a whole string of expletives in the Chinese tongue. He literally raged at the disputants, whose angry shouts died out rapidly, to be succeeded by perfect silence; and then the manager turned from the window, with his face looking very red and hot, and took his place again.