The Last of the Foresters Part 20

"I reckon you are going to see Redbud," said Verty.

Miss Lavinia looked intently at him.

"Yes," she said.

"Give my love to her," said the young man, "and tell her I'm coming to see her very soon--just as quick as I can get off from this dull old place."

Which words were accompanied by a smile, directed toward Roundjacket.

As to Miss Lavinia, she stood aghast at Verty's extraordinary communication, and for some moments could not get words to express her feelings.

Finally she said, solemnly--

"How--have you been--"

"To see Redbud, ma'am?"

"Yes."

"I've been once," Verty said, "and I'm going again."

Miss Lavinia's face a.s.sumed a dignified expression of reproof, and she gazed at the young man in silence. This look, however, was far from daunting him, and he returned it with the most fascinating smile.

"The fact is, Miss Lavinia," he added, "Redbud wants somebody to talk to up there. Old Scowley, you know, is'nt agreeable, at least, I should'nt think she was; and Miss Sallianna is all the time, I reckon, with Mr. Jinks. I did'nt see any scholars with Redbud; but there ARE some there, because you know Redbud's pigeon had a paper round his neck, with some words on it, all about how 'f.a.n.n.y' had given him to her; and so there's a 'f.a.n.n.y' somewhere--don't you think so? But I forgot, you don't know about the pigeon--do you?"

Miss Lavinia was completely astounded. "Old Scowley," "Mr. Jinks,"

"pigeon," "paper round his neck," and "f.a.n.n.y,"--all these objects were inextricably mingled in her unfortunate brain, and she could not disentangle them from each other, or discover the least clue to the labyrinth. She, therefore, gazed at Verty with more overwhelming dignity than ever, and not deigning to make any reply to his rhapsody, sailed by with a stiff inclination of the head, toward the door. But Verty was growing gallant under Mr. Roundjacket's teaching. He rose with great good humor, and accompanied Miss Lavinia to her carriage--he upon one side, the gallant head clerk on the other--and politely a.s.sisted the lady into her chariot, all the time smiling in a manner which was pleasant to behold.

His last words, as the door closed and the chariot drove off, were--

"Recollect, Miss Lavinia, please don't forget to give my love to Redbud!"

Having impressed this important point upon Miss Lavinia, Verty returned to the office, with the sighing Roundjacket, humming one of his old Indian airs, and caressing Longears.

CHAPTER XVII.

MR. JINKS AT HOME.

The young man sat down at his desk, and began to write. But this occupation did not seem to amuse him, and, in a few moments, he threw away the pen he was writing with, and demanded another from Mr.

Roundjacket.

That gentleman complied, and made him a new one.

Verty wrote for five minutes with the new one; and then split it deplorably. Mr. Roundjacket heard the noise, and protested against such carelessness.

"Oh," sighed Verty, "this writing is a terrible thing to-day; I want a holiday."

"There's no holiday in law, sir."

"Never?"

"No, never."

"It's a very slavish thing, then," Verty said.

"You are not far wrong there, young man," replied his companion; "but it also has its delights."

"I have never seen any."

"You are a savage."

"I believe I am."

"Your character is like your costume--barbarous."

"Yes--Indian," said Verty; "but I just thought, Mr. Roundjacket, of my new suit. To-day was to be the time for getting it."

"Very true," said the clerk, laying down his pen, "and as everything is best done in order, we will go at once."

Roundjacket opened Mr. Rushton's door, and informed him where he was going, and for what purpose--a piece of information which was received with a growl, and various muttered e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns.

Verty had already put on his fur hat.

"The fact is," said Roundjacket, as they issued forth into the street of the town, followed by Longears, "the old fellow, yonder, is getting dreadfully bearish."

"Is he, sir?"

"Yes; and every year it increases."

"I like him, though."

"You are right, young man--a n.o.ble-hearted man is Rushton; but unfortunate, sir,--unfortunate."

And Mr. Roundjacket shook his head.

"How?"

"That's his secret--not mine," was the reserved reply.

"Well, I won't ask it, then," Verty said; "I never care to know anything--there's the tailor's, aint it?"

"Yes, that is the shop of the knight of the shears," replied the clerk, with elegant paraphrase; "come, let us get on."

They soon reached the tailor's, which was not far from the office, on the same street; and Mr. O'Brallaghan came forward, scissors in hand, and smiling, like a great ogre, who was going to snip off people's heads, and eat them for his breakfast--only to satisfy his hunger, not from any malevolent feeling toward them. Mr. O'Brallaghan, as his name intimated, was from the Emerald Isle--was six feet high--had a carotty head, an enormous grinning mouth, and talked with the national accent.

Indeed, so marked was this accent, that, after mature consideration, we have determined not to report any of this gentleman's remarks--naturally distrustful as we are of our ability to represent the tone in which they were uttered, with any degree of accuracy. We shall not see him frequently, however, and may omit his observations without much impropriety.