The Story of Antony Grace Part 2

"Yes; where are you going to be?"

"I'm going to stop here," I said.

"That can't be, anyhow, young un. Haven't you got any friends?"

"Yes," I said; "there's d.i.c.k Wilmot, but he's at school."

"I say, young un, what a precious innocent you are! Haven't you never been away at school?"

"No, sir."

"Where have you been, then?"

"Here at home with papa and mamma."

"Lor', what a shame, to be sure! Why, you don't seem to know nothin'."

"Indeed I do," I said indignantly. "I can read, and write, and cipher, and I know a little botany, and Latin, and French, and papa was teaching me the violin."

"What, the fiddle? Well, that may be some use to you; but as for t'others, bah! I never found the want of any on 'em. How old are you?"

"Just turned eleven, sir."

"'Leven, and bless your 'art, young un, you're about as innocent as a baby."

"If you please, sir, I'm very sorry."

"Sorry? So am I. Why, up in London I've seen boys of 'leven as was reglar old men, and know'd a'most everything. Lookye here, young un, don't you know as your poor guv'nor died ever so much in debt through some bank breaking?"

"I heard poor papa say that the bank had shut its doors."

"That's right," said Mr Rowle, nodding. "Well, young un; and don't you know what that means for you?"

"No, sir," I said.

"Phew?" replied, Mr Rowle, whistling; "well, p'raps it's kindest to tell you, after all. Why, look here, young un, this place, with every stick in it, is going to be sold up--plate, linen, furniture, chayney, gla.s.s, and the house and all, and you'll have to go to some of your friends, unless Mr Blakeford's got his plans made for you."

"Please, sir, I don't think I've got any friends to go to," I said; "I thought I was going to stay at home--at least, I hoped so," I added despondently.

"It's a rum go," muttered Mr Rowle, as he raised his hat with one hand and re-arranged his hair with the stem of his pipe. "Ah, well, I s'pose I've no call to be putting things into your head, only I should like to see you not quite so innocent, and better able to look after yourself."

Mr Rowle and I had many such conversations during the interval before the sale, in all of which he was so much troubled by what he called my innocence, that I began to look upon my ignorance of the world as something approaching a crime. I saw no more of Mr Blakeford or my uncle, and the days glided slowly by till just before the sale, when the servants came upon me one evening in the dining-room, to announce that they were going, and to say "good-bye."

"Going?" I said; "what, all?"

"Yes," said cook sharply, and I think there was a twinkle of moisture in her eyes; "yes, Master Antony, we're all going, and we've come to say good-bye."

I believe that cook would have taken me in her arms and hugged me in good motherly fas.h.i.+on, but for the third person. As it was, she shook hands very warmly and looked tenderly at me for a moment--not more--for her soul seemed to be aroused within her at the presence of Mr Rowle, at whom she darted the most furious of glances, an example followed by the other two maids; and then we were alone.

"Bless 'em!" said Mr Rowle, taking his pipe for a moment from his lips, and then going on smoking.

CHAPTER THREE.

MR BLAKEFORD SHOWS HIS TEETH.

The morning of the sale arrived, and still no one took any notice of me.

I had stood by in a melancholy fas.h.i.+on, and seen little tickets pasted or tied upon the various articles of furniture; the stair rods done up in bundles and the carpets in rolls. The chimney ornaments seemed to be holding a meeting in a corner of the sideboard recess, presided over by a bronze Neptune; and apparently deceived by the reflection of the suns.h.i.+ne, the steel fender had settled itself calmly on a table before the tall pier-gla.s.s as if it were a fire; the pictures looked down in the most melancholy way from the walls at the doleful chaos of furniture, all except one of her Majesty the Queen, and that seemed to follow me in a sorrowful, pitying fas.h.i.+on that made me gaze up at it again and again.

Wearied with wandering from room to room--all dust and confusion now--I turned to go upstairs. As I did so I pa.s.sed the study, whose door was wide open, with Mr Rowle in the easy-chair smoking away, his hat on, and the wretchedness of the place with its piled-up bundles of books seeming to have no effect upon him whatever.

Upstairs matters appeared even worse, though it struck me that the rooms were not so dusty. After the "view" on the previous day the auctioneer's men had arranged the things so that they would be handy for taking downstairs, and the grotesque positions they were now in suggested endless ideas. Pairs of sheets and blankets hung from pegs like so many culprits; towel-horses stood upon their heads, while chairs did acrobatic tricks, one at the bottom sustaining four or five piled up in a state of equilibrium; the tooth-brush trays all seemed to have been frightened into taking refuge in the ewers; while the bedsteads and toilet-tables appeared to think the place so dirty and untidy that they were holding up their trailing garments to keep them from being soiled.

On the previous day I had taken refuge in my favourite haunt, the summer-house, till the strangers had gone, and now, hearing the auctioneer's men below, I was hurriedly taking a farewell glance round before once more making my retreat.

I had heard footsteps on the stairs, and supposed it to be one of the owners of the carpet-caps and ap.r.o.ns that lay tucked in a corner, when suddenly pa.s.sing out of one of the bedrooms into the pa.s.sage I came face to face with Mr Blakeford.

"Oh! you're there, are you?" he said, in quite an ill-used tone, as if he had been hunting for me for days. "Why, where have you been hiding yourself?"

"Please, sir, I've been here all the time."

"It's false, sir. How dare you tell me such a lie! I was hunting for you all day yesterday and you were not here. I supposed you had run away."

"If you please, sir," I said, "I was in the summer-house--indeed!"

"Then how dare you tell me, sir, that you were here! Now look here, Master Antony Grace; don't you try to trifle with me, for I'm not the man to be played with. You've been allowed to grow up in sloth, ignorance, and idleness; and now that out of pure charity I am going to take you into my office, you had better try to make yourself of some use, unless you want to be turned adrift and starved;" and he bent down and shook his finger in my face.

"Come to your office, sir?" I cried, wondering.

"Come to my office, sir, yes," he snarled. "What else were you going to do? Did you think you were going to spend your life sticking pins through b.u.t.terflies and running about picking b.u.t.tercups and daisies, as you did with your defrauding scoundrel of a father?"

"How dare you say that!" I cried, as a fierce burst of pa.s.sion swept over me at hearing him speak thus of my poor dead father.

I have some recollection of rus.h.i.+ng at him with clenched fists, and being caught roughly by a strong hand, of being shaken, my ears sharply boxed, and of being then thrown panting, sobbing, and half heart-broken upon the floor, as Mr Blakeford stood over me.

"That's your temper, is it, you young dog?" he cried; "but I'll soon tame that down. What, am I to lose thousands of pounds by your cheating scoundrel of a father, and then, when to save his wretched brat from starvation I have arranged to give him a home, I am to have him turn and rend me? But I'll soon cure all that, my fine fellow. You've got the wrong man to deal with, and it was quite time your career of spoiled child was over."

He turned and left the room, and after crouching there sobbing for a few minutes, I got up in a stunned, hopeless way, brushed the dust off my clothes, and as I turned I caught a glimpse of my hot red face and wet eyes in the gla.s.s.

I was hastily removing the traces of the childish tears when I smelt the pungent odour of tobacco, and my first impulse was to run away and hide; but there was no way of escape, and I had to turn round and face Mr Rowle, who stood smoking in the doorway.

"What's he been leathering you for?" he said, without removing his pipe.

"I--I struck him!" I panted out, trembling with shame and indignation.

"You? You hit Lawyer Blakeford?" he said, with a broad grin overspreading his face. "Come, I like that. I didn't think there was so much stuff in you."