Sarah's School Friend Part 13

'Certainly not. It's four miles from door to door. You'd no business to do it in seven minutes; and if you incite Tom to do it in five he'll get locked up, if he lives, and he'll well deserve it,' declared Mr Howroyd.

Tom Fox smiled grimly. He had known Mr Howroyd and Mr Howroyd had known him since he was a tiny boy, so he answered, 'You'll not live to see me locked up, Mr Howroyd--not for furious driving in the public road; though I'll not deny that I did put on speed the day missie speaks of, going through the park.'

'Oh, well, if you choose to risk your necks in that wretched car, you must. For my part, there's nothing like a dogcart with a good trotting horse; that's fast enough for me; but then I'm fifty years behind the times, I know. Well, off you go. Good-bye; and come and see me again, and have some more cheese to your tart,' he added, with a laugh and a twinkle of his eye, as he raised his hat to the two girls.

'I will if you'll give me chocolates to help it down,' said Horatia; and the car, with a hoot, sped away.

'And we have done it in five minutes,' cried Horatia as they drew up at the front-door.

Mrs Clay met them in the hall, breathless. 'Mercy on us, Sarah, w'atever 'appened to the car or Tom? I'm sure my 'eart was in my mouth w'en I saw you comin' along the park. I ran all the way down the stairs, thinkin' I should never see you alive w'en I got to the bottom,' cried the poor woman.

'It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, Mrs Clay! I begged Fox to get home in five minutes, and I made the car go when we got to the park-gates,' said Horatia penitently, as she linked her arm coaxingly in little Mrs Clay's.

'My dear, don't you go for to do such a thing again,' said Mrs Clay, smiling with indulgence at the girl; 'but it's not you I'm blamin', but Tom Fox, who ought to know better than endanger two lives, let alone takin' notice o' a child like you, if you'll excuse my speakin' so freely.'

'You are very good not to scold me; but I do so enjoy going at a tremendous speed, and the motor does run so smoothly, much better than ours, and mother is too nervous to go fast,' explained Horatia.

'I should think not, an' I don't blame 'er. For my part, I 'old on every time I go in it if my 'usband isn't lookin', an' I'd rather by 'alf walk or take the pony-chaise than go in it; but I'll stop Fox playin' such tricks. W'atever would your ma 'ave said if she'd seen you, I can't think.'

They had gone upstairs by this time, and were walking along the corridor at the back of the house, which looked out on the back-yard, which was coach-yard and garage, and Mrs Clay had scarcely finished the above speech when they heard the angry voice of Mr Mark Clay in the yard below.

'How dare you drive my car at that speed, with my daughter and the Duke of Arnedale's granddaughter in the car? Don't excuse yourself, but take yourself off this moment, and never show your face in Ousebank again, or I'll have you locked up, do you hear?' stormed Mr Clay at the chauffeur.

But his speech was interspersed with stronger language than that.

Horatia dropped Mrs Clay's arm, and ran a little in front of her and Sarah, and both of them thought she was running to take refuge in her room from language to which she was not accustomed; but, on the contrary, she ran to the open window, and, leaning out of it, cried, 'Mr Clay, stop, please, and listen to me a moment.--Don't go, Tom Fox.'

At sight of Horatia, Mr Clay's face changed a little, and perhaps he felt a little shame at the language he knew she must have heard; but he was too angry to heed her. 'Excuse me, but this is my business, and my orders must be obeyed.--Get out of this, do you hear, Tom Fox?'

The man, white as a sheet, touched his hat, with a faint smile, to Horatia, and walked off.

'Tom Fox, stop!' said Horatia. 'Wait one moment. If you are really going I will go too, and you can come to the station with me.'

'Horatia!' cried Sarah; and, 'My dear!' echoed Mrs Clay.

Mr Clay looked up at the flushed, determined little face at the window.

He was a dogged, self-willed man, and gave way to no one; but he knew when he had met his match. 'What does this mean, Miss Cunningham?' he asked grimly, while Tom Fox stood hesitating in the doorway, and the other servants stood in the background, wondering what would be the end of the scene.

'It means that _I_ drove the car at that break-neck speed, because I turned the high-speed gear, and Tom could not help himself, and he was too much of a man to tell tales of me.'

'You can stop, Tom.--As for you, my la.s.s'--the millionaire paused--'you're a plucky un, you are! You ought to have Yorks.h.i.+re blood in you, if you haven't,' he concluded, and walked into the house without another word.

'Thank you, miss,' said the chauffeur, as he took off his hat and stood bareheaded, looking up at Horatia.

'I'm sorry I got you into a row, Tom Fox,' she said, 'and I promise you I won't interfere with the motor any more without leave.' Then she withdrew her head.

'Oh, my dear, I don't believe you'd be afraid of anything,' said Mrs Clay, looking at her with admiration.

Horatia only laughed, and Sarah said nothing either.

CHAPTER X.

PLAIN SPEAKING CLEARS THE AIR.

'Your young lady's got a spirit,' said Sykes to Horatia's nurse, who was as popular below-stairs as her mistress was above, for it is a fact that 'Like mistress, like maid,' is a very true saying, and Miss Cunningham's old nurse behaved in the same kindly, tactful manner towards her fellow-servants that her mistress showed towards her.

But on this occasion Nanny, or Mrs Nancy, as the servants called her, gave way to her feelings, which had been much ruffled on this visit. 'If by spirit you mean she don't allow injustice to be done to a poor man, you're right; but I should like you to know that this isn't what we've been used to--not by no means. Why, our last visit was to Miss Horatia's grandpa, his Grace the Duke of Arnedale, and there we didn't have no scenes; I should say not, indeed! It's not considered good form; that's what they call it.'

'It's not a bad word, isn't that? You talk of a prize-fighter being in good form,' observed Sykes.

'Well, our prize-fighter was in good form to-night, and yet Miss Cunningham knocked him out in the first round,' interposed a young footman, who went in for being a wit.

'Don't you get into the habit of making free with young ladies' names, nor making jokes on them, young man,' said Mrs Nancy severely, as she took up the work which she had been doing in the shade at the back of the house, and went indoors.

'Now, there's a funny thing; she's only a servant same as us, and yet she thinks herself our better because her family's got blood. Well, ours has got money, and, for my part, give me good wages and plenty to eat, and blood be blowed!' remarked the young footman, who had been nettled at the reproof.

'No low talk here, please,' said Sykes with dignity as he rose to see about the wine for dinner.

Nanny went upstairs ostensibly to get her young lady's things out for dinner, although, as it was only three o'clock, it was rather early; but in reality she felt that Miss Horatia wanted one of her own people with her at this moment, so she knocked at her door, and found Horatia in the silver-fitted bathroom plunging her head into the marble basin.

'Miss Horatia, my dearie, what are you thinking about? This hot day it's enough to give you your death!' she cried.

'Oh Nanny, I was so hot, and my head does ache! I really couldn't help it,' exclaimed Horatia.

'You lie down on your bed, missie, and I'll lower the blinds and bathe your head with this spray. You've overdone yourself getting into such a taking with that wretched man,' said the old nurse soothingly, as she patted up the pillows for her charge and lowered the green sun-blinds.

'He wasn't a wretched man; he had nothing to do with it. I touched the high-speed gear, I tell you, and poor Tom Fox was as frightened as any one.'

'I wasn't speaking of him. I know he wasn't to blame. And I'm talking of some one else, as you very well know, whom there's no living in peace with; and I know what you're going to say, Miss Horatia--that he's our host, and my better, which he may be the first, but I don't know so much about his being the second, for my father wouldn't have demeaned himself by such language to any man, let alone before women. And as I'm speaking I may as well say it all out, which is that if the master and mistress had known what kind of place we were coming to they'd never have allowed it. And if I write and tell them'----

'Tell them what, pray?' interrupted Horatia.

'What kind of a man Mr Clay is, which no one has a good word for him; and however you manage to keep him in good temper, Sykes says, he doesn't know,' wound up Nancy.

'I don't want to know what Sykes says; and if you can't talk of more agreeable things than that I'd rather you went away and left my headache to cure itself. I'm only tired after looking all the morning at machines turning round,' announced Horatia.

'And whatever you can find to please you in that pa.s.ses me. Sykes says those woollen-mills are all one like another, and hot, dirty, greasy places!' declared Nancy.

'I believe you've fallen in love with Sykes,' said Horatia wickedly.

'Miss Horatia! Considering he's got a wife and family!' protested Nancy.

But she quoted Sykes no more, which was just what Horatia wanted and expected.

'Now, Nanny, I'm quite all right, so you can get out my white muslin and blue ribbon,' she said.

'Not that white muslin, miss! You've worn it three times, and it is so plain compared with Miss Clay's,' objected the woman.