Part 17 (1/2)

Mr. Burnet looked very sad for a few moments, then he stood up and said that he must be going back, as he had to meet Mrs. Bosher's brother and talk over the barns and the stables and the farm-buildings. ”And on Monday,” he added, ”I think I shall go to town and see your brother-in-law, and offer him a place at my printing-office. I have already inquired his character of his present employers.”

Rowles's head was shaking again; but he only held the boat for Mr.

Burnet and Leonard to step into it, and his forebodings of failure on Mitch.e.l.l's part were for the moment kept to himself.

There were also forebodings of failure in the mind of Roberts, when his master talked so hopefully of what was going to happen to Juliet's father.

”Don't make too sure, Mr. Leonard, of anything. I daresay that Juliet's father will have better health living in the country, but as for his getting to be foreman of your printing-office, I have my doubts.”

Perhaps Roberts's doubts were due to his attack of rheumatism. He was at this time suffering so much from it that he was almost cross. He was laid up the very day that Mr. Burnet took possession of the Bourne House, and sat wrapped in flannel, though the weather was very warm.

”Don't talk to me any more,” he said savagely when a tremendous twinge seemed to be piercing between his bones, ”about your Juliet's father and your Mrs. Bosher's brother. If people have not got names of their own I don't want to hear about such people.”

The housekeeper who was waiting on him began to say, ”The name of Mrs.

Bosher's brother--”

”Hold your tongue, do! How this arm does ache, to be sure!”

Leonard was in the room. He got as far as, ”The name of Juliet's father--”

”I won't hear it!” cried poor Roberts, kicking out his right foot, in which the pain was steely cold.

”We want you to go and see him on Monday,” said Leonard.

”Then you may want!” and he flung out the left foot in which the pain was red-hot.

The housekeeper signed to Leonard to leave the invalid to himself.

When this attack was over Roberts would be himself again--kind and gentle and polite.

But there was no chance of his being able to go to London to make arrangements for the move of the Mitch.e.l.l family. Mr. Burnet was in the habit of leaving a great deal to Roberts, being himself old and ailing, and easily upset. On the Sunday, a lovely, sweet, clear day, it was plain that Roberts would not be of any use for another week or more.

Mr. Burnet and his son were walking back from evening service, and enjoying the calm of Sunday evening. Everything had been beautiful; the hymns, the sermon in church; the hymns of the birds and the sermons of the harvest, in the fields.

”Delicious!” said Mr. Burnet, pausing as he entered his own large grounds. ”How I wish poor Roberts was well enough to enjoy it all. I am afraid his exertions at the oar, and his exposure to the evening damps, have brought on this painful attack. The only thing I can do is to go to town myself to see this Thomas Mitch.e.l.l, and I really do not feel up to it.”

The father and son walked on side by side. Presently Leonard said, ”Do you think I could go and make the arrangements with Mitch.e.l.l?”

Mr. Burnet stopped in his walk, and leaning on his stick said, ”Upon my word, Leonard, I do not see why you could not.”

”Then let me do it, father; and if you give me a note to the head of the press where Mitch.e.l.l works, perhaps he would let me look round, and take a practical lesson in the business.”

”A good idea!” exclaimed Mr. Burnet.

It was settled in that way; and on the Monday, Mr. Burnet being very gouty, and Roberts very rheumatic, there was no one who could possibly go to town except Leonard. He went off, armed with directions and papers from his father.

Arrived in London he presented himself at the great printing-office where Mitch.e.l.l worked; was courteously received by one of the heads of it, and was shown some of the type, the presses, the paper, and other things used for printing that morning journal which deprived Thomas Mitch.e.l.l and many others of almost every night's rest. Having seen as much as he could remember, he said to the gentleman who was explaining matters, ”I think I must now speak to Mitch.e.l.l, who is to leave you on Sat.u.r.day, and to begin work with us on Monday next.”

”I will send for him,” replied the gentleman. ”He is a good, steady fellow, and if his health becomes stronger will deserve your confidence and regard.”

Then, speaking down a telephone, ”Send Thomas Mitch.e.l.l to me.”