Part 2 (1/2)

He forgot that a moment back he had excused the act as a borrowing; Julia did not remind him, she was too much concerned with the facts to trouble about mere turns of speech. They, like words and motives, had not heretofore entered much into her considerations; consequences were what was really important to her--how the bad might be averted, how the good drawn that way, and all used to the best advantage. This point of view, though it leaves a great deal to be desired, has one advantage--those who take it waste no time in lamentation or reproof.

For that reason they are perhaps some of the least unpleasant people to confess to.

Julia wasted no words now; she sat for a brief minute, stunned by the magnitude of the calamity which had deprived them of the largest part of their income for the next three months; then she began to look round in her mind to see what might be done. Captain Polkington offered a few not very coherent explanations and excuses, to which she did not listen, and then relapsed into silence. Johnny sat opposite, rubbing his hands in nervous sympathy, and looking from father to daughter; he took the silence of the one to be as hopeless as that of the other.

”We thought,” he ventured at last, tugging at the parcel now firmly wedged in his pocket. ”We hoped, that is, we thought perhaps we might raise a trifle, it wouldn't be much help--”

But neither of the others were listening to him, and Captain Polkington interrupted with his own remedy, ”We shall have to manage on credit,” he said; ”we can get credit for this three months.”

”We can't,” Julia a.s.sured him; ”the greater part of that money was to have paid outstanding bills; we can't live on credit, because we haven't got any to live on.”

”That's nonsense,” her father said; ”it can be done with care and economy, and retrenchments.”

Julia did not answer, so Johnny took up the words. ”Yes, yes,” he said, ”one can always retrench; it is really marvellous how little one can do with, in fact one is better for it; I feel a different man for having to retrench. Your mother's a wonderful woman”--he stopped, then added doubtfully as he thought of the lost apple tart--”I suppose, though, she would want to make a good appearance just now, with the engagement, Mr. Frazer in and out. It is very unfortunate, very.”

By this time he had untied his parcel, and flattening the paper on his knees began to put the contents on the table. There were some field-gla.s.ses, a breast pin, and a few other such things; when he had put them all out he felt in his waistcoat-pocket for his watch.

”They would fetch a trifle,” he said, regarding the row a little proudly.

”Those?” Julia asked, puzzled.

”Yes,” Mr. Gillat said; ”not a great deal, of course, but it would be a help--it might pay the butcher's bill. It's a great thing to have the butcher's bill paid; I've heard my landlady say so; it gives a standing with the other tradespeople, and that's what you want--she often says so.”

”You mean you think of selling them for us?” Julia asked, fixing her keen eyes on Johnny, so that he felt very guilty, and as if he ought to excuse himself. But before he could do it she had swept his belongings together. ”You won't do anything of the kind,” she said.

”Why not?”

”Because we won't have it. Pack them up.”

”Oh, but,” Johnny protested, ”it would be a little help, it would indeed; they would fetch something, the gla.s.ses are good ones, though a bit old-fas.h.i.+oned, and the watch--”

”I don't care, I won't have it,” and Julia took the matter into her own hands, and began with a flushed face to re-pack the things herself.

”Is it that you think I can't spare them?” Gillat asked, still bewildered. ”I can--what an idea,” he laughed. ”What do I want with field-gla.s.ses, now? And as to a watch, my time's nothing to me!”

”No, I dare say not,” Julia said, but she tied the parcel firmly, then she gave it to him. ”Take it away,” she said, ”and don't try to sell a thing.”

She opened the door as she spoke, and he, accepting it as a hint of dismissal, meekly followed her from the room. When they had reached the hall above he ventured on a last protest. ”Why may I not sell anything?” he asked.

”Because we have not quite come to that,” she said, with a ring of bitterness in her voice: ”We have come pretty low, I know, with our dodges and our s.h.i.+fts, but we haven't quite come to depriving you.

Johnny”--and she stretched out a hand to him, a thing which was rare, for no one thought it necessary to shake hands with Mr. Gillat--”it's very good of you to offer; I'm grateful to you; I'm awfully glad you did it; you made me ashamed.”

Johnny looked at her perplexed; the note of bitterness in her voice had deepened to something more he was altogether at a loss to understand. But she gave him no opportunity for inquiry, for she opened the street door.

”Good-bye,” she said, her usual self again, ”and don't you let me catch you selling those things.”

”Oh, I say! But how will you manage?” he protested.

”Somehow; I have got several ideas already; I'm better at this sort of game than you are, you know.”

And she shut the door upon him; then she went back to Captain Polkington.

”Father,” he said, ”would you mind telling me if you have borrowed any other money? It would be much simpler if we knew just how we stood.”