Part 24 (1/2)
Just then the oily-headed clerk announced that Mr. Ranson was at liberty. So they both went in to see him, and the rest may be imagined.
The trustees undertook to pay his expenses, even if they had to stretch a point to do so, and gave him 20 to go on with, also a letter of introduction to Sc.o.o.nes, whom he was instructed to see and arrange to join their cla.s.ses. Then General Cubitte hustled off, telling him to come to dine at an address in Kensington two nights later and ”report himself.”
So within less than an hour G.o.dfrey's future career was settled. He came out of the office feeling rather dazed but happier than when he went in, and inquired his way to Garrick Street, where he was informed that Mr. Sc.o.o.nes had his establishment. He found the place and, by good luck, found Mr. Sc.o.o.nes also, a kindly, keen, white-haired man, who read the letter, made a few inquiries and put him through a brief examination.
”Your information is varied and peculiar,” he said, ”and not of the sort that generally appeals to Her Majesty's examiners. Still, I see that you have intelligence and, of course, the French is an a.s.set; also the literature to some extent, and the Latin, though these would have counted more had you been going up for the Indian Civil. I think we can get you through in three months if you will work; it all depends on that. You will find a lot of young men here of whom quite seventy per cent. do nothing, except see life. Very nice fellows in their way, but if you want to get into Sandhurst, keep clear of them. Now, my term opens next Monday. I will write to General Cubitte and tell him what I think of you, also that the fees are payable in advance. Good-bye, glad you happened to catch me, which you would not have done half an hour later, as I am going out of town. At ten o'clock next Monday, please.”
After this, not knowing what to do, G.o.dfrey returned to the Great Eastern Hotel and wrote a letter to his father, in which, baldly enough, he explained what had happened.
Having posted it in the box in the hall, he bethought him that he must find some place to live in, as the hotel was too expensive for a permanence, and was making inquiries of the porter as to how he should set about the matter when a telegram was handed to him. It ran: ”All up as I expected. Meet me Liverpool Street 4.30.--Nurse.”
So G.o.dfrey postponed his search for lodgings, and at the appointed hour kept the a.s.signation on the platform. The train arrived, and out of it, looking much more like her old self than she had on the previous day, emerged Mrs. Parsons with the most extraordinary collection of bundles, he counted nine of them, to say nothing of a jackdaw in a cage. She embraced him with enthusiasm, dropping the heaviest of the parcels, which seemed to contain bricks, upon his toe, and in a flood of language told him of the peculiar awfulness of the row between his father and herself which had ensued upon his departure.
”Yes,” she ended, ”he flung my money at my head and I flung it back at his, though afterwards I picked it up again, for it is no use wasting good gold and silver. And so here I am, beginning life again, like you, and feeling thirty years younger for it. Now, tell me what you are going to do?”
Then they went and had tea in the refreshment room, leaving the jackdaw and the other impediments in charge of a porter, and he told her.
”That's first-rate,” she said. ”I always hated the idea of seeing you with a black coat on your back. The Queen's uniform looks much better, and I want you to be a man. Now you help me into a cab and by dinner time to-morrow I'll be ready for you at my house at Hampstead, if I have to work all night to do it. Terms--drat the terms. Well, if you must have them, Master G.o.dfrey, ten s.h.i.+llings a week will be more than you will cost me, and I ought to give you five back for your company.
Now I'll make a start, for there will be a lot to do before the place is fit for a young gentleman. I've never seen it but twice, you know.”
So she departed, packed into a four-wheeled cab, with the jackdaw on her lap, and G.o.dfrey went to Madame Tussaud's, where he studied the guillotine and the Chamber of Horrors.
On the following morning, having further improved his mind at the Tower, he took a cab also, and in due course arrived at Hampstead with his belongings. The place took some finding, for it was on the top of a hill in an old-fas.h.i.+oned, out of the way part of the suburb, but when found proved to be delightful. It was a little square house, built of stone, on which the old builder had lavished all his skill and care, so that in it everything was perfect, with a garden both in front and behind. The floors were laid in oak, the little hall was oak-panelled, there were hot and cold water in every room, and so forth. Moreover, an odd man was waiting to carry in his things, and in one of the front sitting-rooms, which was excellently furnished, sat Mrs. Parsons knitting as though she had been there for years.
”Here you are,” she said, ”just as I was beginning to get tired of having nothing to do. Lord! what a fuss we make about things before we face 'em. After all they ain't nothing but bubbles. Blow them and they burst. Look here, Master G.o.dfrey,” and she waved her hand about the sitting-room. ”Pretty neat, ain't it? Well, I thought it would be all of a hugger-mugger. But what did I find? That those tenants had been jewels and left everything like a new pin, to say nothing of improvements, such as an Eagle range. Moreover, the caretaker is a policeman's wife and a very nice woman always ready to help for a trifle, and that man that brought in your boxes is a relative of hers who does gardening jobs and such-like. Now, come and see your rooms,”
and she led him with pride into a capital back apartment with a large window, in fact an old Tudor one which the builder had produced somewhere, together with the panelling on the walls.
”That's your study,” she said, ”bookshelves and all complete. Now, follow me,” and she took him upstairs to a really charming bedroom.
”But,” said G.o.dfrey, surveying these splendours, ”this must be the best room in the house. Where do you sleep?”
”Oh! at the back there, my dear. You see, I am accustomed to a small chamber and shouldn't be happy in this big one. Besides, you are going to pay me rent and must be accommodated. And now come down to your dinner.”
A very good dinner it was, cooked by the policeman's wife, which Mrs.
Parsons insisted on serving, as she would not sit at the table with him. In short, G.o.dfrey found himself in clover, a circ.u.mstance that filled him with some sadness. Why, he wondered, should he always be made so miserable at home and so happy when he was away? Then he remembered that famous line about the man who throughout life ever found his warmest welcome at an inn, and perceived that it hid much philosophy. Frequently enough homes are not what fond fancy paints them, while in the bosom of strangers there is much kindliness.
CHAPTER XIII
THE INTERVENING YEARS
Now we may omit a great deal from G.o.dfrey's youthful career. Within a few days he received a letter from his father forwarded to him from the hotel, that was even more unpleasant than the majority of the paternal epistles to which he was accustomed. Mr. Knight, probably from honest conviction and a misreading of the facts of life, was one of those persons who are called Pacifists. Although he never carried out the doctrine in his own small affairs, he believed that nations were enjoined by divine decree to turn the other cheek and indeed every portion of their corporate frame to the smiter, and that by so doing, in some mysterious way, they would attain to profound peace and felicity. Consequently he hated armies, especially as these involved taxation, and loathed the trade of soldiering, which he considered one of licensed murder.
The decision of his son to adopt this career was therefore a bitter blow to him, concerning which he expressed his feelings in the plainest language, ending his epistle by intimating his strong conviction that G.o.dfrey, having taken the sword, was destined to perish by the sword.
Also he pointed out to him that he had turned his back upon G.o.d Who would certainly remember the affront, being, he remarked, ”a jealous G.o.d,” and lastly that the less they saw of each other in future--here he was referring to himself, not to the Divinity as the context would seem to imply--the better it would be for both of them.
Further there was a postscript about the disgraceful conduct of the woman, Mrs. Parsons, who, after receiving the shelter of his house for many years, had made a scene and departed, leaving him in the lurch.
His injunction was that under no circ.u.mstances should he, G.o.dfrey, have anything more to do with this violent and treacherous female who had made him a pretext of quarrel, and, having learned that he had money, doubtless wished to get something out of him.