Part 10 (1/2)

He crossed the room gently and took a seat by her side. Miss Rose, still gazing at the floor, wondered indignantly why it was she was not blus.h.i.+ng. His Lords.h.i.+p's conversation had come to a sudden stop and the silence was most awkward.

”I've been a fool, Miss Rose,” he said at last, rising and standing over her; ”and I've been taking a great liberty. I've been deceiving you for nearly a fortnight.”

”Nonsense!” responded Miss Rose, briskly.

”I have been deceiving you,” he repeated. ”I have made you believe that I am a person of t.i.tle.”

”Nonsense!” said Miss Rose again.

The other started and eyed her uneasily.

”n.o.body would mistake you for a lord,” said Miss Rose, cruelly. ”Why, I shouldn't think that you had ever seen one. You didn't do it at all properly. Why, your uncle Cray would have done it better.”

Mr. Cray's nephew fell back in consternation and eyed her dumbly as she laughed. All mirth is not contagious, and he was easily able to refrain from joining in this.

”I can't understand,” said Miss Roset as she wiped a tear-dimmed eye-”I can't understand how you could have thought I should be so stupid.”

”I've been a fool,” said the other, bitterly, as he retreated to the door. ”Good-by.”

”Good-by,” said Jane. She looked him full in the face, and the blushes for which she had been waiting came in force. ”You needn't go, unless you want to,” she said, softly. ”I like fools better than lords.”

ALF'S DREAM

I'VE just been drinking a man's health,” said the night watchman, coming slowly on to the wharf and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand; ”he's come in for a matter of three 'undred and twenty pounds, and he stood me arf a pint-arf a pint!”

He dragged a small empty towards him, and after planing the surface with his hand sat down and gazed scornfully across the river.

”Four ale,” he said, with a hard laugh; ”and when I asked 'im-just for the look of the thing, and to give 'im a hint-whether he'd 'ave another, he said 'yes.'”

The night watchman rose and paced restlessly up and down the jetty.

”Money,” he said, at last, resuming his wonted calm and lowering himself carefully to the box again- ”money always gets left to the wrong people; some of the kindest-'arted men I've ever known 'ave never had a ha'penny left 'em, while teetotaler arter teetotaler wot I've heard of 'ave come in for fortins.”

It's 'ard lines though, sometimes, waiting for other people's money. I knew o' one chap that waited over forty years for 'is grandmother to die and leave 'im her money; and she died of catching cold at 'is funeral.

Another chap I knew, arter waiting years and years for 'is rich aunt to die, was hung because she committed suicide.

It's always risky work waiting for other people to die and leave you money. Sometimes they don't die; sometimes they marry agin; and sometimes they leave it to other people instead.

Talking of marrying agin reminds me o' something that 'appened to a young fellow I knew named Alf Simms. Being an orphan 'e was brought up by his uncle, George Hatchard, a widowed man of about sixty. Alf used to go to sea off and on, but more off than on, his uncle 'aving quite a tidy bit of 'ouse property, and it being understood that Alf was to have it arter he 'ad gone. His uncle used to like to 'ave him at 'ome, and Alf didn't like work, so it suited both parties.

I used to give Alf a bit of advice sometimes, sixty being a dangerous age for a man, especially when he 'as been a widower for so long he 'as had time to forget wot being married's like; but I must do Alf the credit to say it wasn't wanted. He 'ad got a very old 'ead on his shoulders, and always picked the housekeeper 'imself to save the old man the trouble. I saw two of 'em, and I dare say I could 'ave seen more, only I didn't want to.

Cleverness is a good thing in its way, but there's such a thing as being too clever, and the last 'ouse-keeper young Alf picked died of old age a week arter he 'ad gone to sea. She pa.s.sed away while she was drawing George Hatchard's supper beer, and he lost ten gallons o' the best bitter ale and his 'ousekeeper at the same time.

It was four months arter that afore Alf came 'ome, and the fust sight of the new 'ousekeeper, wot opened the door to 'im, upset 'im terrible. She was the right side o' sixty to begin with, and only ordinary plain. Then she was as clean as a new pin, and dressed up as though she was going out to tea.

”Oh, you're Alfred, I s'pose?” she ses, looking at 'im.