Part 27 (1/2)
”Play?” said his son, sharply.
”Play,” repeated his father, firmly. ”What is the name of it? I saw it once at Newcastle. The lovers take poison and die across each other's chests because their people won't let 'em marry. And that reminds me. I saw some phosphor-paste in the kitchen, Jem. Whose is it?”
”I'm glad to be the means of affording you amus.e.m.e.nt,” said Jem, grinding his teeth.
Captain Hardy regarded him affectionately. ”Go easy, my lad,” he said, equably; ”go easy. If I'd known it before, things would have been different; as I didn't, we must make the best of it. She's a pretty girl, and a good one, too, for all her airs, but I'm afraid she's too fond of her father to overlook this.”
”That's where you've made such a mess of things,” broke in his son. ”Why on earth you two old men couldn't--”
”Easy,” said the startled captain. ”When you are in the early fifties, my lad, your ideas about age will be more accurate. Besides, Nugent is seven or eight years older than I am.”
”What became of him?” inquired Jem.
”He was off the moment we berthed,” said his father, suppressing a smile. ”I don't mean that he bolted--he'd got enough starch left in him not to do that--but he didn't trespa.s.s on our hospitality a moment longer than was necessary. I heard that he got a pa.s.sage home on the Columbus. He knew the master. She sailed some time before us for London. I thought he'd have been home by this.”
It was not until two days later, however, that the gossip in Sunwich received a pleasant fillip by the arrival of the injured captain. He came down from London by the midday train, and, disdaining the privacy of a cab, prepared to run the gauntlet of his fellow-townsmen.
A weaker man would have made a detour, but he held a direct course, and with a curt nod to acquaintances who would have stopped him walked swiftly in the direction of home. Tradesmen ran to their shop-doors to see him, and smoking amphibians lounging at street corners broke out into sunny smiles as he pa.s.sed. He met these annoyances with a set face and a cold eye, but his views concerning children were not improved by the crowd of small creatures which fluttered along the road ahead of him and, hopeful of developments, cl.u.s.tered round the gate as he pa.s.sed in.
It is the pride and privilege of most returned wanderers to hold forth at great length concerning their adventures, but Captain Nugent was commendably brief. At first he could hardly be induced to speak of them at all, but the necessity of contradicting stories which Bella had gleaned for Mrs. Kingdom from friends in town proved too strong for him. He ground his teeth with suppressed fury as he listened to some of them. The truth was bad enough, and his daughter, sitting by his side with her hand in his, was trembling with indignation.
”Poor father,” she said, tenderly; ”what a time you must have had.” ”It won't bear thinking of,” said Mrs. Kingdom, not to be outdone in sympathy.
”He met these annoyances with a set face.”
”Well, don't think of it,” said the captain, shortly.
Mrs. Kingdom sighed as though to indicate that her feelings were not to be suppressed in that simple fas.h.i.+on.
”The anxiety has been very great,” she said, shaking her head, ”but everybody's been very kind. I'm sure all our friends have been most sympathetic. I couldn't go outside the house without somebody stopping me and asking whether there was any news of you. I'd no idea you were so popular; even the milkman----”
”I'd like some tea,” interrupted the captain, roughly; ”that is, when you have finished your very interesting information.”
Mrs. Kingdom pursed her lips together to suppress the words she was afraid to utter, and rang the bell.
”Your master would like some tea,” she said, primly, as Bella appeared. ”He has had a long journey.” The captain started and eyed her fiercely; Mrs. Kingdom, her good temper quite restored by this little retort, folded her hands in her lap and gazed at him with renewed sympathy.
”We all missed you very much,” said Kate, softly. ”But we had no fears once we knew that you were at sea.”
”And I suppose some of the sailors were kind to you?” suggested the unfortunate Mrs. Kingdom. ”They are rough fellows, but I suppose some of them have got their hearts in the right place. I daresay they were sorry to see you in such a position.”
The captain's reply was of a nature known to Mrs. Kingdom and her circle as ”snapping one's head off.” He drew his chair to the table as Bella brought in the tray and, accepting a cup of tea, began to discuss with his daughter the events which had transpired in his absence.
”There is no news,” interposed Mrs. Kingdom, during an interval. ”Mr. Hall's aunt died the other day.”
”Never heard of her,” said the captain. ”Neither had I, till then,” said his sister. ”What a lot of people there are one never hears of, John.” The captain stared at her offensively and went on with his meal. A long silence ensued.
”I suppose you didn't get to hear of the cable that was sent?” said Mrs. Kingdom, making another effort to arouse interest.