Part 32 (1/2)

”Certainly not,” answered Miss Crampton with vigour, ”nor have I the slightest intention of ever doing so. Pray, are you allowed, in consideration of your nationality, to whittle in Harrow School?”

This was said by way of a reproof for the state of the floor.

”Wall,” began Crayshaw, to cover the almost audible t.i.tters of the girls; but, distracted by this from the matter in hand, he coughed, went on whittling, and held his peace.

”I have often told Johnnie,” said Miss Crampton with great dignity, at the same time darting a severe glance at Johnnie's back, ”that the delight he takes in talking the Devons.h.i.+re dialect is likely to be very injurious to his English, and he will have it that this country accent is not permanently catching. It may be hoped,” she continued, looking round, ”that other accents are not catching either.”

Crayshaw, choosing to take this hint as a compliment, smiled sweetly. ”I guess I'm speaking better than usual,” he observed, ”for my brother and his folks air newly come from the Ste-ates, and I've been with them.

But,” he continued, a sudden gleam of joy lighting up his eyes as something occurred to him that he thought suitable to ”top up” with, ”all the Mortimers talk with such a peowerful English ac-_cent_, that when I come de-own to this _lo_-cation, my own seems to melt off my tongue. Neow, yeou'll skasely believe it,” he continued, ”but it's tre-u, that ef yeou were tew hea-ar me talk at the end of a week, yeou'd he-ardly realise that I was an Amurican at all.”

”Cray, how can ye?” exclaimed Aunt Christie, ”and so wan as ye look this morning too.”

”Seen my brother?” inquired Crayshaw meekly.

”No, I have not,” said Miss Crampton bridling.

”He's merried. We settle airly in my country; it's one of our inst.i.tootions.” Another gleam of joy and impudence shot across the pallid face. ”I'm thinking of settling shortly myself.”

Then, as Aunt Christie was observed to be struggling with a laugh that, however long repressed, was sure to break forth at last, Barbara led her to the top of the stairs, and loudly entreated her to mind she didn't stumble, and to mind she did not touch the stair-rods, for the machine, she observed, was just ready.

”The jarth are all charged now, Cray,” said Johnnie, coming forward at last. ”Mith Crampton, would you like to have the firtht turn of going down with them?”

”No, thank you,” said Miss Crampton almost suavely, and rising with something very like alacrity. Then, remembering that she had not even mentioned what she came for, ”I wish to observe,” she said, ”that I much disapprove of the noise I hear up in Parliament. I desire that it may not occur again. If it does, I shall detain the girls in the schoolroom.

I am very much disturbed by it.”

”You don't say so!” exclaimed Crayshaw with an air of indolent surprise; and Miss Crampton thereupon retreated down-stairs, taking great care not to touch any metallic substance.

CHAPTER XIX.

MR. MORTIMER GOES THROUGH THE TURNPIKE.

”I hear thee speak of the happy land.”

Swan looked down as Miss Crampton and Miss Christie emerged into the garden.

”Most impertinent of Swan,” he heard the former say, to be arguing thus about political affairs in the presence of the children. And what Mr.

Mortimer can be thinking of, inviting young Crayshaw to stay so much with them, I cannot imagine. We shall be having them turn republican next.”

”Turn republican!” repeated Miss Christie with infinite scorn; ”there's about as much chance of that as of his ever seeing his native country again, poor laddie; which is just no chance at all.”

Crayshaw at this moment inquired of Swan, who had mounted his ladder step by step as Miss Crampton went on, ”Is the old girl gone in? And what was she talking of?”

”Well, sir, something about republican inst.i.tootions.”

”Ah! and so you hate them like poison?”

”Yes, in a manner of speaking I do. But I've been a-thinking,” continued Swan, taking the nails out of his lips and leaning in at the window, ”I've been a-thinking as it ain't noways fair, if all men is ekal--which you're allers upholding--that you should say Swan, and I should say Mister Crayshaw.”

”No, it isn't,” exclaimed Crayshaw, laughing; ”let's have it the other way. You shall say Crayshaw to me, and I'll say Mr. Swan to you, sir.”