Part 16 (1/2)

They talked of Ascott, as being the most convenient mutual subject; and Miss Leaf expressed the grat.i.tude which her nephew felt, and she earnestly hoped would ever show, toward his kind G.o.dfather.

Mr. Ascott looked pleased.

”Um--yes, Ascott's not a bad fellow--believe he means well: but weak, ma'am, I'm afraid he's weak. Knows nothing of business--has no business habits whatever. However, we must make the best of him; I don't repent any thing I've done for him.”

”I hope not,” said Miss Leaf, gravely.

And then there ensued an uncomfortable pause, which was happily broken by the opening of the door, and the sweeping in of a large, goodly figure.

”My sister, Mr. Ascott; my sister Selina.”

The little stout man actually started, and, as he bowed, blushed up to the eyes.

Miss Selina was, as I have stated, the beauty of the family, and had once been an acknowledged s...o...b..ry belle. Even now, though nigh upon forty, when carefully and becomingly dressed, her tall figure, and her well featured, fair complexioned, unwrinkled face, made her still appear a very personable woman. At any rate, she was not faded enough, nor the city magnate's heart cold enough to prevent a sudden revival of the vision which--in what now seemed an almost antediluvian stage of existence--had dazzled, Sunday after Sunday, the eyes of the grocer's lad. If there is one pure spot in a man's heart--oven the very worldliest of men--it is usually his boyish first love.

So Peter Ascott looked hard at Miss Selina, then into his hat, then, as good luck would have it, out of the window, where he caught sight of his carriage and horses. These revived his spirits, and made him recognize what he was--Mr. Ascott, of Russell Square, addressing himself in the character of a benevolent patron to the Leaf family.

”Glad to see you, Miss. Long time since we met--neither of us so young as we have been--but you do wear well, I must say.”

Miss Selina drew back; she was within an inch of being highly offended, when she too happened to catch a glimpse of the carriage and horses. So she sat down and entered into conversation with him; and when she liked, n.o.body could be more polite and agreeable than Miss Selina. So it happened that the handsome equipage crawled round and round the Crescent, or stood pawing the silent Sunday street before No. 15, for very nearly an hour, even till Hilary came home.

It was vexatious to have to make excuses for Ascott: particularly as his G.o.dfather said with a laugh, that ”young fellows would be young fellows,” they needn't expect to see the lad till midnight, or till to-morrow morning.

But though in this, and other things, he somewhat annoyed the ladies from s...o...b..ry, no one could say he was not civil to them--exceedingly civil. He offered them Botanical Garden tickets--Zoological Garden tickets; he even, after some meditation and knitting of his s.h.a.ggy grey eyebrows, bolted out with an invitation for the whole family to dinner at Russell Square the following Sunday.

”I always give my dinners on Sunday. I've no time any other day,”

said he, when Miss Leaf gently hesitated. ”Come or not, just as you like.”

Miss Selina, to whom the remark was chiefly addressed, bowed the most gracious acceptance. The visitor took very little notice of Miss Hilary. Probably, if asked, he would have described her as a small, shabbily-dressed person, looking very like a governess. Indeed, the fact of her governess-s.h.i.+p seemed suddenly to recur to him; he asked her if she meant to set up another school, and being informed that she rather wished private pupils, promised largely that she should have the full benefit of his ”patronage” among his friends. Then he departed, leaving a message for Ascott to call next day, as he wished to speak to him.

”For you must be aware, Miss Leaf, that though your nephew's allowance is nothing--a mere drop in the bucket out of my large income--still, when it comes year after year, and no chance of his s.h.i.+fting for himself, the most benevolent man in the world feels inclined to stop the supplies. Not that I shall do that--at least not immediately: he is a fine young fellow, whom I'm rather proud to have helped a step up the ladder, and I've a great respect”--here he bowed to Miss Selina--”a great respect for your family. Still there must come a time when I shall be obliged to shut up my purse-strings. You understand, ma'am.”

”I do,” Miss Leaf answered, trying to speak with dignity, and yet with patience, for she saw Hilary's face beginning to flame. ”And I trust, Mr. Ascott, my nephew will soon cease to be an expense to you.

It was your own voluntary kindness that brought it upon yourself, and I hope you have not found, never will find, either him or us ungrateful.”

”Oh, as to that, ma'am, I don't look for grat.i.tude. Still, if Ascott does work his way into a good position--and he'll be the first of his family that ever did, I reckon--but I beg your pardon, Miss Leaf.

Ladies, I'll bid you good day. Will your servant call my carriage?”

The instant he was gone Hilary burst forth--

”If I were Ascott, I'd rather starve in a garret, break stones in the high road, or buy a broom and sweep a crossing, than I'd be dependent on this man, this pompous, purse-proud, illiterate fool!”

”No, not a fool,” reproved Johanna. ”An acute, clear-headed, nor, I think, bad-hearted man. Coa.r.s.e and common, certainly; but if we were to hate every thing coa.r.s.e or common, we should find plenty to hate.

Besides, though he does his kindness in an unpleasant way, think how very, very kind he has been to Ascott.”

”Johanna, I think you would find a good word for the de'il himself, as we used to say,” cried Hilary, laughing. ”Well, Selina; and what is your opinion of our stout friend?”

Miss Selina, bridling a little, declared that she did not see so much to complain of in Mr. Ascott. He was not educated, certainly, but he was a most respectable person. And his calling upon them so soon was most civil and attentive. She thought, considering his present position, they should forget--indeed, as Christians they were bound to forget--that he was once their grocer's boy, and go to dine with him next Sunday.