Part 48 (1/2)

He slapped his chest with Ascott's merry laugh of old. It cheered Elizabeth for a long while afterward.

By-and-by she had to take little Henry to Brighton, and lost sight of ”John Smith” for some time longer.

It was on a snowy February day, when, having brought the child home quite strong, and received unlimited grat.i.tude and guineas from the delighted father, Master Henry's faithful nurse stood in her usual place at the dining-room door, waiting for the interminable grace of ”only five minutes more” to be over, and her boy carried ignominiously but contentedly to bed.

The footman knocked at the door. ”A young man wanting to speak to master on particular business.

”Let him send in his name.”

”He says you wouldn't know it, Sir.”

”Show him in, then. Probably a case of charity, as usual. Oh!”

And Mr. Ascott's opinion was confirmed by the appearance of the shabby young man with the long beard, whom Elizabeth did not wonder he never recognized in the least. She ought to have retired, and yet she could not. She hid herself partly behind the door, afraid of pa.s.sing Ascott; dreading alike to wound him by recognition or non-recognition. But he took no notice. He seemed excessively agitated.

”Come a-begging, young man, I suppose? Wants a situation, as hundreds do, and think that I have half the clerks.h.i.+ps in the city at my disposal, and that I am made of money besides. But it's no good, I tell you, Sir; I never give nothing to strangers, except--Here, Henry, my son, take that person there this half crown.”

And the little boy, in his pretty purple velvet frock and his prettier face, trotted across the room and put the money into poor Ascott's hand. He took it; and then to the astonishment of Master Henry, and the still greater astonishment of his father, lifted up the child and kissed him.

”Young man, young fellow--”

”I see you don't know me, Mr. Ascott, and it's not surprising. But I have come to repay you this--” he laid a fifty pound note down on the table. ”Also, to thank you earnestly for not prosecuting me, and to say--”

”Good G.o.d!”--the sole expletive Peter Ascott had been heard to use for long. ”Ascott Leaf, is that you? I thought you were in Australia, or dead, or something.”

”No, I'm alive and here, more's the pity perhaps. Except that I have lived to pay you back what I cheated you out of. What you generously gave me I can't pay, though I may sometime. Meantime, I have brought you this. It's honestly earned. Yes.” observing the keen doubtful look, ”though I have hardly a coat to my back, I a.s.sure you it's honestly earned.”

Mr. Ascott made no reply. He stooped over the bank-note, examined it, folded it, and put it into his pocket-book; then, after another puzzled investigation of Ascott, cleared his throat.

”Mrs. Hand, you had better take Master Henry up stairs.”