Chapter X: Dick's Cousins

IT was eight o'clock on the morning subsequent to the arrival of Mrs. Compton and her children at the Manor House, and Lionel and Ruth Compton raced each other down the wide staircase and collided at the bottom. The latter was thrown down; but picking herself up immediately, she turned to her brother and declared,—

"I got down first!"

"No, you did not!" he promptly contradicted.

"I did! Hush! Here comes grandfather!"

The children stood side by side, watching the old man as he came slowly across the hall towards them. He had entered the house by the front door, for he was an early riser, and had been strolling about the garden when the sound of the breakfast-bell fell upon his ears.

"Good-morning, grandfather!" said Lionel.

"Good-morning, grandfather!" echoed Ruth.

Sir Richard glanced at them keenly. They were tall, well-grown children, with fresh complexions, bright blue eyes, and fair hair; but they appeared uneasy beneath their grandfather's scrutiny, the truth being that they regarded him with awe and fear. They knew their mother dreaded his violent temper; and from their earliest days they had been taught that he must not be crossed or vexed in any way, the consequence being that they were never their lighthearted selves in his presence.

"Good-morning, children!" Sir Richard responded. "Is your mother down? No! Well, I shall not wait for her! Eight o'clock is my breakfast-hour, as she knows from experience! Why are you lingering here in the hall? Come, everything will be cold!"

They followed him into the breakfast-room, and took their seats at the table. As Sir Richard was put out that his daughter was late, he vented his irritability on the children. He scolded Lionel for slopping his coffee on the table-cloth; and when Ruth, from sheer nervousness, dropped her knife on the floor and was obliged to dive under the table to fetch it, re-appearing with a face crimson and abashed, he added to her confusion by asking if she took her meals in the nursery at home.

"No," the little girl replied, tears of mortification filling her eyes, "we always have breakfast with mother."

"At what hour, may I inquire?" Sir Richard questioned with an affectation of politeness.

Before Ruth could reply, however, Mrs. Compton hurriedly entered the room. She kissed her father, and sitting down at the table, apologised for being late, adding that she had been very tired the previous night, and had overslept herself. He appeared slightly mollified on hearing this, and the meal proceeded more happily. The children sat by in silence, whilst their elders talked on indifferent subjects. At last their grandfather made a statement which aroused their interest.

"Children, your cousin will be here to-day. I expect you to be kind and friendly to him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, grandfather," responded two meek voices.

"You have not yet told me what you think of the boy, father," Mrs. Compton said, with decided curiosity in her voice. "Is he like my brother or—her?"

"He is like your brother; and there is a look about him of Paul Gidley the martyr," Sir Richard answered briefly.

"Oh!" Mrs. Compton looked thoughtful. "And you are satisfied with him?" she inquired.

"Yes; perfectly satisfied. I wish he was stronger; but Dr. Warren assures me he will improve in health—in fact, I can see a marked change for the better in the child since his arrival in England, I am sure he has grown these last few weeks, and he looks stronger and healthier altogether than he did at first."

"I wonder his mother was satisfied to send him to England alone. Is it not strange she did not accompany him? I am sure nothing would induce me to part with my darlings like that!"

"Ah, but not every mother is so devoted to her children as you are, my dear Arabella," Sir Richard said sarcastically.

Mrs. Compton coloured at her father's tone; but she would not allow herself to be put out of temper, and proceeded,—

"For my part I am very glad the boy's mother is where she is! It would have made things awkward if she had come home too! Richard wanted you to have the boy here, did he not? Of course that would not have done!"

"Why not?" Sir Richard asked bluntly. Then, without waiting for a reply, he said— "It would have done excellently well, as it happens. I regret exceedingly I did not accede to my son's suggestion. Had I known Dick was the sort of boy he is I should certainly have had him here."

Mrs. Compton was too astonished to speak for several minutes. During the last ten years, obeying her father's command, she had held no communication with her brother. When the arbitrary old man had declared that never, as long as he lived, would he forgive his son for making what he considered an imprudent marriage, she had held her tongue, and though she had not openly quarrelled with her brother, she had tacitly sided with her father against him.

"And what sort of boy is he?" she asked presently.

"You will soon be in a position to judge for yourself," Sir Richard told her. "When he is spoken to he holds his head up and looks one in the face; he does not drop his eyes like Lionel there!"

Lionel grew very red at this unprovoked attack, and gave Ruth a kick under the table as a relief to his feelings, which made her jump violently, whereupon her grandfather asked what was the matter.

"Nothing—nothing!" she answered, not daring to tell the truth for fear of the consequences.

"If the children have finished their breakfasts, can they not go?" Mrs. Compton interposed.

"Certainly. Listen to me, Ruth and Lionel, both of you. Your cousin will walk from the lodge to the house, and you can go to meet him. He will probably arrive shortly after ten."

"Yes, grandfather," they replied.

"That's all. Now you may go."

They obeyed quietly; but the minute they were out of the room they rushed helter-skelter upstairs to fetch their hats, and, retracing their footsteps, went out of the front door and through the front garden to the grounds beyond.

"I know he'll be a hateful young prig!" Lionel remarked as soon as they were out of call from the house. He, of course, referred to his unknown cousin. "I'm certain he will be from the way grandfather spoke of him!"

Ruth nodded. She had forgiven his brotherly kick, and was in entire sympathy with him now.

"Holds up his head and looks one in the face!" the boy continued scornfully, quoting Sir Richard's words. "Puts on airs, no doubt, and thinks he's mighty fine because he'll be master here one day! Well, one thing I know—he won't boss me about!"

"Nor me!" echoed Ruth, in her shrill treble.

"A wretched kid like that!" Lionel cried wrathfully. "Why, he's no older than you! We're to be kind and friendly to him! Did you hear that? And his mother was a nobody! She hadn't a penny to bless herself with; and Uncle Richard made a great mistake when he married her! I heard mother say so! Dr. Warren is her uncle, and he lives in the village opposite a baker's shop!" and there was scorn and contempt in the boy's tone.

"I like Dr. Warren," Ruth said. "I thought you did too, Lionel! Don't you remember how kind he was last year when we had the measles?"

"Oh, yes; I know that! But I heard mother say his niece was not at all a suitable wife for Uncle Richard, and grandfather has never forgiven him for marrying her."

The children strolled idly about the grounds, discussing their elders, and putting their own constructions upon their remarks and actions, as children do.

"If that kid was not coming we might have gone down to the beach," Lionel said at length, regretfully. "I wonder how much longer we shall have to wait before he arrives!"

They had reached the lodge by this time. It was a pretty, rose-covered cottage adjoining the main road, inhabited by Groves, Sir Richard's coachman, and his wife.

Mrs. Groves, a portly person in a lilac cotton gown, was whitening her doorstep as the children approached. They explained they were on the look-out for their cousin, and willingly accepted her invitation to come into the lodge and wait.

They had been in Mrs. Groves' parlour before. It was a tiny room, with pots of geraniums in full flower on the window-seat. The walls were covered with a bright crimson paper, and were adorned with coloured prints, and various photographs and nick-nacks. A round mahogany table, brightly polished, stood in the middle of the room, with a basket laden with wax fruit and flowers, covered with a glass shade, in the centre, which was Ruth's especial admiration.

The children sat on a little chintz-covered sofa near the open window, from which they could see the highroad, and chatted and laughed without restraint; they were very different from the subdued, silent pair who had breakfasted with their grandfather that morning.

"This is the dearest, sweetest little room I ever saw!" Ruth exclaimed, looking around with approving eyes. "It is so cosy and comfortable! Mrs. Groves, I would far rather live here than at the Manor House!"

Mrs. Groves laughingly shook her head; but she was secretly very gratified.

"It's bright and cheerful," she replied; "and I do think a home should be that, if it's ever so small!"

"Yes," Ruth agreed, nodding her fair head. "The pattern of your carpet is so pretty, too! I like those big bunches of roses! I should dearly love to have a little room like this for my very own!"

"I wonder how you'll get on with your cousin," Mrs. Groves remarked. "He's not so old as you, Master Lionel, and not so tall by half a head! Sir Richard seems to have taken to him wonderfully, I'm told, and—"

She paused abruptly at the sound of approaching wheels. The children darted excitedly out of the lodge, and flung open the heavy iron gates, whilst Mrs. Groves followed at a more leisurely pace, in time to see the doctor's gig draw up and Dick clamber down.

So it was that it fell to Dr. Warren's lot to introduce the children to each other. He was pleased that the Comptons had come to meet their cousin; and drove off quite satisfied that Dick would soon make friends of them.

After a few words with Mrs. Groves, the young folks made their way towards the house. For a short distance they were rather silent. Dick could not think of a subject to talk about; so that it was quite a relief when Lionel began to ask him questions, all of which he answered willingly and with no reserve. The elder boy soon extracted a great deal of information from the younger; amongst other things he learnt how dearly Dick loved his parents, and what a grief it had been to him to be sent away from them.

"Why didn't your mother come with you?" Ruth asked curiously, mindful of the conversation she had heard at the breakfast-table that morning.

"Because she couldn't leave father," Dick replied promptly; "and—and she said it was my duty to come to England alone; so, of course, I did not make more fuss than I could help. I didn't want father to think me a coward. Father's a brave soldier, you know; and mother says I must always remember I'm a soldier's son, and do my duty."

"We don't remember our father," Ruth said regretfully; "he died when Lionel and I were very young."

"Uncle Theophilus told me that," Dick returned, with sympathy in his voice.

"Uncle Theophilus!" Lionel exclaimed with a laugh. "Do you mean Dr. Warren? Uncle Theophilus! What a name!"

"It's a very good name!" Dick retorted, flushing with annoyance. "I don't know why you're laughing!"

"What do you call Miss Warren?" Ruth asked hastily, with a warning glance at her brother. "I've seen her in church; I think she looks very nice."

"She is," Dick replied; "she's awfully good and kind! I call her Aunt Mary Ann!"

"Mary Ann!" Lionel echoed. "Is that her name? Mary Ann! We had a cook called that! Uncle Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann! Oh, I say, what a joke!"

"I don't know what you mean!" Dick cried indignantly. "I don't see any joke! I think you're very silly!"

Lionel stopped laughing, and looked at Dick with some surprise. He had expected that his cousin would be abashed, not annoyed.

"And you're very rude," Dick continued hotly; "that is, if you're laughing at Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus—perhaps you're not?"

"But I am!" the other boy retorted. "Why shouldn't I, if I please? Look here, youngster, don't you try dictating to me, because that won't do, you know!"

"I don't want to dictate to you, but—"

"You'd better not, or you'll repent it!" Lionel declared aggressively. "If I like to laugh at your Aunt Mary Ann and your Uncle Theophilus, you needn't interfere! Who's Dr. Warren, pray? A mere nobody, and—"

"He's not a mere nobody! You shan't speak of him like that! You shan't!" and Dick clenched his hands and turned pale, whilst his eyes deepened and darkened in colour.

"Mind who you're talking to!" Lionel said angrily.

"Do you think I'm going to hold my tongue to please a small kid like you?"

"Oh, don't make a row!" Ruth interposed quickly. "Please don't quarrel with him, Lionel! What will grandfather say?"

"He'd better not go sneaking to grandfather!" her brother cried. "If he does, I'll give him something he won't easily forget! Now, then," he proceeded, grasping Dick by the shoulder, "you attend to me! What are you shaking for, you little coward."

The younger boy vouchsafed no reply. Every vestige of colour had gone from his face, and he was shaking, but not from fright, as Lionel imagined; he was, in reality, quivering with passion.

"I'll give you something to shake for, if you don't take care," Lionel said scornfully. "You'd better mind your own business for the future; and if I like to joke about your grand relations who live opposite the baker's shop, and—"

"Let me go!" said Dick hoarsely; then, as Lionel only grasped him tighter, with a sudden movement he wrenched himself free, and struck his cousin a swift blow in the face with his clenched fist.

There was a moment's dead silence. Ruth gave a little cry of affright when she saw the blood flowing from her brother's nose; whilst Dick, though still angry, felt alarmed and somewhat guilty. Lionel was glad to accept the loan of the others' pocket-handkerchief; and presently, when his nose had ceased bleeding, he glanced at his cousin rather shamefacedly.

"It was your own fault, Lionel," Ruth reminded him; "it's no good pretending it wasn't! You'd better make it up with him!"

"Yes, let us be friends," Dick said, remembering his grandfather's desire on that point. "I hope I didn't hurt you much! I did not mean to make your nose bleed! I'm awfully sorry—really!"

"All right!" Lionel answered gruffly, "you've apologized, and that's enough. Say no more about it, and I won't laugh at Dr. Warren and his sister again. Ruth, if you sneak—"

"As though I would!" the little girl broke in indignantly. "You know I'm not like that!"

The trio now proceeded more amicably, and by the time the home was reached, Dick was himself again, though he still felt indignant at the manner in which Lionel had spoken of Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus.