"I can ride in a street-car when I've got five cents," Tembarom had answered." That's as far as I've gone in riding --and what in thunder should I shoot?""Game," replied Mr.Palford, with chill inward disgust."Pheasants, partridges, woodcock, grouse--""I shouldn't shoot anything like that if I went at it," he responded shamelessly."I should shoot my own head off, or the fellow's that stood next to me, unless he got the drop on me first."He did not know that he was ignominious.Nobody could have made it clear to him.He did not know that there were men who had gained distinction, popularity, and fame by doing nothing in particular but hitting things animate and inanimate with magnificent precision of aim.
He stood still now and listened to the silence.
"There's not a sound within a thousand miles of the place.What do fellows with money DO to keep themselves alive?" he said piteously.
"They've got to do SOMETHING.Shall I have to go out and take a walk, as Palford called it? Take a walk, by gee!"He couldn't conceive it, a man "taking a walk" as though it were medicine--a walk nowhere, to reach nothing, just to go and turn back again.
"I'll begin and take in sewing," he said, "or I'll open a store in the village--a department store.I could spend something on that.I'll ask Pearson what he thinks of it-- or Burrill.I'd like to see Burrill if I said that to him."He decided at last that he would practise his "short" awhile; that would be doing something, at any rate.He sat down at the big writing-table and began to dash off mystic signs at furious speed.But the speed did not keep up.The silence of the great room, of the immense house, of all the scores of rooms and galleries and corridors, closed in about him.He had practised his "short" in the night school, with the "L" thundering past at intervals of five minutes; in the newspaper office, with all the babel of New York about him and the bang of steam-drills going on below in the next lot, where the foundation of a new building was being excavated; he had practised it in his hall bedroom at Mrs.Bowse's, to the tumultuous accompaniment of street sounds and the whizz and TING-A-LING of street-cars dashing past, and he had not been disturbed.He had never practised it in any place which was silent, and it was the silence which became more than he could stand.He actually jumped out of his chair when he heard mysterious footsteps outside the door, and a footman appeared and spoke in a low voice which startled him as though it had been a thunderclap.
"A young person with her father wants to see you, sir," he announced.
"I don't think they are villagers, but of the working-class, I should say.""Where are they?"
"I didn't know exactly what to do, sir, so I left them in the hall.
The young person has a sort of quiet, determined way--""Little Ann, by gee!" exclaimed Tembarom with mad joy, and shot out of the room.
The footman--he had not seen Little Ann when she had brought Strangeways--looked after him and rubbed his chin.
"Wouldn't you call that a rummy sort for Temple Barholm?" he said to one of his fellows who had appeared in the hall near him.
"It's not my sort," was the answer."I'm going to give notice to old Butterworth."Hutchinson and Little Ann were waiting in the hall.Hutchinson was looking at the rich, shadowy spaces about him with a sort of proud satisfaction.Fine, dark corners with armored figures lurking in them, ancient portraits, carved oak settles, and massive chairs and cabinets--these were English, and he was an Englishman, and somehow felt them the outcome of certain sterling qualities of his own.He looked robustly well, and wore a new rough tweed suit such as one of the gentry might tramp about muddy roads and fields in.Little Ann was dressed in something warm and rough also, a brown thing, with a little close, cap-like, brown hat, from under which her red hair glowed.The walk in the cold, white fog had made her bloom fresh, soft-red and white-daisy color.She was smiling, and showing three distinct dimples, which deepened when Tembarom dashed out of the library.
"Hully gee!" he cried out, "but I'm glad to see you!"He shook hands with both of them furiously, and two footmen stood and looked at the group with image-like calm of feature, but with curiously interested eyes.Hutchinson was aware of them, and endeavored to present to them a back which by its stolid composure should reveal that he knew more about such things than this chap did and wasn't a bit upset by grandeur.
"Hully gee!" cried Tembarom again, "how glad I am! Come on in and sit down and let's talk it over."Burrill made a stately step forward, properly intent on his duty, and his master waved him back.
"Say," he said hastily, "don't bring in any tea.They don't want it.
They're Americans."
Hutchinson snorted.He could not stand being consigned to ignominy before the footmen.
"Nowt o' th' sort," he broke forth." We're noan American.Tha'rt losing tha head, lad.""He's forgetting because he met us first in New York," said Little Ann, smiling still more.
"Shall I take your hat and cane, sir?" inquired Burrill, unmovedly, at Hutchinson's side.
"He wasn't going to say anything about tea," explained Little Ann as they went into the library."They don't expect to serve tea in the middle of the morning, Mr.Temple Barholm.""Don't they?" said Tembarom, reckless with relieved delight."Ithought they served it every time the clock struck.When we were in London it seemed like Palford had it when he was hot and when he was cold and when he was glad and when he was sorry and when he was going out and when he was coming in.It's brought up to me, by jinks! as soon as I wake, to brace me up to put on my clothes--and Pearson wants to put those on."He stopped short when they reached the middle of the room and looked her over.
"O Little Ann!" he breathed tumultuously."0 Little Ann!"Mr.Hlutchinson was looking about the library as he had looked about the hall.