Part 6

"At what hour do you intend to--er--to go shopping?" Paul inquired eagerly. "I was wondering whether I might escort you, and help you to carry the--the parcels, you know."

Hazel laughed merrily. "Eightpence will only just buy a couple of peaches," she explained. "Perhaps only one, if they have gone back to sixpence each; and the fruiterer never lets me carry even that. He sends a man and a cart all this way, with it or them in a basket."

"But if I were with you," he protested, with much earnestness, "he would let me take it."

"I doubt it," Hazel said, still dimpling, "unless you disguised yourself beforehand. This is the tree," she broke off. "Come here--stand just so--now look up: that great fork, as you see, forms a broad, comfortable seat, the main trunk being its back. It is my house-place; the only really commodious apartment; and either of the great branches constitutes a couch, though the one on the left is the more comfortable. Higher up--stand a little more so--there are some snug little retreats, though I rarely sit there, as they are only the attics. I go up occasionally to see that no horrible spider is lurking about, but not to stay; for they are rather cramped and, as you see, in places the roof leaks and the shade is rather glaring. So I just get through my household duties as quickly as possible with that twig brush that you can see hanging against the trunk in the house-place, and come down again to my comfortable chair or couch to think or read. On Sundays I hold church to myself there."

"It is delightful, delicious," Paul averred, twisting and craning his neck in all the directions she indicated. "It is--it is heavenly. And the leaves are so thick as to give good shelter, even in hard rain," he added. "Do you ever receive visitors--other, I mean, than your pet birds and squirrels?"

"Hugh and Teddie come sometimes," she replied. "They sprawl along the two couches, while I take the chair. That is very nice, and perfectly comfortable, but once or twice they have all five wanted to come--so that three of them had to sit in the attics. Now, you see, even if they can manage to settle themselves fairly comfortably, it spoils the ease of those below to have them sitting up there, as their legs get rather in the way, swinging right down into the house-place, you know; for there are no couches in the attics, only broken-down chairs, so to say."

"The chair in the house-place looks wide enough for two," Paul observed consideringly.

"Ye--es," Hazel rejoined dubiously, "but it is not: the fork cramps you."

As the two sauntered back to the spot where the Le Mesurier boys had seemingly encamped for the remainder of the day, Mrs. Le Mesurier was entertaining a guest at Hazelhurst in the person of Mr. Hamilton, Teddie's late employer.

"I hope, madam, that in giving myself the pleasure of calling upon you, I have not taken too great a liberty," the courtly, elderly gentleman was saying. "My excuse must be my great liking for that young--that boy of yours, whom I am very eager to see re-established in my office, in pursuance of his former duties there."

"But, my dear sir," Helen interposed, cautioningly, "do you think it wise? That young man, who is, as I understand from my son, nicknamed Carrots----"

"Carrots is gone, madam," her guest interposed with a somewhat grim smile. "For months past I only awaited a good and fair excuse for discharging him, which that young--which your son's behaviour, madam, scarcely afforded me." Here Mr. Hamilton coughed, to hide another and far more genial smile. "Unfortunately for all concerned," he continued, "Samuel Smith was a most exemplary clerk, business-like"--Helen winced--"discreet, punctual to his work, good head for figures."

"My boy was punctual, I trust," Helen murmured, as Mr. Hamilton paused, feeling that of all this list of qualifications punctuality was the safest item to mention.

"Once in a blue moon, perhaps," returned Teddie's superior, "but let that pass. I like the boy, though he requires a sharp eye kept upon him, I can assure you, madam," he continued severely, resolutely checking a strong tendency on the part of his risible muscles to twitch. "He will have to make many promises of amendment for the future--reasonable ones enough, as I think you will admit."

"Mr. Hamilton," Helen interrupted gently, though somewhat proudly, "my son is not asking to be taken back. If you wish again to employ him," she added, after a pause, "I fear you must not hope to wring too many promises from him. He is so proud: it is in the Le Mesurier blood."

Mr. Hamilton shrewdly guessed that the maternal side also had bestowed the characteristic in question, but, being a wise man and a just, he saw and admitted the reasonableness of the gentle rebuff.

"Leave the boy in peace or, taking him, don't nag, you would say, madam," he replied, good-humouredly enough. "Well, I shall have him back if he will come. I have your permission?"

"I shall be very glad to know him once again safe with you," Helen replied graciously. "He is attached to you, and really felt leaving you. He bears you no grudge," she added, "owning that you could not have acted otherwise than you did, under the circumstances."

"Owned himself to be in the wrong, did he--the young scamp? I am glad to hear it. Attached to me, is he? I am fond of the boy myself. Had a son once, about his age--something of his spirit," and Mr. Hamilton turned away toward the window and blew his nose.

"Your only son?" Helen asked pitifully.

"My only child, ma'am," the old gentleman returned, somewhat brusquely.

But she was not hurt by his manner, understanding him.

After further talk of Teddie and other subjects, Helen asked her guest to accompany her to the woods, where her daughter and three of her sons would presently congregate for tea. So together they set forth, Mr. Hamilton in open admiration of all they passed on the way.

In the meanwhile of Gerald, Hugh, and Teddie there is little to tell, unless it is of their dreams, which, to judge by the profound peace depicted upon their countenances, were of a beatific nature. For nigh upon two hours had they three lain thus wrapped in innocent, childlike slumber, the while their sister and Paul Charteris held low-toned converse together, somewhat apart; Paul, in his kindly consideration, deeming it a pity to disturb such blissful tranquillity.

"They had a hot walk this morning, poor fellows!" he said compassionately. "Let them rest."

But Miles had no such compunction, when, a while later, he made preparation for tea, with so much demonstration and clatter--quite at variance indeed with his usual noiseless motion and deft skill in the handling of such rattle- and jingle-begetting articles as cups, saucers, and spoons--that one by one, or rather pair by pair, the blue eyes of the Le Mesurier boys opened and blinked in the light of day, dazed at first somewhat, and blank as to expression, till by slow degrees dire wrath blazed up in their depths--direst in the pair owned by the peppery Teddie--as they fell upon the callous disturber of their peace, and the enormity of the offence began to dawn upon their reviving intellects.

"Hang it all, Miles," Teddie remonstrated, "can't a fellow close his eyes for five minutes without you must come and make such an outrageous row; and for what?" he asked, with a comically injured voice and mien. "That we may feast our eyes on that wretched crockery for two hours and more."

"Yes, Miles," put in Gerald, somewhat more dignified in his sense of grievance, "whatever possesses you to bring out all those paraphernalia ten minutes after luncheon?"

"If it were not for your grey hairs, Miles," added Hugh severely, "you would just have to cart it all back again."

Miles chuckled. He also had indulged in a nap in this, his one free hour in the week, and knowing of its pleasures and of the pain of awakening; being, besides, greatly refreshed, he felt lenient towards his young masters for what he deemed the mere puerile irritation that sometimes besets the young on first being roused from sleep.

"I am arranging the _china_, Mr. Ted," he explained, with marked emphasis on the word china, in reproof of the reflection cast upon that valuable earthenware, "in compliance with my mistress's wish that tea should be served at four o'clock."

Hazel, who with Paul had been enjoying the foregoing dialogue, at this juncture interposed.

"You silly boys," she exclaimed, laughing merrily, "you have all been fast asleep. And you have had the narrowest possible escape of being surprised by a stranger," she added, looking down one of the pathways leading from the house. "See, who is it, coming with mother?"

The whole party followed the direction of her gaze, to behold their mother accompanied by an elderly gentleman, inclined to portliness, wearing a short, iron-grey beard and moustache. Teddie, rubbing his eyes to observe the more surely, presently gave vent to a long, low whistle.

"Great Scott!" he remarked briefly, and rose uncertainly to his feet.

Slowly the two approached, conversing as they came. By the time they reached the little party, that had risen to receive them, Teddie had completely recovered himself, and, by right of acquaintanceship, advanced to greet his mother's guest.

"Hallo, Mr. Hamilton, this is a surprise," he said cordially, holding out a friendly hand. "I am glad to see you."

Mr. Hamilton took the proffered hand, and stood regarding the lanky youth's honest countenance for some moments before he spoke.

"Thank you, Le Mesurier," he said, with twinkling eyes; "I hope you won't be less glad when I tell you what occasions my visit. The truth is I am shorthanded, young Smith having left me----" He paused and hesitated.

"Is that 'the Lout?'" asked Hazel, who was listening wide-eyed. "Oh, Teddie, then you could go back."

"My sister," said Teddie, shortly, formally. "Hazel, you should not interrupt."

"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said, turning a pair of penitent brown eyes on Mr. Hamilton. "I--I was so pleased, you know."

"Not at all, my dear young lady," he returned, somewhat drily, half incensed, half amused, to note that this lovely girl also, like the mother, seemed to consider all coaxing and persuading in the matter due and necessary to the independent Teddie. "Not at all; but may I inquire what it was you asked?"

"If 'young Smith' was 'the Lout,'" Hazel replied, blushing.

"I did not know him by that name," Mr. Hamilton replied, smiling in spite of himself; "but I dare say it is the same person--the epithet is not inapposite. Well, Le Mesurier," he continued, "what do you say? Like another trial, eh? But, mind, you must keep your ink-pot in your desk; and there must be no further need of raw steaks in my office--it is not a butcher's shop, you know. Is that a bargain?"

"That's all right," Teddie responded laconically. "Well, Mr. Hamilton, I'll come back; but there is one little thing I'd like to mention--a little hint to help to keep the peace. If you would not mind being a trifle more particular in the future as to the society one works with in your office."

Mr. Hamilton gasped.

"Then that is all right," Teddie said comfortably, "and I, for my part, will try to keep my temper, which, to be sure, is a bit hot when roused; though nothing can be sweeter," he added earnestly, "when people do their best, in a reasonable sort of way--I don't ask too much--to please me."

Mr. Hamilton mechanically received a cup of tea from Hugh's hand, and looked from him to Helen somewhat helplessly.

"Ted," Helen interposed, a little reproachfully, "you must expect to take your chance as to companions. And pray, of what credit is it to you to keep your temper if it is never tried--if you are never tempted to lose it?"

"I don't _ask_ any credit, mother," her son answered, smiling affectionately upon her. "It merely struck me as a pity, being naturally, as I have said, particularly sweet, to rouse it unnecessarily."

It was now Helen's turn to look helpless.

"But you will thank Mr. Hamilton for his kind offer?" she asked, taking the hand as well as the cup that he brought to the little table, for more tea.

"As to that," Teddie replied genially, "he and I are good enough friends, and fully understand each other; don't we?" he added, turning to Mr. Hamilton, who, his sense of irritation completely subsided, was looking immensely entertained.

"Yes, yes," he responded warmly, "we are good friends, my dear boy."

Teddie looked gratified, and, asking to be allowed to present his two brothers and his friend, Paul Charteris, who were congregated somewhat in the background, the conversation became more general.

Hazel, seated near to Mr. Hamilton, took occasion to study him as closely as politeness would permit. So this was the redoubted Mr. Hamilton, Teddie's dreaded "boss," whom Hazel had held to be the most imposing of men. She had once entertained the thought of addressing a letter to him, in Teddie's behalf, but had abandoned the idea as too fearful. So this was he, this kindly looking elderly man, who from time to time threw her glances of much benignity and interest, and who called Teddie his dear boy. What could Teddie have been thinking of, to have made of him such a _bete noire_? There was, to be sure, at times, a certain severity about the mouth, but the eyes were always kind, the girl thought. If she could but summon the spirit to engage him in talk concerning her own private affairs! Of a surety he would be a most likely person to help her; for was he not an eminent "City man," living in the very thick of that City life of which she, Hazel, knew so little, yet thought so much? Perhaps, even, he was born and bred there, and was as much at his ease, as much at home in its murky atmosphere, among its imperial buildings, as she was here, in her beloved woods. How wonderful to walk the City, the dear, grand City, as he did; to wend one's way through a very labyrinth of courts, alleys, and byways, never to lose oneself, to know one's whereabouts always, as she knew the woods, blindfolded!

Hazel's chin was in her hand, her elbow supported on her knee, and her eyes grew round and deeply reverential as she lost herself in the contemplation of this being from another sphere. The magnetic influence of her gaze presently drew Mr. Hamilton's eyes to meet hers, but so gently did he turn, so quietly did they fall upon her, that the girl was not startled from her reverie, but continued to gaze in reverence, whilst an eager questioning grew up in her speaking eyes.

"You were wishing to say something, my dear?" he asked kindly, and with a sudden impulsive tenderness, new to him, he laid a broad hand upon the girl's brown head.

Hazel hesitated, then glanced about her. Her brothers were engaged for the moment in some discussion together, her mother in interested listening. Paul Charteris, certainly, was observing herself, and, being nearest, would catch her words; but she did not mind Paul: he would not interfere. She even gave him a little smile--an invitation to attend, should he care to do so.

"I know that you do not keep lady clerks," she began, with gentle, confidential eagerness, "but have you ever thought of changing your mind?"

Mr. Hamilton looked his amazement.

"I should like to be one very much," she continued, "most of all yours; and I was wondering whether, supposing you could get two good, serviceable clerks from the same house--people that you knew something of and could rely upon--it would not be worth your while to alter your rule and have a lady."

Mr. Hamilton's eyes encountered those of Paul Charteris for one moment--a moment charged with sympathy, pregnant with feeling--and both men endeavoured to conceal their amusement by pulling at their moustaches.

"Do I understand that by 'two serviceable clerks' you refer to yourself and your brother Edward?" asked Mr. Hamilton, when he had sufficiently recovered himself.

"Yes," Hazel replied cheerfully. "I am much more business-like than I appear--Teddie you already know. I am not saying that the advantage would be all on your side," she went on, "only, naturally I like to think of you first. The advantage to me would be very great; indeed, if you don't take me, I am afraid I shall have to give up the idea altogether, because mother is very particular in her wish that I should not travel or walk alone. Now this arrangement"--and the girl made an airy gesture with her hand in her brother's direction--"would give me Teddie's company from door to door; and if on occasion, say a press of work, he could not take me to lunch, you would see that another clerk went with me, wouldn't you?" and she looked to Paul for sympathy in so congenial a plan.

"I certainly should be very much tempted to make an exception to my rule, if by doing so you would honour me by coming daily to my office," Mr. Hamilton responded gallantly; "but, my dear young lady, with all these brothers, there cannot be the slightest necessity for----"

"Oh, no necessity," Hazel interposed. "Just for pocket-money, you know, and--and to feel that I am doing my part."

"But," suggested Paul quietly, "is it not the part of an only and much-beloved daughter to stay at home, to be a companion to her mother, and to make home a bright and happy place for the workers to come to?"

"I should not be much with mother, certainly," Hazel said reflectively; "but, as to the boys, why, I should be home when they were."

"Apart from the--er--inadvisability on several scores," Mr. Hamilton resumed, smiling kindly at the girl, "your mother could never spare you, my child; an only daughter must be an unspeakable treasure--one that she must always wish to keep near her. And--pardon me if I seem amused at what I see you take so seriously--but, it is not conceivable; one cannot imagine you in the City."

In which sentiment Paul appeared to participate.

"That is what they all say," Hazel rejoined, somewhat mournfully. "Well," she added, more cheerfully, "to stay with her, I suppose, _is_ doing something for mother."

*CHAPTER VII*

Upon a day--a Tuesday, to be specific--there passed into the gates of Hazelhurst a smart trap, drawn at a smart pace by a smart horse, the smart equipage being impelled by the smart mental qualifications of Digby Travers, dubbed "Greeky." The turn-out was really remarkably smart; the trap itself, with its polished woodwork and brass appointments, glistened and shone in the sunlight, whilst the gleam of the plated harness was reflected in the glossy coat of the well-groomed quadruped.

Paul Charteris had for the space of a whole hour waited and watched in the marble hall of Hazelhurst, his restless pacing only relieved by occasional halts at the foot of the stairway that led--well, to the rooms above, and to Hazel's chamber, that numbered, naturally enough, among the rest. His vigil began at precisely one minute to ten, and the ancient grandfather's clock was even now tremulously clearing its throat with wheezy, whirring sound, suggestive of asthma, preparatory to striking eleven. Truth to tell, it was only with considerable effort that the clock could strike at all, its general feebleness being the more marked since undergoing a very severe operation, not too skilfully performed, by Teddie Le Mesurier, wherein the whole of the worn internal mechanism was taken to pieces and subjected to the hardy treatment--better suited to the constitution of younger clocks--of oil and emery-paper, the massage being administered with no light hand. Furthermore, there was a strong misgiving in the minds of all but Teddie himself as to whether there was not some flaw in the reconstruction of the clock. But the boy was sensitive upon the point, and easily hurt, so that it was only by furtive glances in its direction that the family ever dared to manifest anxiety when sounds, more dubious than ordinary, seemed to suggest that each struggle to give expression to the time of day must surely be the last.

The eleven laboured strokes were just completed when the sound of wheels fell upon Paul's ear. He withdrew his patient gaze from the direction of the remote sanctum above and turned to look uneasily through the arched doorway, to see Travers's trap pull up before it. At the same moment Hazel appeared at the head of the staircase, flushed and important, dragging at an enormous trunk. Paul sprang to her aid, and, bracing every muscle for a mighty effort, nearly overbalanced himself, as the trunk responded to his exertions with the most unexpected and discomposing readiness, being in truth of that light consistency known as wickerwork, and covered with black leather; nor was it one quarter part full.

"Why, it's nearly empty," he exclaimed in triumphant tone, for the fact argued well for the shortness of the proposed visit.

"Nearly empty!" Hazel cried, indignant, "and I have been nearly an hour packing! There are two or three changes of ribbons, and two pairs of shoes, besides what I am wearing, and my best muslin that has just been 'got up,' and must not be crushed, Mrs. Doidge says. I wonder if you would mind going to the horse's head. Digby is waiting to come in," she broke off, as a prolonged whistle was heard from without.

Digby Travers, shading his eyes from the glare, could just discern a man's form, which he supposed by its occupation of trunk-bearer to be that of a servant. Paul, eager to fulfil the little lady's slightest behest, safely deposited his burden near the entrance, and presented himself before the surprised and somewhat disconcerted Travers.

"I--would you be so very good as to mind the horse while I look for a servant?" Digby stammered. "I have come to take Miss Le Mesurier back with me," he added, a suggestion of defiance marking look and tone as he encountered the nascent hostility of the other's glance.

Paul felt resentment in that young Travers should make use of so formal an appellation in naming the girl, knowing well that for years--from earliest childhood--the two had been Hazel and Digby to one another. The formality was for _him_, then--for _his_ benefit: that he might the more readily comprehend, once and for all, his exact position toward the Le Mesurier family in general, and toward Hazel in particular. He was to understand that he was not accounted friend of the family in the astute eyes of this old and staunch, if somewhat proprietary, ally of the house of Le Mesurier. Yet, with complete though not unnatural inconsistency, Paul in his heart of hearts knew, and, knowing, owned, that the mention of the girl's Christian name would have been quite as distasteful to him.

"Why did you not bring a man with you?" he asked, striving to speak with polite indifference. "But perhaps you are not aware how shorthanded Mrs. Le Mesurier is. There is only one servant here, old Miles, and--well, it stands to reason, he is always busy."

Digby stared politely.

"My name is Travers," he said at length, ingenuously; as who shall say, "Now that I have put aside any doubt as to my identity, you will be spared the trouble of making further communication concerning the Le Mesuriers." "You are Charteris--Paul Charteris," he continued. "I remember your face quite well, though it is ages since we met. Thanks, awfully, for looking to the horse, but I must find Miles to help me up with that trunk," and he eyed with complacent regard the black, dome-topped object just discernible in the shadow of the hall.

"It is very light," Paul returned, not ill pleased to volunteer the information, "Do you know where Miles is?" he asked of Hazel, who appeared at that moment, framed in the great arched doorway--and a very pretty picture she made.