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PLEDGED

By Katharine Tynan, Author of "A Daughter of Erin," Etc.

CHAPTER IV.

YOUTH AT THE PROW.

"And then, old fellow," went on Sir Anthony's letter to Jack Leslie, of the Blues, his particular chum, "I stood staring, with my eyes watering and a little scratch on my nose bleeding where the old rooster—for a rooster it was—struck me with his spurs as he flew. He might have knocked out my eye, the brute! The second missile (an invention they call a sun-bonnet, I believe, made of pink calico and horribly stiffened) lay crumpled at my feet. And there in front of me stood the culprit herself, looking half-ashamed and half-inclined to follow the example of the other sun-bonnet which had buried itself in a big chair at the end of the room, and made scarcely a pretence of stifling its peals of laughter. I felt no end of a ninny I can tell you, especially as the owner of the first sun-bonnet was by long chalks the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen.

"I'm no good at describing a girl's charms, but even at the first glance her beautiful violet eyes struck me. Blue eyes and black lashes and eyebrows—it is a thing happens over here sometimes, they tell me. Then, though she'd been rushing about after the ancient barnyard fowl who was to have graced the table in my honour, she had no more colour than a white rose; and yet she looked the picture of health and life—so different from fine ladies. This was Miss Pamela—Pam for short—as I discovered later. To finish her description, her charming head is covered with a mass of short black curls. She had a very shabby frock on, which didn't take a bit from her loveliness. I couldn't help wondering what the mater would have thought if she could have seen her. She would surely have called her 'a young woman,' with that superb contempt of hers.

"However, the breeding tells. Nothing could have been finer than the little air with which she pulled herself together, and said, as if it were an every-day thing to blind and maim your visitors:

"'You must be Sir Anthony Trevithick. I am so sorry. That wretched fowl flew in through the open window, and we've been three-quarters of an hour chasing him round. It was so unfortunate his flying out just at that moment, and still more unfortunate that I should have flung my bonnet after him. But you've no idea how he had aggravated us.'

"I assure you the mater couldn't have done it better, if one could conceivably imagine the mater under such circumstances.

"I could think of nothing to do but to pick up the bonnet and hand it to her, muttering some idiocy about it not mattering a bit. While this was going on the laughter in the chair was dying off in sobs of enjoyment.

"But before we could get any further Mr. Graydon himself made his appearance. I suppose something about my looks struck him—for a cucumber wasn't in it for coolness with Miss Pam—because he said, 'Why, bless me, Sir Anthony! what's the matter? What's the matter, Pam? Why, Sir Anthony, your nose is bleeding!'

"The old rooster struck me with his spurs."—p. 107.

"'Why, so it is!' said Miss Pam, calmly. 'Sir Anthony was trying to catch the red cock, papa, with a view to his dinner, but he's escaped, I'm sorry to say, and the dinner with him. It will be days before he comes home after the alarm we've given him. I'm so sorry you're wounded, Sir Anthony. Can I get you a little sticking-plaster?'

"'I never know where I shall find the fowls in this house,' said Mr. Graydon, a little irascibly, I thought; 'but the drawing-room at least ought to be kept free from them. Why, Sylvia, what are you doing there, child? Come here, and speak to Sir Anthony.'

"I expected a small child to come out of the big chair in answer to the summons; but, lo and behold! out of the sun-bonnet there looked another satin-cheeked damsel, almost as beautiful as the first. She made her bow demurely, and, I assure you, there wasn't a feather out of her after her fits of laughter at my expense. She had rather an ecstatic look, and her eyes were a bit moist—that was all. I can tell you I never felt so small in my life as when I stood up before those impudent girls, for I could see that the pair of them were hugely delighted at the whole affair.

"'Get some tea for Sir Anthony, girls,' said the father, 'and see that he has hot water taken to his room; he's had a long journey. Sit down, my lad—that is, if there's a chair in the room without a dog on it. Here, Mark Antony, you lazy animal, come off that sofa.' This to the fattest bulldog I ever saw—with such a jowl. He's Miss Sylvia's, and an amiable dog, despite his looks.

"Then the eldest daughter came in—not a patch on the others for beauty, but a Madonna of a creature, with a beautiful voice and a rather sad expression. She was greatly concerned about my scratched nose. But all the time she was talking I noticed that she looked at her father steadily reproachful. At last he noticed it too, for he suddenly blurted out:

"'Why, bless my soul! Molly, I forgot all about it,' and then he stopped and laughed. Miss Pamela has told me since that they had instructed their father to keep me on the way as long as possible.

"You'll gather that it is a rather rummy place. It is. The windows in my bedroom are mended with brown paper, and there are holes in the floor you could put your foot through. Not that my father's son need mind little hardships. But I am amused to think of what the mater would say, with her notions of things.

"By the way, if you're in Brook Street any time, don't repeat what I've told you. The mater hated my coming here. She has some extraordinary prejudice against Graydon, though he scarcely seems to remember her. But as I've given up my desire for soldiering to please her, it's my turn now to please myself by reading for this Foreign Office grind with my father's old friend.

"A word more and I am done. You'll think me as long-winded as some of those old women at the clubs. But their ways here are too delicious. The establishment is managed by one old woman—Bridget, who seems mistress, maid, and man rolled, in one. Well, the morning after I came, when I rang for my shaving water there was no response. At last I heard a foot go by my door, and I looked out cautiously. It was Bridget, and to her I made my