Chapter IX.

Grey River Argus, Volume XII, Issue 1469, 19 April 1873, Page 4

Chapter IX.

We left Dick Mortiboy fast asleep at madame'sthe "blanchisseuse," in Greek street, Soho, at a few minutes past j twelve a.ni on Thursday morning — alone with his purse, his pistol, his bowie-knife ; with the great toe of his right foot communicating with the handle of the door. But his ingenious device was thrown away. He was as safe in the second floor chamber of madame's house as he would have been in the strong room of tlie Bank of England. The people were honest : conspirators, not burglars, frequented the place. Dick got up at half -past ten : breakfasted with Lafletn* at eleven, at the Sabloniere et Hotel de Provence, on oysters, galantine, watercresses, black coffee, and the little glass of white brandy. Then came the time of business. He completed his cabinet of specimens, and touched up the map of his Madagascar estate. Dinner at seven, at the Cafe Quatre Freres, just out of Leicester-square. Euchre till bed-time — winning instead of losing. On Friday, having completd his business in town, he took the afternoon train to Market Basing. Saturday he walked abroad, and found himself famous. His father had parted reluctantly from his long-lost son, even for a couple of days. Nothing but the urgency of I Dick's London business reconciled the old man to his going. When lie came back after his short visit, old Ready-money showed more delight than ho had done when his son came back, and first introduced himself alter a twelve year's absence. Then, Richard Melliship Mortiboy was as a shadow. Now, "My son Richard " was a reality. The old man showed liis })leasure in many odd ways. He believed in Dick: he swallowed as gospel all he told him: his name was for ever on his father's lips — " Richard come back again to his old father. A credit to me. What things he's seen ! Nobody here like him." These were the things he said. And he would press his lean hands on Dick's stout sides a dozen times an hour. The sense of touch assured him of his reality. He walked from Derngate to the bank that morning with his father. It was market day, and the little town showed its wonted busy aspect — an appearance it put on only once a- week. Everybody slared at him as a wonder. People they passed on their way turned to look after old Ready-money and his newly found son. Dick's return was likely to be a wonder in Market Basing for more than nine days. At the bank, Ghrimes and the old clerks welcomed him as the prince come back to his father's kingdom. They bowed down their neck before the heir. And Dick had a pleasure in their friendly recognitions, and greeted all whom he remembered in his most kindly ; way, graciously acknowledging the homage they paid him. After an hour's talk with his father, he said — "It would be just as well if I looked up a few people to-day ; and in the after noon I shall go over to Hunslope, and spend the evening with the Parkside people, I think." " Yevy well, Diek — very well. It's Grace's birthday to-morrow. Richard, I'm afraid Cousin Lyddia isn't very glad you're come. She'd booked my money, and might have had it, perhaps: for blood is blood, my boy. Whsre else are you going, Richard ?" " Well, father, I shall look up Uncle Melliship and them. I never had any grudge against him." " Well — no, no. ile is your uncle. But pride's going to have a fall, Diek — pride's going to have a fall ; and peacock's tails are going to lose their feathers." "What do you mean, father 1" "Patience, Richard — patience. Not that I could help it if I would." Dick did not question his father filthier. The old man went off to the foundry, ami his son spent an hour with Ghrimes. He showed himself so quick-witted, so ready and apt to comprehend, that Mr Mortiboy 's manager was startled. " What a pity, Mr Richard — what a pity you did not stay at home, and be your father's right-hand man." " Perhaps Iv'e done better, by going abroad." v Perhaps you have. You know

best. Anyhow, stay now you have come back. Your father's not so strong as he was. At sixty-five, hard work begius to tell upon a man. And I "will say this for Mr Mortiboy — lie has worked harder than any man I. ever knew. As for pleasure, he dosen't know tte meaning of it." — " Once a-Week."