CHAPTER XXVIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 242, 18 February 1888, Page 6 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AN AMBASSADOR.' Mr Fred Toster was going down home by the ten- o'clock train from Waterloo ; And he had for companion a big, heavy, red., faced, good-natured looking* man, who, seemed in much better spirits than his neighbour, . ■ ' • "No, no, Freddy, take my .advice, and, never back yourself a, t billiards unless, you're^ ahead,' and rl«r l« fairly good ( luck/ 3 You can t, play a losing game a bit.;* and bad 1 -luck drives you wild. Why, man, jyou! can't' ram the ballsinto the packets iltheywonft go. Temper won't do it, my lad. ' " And I suppose -you wouldn't get out* of' temper if you were playing* with. * ctfd^liko: that ?" was the retort. "Xnever ,saw r such .A sneak in all my, life. His sole, notion. ,oft the earn© was to pot the white and get double baulk." , , '' ' ' Z'* ! " When a man'thinks he'a going to land a tidy little twenty-tiVe pounds, , he idoesn'C §lay to the gallery," observed Mr John] cott aententiouriy. "Well, well, old man, cheer up. Ifc will be a lesson to you.' You! know you were just a little bit too eager to touch that young man's ohihke.; iV po ft y fco

a fiver, and thirty-five points in two hundred, that's not good biz. That's not billiardbetting at all, unless you were to bar flukes. > In a nomination game it might do ; but with all the ohances of luck against you, I'd be awful sure of ray play before I baoked myself at five to one." • " The sneak wouldn't bet at all, without ridiculous odds — that's what it was," Foster said, rather morosely. "And if he had played a fair game, I should have won easily. Why, I'd lay him £100 to £10 to-morrow, and give him 200 in I,ooo—tomorrow morning I'd do it !" " Yes," said the other drily, " but I think he has had enough. I chink he will be quite content when he has got that twenty-five pounds in his trousers' pooket." " He hasn't got it there yet, then," Foster said, gloomily, "and I don't see how he is to get it just at present. My luck for the last four months has ju3t been awful. It was the scratching of Theology for the Liverpool Cup that begun it— the most infernal swindle ever done on the turf that was — I am certain of it — a deliberate swindle; well, ever since that, every mortal thing has gone against me— every mortal thing. I seem to Jonah everything I touch." " Take my advice and keop your noddle cool, then," Mr Scott said, pleasantly. " I know you, Fred, my lad. When they get you in a corner, you are inclined to put down your head and butt. But that's not the way to play the great game. No, no, keep cool ; and bide your chance." "There's an awful amount of advice about this evening," Foster was goaded into saying. " Very kind of you, 1 am sure, Mr Scott. Perhaps you wouldn't mind also lending me * pony for a week or two, to settle up with that sneak ?" The suggestion was merely a bit of sarcasm, but Mr Scott took it blandly enough. "My dear boy," he said, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, "didn't I tell you what they did to me at Shrewsbury ? If King of Tralee hadn't pulled off the Shropshire Handicap I should have had to come home on shanks 's mare." Mr Scott left the train at Epsom ; Foster went on to Witstead. At the little station only one other passenger got out— a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who jauntily stepped into his comfortably-lit brougham, and was rapidly driven away leaving his fellow-traveller to find his way home on foot. The night was teh dark ; the air thick with a cold raw drizzle ; the roads heavy with mire ; and a 9 Frod Foster had to exercise the utmost caution to prevent his stumbling into the ditch, his reflections were none or the most genial kind. "rtir Anthony Zembra at the Mansion House— great oration— generous appealcheque For five hundred guineas— cheers. Sir Anthony Zerabra entertains Prime Minister at Waldegrave Club— proceedings strictly private. Sir Anthony Zembra arrived at the Castle, Sec." Yes ; and Sir Anthony Zembra's son-in-law finds himself slouching along a muddy country lane, like a tramp in search of a night's lodging, with precious little prospect of supper before him. Nor were his meditations much enlivened by "the appearance of Wayside Cottage when eventually he arrived there. All the • lower windows were dark. In one of the Upper windows there was the faintest yelfow tinge ; probably a night-light was burning in the room. So he knocked and rang, knocked and rang, until a sharper light appeared there ; • and then he waited ; and by-and-bye Sabina herself, wrapped from head to foot in a large shawl, and bearing a' candle in her hand, opened the door for him. 1 " What is the use of going to bed in the middle of the day?" he asked, as he entered. " It is past eleven," was the mild answer ; "butl would have waited up any time if 1 had known you were coming." 11 Fire out, I suppose," he said, as he preceded her into the little dining-room. .Unmistakably it was- out. She lit the two lamps on the sideboard ; and said she was sorry she had not known he was* coming ; but she would get him aom© supper. She could easily do that without waking the girl. "Has that cheque come down to-day?" he asked. "No; it is only due today; I suppose it will come to-morrow," she answered; and then Rhe added rather piteously, " But, Fred, surely you do not want any of that money!" ,' ' For she owed some small suras in Epsom. But that was not all. The baby was now old, enough to be promoted from a cradle'to a cot-; and she had seen a very neat-looking one in !Epsom ; and she had looked forward to the patient adornment of it by her own hands as a welcome labour of love in the slow hours. Nay, she had even procured the materials for the purpose; and had fore lshadowed the most cunning little elegancies, and.had designed, in old English letters, a scroll to hang at the head of it— " Gut© Nackt, dv susses Kind, Mogon Enffol dich behttteiv Und ser Schlummer lets und Und, • Streuedirdieschonstenßluthea." And she had promised herself the happiness of purchasing this, cot as soon as the cheque from her, father arrived ; Xn was an extravagance 'she knew : but she had set her heart •» Why, of course I want some of it !" he; said, sharply. VI wish you knew the' straits lam in. I suppose you , wouldn't mind if I were locked up in Holloway Gaolf v . ..--•■ " oh, Fred, don't talk that way, " she en- ; treated. '"'Don't let us quarrel about, nothing. See, " there; ts a feirter' oti, the" 'm'etntel - pi6e'e — from IJuckihghamshife+ithere te bad news— your mother is not we]].' .This brought, him. to his senses in an in,- 1 stant. . ' ; ; , • : "It came four days ago," she said, as he went to,the fireplace'^"- • ' • ." " Then why didn't you send it, to me ?'' . * "" You'know l.hawtrypur address, Said-Ot«jt >by £ this ' I>ime he • wa»» wholly ] engroMl witfli .Ihe'coritehtslof the' letter." , 1 « jW»> #? ifc &^by oldrMr Fostei: » * at V* $*? I animus of the old gentleman against his sph 1 "was clearly sKown by the- i&cf that 'th'e> latter was not mentioned to referred to' in! any way whatsoever. Ithiras all,a prayer that Sabina > and ;her child, «hould^go and live with the old) people, who 4 would; make Her c(>mf6rtable > . "This entreaty yraa t aentat 'tW earnest ' request" of Mrs ' Foster, who could not herself write r just then, as- she was ill and in bed. »The long-continued cold and wet had affected >er general' health; a bad cough "had supervened on thalf;. and- it. woa feared heir lungs, were, more or less.affected; ..Still,,, no immediate' alarm was felt; "<ufly the old lady seemed 1 anxiously to ' wish "to know that her; daughter was near! her, as she , said ;!and she sent many and ma»y kindly, messages. ; Finally, would ', Sabina at once send* aj W4&* in 'refty?' ( |t ! wquta^lve^Mrs! -Foster 1 great pleasure to her- that she was { comi»g, and.tfiey, would begin to nnake> prenarations^to receive ,her. • > r ' H '*n3f course, It's impossible," Foster rather impatiently said. "I'm* 'not !l going ( to 'live 'down- there — unless the writters make it too- hot for me to live any-, /where elsV' ' J( And then he said more gently:— *• . «! I like $0' run down 1 and see how, the, Mater i§ t M i*Mf*n lfc io * theexponse. 1 ' •« Oh I Fred," Sftbinasaid, "why should'

that hinder you ? The money will bejiere to-morrow— by the mid-day post' at latest. Of course you must go and see your mother. " " No," he said, somewhat sulkily. " No, I don't want any of that money. I can do without it. You keep it." "But really I can do without the whole of it," Sabina said— for she was a generoushearted kind of creature. "Really l can. I have a few bills to pay ; and then I • thought of buying Baby a cot " " Why ? Isn't the cradle good enough ?" he said, turning to her. "They say a cot is healthier. But Baby can wait," Sabina said, cheerfully. "There's not much the matter with his health, the dear." " Well, go to your bed now. I'm going to smoke a pipe— and consider the besb way of keeping out of gaol." So Sabina went away, sincerely hoping that he would go down to Missenden on the morrow ; for he was always more considerate to her, and more reasonable, and a little less selfish, when he had been even for the briefest space under his mother's roof. But next morning his mood had changed —as frequently happened with him. " The old man has been pitching it strong about the Mater's health/ he said, "in order to get you to promise to go down. Oh, I know his games. He has done that before with me. I should like to hear more definite news before going away down there, and spending money on a wild-goose chase. By the way, I think I shall have to ask you for a fiver out of that cheque if it comes to-day." " Very well, Fred." And then she said r " Just look at Baby ; I think he's going to be an artist. It is quite extraordinary the fascination that anything with colours on it has for him. From the very first he wouldn't look at the silver mug that Janie gave him ; but that one is his favourite plaything. Fancy Mr Lindsay taking all the trouble to have that made in America and sent over. " " If you had any common sense, you wou'd lock it away in a drawer," ho said, briefly. "A pretty catch tor a thief, that, with all those stones." The cheque did not come by the first post, so he had to kick his heels about the house, waiting for the second. On one occasion, when Sabina came into the room, she found him reading over again the letter she had shown him the previous night. He threw it onto the table contemptuously. " It's pretty clever," he said. " What is?" " The proposal that you shoujd go down and live at Misaenden. Very ingenious that is ; quite worthy of the old boy." "Bub I don't understand, Fred." *' They get you down there, and expect me to go too. Either Idoor I don't. If I don't — as I certainly shouldn't — he cuts off my allowance ; that's what he's after ; and there's so much saved. But if I were to go, then we should only cost them what we ate and drank in the house — cheap, you know." " Oh, Fred, why should you look at it like that?" Sabina protested. "Isn't it natural they should wish us to go and lire with them — especially if your mother is not well, and perhaps a little anxious and fretting? Anyway what am I to telegraph ?" " What is the use of telegraphing ?" he said. " Write and say it is impossible." However, neither letter nor telegram I was necessary. Scarcely had Sabina left the roqtn when Fred Foster heard someone i at the little gate outside, and, turning, saw to his quick alarm that it was his father. Instantly he went to the door, and opened it. "How is mother?" he asked breathlessly. The old gentleman, at least, was in no hurry. He even seemed unwilling to speak to his son. "She is just about the same," he said coldly, as he passed into the hall. "I suppose Sabina is at home ?" "Yes, I'll fetch- her." The old man went into the dining-room, put his umbrella in a corner, and his wideawake on the table, but he kept on hia | Inverness-cap when he sat down. Hewas looking around him with no very amiable I expression ; perhaps he had not expected to find his son at home. " However, his face brightened a little when Sabina came into the room ; and he gave her some more definite particulars! about Mrs Foster's condition. " You got my letter ?" he asked. " Oh, yes, but I could not telegraph until Fred came home." " Oh, he has been away— that was it," the old man said. " I thought it strange. And— as I had some business with my lawyers in London, it occurred to me that I might as well run down and take back the anßwermyBelf." It was a pretty lame excuse for this sudden and unannounced visit, the real object of which was obvious enough. " Well, and how long does your husband propose to continue this folly ?" he asked, looking around the room. " If you mean Hying in this house,";: said Fred Foster, with, a levity "which was dangerously ill-timed. "I assure you I couldn't get a cheaper one anywhere, for I haven't paid a farthing for it. " • " Then you owe money for it— that you expect me to' pay?" the old man said, turning sharply to ' his' son ; and. Sabina, fearing what might ensure, thought, she could not do better than fly away quickly and get Baby made, presentable and bring him down to act as peacemaker. r ' Indeed* ehe had not been many niiriutes in the room, her fingers as busy as everjfchey could with the adornment of her. precious charge, when she could hear pretty plainly that there was a battle-royal'ragirig below. Now there was no gentle-eyed mofchefcto interpose between these two ; and it was clear from the beginning that the, old man had come clown in a suspicious and'resentful mood'against his'fson.. Mofeover,^ sh'e^ suggested that thejather must have thrown" out some unusually, bitter tauijfcs^JOr ito iwas not customary with Fred Foster Jp ge£ anefy. He was too selfish and indifferent for that. He could sulk; but ordinarily he would hot take the trouble to storm. And when at last she was enable to hurry downstairs — the voices, ceased as she opened the door— it was clear that FredFp? for no longer wore any mask of levity ; he Was standing with his back to the window,' but 6Ven with his face in shadow, her swift glance told her he was scowling, angry, and tight-lipped. ' She drew in 1 a chair olose to the old man, so that the wonderful baby might be properly admired. , „ V Isn't he growing a big boy ? she said • " I tiave a little present for him from his frandmother," Mr Foster said, and he-took from his purse a, carefully-folded £10 bank, note, ' "Tbisisto'go into the Post Oftc* Savings' Bank in his own name, she says ; and you are to add a little when you, o»nj and then when he grows up^a bit ho will be able to buy himself a pony. Of course Sabina thanked the old gentleman ; and mad© belief that Baby ; understood all that was being arranged for, him, and' was, indeed, quite an interested party. '•Do you remember, perhaps,' 'Mr Foster 1 continued—and he looked at hit daughter-in-law with a little hesitation,

*' the corner room at the end of the passage — overlooking the greenhouses ?" ••Oh, yes, perfectly," she answered. ** We were thinking— my wife was thinking—bhab might do lor a nursery— if you were ooming to live with us." " Yesf' Sabinasaid; what more could she say ? The old man paused for a second or two. " What answer am I to take back ?" he asked. "May I bay that we are to expect you?" " , , Sabina involuntarily turned to her husband. "Oh, you may do as you like," Fred said curtly. "I'm not g6ing to live in Missenden ; T can't afford tfc." "You can't afford it— but you can afford to keep up this separate house !" the old man retorted ; but lie would say no more ; Sabina was there. He turned to her. 11 What do you say, my dear ? ' he asked, very gently. " I am sure Fred would like to go and sec his mother— will you tell her that ho will come and see her V" Sabina said, timidly. "But that is not it," the old man said, plainly. " Surely you must understand that it is for your own sako as much as for ours that we want to see you settled down into a quiet, respectable life. We offer you a home. We will do our best to make you comfortable. If the ways of the house don't suit yon, we will alter them. I don't think you will iind us so unkind or inconsiderate. I daresay my wife would say more to you ; but you see she is ill, nnd cannot come to ask you herself ; and what I have said is perhaps badly said— only I would rather see my tlaughter-in-law in a settled home than moving from place to place in furnished lodgings." It was a cruel position for her to be placed in, for the offer was meant in all kindne&s ; but she did not hesitate. " You have heard what Fred said, sir," she answered calmly. " And of course I roust remain with my husband." " What is your final decision ?' 5 Her eyes were bent to the ground ; and it was in rather a low voice— for sho knew ahe was condemning herself— that she said :— " Yes " He rose then. " But don't go yet," she pleaded. "Won't you stay and have some lunch with us V "No, thank you; I must try and get back to Missenden to-night." As he was leaving the room— he did not even bid good-bye to his son — he said to Sabina — " Come here, I want to speak with you.' She followed him into the passage, whero he opened the door for himself. " Mind, child, I have no quarrel with you," he said in a very different voice from that he had used in the room. " Whatever we can do for your good, we will do. It -was that that brought me here to-day." " But don't quarrel with Fred, either," she pleaded earnestly. ' l Indeed, he speaks the truth. He has been so used to an active life— here and there— that it is hardly a wonder he shrinks from tying himself down to Missenden all at once. Perhaps he might get more familiar with the idea by-and-bye. Or he might try it for a time. But don't part with him in anger." " I have nothing further to say on that, head," the old man said somewhat coldly. " Except this, that I don't choose to support him any longer in idleness. I thought when he married there would be, a change. There is no change— except for the worse, as far as Icm see. My patience is out. From this day he will not touch a penny of my money— it is simply monstrous that in hard times like these, when farms are going a-begging, we should bo supplying him with money tor horse-racing and gambling. No, from this day the allowance we have hitherto made him shall be paid — but into your hands, for the support of yourself and your household. That is settled. So good-bye and God bless you, my child. I'll nave a lot of questions to answer about the baby." Sabina, when she returned to the room, did not say anything about this decision on the part of the old gentleman ; for she thought that it was perhaps merely a threat — the temporary result of impatience and anger. As for Fred Foster, he seemed to take his father's visit very coolly. "Somebody has been telling him a pack of lies about me, that's what it is," ho said. " And didn't I fceli you he was pitching it strong about the Mater's illness ? — of course, if she had been so very ill, he would not have come all the way here. And the story about his lawyers— very good ! I know why he came down in that sudden fashion ; it was to spy out the land. Wonder if he expected to find a wild carnival going on — fountains spouting champagne — and Nautch-girls lolling about on marble steps. Doesn't look like it somehow." With the second post came the looked-for cheque ; and when Sabina had signed it, he put it in his pocket, saying he would get it cashed in London, and send her down the balance after retaining the five pound k " Five pounds," he said, as he leisurely put on his overcoat and brushed his hat, "it isn't a large sum to set about the retrieving of your fortunes with. I daresay some fellows could work it out into £500, or £5,000, before the end of the year ; but that doesn't seem to be my line at present." "Are you going back to London already?" she asked— bub with no reproach in her tone. " I suppose one must try to do something," he said, carelessly : the cheque in his pocket was in some small degree comforting. "Look here, you don't really mean to bury that £10-note in the savings bank? What nonsense that is ! Our circumstances are not suggestive of opening bank account?. What aro you going to do with it?" "Fred," she said, looking afc him. " You wouldn't touch that ? It's from your mofchei-. Ib'3 for Baby." He pulled himself together. "No, no ; that's all right. Go and bury it in the savings bank if you like. Though the pony seems to me a long way off." By-and-bye he left her for the station, and .Sabina was once more in solitary possession of the house. Yet not quite solitary, either. She went up to her room ; the baby was in its cradle, and asleep. Perhaps the sound of her foot on the stair 3, parhaps the opening of the door, had disturbed the child ; but he moved a little as she crept forward on tiptoe ; and presently she was kneeling down beside him, quieting him v*ith velvet fingers, and crooning over him — but so gently that she could scarce hear her own voice— the song that Janic had got for her :—: — O can ye sew cushions, And can ye sew sheets, And can ye sing ballaloo When the bairn greets ? And hie and baw birdio. • And hie and baw lamb, And hie and baw birdio, My bonnio wee lamb. Sh,e liked this song — its old-fashioned words and pathetic air. But when she was hushing the child to sleep— or walking about with him in her arms -and even when she was at her loneliest, with her heart at times prettyheavy v within her--^he did not make the plaintive air too sad. For well' she knew that it is not when the mother cries that the babe smiles. {To bt Continued.)