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Ralph the Heir

<h3>CHAPTER XLVI.</h3> <h4>MR. NEEFIT AGAIN.  </h4> The last few days in March and the first week in April were devoted by Ralph the heir to a final visit to the Moonbeam. He had resolved to finish the hunting season at his old quarters, and then to remove his stud to Newton. The distinction with which he was welcomed by everybody at the Moonbeam must have been very gratifying to him. Though he had made no response whatever to Lieutenant Cox's proposition as to a visit to Newton, that gentleman received him as a hero. Captain Fooks also had escaped from his regiment with the sole object of spending these last days with his dear old friend. Fred Pepper too was very polite, though it was not customary with Mr. Pepper to display friendship so enthusiastic as that which warmed the bosoms of the two military gentlemen. As to Mr. Horsball, one might have thought from his manner that he hoped to engage his customer to remain at the Moonbeam for the rest of his life. But it was not so. It was in Mr. Horsball's nature to be civil to a rich hunting country gentleman; and it was the fact also that Ralph had ever been popular with the world of the Moonbeam,—even at times when the spasmodic, and at length dilatory, mode of his payment must have become matter for thought to the master of the establishment. There was no doubt about the payments now, and Ralph's popularity was increased fourfold. Mrs. Horsball got out from some secluded nook a special bottle of orange-brandy in his favour,—which Lieutenant Cox would have consumed on the day of its opening, had not Mrs. Horsball with considerable acrimony declined to supply his orders. The sister with ringlets smiled and smirked whenever the young Squire went near the bar. The sister in ringlets was given to flirtations of this kind, would listen with sweetest complacency to compliments on her beauty, and would return them with interest. But she never encouraged this sort of intimacy with gentlemen who did not pay their bills, or with those whose dealings with the house were not of a profitable nature. The man who expected that Miss Horsball would smile upon him because he ordered a glass of sherry and bitters or half-a-pint of pale ale was very much mistaken; but the softness of her smiles for those who consumed the Moonbeam champagne was unbounded. Love and commerce with her ran together, and regulated each other in a manner that was exceedingly advantageous to her brother. If I were about to open such a house as the Moonbeam the first thing I should look for would be a discreet, pleasant-visaged lady to assist me in the bar department, not much under forty, with ringlets, having no particular leaning towards matrimony, who knew how to whisper little speeches while she made a bottle of cherry-brandy serve five-and-twenty turns at the least. She should be honest, patient, graceful, capable of great labour, grasping,—with that wonderful capability of being greedy for the benefit of another which belongs to women,—willing to accept plentiful meals and a power of saving £20 a year as sufficient remuneration for all hardships, with no more susceptibility than a milestone, and as indifferent to delicacy in language as a bargee. There are such women, and very valuable women they are in that trade. Such a one was Miss Horsball, and in these days the sweetest of her smiles were bestowed upon the young Squire. Ralph Newton certainly liked it, though he assumed an air of laughing at it all. "One would think that old Hossy thought that I am going to go on with this kind of thing," he said one morning to Mr. Pepper as the two of them were standing about near the stable doors with pipes in their mouths. Old Hossy was the affectionate nickname by which Mr. Horsball was known among the hunting men of the B. B. Mr. Pepper and Ralph had already breakfasted, and were dressed for hunting except that they had not yet put on their scarlet coats. The meet was within three miles of their head-quarters; the captain and the lieutenant were taking advantage of the occasion by prolonged slumbers; and Ralph had passed the morning in discussing hunting matters with Mr. Pepper. "He don't think that," said Mr. Pepper, taking a very convenient little implement out of his pocket, contrived for purposes of pipe-smoking accommodation. He stopped down his tobacco, and drew the smoke, and seemed by his manner to be giving his undivided attention to his pipe. But that was Mr. Pepper's manner. He was short in speech, but always spoke with a meaning. "Of course he doesn't really," said Ralph. "I don't suppose I shall ever see the old house again after next week. You see when a man has a place of one's own, if there be hunting there, one is bound to take it; if there isn't, one can go elsewhere and pick and choose." "Just so," said Mr. Pepper. "I like this kind of thing amazingly, you know." "It has its advantages." "Oh dear, yes. There is no trouble, you know. Everything done for you. No servants to look after,—except just the fellow who brings you your breeches and rides your second horse." Mr. Pepper never had a second horse, or a man of his own to bring him his breeches, but the allusion did not on that account vex him. "And then you can do what you like a great deal more than you can in a house of your own." "I should say so," remarked Mr. Pepper. "I tell you what it is, Fred," continued Ralph, becoming very confidential. "I don't mind telling you, because you are a man who understands things. There isn't such a great pull after all in having a property of your own." "I shouldn't mind trying it,—just for a year or so," said Mr. Pepper. "I suppose not," said Ralph, chuckling in his triumph. "And yet there isn't so much in it. What does it amount to when it's all told? You keep horses for other fellows to ride, you buy wine for other fellows to drink, you build a house for other fellows to live in. You've a deal of business to do, and if you don't mind it you go very soon to the dogs. You have to work like a slave, and everybody gets a pull at you. The chances are you never have any ready money, and become as stingy as an old file. You have to get married because of the family, and the place, and all that kind of thing. Then you have to give dinners to every old fogy, male and female, within twenty miles of you, and before you know where you are you become an old fogy yourself. That's about what it is." "You ought to know," said Mr. Pepper. "I've been expecting it all my life,—of course. It was what I was born to, and everybody has been telling me what a lucky fellow I am since I can remember. Now I've got it, and I don't find it comes to so very much. I shall always look back upon the dear old Moonbeam, and the B. B., and Hossy's wonderful port wine with regret. It hasn't been very swell, you know, but it's been uncommonly cosy. Don't you think so?" "You see I wasn't born to anything better," said Mr. Pepper. Just at this moment Cox and Fooks came out of the house. They had not as yet breakfasted, but had thought that a mouthful of air in the stable-yard might enable them to get through their toast and red herrings with an amount of appetite which had not as yet been vouchsafed to them. Second and third editions of that wonderful port had been produced on the previous evening, and the two warriors had played their parts with it manfully. Fooks was bearing up bravely as he made his way across the yard; but Cox looked as though his friends ought to see to his making that journey to Australia very soon if they intended him to make it at all. "I'm blessed if you fellows haven't been and breakfasted," said Captain Fooks. "That's about it," said the Squire. "You must be uncommon fond of getting up early." "Do you know who gets the worm?" asked Mr. Pepper. "Oh, bother that," said Cox. "There's nothing I hate so much as being told about that nasty worm," said Captain Fooks. "I don't want a worm." "But the early birds do," said Mr. Pepper. Captain Fooks was rather given to be cross of mornings. "I think, you know, that when fellows say over night they'll breakfast together, it isn't just the sort of thing for one or two to have all the things brought up at any unconscionable hour they please. Eh, Cox?" "I'm sure I don't know," said Cox. "I shall just have another go of soda and brandy with a devilled biscuit. That's all I want." "Fooks had better go to bed again, and see if he can't get out the other side," said Ralph. "Chaff doesn't mean anything," said Captain Fooks. "That's as you take it," said Mr. Pepper. "I shall take it just as I please," said Captain Fooks. Just at this moment Mr. Horsball came up to them, touching his hat cheerily in sign of the commencement of the day. "You'll ride Mr. Pepper's little 'orse, I suppose, sir?" he said, addressing himself to the young Squire. "Certainly,—I told Larking I would." "Exactly, Mr. Newton. And Banker might as well go out as second." "I said Brewer. Banker was out on Friday." "That won't be no odds, Mr. Newton. The fact is. Brewer's legs is a little puffed." "All right," said the Squire. "Well, old Hossy," said Lieutenant Cox, summing up all his energy in an attempt at matutinal joviality as he slapped the landlord on the back, "how are things going with you?" Mr. Horsball knew his customers, and did not like being slapped on the back with more than ordinary vigour by such a customer as Lieutenant Cox. "Pretty well, I thank you, Mr. Cox," said he. "I didn't take too much last night, and I eat my breakfast 'earty this morning." "There is one for you, young man," said Captain Fooks. Whereupon the Squire laughed heartily. Mr. Horsball went on nodding his head, intending to signify his opinion that he had done his work thoroughly; Mr. Pepper, standing on one foot with the other raised on a horse-block, looked on without moving a muscle of his face. The lieutenant was disgusted, but was too weak in his inner man to be capable of instant raillery;—when, on a sudden, the whole aspect of things was changed by the appearance of Mr. Neefit in the yard. "D——tion!" exclaimed our friend Ralph. The apparition had been so sudden that the Squire was unable to restrain himself. Mr. Neefit, as the reader will perhaps remember, had been at the Moonbeam before. He had written letters which had been answered, and then letters,—many letters,—to which no reply had been given. In respect of the Neefit arrangements Ralph Newton felt himself to be peculiarly ill-used by persecutions such as these, because he had honestly done his best to make Polly his wife. No doubt he acknowledged that fortune had favoured him almost miraculously, in first saving him from so injurious a marriage by the action of the young lady, and then at once bestowing upon him his estate. But the escape was the doing of fortune and Polly Neefit combined, and had not come of any intrigue on his own part. He was in a position,—so he thought,—absolutely to repudiate Neefit, and to throw himself upon facts for his protection;—but then it was undoubtedly the case that for a year or two Mr. Neefit could make his life a burden to him. He would have bought off Neefit at a considerable price, had Neefit been purchaseable. But Neefit was not in this matter greedy for himself. He wanted to make his daughter a lady, and he thought that this was the readiest way to accomplish that object. The Squire, in his unmeasurable disgust, uttered the curse aloud; but then, remembering himself, walked up to the breeches-maker with his extended hand. He had borrowed the man's money. "What's in the wind now, Mr. Neefit?" he said. "What's in the wind, Captain? Oh, you know. When are you coming to see us at the cottage?" "I don't think my coming would do any good. I'm not in favour with the ladies there." Ralph was aware that all the men standing round him had heard the story, and that nothing was to be gained by an immediate attempt at concealment. It behoved him, above all things, to be upon his metal, to put a good face upon it, and to be at any rate equal to the breeches-maker in presence of mind and that kind of courage which he himself would have called "cheek." "My money was in favour with you, Captain, when you promised as how you would be on the square with me in regard to our Polly." "Mr. Neefit," said Ralph, speaking in a low voice, but still clearly, so that all around him could hear him, "your daughter and I can never be more to each other than we are at present. She has decided that. But I value her character and good name too highly to allow even you to injure them by such a discussion in a stableyard." And, having said this, he walked away into the house. "My Polly's character!" said the infuriated breeches-maker, turning round to the audience, and neglecting to follow his victim in his determination to vindicate his daughter. "If my girl's character don't stand higher nor his or any one's belonging to him I'll eat it!" "Mr. Newton meant to speak in favour of the young lady, not against her," said Mr. Pepper. "Then why don't he come out on the square? Now, gents, I'll tell you just the whole of it. He came down to my little box, where I, and my missus, and my girl lives quiet and decent, to borrow money;—and he borrowed it. He won't say as that wasn't so." "And he's paid you the money back again," said Mr. Pepper. "He have;—but just you listen. I know you, Mr. Pepper, and all about you; and do you listen. He have paid it back. But when he come there borrowing money, he saw my girl; and, says he,—'I've got to sell that 'eritance of mine for just what it 'll fetch.' 'That's bad, Captain,' says I. 'It is bad,' says he. Then says he again, 'Neefit, that girl of yours there is the sweetest girl as ever I put my eyes on.' And so she is,—as sweet as a rose, and as honest as the sun, and as good as gold. I says it as oughtn't; but she is. 'It's a pity, Neefit,' says he,' about the 'eritance; ain't it?' 'Captain,' says I,—I used to call him Captain 'cause he come down quite familiar like to eat his bit of salmon and drink his glass of wine. Laws,—he was glad enough to come then, mighty grand as he is now." "I don't think he's grand at all," said Mr. Horsball. "Well;—do you just listen, gents. 'Captain,' says I, 'that 'eritance of yourn mustn't be sold no how. I says so. What's the figure as is wanted?' Well; then he went on to say as how Polly was the sweetest girl he ever see;—and so we came to an understanding. He was to have what money he wanted at once, and then £20,000 down when he married Polly. He did have a thousand. And, now,—see what his little game is." "But the young lady wouldn't have anything to say to him," suggested Captain Fooks, who, even for the sake of his breakfast, could not omit to hear the last of so interesting a conversation. "Laws, Captain Fooks, to hear the likes of that from you, who is an officer and a gentleman by Act of Parliament! When you have anything sweet to say to a young woman, does she always jump down your throat the first go off?" "If she don't come at the second time of asking I always go elsewhere," said Captain Fooks. "Then it's my opinion you have a deal of travelling to do," said Mr. Neefit, "and don't get much at the end of it. It's because he's come in for his 'eritance, which he never would have had only for me, that he's demeaning himself this fashion. It ain't acting the gentleman; it ain't the thing; it's off the square. Only for me and my money there wouldn't be an acre his this blessed minute;—d——d if there would! I saved it for him, by my ready money,—just that I might see my Polly put into a station as she'd make more genteel than she found it. That's what she would;—she has that manners, not to talk of her being as pretty a girl as there is from here to,—to anywheres. He made me a promise, and he shall keep it. I'll worry the heart out of him else. Pay me back my money! Who cares for the money? I can tell guineas with him now, I'll be bound. I'll put it all in the papers,—I will. There ain't a soul shan't know it. I'll put the story of it into the pockets of every pair of breeches as leaves my shop. I'll send it to every M. F. H. in the kingdom." "You'll about destroy your trade, old fellow," said Mr. Pepper. "I don't care for the trade, Mr. Pepper. Why have I worked like a 'orse? It's only for my girl." "I suppose she's not breaking her heart for him?" said Captain Fooks. "What she's a doing with her heart ain't no business of yours, Captain Fooks. I'm her father, and I know what I'm about. I'll make that young man's life a burden to him, if 'e ain't on the square with my girl. You see if I don't. Mr. 'Orsball, I want a 'orse to go a 'unting on to-day. You lets 'em. Just tell your man to get me a 'orse. I'll pay for him." "I didn't know you ever did anything in that way," said Mr. Horsball. "I may begin if I please, I suppose. If I can't go no other way, I'll go on a donkey, and I'll tell every one that's out. Oh, 'e don't know me yet,—don't that young gent." Mr. Neefit did not succeed in getting any animal out of Mr. Horsball's stables, nor did he make further attempt to carry his last threat into execution on that morning. Mr. Horsball now led the way into the house, while Mr. Pepper mounted his nag. Captain Fooks and Lieutenant Cox went in to their breakfast, and the unfortunate father followed them. It was now nearly eleven o'clock, and it was found that Ralph's horses had been taken round to the other door, and that he had already started. He said very little to any one during the day, though he was somewhat comforted by information conveyed to him by Mr. Horsball in the course of the afternoon that Mr. Neefit had returned to London. "You send your lawyer to him, Squire," said Mr. Horsball. "Lawyers cost a deal of money, but they do make things straight." This suggestion had also been made to him by his brother Gregory. On the following day Ralph went up to London, and explained all the circumstances of the case to Mr. Carey. Mr. Carey undertook to do his best to straighten this very crooked episode in his client's life. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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