The Amateur Gentleman

"Nearly well, father."

"Good," nodded John, "very good! I thought as you was going to--die,

Barnabas, lad. They all did--even the Duchess and Lady--the--the

doctors, Barnabas."

"Were you going to say--Lady Cleone, father?"

"Why," answered John, more ponderously than ever, "I won't go for to

deny it, Barnabas, never 'aving been a liar--on principle as you know,

and--and--there y'are, my lad."

"Have you ever--seen her, then?"

"Seen her," repeated John, beginning to rasp at his great square chin,

"seen her, Barnabas, why, as to that--I say, as to that--ah!--here

we be, Barnabas," and John Barty exhaled a deep breath, very like a

sigh of relief, "you can see from here as the poor old 'Hound' will

soon be only tail--not a leg to stand on. I'll have him painted back

again next week--and the hare."

So, side by side, they mounted the worn steps of the inn, and side

by side they presently entered that long, panelled room where, once

on a time, they had fronted each other with clenched fists. Before

the hearth stood John Barty's favorite arm-chair and into this,

after some little demur, Barnabas sank, and stretched out his booted

legs to the fire.

"Why, father," said he, lolling back luxuriously, "I thought you

never liked cushions?"

"No more I do, Barnabas. She put them there for you."

"She, father?"

"One o' the maids, lad, one o' the maids and--and there y'are!"

"And now, father, you were telling me of the Lady Cleone--"

"No, I weren't, Barnabas," answered his father hastily and turning

to select a pipe from the sheaf on the mantel-shelf, "not me, lad,

not me!"

"Why, yes, you spoke of her--in the road."

"In the road? Oh, ah--might ha' spoke of her--in the road, lad."

"Well--do you--know her, father?"

"Know her?" repeated John, as though asking himself the question,

and staring very hard at the pipe in his hand, "do I know her--why,

yes--oh, yes, I know her, Barnabas. Ye see--when you was so--so near

death--" But at this moment the door opened and two neat, mob-capped

maids entered and began to spread a cloth upon the table, and

scarcely had they departed when in came Natty Bell, his bright eyes

brighter than ever.

"Oh, Natty Bell!" exclaimed John, beckoning him near, "come to this

lad of ours--do, he's axing me questions, one a-top of t' other till

I don't know what! 'Do I know Lady Cleone?' says he; next it'll be

'how' and 'what' and 'where'--tell him all about it. Natty Bell--do."