“He can have a telegram sent after him,” I said: “but it’s not very soldier-like, running away from possible bad news!”
“He’s a very good fellow,” said Arthur: “but I confess it would be good news for me, if he got his Commission, and his Marching Orders, all at once! I wish him all happiness—with one exception. Good night!” (We had reached home by this time.) “I’m not good company tonight—better be alone.”
It was much the same, next day. Arthur declared he wasn’t fit for Society, and I had to set forth alone for an afternoon-stroll. I took the road to the Station, and, at the point where the road from the “Hall” joined it, I paused, seeing my friends in the distance, seemingly bound for the same goal.
“Will you join us?” the Earl said, after I had exchanged greetings with him, and Lady Muriel, and Captain Lindon. “This restless young man is expecting a telegram, and we are going to the Station to meet it.”
“There is also a restless young woman in the case,” Lady Muriel added.
“That goes without saying, my child,” said her father. “Women are always restless!”
“For generous appreciation of all one’s best qualities,” his daughter impressively remarked, “there’s nothing to compare with a father, is there, Eric?”
“Cousins are not ‘in it,’ ” said Eric: and then somehow the conversation lapsed into two duologues, the younger folk taking the lead, and the two old men following with less eager steps.
“And when are we to see your little friends again?” said the Earl. “They are singularly attractive children.”
“I shall be delighted to bring them, when I can,” I said. “But I don’t know, myself, when I am likely to see them again.”
“I’m not going to question you,” said the Earl: “but there’s no harm in mentioning that Muriel is simply tormented with curiosity! We know most of the people about here, and she has been vainly trying to guess what house they can possibly be staying at.”
“Some day I may be able to enlighten her: but just at present—”
“Thanks. She must bear it as best she can. I tell her it’s a grand opportunity for practising patience. But she hardly sees it from that point of view. Why, there are the children!”
So indeed they were: waiting (for us, apparently) at a stile, which they could not have climbed over more than a few moments, as Lady Muriel and her cousin had passed it without seeing them. On catching sight of us, Bruno ran to meet us, and to exhibit to us, with much pride, the handle of a clasp-knife—the blade having been broken off—which he had picked up in the road.
“And what shall you use it for, Bruno?” I said.
“Don’t know,” Bruno carelessly replied: “must think.”
“A child’s first view of life,” the Earl remarked, with that sweet sad smile of his, “is that it is a period to be spent in accumulating portable property. That view gets modified as the years glide away.” And he held out his hand to Sylvie, who had placed herself by me, looking a little shy of him.
But the gentle old man was not one with whom any child, human or fairy, could be shy for long; and she had very soon deserted my hand for his—Bruno alone remaining faithful to his first friend. We overtook the other couple just as they reached the Station, and both Lady Muriel and Eric greeted the children as old friends—the latter with the words “So you got to Babylon by candlelight, after all?”
“Yes, and back again!” cried Bruno.
Lady Muriel looked from one to the other in blank astonishment. “What, you know them, Eric?” she exclaimed. “This mystery grows deeper every day!”
“Then we must be somewhere in the Third Act,” said Eric. “You don’t expect the mystery to be cleared up till the Fifth Act, do you?”
“But it’s such a long drama!” was the plaintive reply. “We must have got to the Fifth Act by this time!”
“Third Act, I assure you,” said the young soldier mercilessly. “Scene, a railway-platform. Lights down. Enter Prince (in disguise, of course) and faithful Attendant. This is the Prince—” (taking Bruno’s hand) “and here stands his humble Servant! What is your Royal Highness’s next command?” And he made a most courtier-like low bow to his puzzled little friend.
“Oo’re not a Servant!” Bruno scornfully exclaimed. “Oo’re a Gemplun!”
“Servant, I assure your Royal Highness!” Eric respectfully insisted. “Allow me to mention to your Royal Highness my various situations—past, present, and future.”
“What did oo begin wiz?” Bruno asked, beginning to enter into the jest. “Was oo a shoeblack?”
“Lower than that, your Royal Highness! Years ago, I offered myself as a Slave—as a ‘Confidential Slave,’ I think it’s called?” he asked, turning to Lady Muriel.
But Lady Muriel heard him not: something had gone wrong with her glove, which entirely engrossed her attention.
“Did oo get the place?” said Bruno.
“Sad to say, Your Royal Highness, I did not! So I had to take a situation as—as Waiter, which I have now held for some years—haven’t I?” He again glanced at Lady Muriel.
“Sylvie dear, do help me to button this glove!” Lady Muriel whispered, hastily stooping down, and failing to hear the question.
“And what will oo be next?” said Bruno.
“My next place will, I hope, be that of Groom. And after that—”
“Don’t puzzle the child so!” Lady Muriel interrupted. “What nonsense you talk!”
“—after that,” Eric persisted, “I hope to obtain the situation of Housekeeper, which—Fourth Act!” he proclaimed, with a sudden change of tone. “Lights turned up. Red lights. Green lights. Distant rumble heard. Enter a passenger-train!”
And in another minute the train drew up alongside of the platform, and a stream of passengers began to flow out from the booking office and waiting-rooms.
“Did you ever make real life into a drama?” said the Earl. “Now just try. I’ve often amused myself that way. Consider this platform as our stage. Good entrances and exits on both sides, you see. Capital background scene: real engine
