Arabella

morning.”

Lady Bridlington pulled herself together. “My love, we can discuss all that later! I am sure it would do you good to take the air! Do but send that—that child down to the kitchen, and—”

Thank you, ma’am, but I do not stir from the house until I have settled what is to be done with Jemmy.”

Lord Fleetwood, who had been regarding Jemmy with frank curiosity, said: “Jemmy, eh? Er—friend of yours, Miss Tallant?”

“No. He is a climbing-boy who came by mistake down the chimney of my bedchamber,” Arabella replied. “He has been most shamefully used, and he is only a child, as you may see—I daresay not more than seven or eight years old!”

The warmth of her feelings brought a distinct tremor into her voice. Mr. Beaumaris looked curiously at her.

“No, really?” said Lord Fleetwood, with easy sympathy. “Well, that’s a great deal too bad! Shocking brutes, some of these chimney-sweeps! Ought to be sent to gaol!”

She said impulsively: “Yes, that is what I have been telling Lord Bridlington, only he seems not to have the least understanding!”

“Arabella!” implored Lady Bridlington. “Lord Fleetwood can have no interest in such matters!”

“Oh, I assure you, ma’am!” said his lordship. “I am interested in anything that interests Miss Tallant! Rescued the child, did you? Well, upon my soul, I call it a devilish fine thing to do! Not as though he was a taking brat, either!”

“What does that signify?” said Arabella contemptuously. “I wonder how taking, my lord, you or I should be had we been brought up from infancy by a drunken foster-mother, sold while still only babies to a brutal master, and forced into a hateful trade!”

Mr. Beaumaris moved quietly to a chair a little removed from the group in the centre of the room, and stood leaning his hands on the back of it, his eyes still fixed on Arabella’s face.

“No, no! Exactly so!” hastily said Lord Fleetwood.

Lord Bridlington chose, unwisely, to intervene at this point. “No doubt it is just as you say, ma’am, but this is hardly a topic for my mother’s sitting-room! Let me beg of you—”

Arabella turned on him like a flash, her eyes bright with tears, her voice unsteady with indignation. “I will not be silenced! It is a topic that should be discussed in every Christian lady’s sitting-room! Oh, I mean no disrespect, ma’am! You have not thought—you cannot have thought! Had you seen the wounds on this child’s body you could not refuse to help him! I wish I had made you come into my room when I had him naked in the bath! Your heart must have been touched!”

“Yes, but, Arabella, my heart is touched!” protested her afflicted godmother. “Only I don’t want a page, and he is much too young, and such an ugly little thing! Besides, the sweep will very likely claim him, because, whatever you may think, if the boy is apprenticed to him, which he must be—”

“You may make your mind easy on that score, ma’am! His master will never dare to lay claim to him. He knows very well that he is in danger of being taken before a magistrate, for I told him so, and he did not doubt me! Why, he cringed at the very word, and backed himself out of the house as fast as he could!”

Mr. Beaumaris spoke at last. “Did you confront the sweep, Miss Tallant?” he asked, an odd little smile flickering on his lips.

“Certainly I did!” she replied, her glance resting on him for an indifferent moment.

Lady Bridlington was suddenly inspired. “He must go to the Parish, of course! Frederick, you will know how to set about it!”

“No, no, he must not,” Arabella declared. “That would be worse than anything, for what will they do with him, do you suppose, but set him to the only trade he knows? And he is afraid of those dreadful chimneys! If it were not so far away, I would send him to Papa, but how could such a little boy go all that way alone?”

“No, certainly not!” said Lord Fleetwood. “Not to be thought of!”

“Lord Bridlington, surely you would not condemn a child to such a life as he has endured?” Arabella begged, her hands going out in a pleading gesture. “You have so much!”

“Of course he wouldn’t!” declared Fleetwood rashly. “Now come, Bridlington!”

“But why should I?” demanded Frederick. “Besides, what could I do with the brat? It is the greatest piece of nonsense I ever had to listen to!”

“Lord Fleetwood, will you take Jemmy?” asked Arabella, turning to him beseechingly.

His lordship was thrown into disorder. “Well, I don’t think— You see, ma’am— Fact of the matter is—Dash it, Lady Bridlington’s right! The Parish! That’s the thing!”

“Unworthy, Charles!” said Mr. Beaumaris.

The much goaded Lord Bridlington rounded on him. “Then, if that is what you think, Beaumaris, perhaps you will take the wretched brat!”

Then it was that Mr. Beaumaris, looking across the room, at Arabella, all flushed cheeks and heaving bosom, astonished the company, and himself as well. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”

IX

These simple words struck the ears of his audience with stunning effect. Lord Fleetwood’s jaw dropped; Lady Bridlington’s and her son’s rather protuberant eyes started at Mr. Beaumaris; and Arabella stared at him in amazement. It was she who broke the silence. You?” she said, the incredulity in her tone leaving him in no doubt of her opinion of his character.

A rather rueful smile twisted his lips. “Why not?” he said.

Her eyes searched his face. “What would you do with him?” she demanded.

“I haven’t the smallest notion,” he confessed. “I hope you may be going to tell me what I am to do with him, Miss Tallant.”

“If I let you take him, you would throw him on the Parish, like Lord Fleetwood!” she said bitterly.

His lordship uttered an inarticulate protest.

“I have a great many faults,” replied Mr. Beaumaris, “but, believe me, you may trust my pledged word! I will neither throw him on the Parish, nor restore him to his master.”

“You must be mad!” exclaimed Frederick.

“You would naturally think so,” said Mr. Beaumaris, flicking him with one of his disdainful glances.

“Have you considered what people would be bound to say?” Frederick said.

“No, nor do I propose to burden my head with anything that interests me so little!” retorted Mr. Beaumaris.

Arabella said in a softened voice: “If you mean it, indeed, sir, you will be doing the very kindest thing— perhaps the best thing you have ever done, and, oh, I thank you!”

“Certainly the best thing I have ever done, Miss Tallant,” he said, with that wry smile.

“What will you do with him?” she asked again. “You must not be thinking that I mean you to adopt him as your own, or anything of that nature! He must be brought up to a respectable trade, only I do not know what would be the best for him!”

“Perhaps,” suggested Mr. Beaumaris, “he has views of his own on the subject. What, Jemmy, would you chose to do?”

“Yes, what would you like to do when you are a man?” said Arabella, turning to kneel beside Jemmy’s chair, and speaking in a coaxing tone. “Tell me!”

Jemmy, who had been following all this with an intent look in his face, had no very clear idea of what it was about, but his quick, cockney mind had grasped that none of these swells, not even the stout, cross one, intended any harm to him. The scared expression in his eyes had given place to one of considerable acuteness. He answered his protectress without hesitation. “Give ole Grimsby a leveller!” he said.

“Yes, my dear, and so you shall, and I hope you will do the same by everyone like him!” said Arabella warmly. “But how would you choose to earn your living?”