Mr. Wycherly

“ You can't possibly go back for another fortnight, your aunt said so, and—who knows——?"
Mr. Wycherly had not intended to say this last at all. It was most unwise and misleading, but the brown eyes held his and compelled him to give them comfort. He tried to patch up his mistake by saying, in a matter of fact tone: "Suppose Montagu or Edmund begged me not to send him back to school, what should I do? Because, you see, I know that school is the best place for them—though for me the sun sets and never rises till they come back. We all have to do things we don't like." ”

“ When he got back to Holywell, the boys were standing at the front door on the lookout for him. They rushed towards him exclaiming in delighted chorus: "We've got a woman. We thought we'd ask at the King's Arms, and they told us of one."
"What? A servant?" asked Mr. Wycherly with incredulous joy.
"No, no, a day-body. The boots knew about her; she lives down Hell Lane, just about opposite."
"Edmund!" Mr. Wycherly remonstrated. "However did you get hold of that name?"
"Hoots!" replied Edmund. "Everyone calls it that. Her name is Griffin, and she's coming at once. Have you got one?" ”

“ Mr. Wycherly sat, his elbows on the table, his head in his hands: "Boys, boys, it is appalling that at the very outset we should have scandalised a neighbour and made ourselves a nuisance."
"Not a nuisance, Guardie," Edmund remonstrated; "she must have liked to watch us or she wouldn't have done it. If Mrs. Thingummy had kept behind her own curtains she couldn't have seen us so plain."
Here Mrs. Griffin tapped at the door again, opened it about three inches, and called through: "A lady to see you, sir."
"That'll be your one come to complain," Edmund whispered to his distracted guardian. ”

“ Somehow the sight of that horrid tin of bloater-paste evoked a poignantly beatific vision of the jam. It was the jam broke Edmund down.
He gave a dry sob, laid his arms on the table and his head on his arms, wailing: "Oh, dear! oh, dear! I wish Aunt Esperance hadn't gone and died."
Mr. Wycherly started up, looking painfully distressed. Montagu ran round to his little brother and put his arm round his shoulder—at the same time he murmured to his guardian: "It's the butter, it really is very bad."
"It's all bad," lamented Edmund; "we shall starve, all of us, if it goes on. ”

“ Wycherly.
She went obediently and stood beside him.
"Have you ever thought," he said gravely, "that your walk in life may be precisely what you choose to make it?"
"No, sir," she said frankly, "I've always supposed I should be a servant—there doesn't seem anything else for me to be. You see, aunt knows she could get me into a good family."
"I don't think you're strong enough for a servant," Mr. Wycherly objected.
"Then," she said decidedly, "I think I'd better be a ward."
"A ward?" Mr. Wycherly repeated in puzzled tones.
"Your ward, like Master Edmund and Master Montagu. ”

“ Dew raised her eyes and looked Mr. Wycherly full in the face, shaking her head the while: "No, sir, I think not, sir; it would be more satisfactory for all parties if you was to see the young person yourself."
Mr. Wycherly sighed heavily. "Do you think she seems likely to be suitable?"
Mrs. Dew's wholesome, good-natured face once more became sphinx-like. "I really couldn't say, sir. The appearance of the young women of the present day is often very much against them. We can only hope they're better servants than they look. Shall I show her up here, sir?" ”

“ Six years is a long time—but you might, Montagu?"
"Weren't you bonnie Margaret?" Montagu asked shyly.
"She is bonnie Margaret," said Mr. Wycherly, "and this is my nephew."
"Nobody is taking any notice of me," said a clear, high voice, and the handshaking group in the middle of the room turned to look at the little figure standing all lonely in the window-seat.
"That is our daughter Herrick," laughed Mrs. Wycherly; "a very important person—quite unused to be overlooked." ”

“ Still holding Mause, Mr. Wycherly ran forward, shouting, "Loose him, Montagu; let him go, I say. Don't you see you're throttling the boy? You'll choke him; let go, I say."
"I want to choke him," Montagu gasped, as Mr. Wycherly, still holding the struggling Mause with one hand, attempted to drag his ward off the prostrate Jamie with the other. "I want to kill him. I'd have done it, too, if you hadn't interfered."
"Nonsense," Mr. Wycherly said sharply. "Don't you know yet that you mustn't keep on hitting a man when he's down? Here, catch hold of Mause for me. Get up, boy!" ”

“ Wycherly's case the expression of the dark eyes was extremely gentle, the features sharply cut and refined, the whole face of that clean-shaven, regular, aristocratic type, which the Reverend Peter Gloag—half in admiration, half in derision—described as so "intensely Oxfordish."
"He has got such a tidy face," Montagu said to his aunt one day.
"My dear, Mr. Wycherly is always considered a man of great personal attractions," she replied, rather shocked at his choice of an adjective. ”

“ Edmund announced cheerfully, arising from his knees, when Montagu followed suit and rushed downstairs.
"But you didn't say anything."
"We don't say prayers out loud. It's only very little children say them out loud."
"Oh!" she said, as though suddenly enlightened. "Umpy dear says his very loud, but Mr. Woolykneeze looks into his hat like a grown-up genpleman; you can't hear a fing."
"But," Edmund objected, "one hasn't always got a hat in the morning," and opening Mr. Wycherly's door a very little, he called through: "I say, Guardie, do you always say your prayers into a hat?" ”

“ Montagu departed with his little brother, but not one moment sooner.
Mr. Wycherly shut and locked his door, only to remember that he had left his hot water outside. When he had secured it and again made the door fast, he sank upon his bed: "I must certainly lock my door overnight," he reflected; "to be tickled is a truly dreadful experience."
He dressed to the rhythm of "Hickory, dickory, dock," and although the two things had no sort of connection he found himself thinking of the forget-me-nots on the banks of the Cherwell; they were exactly the colour of Baby Edmund's eyes. ”

“ I do love stories where people do things."
Mr. Wycherly stood still in the middle of the road, and looked down into the little eager face uplifted to his. "You are right, Montagu," he said very gravely; "it is of little use to think things if you don't do them." And then it seemed as though Mr. Wycherly gave himself a mental shake, for he devoted his whole attention to Montagu for the rest of their walk.
Mr. Wycherly's early dinner was served in his own room, but he always supped downstairs with Miss Esperance at seven o'clock. ”

“ Miss Esperance, who had eaten a boiled egg at this hour nearly every night for some twenty years, had no fork.
"Montagu, my son," she said cheerfully, "run and ask Elsa for a fork for me."
No man ever existed who cared less about eating than Mr. Wycherly. Whatsoever was set before him, that he ate meekly and without comment—if he remembered. He always offered to help Miss Esperance from whatever dish was set before him at supper, and she as invariably refused it. ”

“ Wycherly sank back in his chair with a groan. "I quite forgot curtains and blinds," he exclaimed in bitter self-reproach. "There are none in my room either; do you suppose the people in the next house can see me?"
"Sure to!" cried Edmund gleefully; "they'll be writing next that they can see an old gentleman 'paforming his ablutions'; but I can't see how they do for we all wash in the bath-room, and that's at the back. I suppose they see us washing our teeth and you shaving. I wonder if that's more depressing or they don't mind so much?" ”

“ Mr. Wycherly walked and walked till he was quite worn out. He got back to the house about four o'clock, crawled up to his room, and sank quite exhausted into his big chair by the window. All afternoon Elsa had been watching for him, and three minutes after his return she followed him upstairs bearing a little tray on which were set a cup of tea and a plate of most tempting-looking scones. She didn't even knock at his door, but went straight in, pushed the round table up to his elbow and laid the little tray upon it. ”

“ Wycherly's sitting-room was across the landing from his bedroom, but before he went to breakfast he hastened downstairs to ask after Edmund's welfare.
He knocked at the parlour door, and on being bidden to enter discovered that lusty infant jumping up and down on the horse-hair sofa, while Miss Esperance sat on its very edge to make sure that he should not take a sudden dive on to the floor.
"I do hope he was not hurt—" Mr. Wycherly began.
"Man, man, me go to man!" Edmund cried before his aunt could answer; and scrambling off the sofa he raced across the room to Mr. Wycherly ”

“ Wycherly steadfastly averted his gaze from the offending magazine, exclaiming:
"Beautiful! My dear child, how can you apply that dignified and really expressive adjective to anything so dreadful? Have you ever seen any human being who in the least resembled the extremely indelicate creatures depicted in this paper?"
"No, sir, but I'd like to. They've all got such curly hair."
"Most of them," Mr. Wycherly said severely, "appear to wear very little else. We must show you some really beautiful pictures, Jane-Anne, and then perhaps you will realise the worthlessness of these." ”

“ Mr. Wycherly glanced despairingly at Miss Esperance, and she came to the rescue by remarking: "Mr. Wycherly is not a member of our church, Mrs. Dewar; he is an Episcopalian."
"Ah, but nevertheless," Mrs. Dewar persisted, "I think he should come and hear Mr. Dewar preach while he has the opportunity. It isn't often at a little place like this you get a man from such an important charge."
"I am sure Burnhead is very fortunate," murmured the ever-courteous Mr. Wycherly. ”

“ Wycherly would help her.
It was a very hot May, and as the doctor had said she could not be too much in the fresh air, her aunt, that afternoon, put a little table and chair for her under the apple-tree, gave her some needle-work, and bidding her listen for any bell that might happen to ring, announced her intention of going out to do some household shopping. "Unless anyone calls to see the master it's unlikely that anyone'll come at all," said Mrs. Dew, "and the front door bell's that loud you'll hear it right enough if so be as you don't get moonin'. ”

“ He "exceeded" less and less; his vocal exercises were confined to some four times in the year, and Miss Esperance rejoiced over him as a book-lover rejoices over some rare folio rescued from the huckster's stall to play an honoured part among "the chosen and the mighty of every place and time."
"It is of inestimable advantage to me to be able to listen daily to the instructive conversation of so cultivated a man as my good friend Mr. Wycherly," Miss Esperance would say. "He seems to comprise in his own person the trained intelligence of the ages." ”

“ Miss Esperance regarded him sadly, then sighed, saying gently, "I can only leave the issue in wiser hands than ours."
"And there," said Mr. Wycherly, reverently, "it will be perfectly safe."
Miss Esperance rose, and as he opened the door for her he held out his hand, saying humbly: "You must try not to be angry with me: it is pure incapacity, not wilfulness, that renders me so useless as an adviser."
Miss Esperance took the proffered hand in both her own. "Are you sure that you really care?" she asked gently.
CHAPTER XXI
IN WHICH MR. WYCHERLY HANGS UP HIS COLLEGE ARMS
For who can always act? ”

“ Old Holywell in Oxford town is an interesting street. Not only does every house there differ from its neighbour, but the inhabitants are just as varied.
Opposite Mr. Wycherly's was a tall, straight, grey house, which had been let as rooms to generations of undergraduates when the time came for them to "live out." Some two years before, Jane-Anne had watched these young gentlemen, as she then still called them, with the greatest interest; in fact, undergraduates as a class held for her one supreme possibility—one of them might fulfil in the flesh all she had dreamed in the spirit of Lord Byron. ”

“ The "sir" always following after a pause, for it was only added out of deference to continual admonishment on the part of Miss Esperance, who thought that Elsa's manner to Mr. Wycherly was frequently lacking in respect, as indeed it was. She could never be got to look upon him as other than a poor, silly pensioner of her mistress.
A few days after the children arrived, Mr. Wycherly was awakened by the voice of Edmund in the next room, vociferously demanding "man." Mr. Wycherly sat up in bed and listened.
"Want man, want to see man." ”

“ She had finished clearing the table and was about to depart with the tray when Mr. Wycherly spoke: "Elsa," he said, "you had better take this money and use it as you did the other. You are quite right that Miss Esperance must know. It is an impertinence on our part to do anything without her knowledge: but I hope—I sincerely hope that in the future Miss Esperance will permit me to act as guardian to her great-nephews in more than name ”

“ Wycherly went to church with Miss Esperance.
The minister looked much as usual. His face was stern and set, though his eyes under the bushy, overhanging gray eyebrows were the eyes of a man who had slept but little. Yet his voice was strong and full, and he prayed and read the Bible with his customary earnestness and vigour.
The congregation were a little fluttered to notice that in the Manse pew there were three tall young men, and that the white-haired, Oxfordy gentleman who lived with Miss Esperance was in her seat, but otherwise the service was much as usual. ”