CHAPTER NINE.
SHANK REVEALS SOMETHING MORE OF HIS CHARACTER.
Taking his way to the railway station Shank Leather found himself erelong at his mother's door.
He entered without knocking.
"Shank!" exclaimed Mrs Leather and May in the same breath.
"Ay, mother, it's me. A bad shilling, they say, always turns up. _I_always turn up, therefore _I_ am a bad shilling! Sound logic that, eh,May?"
"I'm glad to see you, dear Shank," said careworn Mrs Leather, layingher knitting-needles on the table; "you _know_ I'm always glad to seeyou, but I'm naturally surprised, for this visit is out of your regulartime."
"Has anything happened?" asked May anxiously. And May looked verysweet, almost pretty, when she was anxious. A year had refined herfeatures, developed her mind and body, and almost converted her into alittle woman. Indeed, mentally, she had become more of a woman thanmany girls in her neighbourhood who were much older. This was in alllikelihood one of the good consequences of adversity.
"Ay, May, something has happened," answered the youth, flinging himselfgaily into an arm-chair and stretching out his legs towards the fire; "Ihave thrown up my situation. Struck work. That's all."
"Shank!"
"Just so. Don't look so horrified, mother; you've no occasion to, for Ihave the offer of a better situation. Besides--ha! ha! old Crossley--close-fisted, crabbed, money-making, skin-flint old Crossley--is goingto pray for me. Think o' that, mother--going to pray for me!"
"Shank, dear boy," returned his mother, "don't jest about religiousthings."
"You don't call old Crossley a religious thing, do you? Why, mother, Ithought you had more respect for him than that comes to; you ought atleast to consider his years!"
"Come, Shank," returned Mrs Leather, with a deprecating smile, "be agood boy and tell me what you mean--and about this new situation."
"I just mean that my friend and chum and old schoolfellow Ralph Ritson--jovial, dashing, musical, handsome Ralph--you remember him--has got me asituation in California."
"Ralph Ritson?" repeated Mrs Leather, with a little sigh and an uneasyglance at her daughter, whose face had flushed at the mention of theyouth's name.
"Yes," continued Shank, in a graver tone, for he had observed the flushon May's face. "Ralph's father, who is manager of a gold mine inCalifornia, has asked his son to go out and assist him at a good salary,and to take a clerk out with him--a stout vigorous fellow, well up infigures, book-keeping, carpenting, etcetera, and ready to turn his handto anything, and Ralph has chosen me! What d'ee think o' that?"
From her silence and expression it was evident that the poor lady'sthoughts were not quite what her son had hoped.
"Why don't you congratulate me, mother?" he asked, somewhat petulantly.
"Would it not be almost premature," she replied, with a forced smile,"to congratulate you before I know anything about the salary or theprospects held out to you? Besides, I cannot feel as enthusiastic aboutyour friend Ralph as you do. I don't doubt that he is a well-meaningyouth, but he is reckless. If he had only been a man like your formerfriend, poor Charlie Brooke, it would have been different, but--"
"Well, mother, it's of no use wishing somebody to be like somebody else.We must just take folk as we find them, and I find Ralph Ritson aremarkably fine, sensible fellow, who has a proper appreciation of hisfriends. And he's not a bad fellow. He and Charlie Brooke were fond ofeach other when we were all schoolboys together--at least he was fond ofCharlie, like everybody else. But whether we like him or not does notmatter now, for the thing is fixed. I have accepted his offer, andthrown old Jacob overboard."
"Dear Shank, don't be angry if I am slow to appreciate this offer," saidthe poor lady, laying aside her knitting and clasping her hands beforeher on the table, as she looked earnestly into her son's face, "but youmust see that it has come on me very suddenly, and I'm so sorry to hearthat you have parted with good old Mr Crossley in anger--"
"We didn't part in anger," interrupted Shank. "We were only a littleless sweet on each other than usual. There was no absolute quarrel.D'you think he'd have promised to pray for me if there was?"
"Have you spoken yet to your father?" asked the lady.
"How could I? I've not seen him since the thing was settled. Besides,what's the use? _He_ can do nothing for me, an' don't care a buttonwhat I do or where I go."
"You are wrong, Shank, in thinking so. I _know_ that he cares for youvery much indeed. If he can do nothing for you _now_, he has at leastgiven you your education, without which you could not do much foryourself."
"Well, of course I shall tell him whenever I see him," returned theyouth, somewhat softened; "and I'm aware he has a sort of sneakingfondness for me; but I'm not going to ask his advice, because he knowsnothing about the business. Besides, mother, I am old enough to judgefor myself, and mean to take the advice of nobody."
"You are indeed old enough to judge for yourself," said Mrs Leather,resuming her knitting, "and I don't wish to turn you from your plans.On the contrary, I will pray that God's blessing and protection mayaccompany you wherever you go, but you should not expect me to beinstantaneously jubilant over an arrangement which will take you awayfrom me, for years perhaps."
This last consideration seemed to have some weight with the selfishyouth.
"Well, well, mother," he said, rising, "don't take on about that.Travelling is not like what it used to be. A trip over the Atlantic andthe Rocky Mountains is nothing to speak of now--a mere matter of a fewweeks--so that a fellow can take a run home at any time to say `How do'to his people. I'm going down now to see Smithers and tell him thenews."
"Stay, I'll go with you--a bit of the way," cried May, jumping up andshaking back the curly brown hair which still hung in native freedom--and girlish fashion--on her shoulders.
May had a charming and rare capacity for getting ready to go out at amoment's notice. She merely threw on a coquettish straw hat, which hada knack of being always at hand, and which clung to her pretty head witha tenacity that rendered strings or elastic superfluous. One of herbrother's companions--we don't know which--was once heard to say withfervour that no hat would be worth its ribbons that didn't clingpowerfully to such a head without assistance! A shawl too, or cloak,was always at hand, somehow, and had this not been so May would havethrown over her shoulders an antimacassar or table-cloth rather thancause delay,--at least we think so, though we have no absolute authorityfor making the statement.
"Dear Shank," she said, clasping both hands over his arm as they walkedslowly down the path that led to the shore, "is it really all true thatyou have been telling us? Have you fixed to go off with--with MrRitson to California?"
"Quite true; I never was more in earnest in my life. By the way, sistermine, what made you colour up so when Ralph's name was mentioned?There, you're flushing again! Are you in love with him?"
"No, certainly not," answered the girl, with an air and tone of decisionthat made her brother laugh.
"Well, you needn't flare up so fiercely. You might be in love with aworse man. But why, then, do you blush?"
May was silent, and hung down her head.
"Come, May, you've never had any secrets from me. Surely you're notgoing to begin now--on the eve of my departure to a foreign land?"
"I would rather not talk about him at all," said the girl, looking upentreatingly.
But Shank looked down upon her sternly. He had assumed the parental_role_. "May, there is something in this that you ought not to conceal.I have a right to know it, as your brother--your protector."
Innocent though May was, she could not repress a faint smile at the ideaof a protector who had been little else than a cause of anxiety in thepast, and was now about to leave her to look after herself, probably foryears to come. But she answered frankly, while another and a deeperblush overspread her face--
"I did not mean to speak of it, Shank, as you knew nothing, and I hadhoped would never kn
ow anything about it, but since you insist, I musttell you that--that Mr Ritson, I'm afraid, loves _me_ at least he--"
"Afraid! loves you! How do you know?" interrupted Shank quickly.
"Well, he said so--the last time we met."
"The rascal! Had he the audacity to ask you to marry him?--him--abeggar, without a sixpence except what his father gives him?"
"No, Shank, I would not let him get the length of that. I told him Iwas too young to--to think about such matters at all, and said that hemust not speak to me again in such a way. But I was so surprised,flurried, and distressed, that I don't clearly remember what I said."
"And what did _he_ say?" asked Shank, forgetting the parental _role_ fora moment, and looking at May with a humorous smile.
"Indeed I can hardly tell. He made a great many absurd protestations,begged me to give him no decided answer just then, and said somethingabout letting him write to me, but all I am quite sure of is that atlast I had the courage to utter a very decided _No_, and then ran awayand left him."
"That was too sharp, May. Ralph is a first-rate fellow, with capitalprospects. His father is rich and can give him a good start in life.He may come back in a few years with a fortune--not a bad kind ofhusband for a penniless lass."
"Shank!" exclaimed May, letting go her brother's arm and facing him withflashing eyes and heightened colour, "do you really think that a fortunewould make me marry a man whom I did not love?"
"Certainly not, my dear sis," said the youth, taking May's hand anddrawing it again through his arm with an approving smile. "I never fora moment thought you capable of such meanness, but that is a verydifferent thing from slamming the door in a poor fellow's face. You'renot in love with anybody else. Ralph is a fine handsome young fellow.You might grow to like him in time--and if you did, a fortune, ofcourse, would be no disadvantage. Besides, he is to be my travellingcompanion, and might write to you about me if I were ill, or chanced tomeet with an accident and were unable to write myself--don't you know?"
"He could in that case write to mother," said May, simply.
"So he could!" returned Shank, laughing. "I never thought o' that, mysharp sister."
They had reached the shore by that time. The tide was out; the sea wascalm and the sun glinted brightly on the wavelets that sighed ratherthan broke upon the sands.
For some distance they sauntered in silence by the margin of the sea.The mind of each was busy with the same thought. Each was aware ofthat, and for some time neither seemed able to break the silence. Thetimid girl recovered her courage before the self-reliant man!
"Dear Shank," she said, pressing his arm, "you will probably be away foryears."
"Yes, May--at least for a good long time."
"Oh forgive me, brother," continued the girl, with sudden earnestness,"but--but--you know your--your weakness--"
"Ay, May, I know it. Call it sin if you will--and my knowledge of ithas something to do with my present determination, for, weak though Iam, and bad though you think me--"
"But I _don't_ think you _bad_, dear Shank," cried May, with tearfuleyes; "I never said so, and never thought so, and--"
"Come, come, May," interrupted the youth, with something of banter inhis manner, "you don't think me _good_, do you?"
"Well, no--not exactly," returned May, faintly smiling through hertears.
"Well, then, if I'm not good I must be bad, you know. There's nohalf-way house in this matter."
"Is there not, Shank? Is there not _very_ good and _very_ bad?"
"Oh, well, if you come to that there's pretty-good, and rather-bad, anda host of other houses between these, such as goodish and baddish, butnot one of them can be a _half-way_ house."
"Oh yes, one of them _can_--_must_ be."
"Which one, you little argumentative creature?" asked Shank.
"Why, middling-good of course."
"Wrong!" cried her brother, "doesn't middling-bad stand beside it, withquite as good a claim to be considered half-way? However, I won't pressmy victory too far. For the sake of peace we will agree that these aresemi-detached houses in one block--and that will block the subject.But, to be serious again," he added, stopping and looking earnestly intohis sister's face, "I wanted to speak to you on this weakness--thissin--and I thank you for breaking the ice. The truth is that I havefelt for a good while past that conviviality--"
"Strong drink, brother, call it by its right name," said May, gentlypressing the arm on which she leaned.
"Well--have it so. Strong drink has been getting the better of me--mindI don't admit it _has_ got the better of me yet--only _is getting_--andconvivial comrades have had a great deal to do with it. Now, as youknow, I'm a man of some decision of character, and I had long ago madeup my mind to break with my companions. Of course I could not very welldo this while--while I was--well, no matter why, but this offer justseemed to be a sort of godsend, for it will enable me to cut myself freeat once, and the sea breezes and Rocky Mountain air and gold-huntingwill, I expect, take away the desire for strong drink altogether."
"I hope it will--indeed I am _sure_ it will if it is God's way ofleading you," said May, with an air of confidence.
"Well, I don't know whether it is God who is leading me or--"
"Did you not call it a god-send just now--"
"Oh, but that's a mere form of speech, you know. However, I do knowthat it was on this very beach where we now stand that a friend led mefor the first time to think seriously of this matter--more than a yearago."
"Indeed--who was it?" asked May eagerly.
"My chum and old school-fellow, poor Charlie Brooke," returned Shank, ina strangely altered voice.
Then he went on to tell of the conversation he and his friend had had onthat beach, and it was not till he had finished that he became awarethat his sister was weeping.
"Why, May, you're crying. What's the matter?"
"God bless him!" said May in fervent yet tremulous tones as she lookedup in her brother's face. "Can you wonder at my feeling so stronglywhen you remember how kind Charlie always was to you--to all of usindeed--ever since he was a little boy at school with you; what atrue-hearted and steady friend he has always been. And you called himpoor Charlie just now, as if he were dead."
"True indeed, it is very, very sad, for we have great reason to fear theworst, and I have strong doubt that I shall never see my old chum again.But I won't give up hope, for it is no uncommon thing for men to belost at sea, for years even, and to turn up at last, having been castaway on a desert island, like Robinson Crusoe, or something of thatsort."
The thoughts which seemed to minister consolation to Shank Leather didnot appear to afford much comfort to his sister, who hung her head andmade no answer, while her companion went on--
"Yes, May, and poor Charlie was the first to make me feel as if I were alittle selfish, though that as you know, is not one of my conspicuousfailings! His straightforwardness angered me a little at first, but hiskindness made me think much of what he said, and--well, the upshot of itall is that I am going to California."
"I am glad--so glad and thankful he has had so much influence over you,dear Shank, and now, don't you think--that--that if Charlie were withyou at this moment he would advise you not to go to Mr Smithers toconsult about your plans?"
For a few moments the brother's face betrayed a feeling of annoyance,but it quickly cleared away.
"You are right, May. Smithers is too much of a convivial harum-scarumfellow to be of much use in the way of giving sound advice. I'll go tosee Jamieson instead. You can have no objection to him--surely. He's aquiet, sober sort of man, and never tries to tempt people or lead theminto mischief--which is more than can be said of the other fellow."
"That is a very negative sort of goodness," returned May, smiling."However, if you must go to see some one, Jamieson is better thanSmithers; but why not come home and consult with mother and me?"
"Pooh! what can women know about such matters? No, no, May, when a
fellow has to go into the pros and cons of Californian life it must bewith _men_."
"H'm! the men you associate with, having been at school and the desk alltheir lives up till now, must be eminently fitted to advise onCalifornian life! That did not occur to me at the first blush!" saidMay demurely.
"Go home, you cynical baggage, and help mother to knit," retorted Shank,with a laugh. "I intend to go and see Jamieson."
And he went. And the negatively good Jamieson, who never led peopleinto temptation, had no objection to be led into that region himself, sothey went together to make a passing call--a mere look in--on Smithers,who easily induced them to remain. The result was that the unselfishman with decision of character returned home in the early hours ofmorning--"screwed."