William Wymark Jacobs - At Sunwich Port, Complete

“Ho,” said the heated Mr. Kybird. “Ho, will he? I’d like to see ‘im. I’ll make ‘im sorry for this afore I’ve done with ‘im. I’ll learn ‘im to insult a respectable British tradesman. I’ll show him who’s who.”

“What’ll you do?” inquired the other.

“Never you mind,” said Mr. Kybird, who was not in a position to satisfy his curiosity—“never you mind. You go and get on with your work, Charles, and p’r’aps by the time your moustache ‘as grown big enough to be seen, you’ll ‘ear something.”

“I ‘eard something the other day,” said the bar-man, musingly; “about you it was, but I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Wot was it?” demanded the other.

“Nothing much,” replied Charles, standing with his hand on the door-knob, “but I wouldn’t believe it of you; I said I couldn’t.”

“Wot—was—it?” insisted Mr. Kybird.

“Why, they said you once gave a man a fair price for a pair of trousers,” said the barman, indignantly.

He closed the door behind him softly, and Mr. Kybird, after a brief pause, opened it again and, more softly still, quitted the precincts of The Goblets, and stepped across the road to his emporium.

Captain Nugent, in happy ignorance of the dark designs of the wardrobe dealer, had also gone home. He was only just beginning to realize the comparative unimportance of a retired shipmaster, and the knowledge was a source of considerable annoyance to him. No deferential mates listened respectfully to his instructions, no sturdy seaman ran to execute his commands or trembled mutinously at his wrath. The only person in the wide world who stood in awe of him was the general servant Bella, and she made no attempt to conceal her satisfaction at the attention excited by her shortcomings.

He paused a moment at the gate and then, walking slowly up to the door, gave it the knock of a master. A full minute passing, he knocked again, remembering with some misgivings his stern instructions of the day before that the door was to be attended by the servant and by nobody else. He had seen Miss Nugent sitting at the window as he passed it, but in the circumstances the fact gave him no comfort. A third knock was followed by a fourth, and then a distressed voice upstairs was heard calling wildly upon the name of Bella.

At the fifth knock the house shook, and a red-faced maid with her shoulders veiled in a large damp towel passed hastily down the staircase and, slipping the catch, passed more hastily still upstairs again, affording the indignant captain a glimpse of a short striped skirt as it turned the landing.

“Is there any management at all in this house?” he inquired, as he entered the room.

“Bella was dressing,” said Miss Nugent, calmly, “and you gave orders yesterday that nobody else was to open the door.”

“Nobody else when she’s available,” qualified her father, eyeing her sharply. “When I give orders I expect people to use their common sense. Why isn’t my tea ready? It’s five o’clock.”

“The clock’s twenty minutes fast,” said Kate. “Who’s been meddling with it?” demanded her father, verifying the fact by his watch.

Miss Nugent shook her head. “It’s gained that since you regulated it last night,” she said, with a smile.

The captain threw himself into an easy-chair, and with one eye on the clock, waited until, at five minutes to the hour by the right time, a clatter of crockery sounded from the kitchen, and Bella, still damp, came in with the tray. Her eye was also on the clock, and she smirked weakly in the captain’s direction as she saw that she was at least two minutes ahead of time. At a minute to the hour the teapot itself was on the tray, and the heavy breathing of the handmaiden in the kitchen was audible to all.

“Punctual to the minute, John,” said Mrs. Kingdom, as she took her seat at the tray. “It’s wonderful how that girl has improved since you’ve been at home. She isn’t like the same girl.”

She raised the teapot and, after pouring out a little of the contents, put it down again and gave it another two minutes. At the end of that time, the colour being of the same unsatisfactory paleness, she set the pot down and was about to raise the lid when an avalanche burst into the room and, emptying some tea into the pot from a canister-lid, beat a hasty retreat.

“Good tea and well-trained servants,” muttered the captain to his plate. “What more can a man want?”

Mrs. Kingdom coughed and passed his cup; Miss Nugent, who possessed a healthy appetite, serenely attacked her bread and butter; conversation languished.

“I suppose you’ve heard the news, John?” said his sister.

“I daresay I have,” was the reply.

“Strange he should come back after all these years,” said Mrs. Kingdom; “though, to be sure, I don’t know why he shouldn’t. It’s his native place, and his father lives here.”

“Who are you talking about?” inquired the captain.

“Why, James Hardy,” replied his sister. “I thought you said you had heard. He’s coming back to Sunwich and going into partnership with old Swann, the shipbroker. A very good thing for him, I should think.”

“I’m not interested in the doings of the Hardys,” said the captain, gruffly.

“I’m sure I’m not,” said his sister, defensively.

Captain Nugent proceeded with his meal in silence. His hatred of Hardy had not been lessened by the success which had attended that gentleman’s career, and was not likely to be improved by the well-being of Hardy junior. He passed his cup for some more tea, and, with a furtive glance at the photograph on the mantelpiece, wondered what had happened to his own son.

“I don’t suppose I should know him if I saw him,” continued Mrs. Kingdom, addressing a respectable old arm-chair; “London is sure to have changed him.”

“Is this water-cress?” inquired the captain, looking up from his plate.

“Yes. Why?” said Mrs. Kingdom.

“I only wanted information,” said her brother, as he deposited the salad in question in the slop-basin.

Mrs. Kingdom, with a resigned expression, tried to catch her niece’s eye and caught the captain’s instead. Miss Nugent happening to glance up saw her fascinated by the basilisk glare of the master of the house.

“Some more tea, please,” she said.

Her aunt took her cup, and in gratitude for the diversion picked out the largest lumps of sugar in the basin.

“London changes so many people,” mused the persevering lady, stirring her tea. “I’ve noticed it before. Why it is I can’t say, but the fact remains. It seems to improve them altogether. I dare say that young Hardy—”

“Will you understand that I won’t have the Hardys mentiond in my house?” said the captain, looking up. “I’m not interested in their business, and I will not have it discussed here.”

“As you please, John,” said his sister, drawing herself up. “It’s your house and you are master here. I’m sure I don’t want to discuss them. Nothing was farther from my thoughts. You understand what your father says, Kate?”

“Perfectly,” said Miss Nugent. “When the desire to talk about the Hardys becomes irresistible we must go for a walk.”

The captain turned in his chair and regarded his daughter steadily. She met his gaze with calm affection.

“I wish you were a boy,” he growled.

“You’re the only man in Sunwich who wishes that,” said Miss Nugent, complacently, “and I don’t believe you mean it. If you’ll come a little closer I’ll put my head on your shoulder and convert you.”

“Kate!” said Mrs. Kingdom, reprovingly.

“And, talking about heads,” said Miss Nugent, briskly, “reminds me that I want a new hat. You needn’t look like that; good-looking daughters always come expensive.”