Арчибальд Кронин - Hatter's Castle

She quickly laid the table and served him with his meal, but though this was to his taste, and indeed infinitely better than any which Nancy had ever prepared for him, he gave neither praise nor thanks. He did justice to it however, and with an appetite stimulated by the whisky, for once ate heartily, dividing his thoughts, as he masticated vigorously, between his plans for the afternoon and the further consideration of Nessie. She would have actually begun the examination by this time and would be sitting driving her pen over page after page of paper whilst the others, and particularly young Grierson, chewed the wooden ends of theirs and stared at her enviously. Now he saw her, having entirely finished one exercise book, rise from her place and, her small, self-conscious face glowing, advance to demand another from the examiner. She had used up one book al-ready, the first in the room to do so Nessie Brodie, his daughter whilst that young snipe Grierson had not even filled half of his yet! He chuckled slightly at her remarkable prowess and bolted his food with an added gusto from the vision of the other's discomfiture. His thoughts ran chiefly in this strain during the rest of the meal and, when he had finished, he arose and drank again, emptying the bottle to the hope that she would require not two, but three books to convey to the professors the wide extent of her knowledge.

It was still too early for his descent upon the Wellhall Bowling Green, for he wished to allow a full congregation of the notables to collect, and realising that he was not yet ripe with the careless rapture best suited to such an adventure, confronted, too, by the mere hollow shell which had held the Mountain Dew, he decided to adventure out and rest himself for an hour in the Wellhall Vaults which conveniently adjoined the Green.

Accordingly, he left the house and proceeded down the road, not however, with the set, morose face and unseeing stare which marked him lately in the streets but, fortified by his mood and the knowledge of his daughter's success, with a freer, easier carriage which again invited inspection. Few people were about as yet, but when he had crossed Railway Road he observed on the other side of the street the stately figure of Doctor Lawrie, not driving, but walking, and immediately he crossed over and accosted him.

"Good day to you, Doctor Lawrie," he cried affably. It had been 'Lawrie' in the old days and without the affability. "I'm pleased to meet ye."

"Good day," returned the other, thinking of his unpaid bill and speaking with the small store of curtness he possessed.

"It's well met for us just now," retorted Brodie. "Well met! Do ye know what's happening at this very moment?"

Lawrie eyed him warily as he uttered a cautious "No."

"My Nessie is up at the University, winning the Latta for me while you and me are talkin' here," cried Brodie. "It's a justification of your own words. Don't ye mind what ye told me, that she had a head on her in a thousand?"

"Indeed! Indeed!" returned Lawrie pompously and with a slight degree of cordiality. "I'm gratified to hear that. Winning the Latta. It all helps. It'll be a little more grist to the mill, I suppose." He looked sideways at the other, hoping that he would take the hint, then suddenly he looked directly at Brodie and exclaimed, "Winning? Did ye say she had won the Latta?"

"It's as good as won," replied Brodie comfortably. "She's at it the now this very minute. I took the day off to see that she got away in the best o' fettle. She went off with a glint in her eye that spoke for victory. She'll fill three books ere she's done!"

"Indeed!" said Lawrie again, and, eyeing the other strangely, he drew insensibly away, remarking, "I'll have to be getting along now an important consultation my horse just cast a shoe along the road there I'm late!"

"Don't go yet, man," remonstrated Brodie, buttonholing the embarrassed Lawrie firmly. "I havena told ye half about my daughter yet. Fm real fond o' that lass, you know. In my own way. Just in my own way. I've wrought hard with her for the last six months."

"Pray let me go, Mr. Brodie," cried Lawrie, struggling to free himself.

"We've burned the midnight oil between us, have Nessie and I," retorted Brodie gravely. "It's been a heap o' work but by gad, it's been worth it!"

"Really, sir," exclaimed Lawrie in a shrill, indignant tone, wrenching himself free and looking around to see if his contact with this ruffianly looking individual had been observed, "you've taken a great liberty! I don't like it! Take care how you address me in future." Then, with a last, outraged look, he reinflated his cheeks and bounced off quickly down the road.

Brodie gazed after him in some amazement. He failed to detect anything in his recent conduct which could have aroused indignation, and finally, with a shake of his head, he turned and resumed his way, reaching without further encounters the haven of the Wellhall Vaults. Here he was not known and he remained silent, but drinking steadily, filling himself with liquor and further visions of his daughter's prowess, until three o'clock. Then he got up, set his hat well back upon his head, drew in his lips and swaggered into the open once more.

The mere step to the Wellhall Green he accomplished with hardly a falter and soon he was inside the trim enclosure where the smooth square of reen lay vivid in the sunshine, marred only by the dark, blurred figures of the players wavering across it before his eye. What a game for grown men, he thought contemptuously; to roll a few balls about like a gang of silly bairns. Could they not take out a gun or a horse, like he had once done, if they wanted their exercise or amusement.

His gaze, however, did not remain long upon the green but, lifting quickly, sought the small group that sat upon the veranda of the pavilion at the further end of the ground, and he smiled with a sardonic gratification as he observed that, even as he had foretold, they were all there from simple John Paxton to the Lord High Provost of the Borough. He gathered himself together again and advanced deliberately towards them.

For a moment he proceeded unobserved by this small gathering for they were all concentrating upon the game before them but suddenly Paxton looked up, observed him, and gasped in amazement:

"Guidsakes Just look what's coming!" His tone drew their attention at once, and following his startled gaze, they too regarded the strange, uncouth, strutting figure as it bore down upon them, and they exclaimed variously:

"Good God! It's Brodie. I ha vena seen him for months!"

"He's as fou as a lord, by the looks o' him."

"Losh! It's the drunken earl himsel'."

"Look at the face o' him and the clothes o' him."

"Ay, but look at the swagger o' the thing!"

They were silent as he drew near, directing their eyes away from him towards the green, disowning him, but still failing to perturb him as, oscillating slightly, he stood encompassing them with his sneer.

"Dear, dear," he snickered, "we're very engrossed in watching the wee, troolin' balls. It's a grand, excitin' pastime. We'll be lookin' on at a game o 1 peever next if we're not careful, like a band o' silly lassies." He paused and queried pertinently, "Who has won, Provost? Will ye tell me you that's such a grand spokesman for the town?"

"This game's not finished yet," replied Grierson after a moment's hesitation, and still with his eyes averted. The spite which he had once entertained against Brodie now found nothing in the other's wretched condition with which to justify itself and seemed suddenly to have evaporated. Besides, was he not the Provost? "Nobody has won yet," he added more affably.

"This game's not won yet," echoed Brodie sardonically. "Well, well! I'm sorry to hear it. But I can tell ye a game that is won!"