A Drake by George!. Trevena John
He ought to know something about fruit, as he spends half his time leaning against an apple tree."
"He wouldn't work under me. Besides, I'm doing a losing business as it is. It's a jolly difficult problem, Aunt."
"Will you open his eyes to his folly and wickedness? If you can't make him ashamed, you may be able to frighten him. Tell him, if he works, I will help him; but, if he won't work, I'll do nothing more for him."
"All right, Aunt. I'll shift the beggar," said Percy cheerfully; and he went out to search for his victim.
George was reclining upon a seat which his uncle had dedicated to the public for ever, to commemorate the return of the Drakes to Highfield. When he saw the enemy approaching he closed his eyes; for his cunning nature suggested that Percy would respect his slumbers unless he came as a special messenger. When the footsteps ceased, and the ferrule of a stick was pressed gently against his ribs, George realised that a certain amount of trouble awaited him.
"I was sound asleep. It's a tiring day, and I've been a long walk," he explained amiably. "Sit down, old chap, and look at the view; but if you want to admire the sunset, I should advise you to go higher up."
"I don't want to admire the sunset," replied Percy. "I've been having a talk with Aunt Maria – "
"And I've been to Black Anchor," broke in George. "I don't suppose you've read my uncle's history of the parish. It's a classic, and there are nine hundred copies at home. People called Slack were living there when we came; a regular bad lot and a disgrace to the village."
"Friends of yours?" asked Percy.
"Not likely! They were no better than savages. The man hobbled off one day and has never been seen since, and the woman was sent to prison for stealing, and the children were taken into a Home. The farm has been without a tenant for the last two years, and now an old man named Brock has taken it."
"Perhaps he would give you a job," suggested Percy.
"That's a good idea. I'm sorry I forgot to ask him when I went over this afternoon," said the amiable George, perfectly well aware in which direction the wind was blowing. "Unluckily the old chap hasn't any money. He cooks the grub while his grandson drains the bogs. Everybody's talking about it; they can't get over the idea of two men running a farm without a woman. Sidney, the young chap, wants to go into the Navy, but he sacrifices his future to help his grandfather. Funny idea that! Now if my uncle had been alive he would have got young Brock on a training ship, I warrant."
"Funny idea he should want to do some good for his grandfather?"
"No; but it's queer that a chap who wants to go into the Navy should come to Black Anchor with all its associations of us Drakes," said George loftily. Then he added, "I'm rested now, so I'll take a stroll."
"Just as you like. We'll sit here and talk, or we'll stroll and talk," said the pestilential Percy.
"Go on then," said George sourly.
So Percy in his capacity of ambassador delivered the ultimatum: Aunt Maria had borne with her husband's nephew for a great number of years, postponing vigorous action out of a mistaken kindness, but she was now firmly resolved upon the act of expulsion. "It's for your sake entirely," he continued. "Naturally Aunt wants to see you settled in some business, as she knows she can't leave you anything."
"Except the furniture," remarked George indifferently.
"That's not exactly a fortune," replied Percy, wondering how much his cousin knew about Chinese vases.
"My uncle promised I should have the furniture," said the monotonous George.
"Every man should work," observed Percy virtuously.
"I could manage tomatoes," retorted George.
"I shall be a rich man when the aunts die, while you will have nothing. I don't require to build up a business. Don't you want a home of your own, wife and children, and all that sort of thing?"
"No," said George.
"What do you want then?"
"Board and lodging, and some one to look after me," replied the candid cousin.
"Aunt Maria has said her last word. She won't keep you in idleness any longer. And I'm going to stay here until you leave the place."
"They never brought me up to do anything," argued George for the defence.
"They did their best, but you wouldn't work."
"They ought to have made me. I was young then, and it was their duty to make me submit to discipline. Now I'm middle-aged."
"Thirty-eight is still young."
"With some men; not with me. My habits are formed."
"When you find something to do – "
"That's just what Aunt Maria says," George interrupted bitterly. "She never suggested anything but once, and then she said I might have gone abroad as a missionary if I hadn't been unfit for the job. It's all very well to talk about doing something in this beastly overcrowded world, but what can a middle-aged bachelor do except put his trust in Providence? My uncle was at least practical: he did suggest I should turn pilot or harbour-master, although he knew the very sight of the sea puts my liver out of order."
"You might open a shop to sell fruit and flowers; and I'll supply you."
"I don't understand buying and selling, and I can't do accounts. You would take the profit, and I should have the losses."
"You must make up your mind. Aunt is perfectly serious," declared Percy.
"I don't want to offend her, and of course I couldn't abuse her kindness," said George slowly; "but just suppose I did refuse to leave home – suppose I insisted upon staying here and leading the sort of life that suits my health – what could she do?"
"If you were rotten enough for that, I suppose she could appeal to the magistrates for an ejectment order," replied Percy hazily.
"She is much too kind for that. Besides, I am her nephew."
"Only by marriage. You are not a blood relation; you can't claim to be dependent on her."
"I was thinking what a scandal it would make in the parish. Aunt and I don't get on well together, but I'm sure she would never turn me out."
"You ought to have heard her just now. I had no idea Aunt Maria could be so determined. She will give you money – she will help you – but go you must."
"Did she say where?"
"That's for you to decide. Isn't there any sort of job that takes your fancy?"
"I like railways. I always feel at home in a big railway station," George admitted.
"Station-master, – or traffic-manager – might suit you."
"Do you know I really believe it would," said George brightly.
"Now we've found it!" exclaimed Percy. "I'm going the day after tomorrow, and you had better come with me. We will travel up to Waterloo, and you can see the directors there about getting a job as station-master. I don't know if there's a premium, but, if there is, Aunt will pay it. You might get a small suburban station to start with. We'll go on Friday – that's a bargain, George?"
"Right, old chap! It's a long time since I had a holiday," came the ominous reply.
Mrs. Drake opened her heart and purse when she discovered George was about to accept a position as station-master. Miss Yard said she was sorry to hear he was giving up tomatoes, then in the same breath implored Percy to keep away from junctions where people were lost and trains collided with distressing frequency. Kezia mended linen, packed, and uttered many a dark saying about men who left their homes on Friday in the pride of life and were not heard of again. Percy assured his aunts they might always rely upon him to settle any difficulty. While George basked in popularity, like a sleek cat upon a windowsill, and took all that he could get in the way of cash, clothing, and compliments.
"You must come here sometimes. I expect you won't be able to get away for a year or two; but when you do get leave remember this is always your home," said Mrs. Drake warmly.
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