At Sunwich Port, Complete

“It’s all right,” said the other, shortly.

“Everything smells so fresh and sweet,” continued his nature-loving friend; “all the little dickey-birds was a-singing as if their little ‘arts would break as I come along.”

“I don’t wonder at it,” said the offended Mr. Kybird.

“And the banns go up next week,” murmured the boarding-master to himself. “Well, well.”

“‘Ave you got anything to say agin it?” demanded Mr. Kybird.

“Cert’nly not,” replied the other. “On’y don’t blame me when it’s too late; that’s all.”

Mr. Kybird, staring at him wrathfully, turned this dark saying over in his mind. “Too late for wot?” he inquired.

“Ah!” said Nathan Smith, slowly. “Nice and fresh after the rain, ain’t it? As I come along all the little dickey-birds—”

“Drat the little dickey-birds,” interrupted Mr. Kybird, with sudden violence. “If you’ve got anything to say, why don’t you say it like a man?”

The parlour door opened suddenly before the other could reply, and revealed the face of Mrs. Kybird. “Wot are you two a-quarrelling about?” she demanded. “Why don’t you come inside and sit down for a bit?”

Mr. Smith accepted the invitation, and following her into the room found Miss Kybird busy stitching in the midst of a bewildering assortment of brown paper patterns and pieces of cloth. Mrs. Kybird gave him a chair, and, having overheard a portion of his conversation with her husband, made one or two casual inquiries.

“I’ve been spending a hour or two at Mr. Swann’s,” said Mr. Smith.

“And ‘ow is ‘e?” inquired his hostess, with an appearance of amiable interest.

The boarding-master shook his head. “‘E’s slipping ‘is cable,” he said, slowly. “‘E’s been making ‘is will, and I was one o’ the witnesses.”

Something in Mr. Smith’s manner as he uttered this simple statement made his listeners anxious to hear more. Mr. Kybird, who had just entered the room and was standing with his back to the door holding the handle, regarded him expectantly.

“It’s been worrying ‘im some time,” pursued Mr. Smith. “‘E ‘asn’t got nobody belonging to ‘im, and for a long time ‘e couldn’t think ‘ow to leave it. Wot with ‘ouse property and other things it’s a matter of over ten thousand pounds.”

“Good ‘eavens!” said Mr. Kybird, who felt that he was expected to say something.

“Dr. Blaikie was the other witness,” continued Mr. Smith, disregarding the interruption; “and Mr. Swann made us both promise to keep it a dead secret till ‘e’s gone, but out o’ friendship to you I thought I’d step round and let you know.”

The emphasis on the words was unmistakable; Mrs. Kybird dropped her work and sat staring at him, while her husband wriggled with excitement.

“‘E ain’t left it to me, I s’pose?” he said, with a feeble attempt at jocularity.

“Not a brass farden,” replied his friend, cheerfully. “Not to none of you. Why should ‘e?

“He ain’t left it to Jack, I s’pose?” said Miss Kybird, who had suspended her work to listen.

“No, my dear,” replied the boarding-master. “E’s made ‘is will all ship-shape and proper, and ‘e’s left everything—all that ‘ouse property and other things, amounting to over ten thousand pounds—to a young man becos ‘e was jilt—crossed in love a few months ago, and becos ‘e’s been a good and faithful servant to ‘im for years.”

“Don’t tell me,” said Mr. Kybird, desperately; “don’t tell me that ‘e’s been and left all that money to young Teddy Silk.”

“Well, I won’t if you don’t want me to,” said the accommodating Mr. Smith, “but, mind, it’s a dead secret.”

Mr. Kybird wiped his brow, and red patches, due to excitement, lent a little variety to an otherwise commonplace face; Mrs. Kybird’s dazed inquiry. “Wot are we a-coming to?” fell on deaf ears; while Miss Kybird, leaning forward with lips parted, fixed her eyes intently on Mr. Smith’s face.

“It’s a pity ‘e didn’t leave it to young Nugent,” said that gentleman, noting with much pleasure the effect of his announcement, “but ‘e can’t stand ‘in: at no price; ‘e told me so ‘imself. I s’pose young Teddy’ll be quite the gentleman now, and ‘e’ll be able to marry who ‘e likes.”

Mr. Kybird thrust his handkerchief into his tail-pocket, and all the father awoke within him. “Ho, will ‘e?” he said, with fierce sarcasm. “Ho, indeed! And wot about my daughter? I ‘ave ‘eard of such things as breach o’ promise. Before Mr. Teddy gets married ‘e’s got to ‘ave a few words with me.”

“‘E’s behaved very bad,” said Mrs. Kybird, nodding.

“‘E come ‘ere night after night,” said Mr. Kybird, working himself up into a fury; “‘e walked out with my gal for months and months, and then ‘e takes ‘imself off as if we wasn’t good enough for’im.”

“The suppers ‘e’s ‘ad ‘ere you wouldn’t believe,” said Mrs. Kybird, addressing the visitor.

“Takes ‘imself off,” repeated her husband; “takes ‘imself off as if we was dirt beneath ‘is feet, and never been back to give a explanation from that day to this.”

“I’m not easy surprised,” said Mrs. Kybird, “I never was from a gal, but I must say Teddy’s been a surprise to me. If anybody ‘ad told me ‘e’d ha’ behaved like that I wouldn’t ha’ believed it; I couldn’t. I’ve never said much about it, becos my pride wouldn’t let me. We all ‘ave our faults, and mine is pride.”

“I shall bring a breach o’ promise action agin ‘im for five thousand pounds,” said Mr. Kybird, with decision.

“Talk sense,” said Nathan Smith, shortly.

“Sense!” cried Mr. Kybird. “Is my gal to be played fast and loose with like that? Is my gal to be pitched over when ‘e likes? Is my gal—”

“Wot’s the good o’ talking like that to me?” said the indignant Mr. Smith. “The best thing you can do is to get ‘er married to Teddy at once, afore ‘e knows of ‘is luck.”

“And when’ll that be?” inquired his friend, in a calmer voice.

“Any time,” said the boarding-master, shrugging his shoulders. “The old gentleman might go out tonight, or again ‘e might live on for a week or more. ‘E was so weak ‘e couldn’t ‘ardly sign ‘is name.”

“I ‘ope ‘e ‘as signed it all right,” said Mr. Kybird, starting.

“Safe as ‘ouses,” said his friend.

“Well, why not wait till Teddy ‘as got the money?” suggested Mrs. Kybird, with a knowing shake of her head.

“Becos,” said Mr. Smith, in a grating voice, “be-cos for one thing ‘e’d be a rich man then and could ‘ave ‘is pick. Teddy Silk on a pound or thereabouts a week and Teddy Silk with ten thousand pounds ‘ud be two different people. Besides that ‘e’d think she was marrying ‘im for ‘is money.”

“If ‘e thought that,” said Mrs. Kybird, firmly, “I’d never forgive ‘im.”

“My advice to you,” said Nathan Smith, shaking his forefinger impressively, “is to get ‘em married on the quiet and as soon as possible. Once they’re tied up Teddy can’t ‘elp ‘imself.”

“Why on the quiet?” demanded Mr. Kybird, sharply.

The boarding-master uttered an impatient exclamation. “Becos if Mr. Swann got to ‘ear of it he’d guess I’d been blabbing, for one thing,” he said, sharply, “and for another, ‘e left it to ‘im partly to make up for ‘is disappointment—he’d been disappointed ‘imself in ‘is younger days, so ‘e told me.”

“Suppose ‘e managed to get enough strength to alter ‘is will?”

Mr. Kybird shivered. “It takes time to get married, though,” he objected.

“Yes,” said Mr. Smith, ironically, “it does. Get round young Teddy, and then put the banns up. Take your time about it, and be sure and let Mr. Swann know. D’ye think ‘e wouldn’t understand wot it meant, and spoil it, to say nothing of Teddy seeing through it?