Charles Rex by Ethel May Dell (easy readers .TXT) 📖

nursery door as he entered. "I reckon that's just one of the things I've learnt not to say."
"Oh glory!" said Toby, "There goes the odd trick!"
It was several minutes later, after a wild final romp that they left the room together. There was certainly no ceremony left between them. They came out as comrades, laughing at the same joke, their brief passage-at-arms apparently forgotten.
Toby, however, reverted to it very suddenly as they walked along the passage. "Mr. Bolton, I'm sorry I got Bunny into hot water this afternoon. It was all my fault. And I'm sorry I said blazes in front of the babies just now. You'll have to kick me when I do these things, and then I'll remember."
Jake paused and looked at her. "Say! Are you a boy or a girl?" he said.
She smiled, a faintly dubious smile, but her reply was prompt. "Mostly boy, sir. That's what makes it so difficult."
He put his hand on her shoulder. "Look here! Call me Jake, see? Are you keen on horses?"
Toby's eyes shone. "Like mad," she said.
"I'll see you ride tomorrow," said Jake.
Toby whooped with delight. "But I'll have to borrow some breeches from someone. You don't want me to ride in a skirt do you?"
"Not specially," said Jake. "What do you generally ride in?"
"Tights," said Toby, and then suddenly clapped her hand to her mouth in dismay. "There! Now I've done it! You won't tell--you'll never tell, will you? Promise!"
"Sure!" said Jake. He was smiling a little, but there was compassion in his eyes.
And Toby's hand came out to him in sudden confidence. "I like you," she said. "You're a friend."
Jake's grasp was strong and kindly. "I guess I shan't let you down," he said.
Toby nodded. "You've been a cow-boy, haven't you? I knew that directly I saw you."
"I've been a good many things," said Jake.
She nodded again. "And always the right sort. I wish--" She broke off abruptly.
"What?" said Jake.
"Oh, nothing," said Toby, with a rather wistful little laugh.
"Let's have it!" said Jake.
Her hand lay in his, and this time she left it there. Her blue eyes met his courageously. "Only that I'd met you before," she said.
"Before when?" said Jake. "Before you met Saltash?"
"Oh no!" Very swiftly, she answered him. "Oh no! Lord Saltash is among the kings. I'd have been dead by now but for him!" Her eyes kindled as with a sudden glowing memory, she flushed like an eager child. "You know him?" she said. "Isn't he--isn't he--fine?"
She spoke with reverence, even with a certain awe. The man's face changed a little, hardening almost imperceptibly.
"Guess he's no great hero of mine," he said. "But maybe he has his points."
"He has!" Toby assured him with fervor. "You don't know him like I do. He's a--he's a masterpiece."
"That so?" said Jake.
Perhaps Toby felt a lack of sympathy in his tone; she quitted the subject abruptly. "No, that wasn't what I meant. I only wish I'd met you long ago--years and years ago--when you were a cow-boy."
"You were a babe in arms then," said Jake.
She shook her head, quaintly smiling. "I wasn't ever that. I think I must have been born old--began at the wrong end somehow. Some people do, you know."
"I know," said Jake. "When that happens, there's only one thing to be done."
"What?" queried Toby.
His eyes were watching her intently, but there was nothing alarming in their scrutiny. He made reply with absolute gentleness. "Begin again."
"Ah!" A little sound that was more than a sigh escaped her, and then quite suddenly her other hand came out to him; she lifted a quivering face. "You going to help me?" she said.
The action touched him. He took her by the shoulders as he might have taken a boy. "I'll help you," he said.
"You'll be good to me?" Her voice was quivering also, it had a sound of tears.
"Sure!" said Jake, laconic and forceful.
"Keep me straight and pull me up when I go wrong?" pursued Toby tremulously.
"Yes, I'll do that," he said.
"And you won't--you won't--you won't--talk to anybody about me?" she pleaded.
"No," said Jake briefly.
"Not to Lord Saltash? Not to anyone?"
"No," he said again, a hint of sternness in the curt word.
Toby gulped down her distress, was silent for a moment or two, then suddenly smiled upon him--a sunny inconsequent smile. "Guess I've got you on my side now," she said with satisfaction. "You're nice and solid, Mr. Jake Bolton. When you've been picked up from the very bottom of the sea, it's good to have someone big and safe to hold on to."
"That so?" said Jake.
"Yes, I know now why Lord Saltash sent me here--just because you're big--and safe."
"Oh, quite safe," said Jake with his sudden smile.
It came to him--as it had come to Saltash--that there was something piteously like a small animal, storm-driven and seeking refuge, about her. Even in her merriest moments she seemed to plead for kindness.
He patted her shoulder reassuringly as he let her go. "I'll look after you," he said, "if you play the game."
"What game?" said Toby unexpectedly.
He looked her squarely in the eyes. "The only game worth playing," he said. "The straight game."
"Oh, I see," said Toby with much meekness. "Not cheat, you mean? Lord Saltash doesn't allow cheating either."
"Good land!" said Jake in open astonishment.
"You don't know him," said Toby again with conviction.
And Jake laughed, good-humoured but sceptical. "Maybe I've something to learn yet," he said tolerantly. "But it's my impression that for sheer mischief and double-dealing he could knock spots off any other human being on this earth."
"Oh, if that's all you know about him," said Toby, "you've never even met him--never once."
"Have you?" questioned Jake abruptly.
She coloured up to the soft fair hair that clustered about her blue-veined temples, and turned from him with an odd little indrawn breath. "Yes!" she said. "Yes!"--paused an instant as if about to say more; then again in a whisper, "Yes!" she said, and went lightly away as if the subject were too sacred for further discussion.
"Good land!" said Jake again, and departed to his own room in grim amazement.
Saltash the sinner was well known to him and by no means uncongenial; but Saltash the saint, not only beloved, but reverenced and enshrined as such, as something beyond his comprehension! How on earth had he managed to achieve his sainthood?


CHAPTER IX
THE IDOL

"Well?" said Saltash with quizzical interest. "Where is she? And how is she getting on?"
It was the Sunday afternoon of his promised visit, a day soft with spring showers and fleeting sunshine. Maud sat in a basket-chair on the verandah and regarded him with puzzled eyes. She passed his questions by.
"Charlie," she said, "where does she come from?"
He raised his shoulders expressively. "Where do all women come from--and why, _chere reine_? It would be such a peaceful planet without them."
He was in a baffling mood, and she knew better than to pursue the subject under those conditions. She abandoned her effort with a sigh.
"She is not a woman; she is a child, very charming but utterly irresponsible. She is in the training field just now with Jake and Bunny. She is a positive delight to Jake. She can do anything with the horses."
"But not such a delight to you?" suggested Saltash shrewdly.
Maud hesitated momentarily. "I love her of course," she said then. "But--though I have tried to make her feel at ease--I think she is a little afraid of me--afraid anyhow to be quite natural in my presence."
"But are we any of us that?" protested Saltash. "Are we not all on our best behaviour in the audience-chamber?"
Maud sighed again. "They are all great pals," she said irrelevantly. "She and Bunny are terribly reckless. I hope they won't break their necks before they have done."
"Or their hearts?" suggested Saltash, looking mischievous.
She smiled. "I don't think there is much danger of that, anyhow at present. She is a positive child, Charlie,--as young as Eileen in many ways, or perhaps younger. Shall we walk down to the field and look at them?"
"Your servant, madam!" said Saltash readily.
He was on his feet in an instant, and she realized that he had been chafing to go since the moment of his arrival.
"You take a great interest in her," she remarked, as they walked along the terrace.
He made his most appalling grimace. "I have never had an infant to look after before," he said "And--I have to make my report to Larpent."
"Ah! How is he?" questioned Maud.
He shot her a swift glance. "Is the child anxious?"
"Not in the least. I don't believe she ever thinks about him. She told me on the first day that she hardly knows him."
Saltash laughed. "How honest of her! Well, he's getting better, but he won't be well yet. May I leave her in your charge, a while longer?"
"Of course!" Maud said warmly. "I love to have her, and she is a great help to me too. The children simply worship her, and she is splendid with them. I believe Eileen will very soon get over her dread of riding."
"Toby can ride?" asked Saltash.
"Oh yes, like a cow-boy. She is amazingly fearless, and never minds a tumble in the least. She can do the most extraordinary things exactly like a boy. I am always afraid of her coming to grief, but she never does."
"Funny little beggar!" said Saltash.
"I am quite sure of one thing," pursued Maud. "She never learnt these things at any school. She tells me she has been to a good many."
"I believe that's true," said Saltash. "I imagine she is fairly quick to pick up anything, but I haven't known her myself for long."
"She must have picked up a good deal on _The Night Moth_," observed Maud unexpectedly.
He glanced at her again. "Why do you say that? She was under my protection--and Larpent's--on _The Night Moth_."
"I know. She idolizes you," Maud smiled at him somewhat dubiously. "But she must have mixed fairly freely with the crew to have picked up the really amazing language she sometimes uses."
Saltash's brows worked whimsically. "Some of us have a gift that way," he remarked. "Your worthy Jake, for instance--"
"Oh, Jake is a reformed character," she interrupted. "He hardly ever lets himself go now-a-days. And he won't allow it from Bunny. But Toby--Toby never seems to know the good from the bad."
"Has Jake taken her in hand?" asked Saltash with a chuckle.
"Oh yes. He checks her at every turn. I must say she takes it very sweetly, even offered to take her meals in her room yesterday when he was rather down on her. It absolutely disarmed Jake of course. What could he say?"
"Yes, she's a disarming monkey certainly," agreed Saltash. "But I never was great on the management and discipline of children. So she knocks under to the great Jake, does she?"
"Oh, not entirely." Maud laughed a little. "Only this morning they had a battle. I don't know how it is going to end yet. But--she can be very firm."
"She never tried any battles with me," said Saltash, with some complacence.
"No. But then your sense of duty is more elastic than Jake's. You never--probably--asked her to do anything she didn't want to do."
"Can't remember," said Saltash. "What did Jake want?"
Maud's smile lingered. "You'll laugh of course. But Jake is quite right, whatever you do. He wanted her to go to church with little Eileen and me this morning. She's only a child, you know, and he naturally took it