Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First > This page
In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 6. Frank Feeds The Ducks |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER SIX. FRANK FEEDS THE DUCKS Something very nearly akin to a guilty feeling troubled Frank upon meeting his fellow-page that afternoon; but his father's promise, in conjunction with his words respecting Andrew's actions being merely those of an enthusiastic boy, helped to modify the trouble he felt, and in a few minutes it passed off. For Andrew began by asking how his friend's father was, and praising him. "I always liked your father, Frank," he said; "but he's far too good for where he is. Well, we're off duty till the evening. Ready for our run?" "Oh yes, I'm ready," said Frank, laughing; "but you won't run unless somebody's carriage is being mobbed. You could go fast enough then." "Well, of course I can run if I like. Come along." "Where's the bread?" asked Frank. "Bread? What bread? Are you hungry already?" "No, no; the bread you talked about." "The bread I talked about? What nonsense! I never said anything about bread that I can remember." "Well, you said we were going to feed the ducks." "Oh-h-oh!" ejaculated Andrew; and he then burst into a hearty fit of laughter. "Of course: so I did. I didn't think of it. Well, perhaps we had better take some. Ring the bell, and ask one of the footmen to bring you some." Frank thought it strange that his companion, after proposing that they should go and feed the ducks, had forgotten all about the bread. However, he said no more, but rang, and asked the servant to get him a couple of slices. The man stared, but withdrew, and came back directly. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said; "but did you wish me to bring the bread here?" "Certainly. Be quick, please. We are waiting to go out." The man withdrew for the second time, and the lads waited chatting together till Andrew grew impatient. "Ring again," he cried. "Have they sent to have a loaf baked? It's getting late. Let's start. Never mind the bread." "Oh, let's have it now it's ordered. How are we to feed the ducks without?" "Throw them some stones," said Andrew mockingly. "Come along. We'll look at other people feeding them--if there are any. Look here; it's twenty minutes by that clock since you gave the order." At that moment another footman opened the door, and held it back for one of his fellows to enter bearing a tray covered with a cloth, on which were a loaf, a butter-dish, knives, plates, glasses, and a decanter of water. "Oh, what nonsense!" cried Andrew impatiently. "There, cut a slice, Frank, put it in your pocket, and come along, or we shall be late." "I did not know that ducks had particular hours for being fed," thought the boy, as he cut into the loaf, and then hacked off two slices instead of one, the two men-servants standing respectfully back and looking on, both being too well-trained to smile, as Frank thrust one slice into his pocket and offered the other to Andrew. "Oh, I don't want it," he said impatiently. "Better take it," cried Frank. "I shan't give you any of mine." Andrew hesitated for a moment, and then snatched a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped the slice in it, and thrust the handkerchief back. "Perhaps I had better take one too," he said aloud; and then to his companion as they went out: "Makes one look so ridiculous and childish before the servants. They'll go chattering about it all over the place." "Let them," said Frank coolly. "I don't see anything to be ashamed of." "No," said Andrew, with something like a sneer, "you don't; but you will some day. There, let's make haste." It did not strike the lad that his companion's manner was peculiar, only that he felt it to be rather an undignified proceeding; but he said nothing, and accommodating his stride to Andrew's long one, they crossed the courtyard, went out into the Park, and came in sight of the water glittering in the sun. "There's a good place," said Frank. "Plenty of ducks close in." "Oh, there's a better place round on the other side," said Andrew hastily. "Let's go there." "Anywhere you like," said Frank, "so long as we're out here on the fresh grass again. What a treat it is to be among the green trees!" "Much better than the country, eh?" "Oh no; but it does very well. I say, I wish we might fish." "Oh, we'll go fishing some day. Walk faster; we're late." "Fast as you like. What do you say to a run? You can run, you say, when you like." "Oh no, we needn't run; only walk fast." "Or the ducks will be impatient," said Frank, laughing. "Yes, or the ducks may be impatient," said Andrew to himself, as he led on toward the end of the ornamental water nearest to where Buckingham Palace now stands, and bore off to the left; and when some distance back along the farther shore of the lake and nearly opposite to Saint James's Palace, he said suddenly: "Look, Frank, there is some one beforehand;" and he pointed to where a gentleman stood by the edge of the water shooting bits of biscuit with his thumb and finger some distance out, apparently for the sake of seeing the ducks race after them, some aiding themselves with their wings, and then paddling back for more. The two lads walked up to where the gentleman was standing, and as he heard them approach he turned quickly, and Frank saw that he was a pale, slight, thin-faced, youngish-looking man who might be forty. "Ah, Andrew," he said, "you here; how are you? You have not come to feed the ducks?" "Oh yes, I have," said Andrew, giving the stranger a peculiar look; "and I've brought a friend with me. Let me introduce him. Mr Frank Gowan, Captain Sir Robert Gowan's son, and my fellow-servant with his Royal Highness. Frank, this happens to be a friend of mine--Mr George Selby." "I am very glad to meet any friend of Andrew Forbes," said the stranger, raising his hat with a most formal bow. "I know Sir Robert slightly." As he replaced his hat and smiled pleasantly to the salute Frank gave in return, he took a biscuit from his pocket, and began to break it in very small pieces, when, apparently without any idea of its looking childish, Andrew took out his piece of bread, and after a moment's hesitation Frank did the same, the ducks in his Majesty's "canal," as he termed it, benefiting largely by the result. "Any news?" said Andrew, after this had been going on for some minutes, and as he spoke he turned his head and looked fixedly at Mr Selby. "No, nothing whatever; everything is as dull as can be," was the reply, and the fixed look was returned. There seemed to be nothing in these words of an exciting nature, and Frank was intent upon a race between two green-headed drakes for a piece of crust which he had jerked out to a considerable distance; but all the same Andrew Forbes drew a deep breath, and his face flushed up. Then he glanced sharply at Frank, and looked relieved to find how his attention was diverted. "Er--er--it is strange what a little news there is stirring nowadays," he said, huskily. "Yes, very, is it not?" replied their new companion; "but I should have thought that you gentlemen, living as you do in the very centre of London life, would have had plenty to amuse you." "Oh no," said Andrew, with a forced laugh. "Ours is a terrible humdrum life at the Palace, so bad that Gowan there is always wanting to go out into the country to find sport, and as he cannot and I cannot, we are glad to come out here and feed the ducks." "Well," said the stranger gravely, jerking out a fresh piece of biscuit, "it is a nice, calm, and agreeable diversion. I like to come here for the purpose on Wednesday and Friday afternoons about this time. It is harmless, Forbes." "Very," said the youth, with another glance at Frank; but he was breaking a piece of crust for another throw, and another meaning look passed between the two, Forbes seeming to question the stranger with his eyes, and to receive for answer an almost imperceptible nod. "Yes, I like feeding the ducks," said Selby. "One acquires a good deal of natural history knowledge thereby, and also enjoys the pleasure of making new and pleasant friends." This was directed at Frank, who felt uncomfortable, and made another bow, it being the proper thing to do, as his new acquaintance--he did not mentally call him friend--dropped a piece of biscuit, to be seized by a very fat duck, which had found racing a failure, and succeeded best by coming out of the water, to snap up the fragments which dropped at the distributors' feet. As the piece of biscuit fell, the stranger formally and in a very French fashion raised his cocked hat again. "And so you find the court life dull, Mr Gowan," he said. "Yes," said the boy, colouring. "You see, I have not long left Winchester and my school friends. Miss the ga--sports; but Andrew Forbes has been very friendly to me," he added heartily. "Of course you feel dull coming among strangers; but never fear, Mr Gowan, you will have many and valuable friends I hope, your humble servant among the number. It must be dull, though, at this court. Now at Saint--" "That's my last piece of bread, Selby," said Andrew hastily. "Give me a bit of biscuit." "Certainly, if I have one left," was the smiling reply, with another almost imperceptible nod. "Yes, here is the last. Of course you must find it dull, and we have not seen you lately at the club, my dear fellow. By the way, why not bring Mr Gowan with you next time?" "Oh, he would hardly care to come. He does not care for politics, eh, Frank?" "I don't understand them," said the boy quietly. "You soon will now you are resident in town, Mr Gowan; and I hope you will favour us by accompanying your friend Forbes. Only a little gathering of gentlemen, young, clever, and I hope enthusiastic. You will come?" "I--that is--" "Say yes, Frank, and don't be so precious modest. He will bring up a bit of country now and then. But he is fast growing into a man of town." "What nonsense, Drew!" cried the boy quickly. "Yes, what nonsense!" said the new acquaintance, smiling. "Believe me, Mr Gowan, we do not talk of town at our little social club. I shall look forward to seeing you there as my guest. What do you say to Monday?" "I say yes for both of us," said Andrew quickly. "I am very glad. There, my last biscuit has gone, so till Monday evening I will say good-bye--_au revoir_." "Stick to the English, Selby," said Andrew sharply. "French is not fashionable at Saint James's." "You are quite right, my dear Forbes. Good-bye, Mr Gowan. It is a pleasure to shake your father's son by the hand. Till Monday then, my dear Forbes;" and with a more courtly bow than ever, the gentleman stalked slowly away, with one hand raising a laced handkerchief to his face, the other resting upon his sword hilt. "Glad we met him," said Andrew quickly, and he looked unusually excited. "One of the best of men. You will like him, Frank." "But you should not have been so ready to accept a stranger's invitation for me." "Pooh! he isn't a stranger. He'll be grateful to you for going. Big family the Selbys, and he'll be very rich some day. Wonderful how fond he is, though, of feeding the ducks." "Yes, he seems to be," said Frank; and he accompanied his companion as the latter strolled on now along the bank after finishing the distribution of bread to the feathered fowl by sending nearly a whole biscuit skimming and making ducks and drakes on the surface of the water; but the living ducks and drakes soon ended that performance and followed the pair in vain. For Andrew Forbes had suddenly become very thoughtful; while his companion also had his fit of musing, which ended in his saying to himself: "I wish I was as clever as they are. It almost seemed as if they meant something more than they said. It comes from living in London I suppose, and perhaps some day I shall get to be as sharp and quick as they are. Perhaps, though, it is all nonsense, and they meant nothing. But I wish Drew had not said we'd go. I'm not a man, and what do I want at a club? I don't know anything that they'd want to know, living as I do shut up in the Palace." But there Frank Gowan was wrong, for what went on at Saint James's Palace in the early days of the eighteenth century was of a great deal of interest to some people outside, and he never forgot the feeding of the ducks. _ |
||