Father Stafford | Page 2

safely be said that, not even Sir Roderick's nose could have sniffed the
workhouse in the young master of Millstead Manor.
Still whistling, Eugene descended the steps and approached a group of
people sitting under a large copper-beech tree. A still, hot summer
morning does not incline the mind or the body to activity, and all of
them had sunk into attitudes of ease. Mrs. Lane's work was reposing in
her lap; her sister, Miss Jane Chambers, had ceased the pretense of
reading; the Rector was enjoying what he kept assuring himself was
only just five minutes' peace before he crossed over to his parsonage
and his sermon; Lady Claudia Territon and Miss Katharine Bernard
were each in possession of a wicker lounge, while at their feet lay two
young men in flannels, with lawn-tennis racquets lying idle by them. A
large jug of beer close to the elbow of one of them completed the
luxurious picture that was framed in a light cloud of tobacco smoke,
traceable to the person who also was obviously responsible for the beer.
As Eugene approached, a sudden thought seemed to strike him. He
stopped deliberately, and with great care lit a cigar.
"Why wasn't I smoking, I wonder!" he said. "The sight of Bob Territon
reminded me." Then as he reached them, raising his voice, he went on:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to interrupt you, and with bad

news."
"What is the matter, dear," asked Mrs. Lane, a gentle old lady, who
having once had the courage to leave the calm of her father's country
vicarage to follow the doubtful fortunes of her husband, was now
reaping her reward in a luxury of which she had never dreamed.
"With the arrival of the 4.15 this afternoon," Eugene continued, "our
placid life will be interrupted, and one of Mr. Eugene Lane, M.P.'s,
celebrated Saturday to Monday parties (I quote from The Universe) will
begin."
"Who's coming?" asked Miss Bernard.
Miss Bernard was the acknowledged beauty referred to in the opening
lines of this chapter, whose love Eugene had been lucky enough to
secure. Had Eugene not been absurdly rich himself, he might have been
congratulated further on the prospective enjoyment of a nice little
fortune as well as the lady's favor.
"Is Rickmansworth coming?" put in Lady Claudia, before Eugene had
time to reply to his fiancée.
"Be at peace," he said, addressing Lady Claudia; "your brother is not
coming. I have known Rickmansworth a long while, and I never knew
him to be polite. He inquired by telegram (reply not paid) who were to
be here. When I wired him, telling him whom I had the privilege of
entertaining, and requesting an immediate reply (not paid), he answered
that he thought I must have enough Territons already, and he didn't
want to make another."
Neither Lady Claudia nor her brother Robert, who was the young man
with the beer, seemed put out at this message. Indeed, the latter went so
far as to say:
"Good! Have some beer, Eugene?"
"But who is coming?" repeated Miss Kate. "Really, Eugene, you might

pay a little attention to me."
"Can't, my dear Kate--not in public. It's not good form, is it, Lady
Claudia?"
"Eugene," said Mrs. Lane, in a tone as nearly severe as she ever arrived
at, "if you wish your guests to have either dinner or beds, you will at
once tell me who and how many they are."
"My dear mother, they are in number five, composed as follows: First,
the Bishop of Bellminster."
"A most interesting man," observed Miss Chambers.
"I am glad to hear it, Aunt Jane," responded Eugene. "The Bishop is
accompanied by his wife. That makes two; and then old Merton, who
was at the Colonial Office you know, and Morewood the painter make
four."
"Sir George Merton is a Radical, isn't he?" asked Lady Claudia
severely.
"He tries to be," said Eugene. "Shall I order a carriage to take you to
the station? I think, you know, you can stand it, with Haddington's
help."
Mr. Spencer Haddington, the other young man in flannels, was a very
rising member of the Conservative party, of which Lady Claudia
conceived herself to be a pillar. Identity of political views, in Mr.
Haddington's opinion, might well pave the way to a closer union, and
this hope accounted for his having consented to pair with Eugene, who
sat on the other side, and spend the last week in idleness at Millstead.
"Well," said Mr. Robert Territon, "it sounds slow, old man."
"Candid family, the Territons," remarked Eugene to the copper-beech.
"Who's the fifth? you've only told us four," said Kate, who always
stuck to the point.

"The fifth is--" Eugene paused a moment, as though preparing a
sensation; "the fifth is--Father Stafford."
Now it