Half a Hero | Page 5

with a look that made Alicia think he might have been
"nice" when he was a young man.
"Oh, of course, if it's mere ambition--" began Eleanor impatiently.
"Not altogether," he interposed.
"Then what else?"
"Listen!" he said, holding up his hand.
They were now within twenty or thirty yards of the road, and, listening,
they heard the murmur of many voices. Government House stood on
the shore of the bay, about half a mile outside the town, and a broad
road ran by the gates which, on reaching Kirton, was merged in one of
the main thoroughfares, Victoria Street.
Another turn brought the party in the garden in sight of the road. It was
thronged with people for a considerable distance, people in a thick
mass, surging up against the gate and hardly held back by a cordon of
police.
"Whatever can be the matter?" exclaimed Eleanor.
"I am the matter," said Medland. "They have heard about it."
When the crowd saw him, cheer after cheer rang out, caps and
handkerchiefs were waved, and even flags made a sudden appearance.
Moving a pace in advance of his companions, he lifted his hat, and the
enthusiastic cries burst forth with renewed vigour. He signed to them to
be still, but they did not heed him. Alicia caught hold of Eleanor's hand,
her breath coming and going in sudden gasps. Eleanor looked at
Medland. He was moistening his lips, and she saw a little quiver run

through his limbs.
"By Jove!" said Dick Derosne.
Medland turned to Eleanor, and pointed to the crowd.
"Yes, I see," she said.
He held out his hand to bid them farewell, and walked on towards the
gate. They stood and watched his progress. Suddenly a different cry
rose.
"Let her pass! Let her pass! Let her through to him!"
The crowd slowly parted, and down the middle of the road, amid the
raising of hats and pretty rough compliments, a young girl came
walking swiftly and proudly, with a smile on her lips.
"It's his daughter," whispered Alicia. "Oh!"
Medland opened the gate and went out. The girl, her fair hair blowing
out behind her and her cheeks glowing red, ran to meet him, and, as he
stooped and kissed her, the crowd, having, as a crowd, but one way to
tell its feelings, roared and cheered again. Medland, with one hand on
his daughter's shoulder and the other holding his hat, walked down the
lane between human walls, and was lost to sight as the walls found
motion and closed in behind him.
After some moments' silence Dick Derosne recovered himself, and
remarked with a cynical air,
"Neat bit of acting--kissing the girl and all that."
But Alicia would not have it. With a tremulous laugh, she said,
"I should like to have kissed him too. Oh, Eleanor, I didn't know it was
like that!"
Perhaps Eleanor did not either, but she would not admit it. What was it

but a lot of ignorant people cheering they knew not what? If anything,
it was degrading. Yet, in spite of these most reasonable reflections, she
knew that her cheeks had flushed and her heart beat at the sight and the
sound.
They were still standing and watching the crowd as it retreated towards
Kirton, when the Governor, who had come out to get some fresh air
after his arduous labour, joined them.
"Extraordinary the popularity of the man in Kirton," he observed, in
answer to Alicia's eager description of Mr. Medland's triumph.
"What has he done for them?" asked Eleanor.
"Done? Oh, I don't know. He's done something, I suppose; but it's what
he's going to do that they're so keen about."
"Is he a Socialist?" inquired Alicia.
"I can't tell you," replied Lord Eynesford. "I don't know what he is--and
I'm not sure I know what a Socialist is. Ask Eleanor."
"A Socialist," began Eleanor, in an authoritative tone, "is----"
But this much-desired definition was unhappily lost, for a footman
came up and told Lord Eynesford that his wife would like to see him if
he were disengaged.
The Governor smiled grimly, winked imperceptibly, and departed.
"It's been quite an entertaining day," said Miss Scaife. "But I'm very
sorry for Sir Robert."
"What was Mr. Medland talking to you about, Dick?" asked Alicia.
"Oh, a new sort of drink. You take a long glass, and some pounded ice
and some gin--only you must be careful to get----"
"I don't want to hear about it."

"Well, you asked, you know," retorted Dick, with the air of a man who
suffers under the perpetual illogicality of woman.
CHAPTER III.
HOSPITALITY EX OFFICIO.
"I confess to being very much alarmed," said Mr. Kilshaw, "and I think
Capital generally shares the feeling."
"If I thought he could last, I should share