My Friend Smith | Page 6

his umbrella, and a few--"
"Take the box up to my room," said the lady to a boy who appeared at
this moment. "Where is the key?"
"I've got that, marm," replied Mrs Hudson, warming up a little, "and I
should like to go over his things myself as they are unpacked."

"Wholly unnecessary," replied the female, holding out her hand for the
key. "I see to everything of that kind here."
"But I mean to open the box!" cried Mrs Hudson, breaking out into a
passion quite unusual with her.
I, too, had been getting the steam up privately during the last few
minutes, and the sight of Mrs Hudson's agitation was enough to start
the train.
"Yes," said I, swelling out with indignation, "Mrs Hudson and I are
going to open the box. You sha'n't touch it!"
The female appeared to be not in the least put out by this little display
of feeling. In fact, she seemed used to it, for she stood quietly with her
arms folded, apparently waiting till we both of us thought fit to subside.
Poor Mrs Hudson was no match for this sort of battle. She lost her
control, and expressed herself of things in general, and the female in
particular, with a fluency which quite astonished me, and I did my little
best to back her up. In the midst of our joint address a gentleman
appeared on the scene, whom I correctly divined to be Mr Ladislaw
himself.
Mr Ladislaw was a short, dapper man, in rather seedy clothes, with
long sandy hair brushed right back over the top of his head, and no hair
at all on his face. He might have been thirty, or he might have been
fifty. His eyes were very small and close together; his brow was stern,
and his mouth a good deal pulled down at the corners. Altogether, I
didn't take to him at first glance, still less when he broke into the
conversation and distinctly took the part of Mrs Hudson's adversary.
"What is all this, Miss Henniker?" he said in a quick, sharp voice,
which made me very uncomfortable.
"This is Mr Jakeman's servant," answered the female. "She was talking
a little rudely about Frederick Batchelor's luggage here."

"And so was I!" I shouted valiantly. "It's not your luggage, and you
sha'n't have it, you old--beast!"
The last word came out half-involuntarily, and I was terribly frightened
as soon as it had escaped my lips.
I do not know how Mr Ladislaw or Miss Henniker took it, for I dare not
look up. I heard Mrs Hudson utter a mild protest, and next moment was
conscious of being taken firmly by the hand by Mr Ladislaw and led to
the door from which he had just emerged.
"Remain here, Batchelor," said he, sternly, "till I come back."
There was something in his voice and manner which took the spirit out
of me, and he might have spared himself the trouble of locking the door
behind him. I found myself in a small study, with shelves on the walls
and a writing-table in the window, which looked out on to a playground,
where, in the distance, I could catch sight of three boys swinging.
This first prospect of my future companions so interested me that I had
actually nearly forgotten all about poor Mrs Hudson, when Mr
Ladislaw entered the study and said--"The person is going now,
Batchelor. If you like you can say good-bye."
I flew out into the hall. Mrs Hudson was there crying, alone. What we
said, and how we hugged one another, and how desperately we tried to
be cheerful, I need not relate. I was utterly miserable. My only friend,
the only friend I had, was going from me, leaving me in this cheerless
place all alone. I would have given worlds to return with her. Mr
Ladislaw stood by as we uttered our last farewells.
"Be a good boy, Freddy, dear; be a good boy," was all she could say.
"So I will, so I will," was all I could reply. Then she turned to where
the coach was waiting. But once more she paused, and drew from her
pocket another parcel, this time a box, of the nature of whose contents I
could readily guess.

"It's only a few sweets, dear. There, be a good boy. Good-bye, Freddy!"
And in another minute the coach was grating away over the gravel
drive, and I stood utterly disconsolate in Stonebridge House, with my
box of sweets in one hand and Mr Ladislaw at the other.
Some of my readers may have stood in a similar situation. If they have,
I dare say they can remember it as vividly as any incident in their life. I
know I can. I remember