Peregrines Progress | Page 7

against an alien world. This, my dear uncles," said I, finding myself not a little moved as I concluded, "this is my prayer, that, through one of you she may find a greater happiness than has ever been hers hitherto."
"Tush, boy!" murmured my uncle Jervas, lounging gracefully against the balustrade of the terrace again, "Tush and fiddle-de-dee! If you have done with these heroics, let us get to our several beds like common-sense beings," and he yawned behind a white and languid hand.
His words stung me, I will own; but it was not so much these that wrought me to sudden, cold fury, as that contemptuous yawn. Even as I stood mute with righteous indignation, all my finer feelings thus wantonly outraged, he yawned again.
"Come, Peregrine," he mumbled sleepily, "come you in to bed, like a sensible lad."
"Uncle Jervas," said I, smiling up at him as contemptuously as possible, "I will see you damned first!"
"Good God!" exclaimed my uncle George, and letting go his whisker he fell back a step, staring down at me as if he had never seen me before in all his life. Uncle Jervas, on the contrary, regarded me silently awhile, then I saw his grim lips twitch suddenly and he broke into a peal of softly modulated laughter.
"Our sucking dove can roar, it seems, George--our lamb can bellow on occasion. On me soul, I begin to hope we were perhaps a trifle out in our estimation of him. There was an evil word very well meant and heartily expressed!" And he laughed again; then his long arm shot out, though whether to cuff or pat my head I do not know nor stayed to enquire, for, eluding that white hand, I vaulted nimbly over the balustrade and, from the flower bed below, bowed to him with a flourish.
"Uncle Jervas," said I, "pray observe that I bow to your impertinence, by reason of your age; may God mend your manners, sir! Uncle George, farewell. Uncles both, heaven teach you to be some day more worthy my loved aunt Julia!" Saying which, I turned and strode resolutely away across the shadowy park, not a little pleased with myself.
I was close upon the gates that opened upon the high road when, turning for one last look at the great house that had been my home, I was amazed and somewhat disconcerted to find my two uncles hastening after me; hotfoot they came, at something betwixt walk and run, their long legs covering the ground with remarkable speed. Instinctively I began to back away and was deliberating whether or not to cast dignity to the winds and take to my heels outright, when my uncle George hailed me, and I saw he flourished a hat the which I recognised as my own.
"Hold hard a minute, Perry!" he called, spurs jingling with his haste.
"My good uncles," I called, "you are two to one--two very large, ponderous men; pray excuse me therefore if I keep my distance."
"My poor young dolt," quoth uncle Jervas a trifle breathlessly, "we merely desire a word with you--"
"Aye, just a word, Perry!" cried uncle George. "Besides, we've brought your hat and coat, d'ye see."
"You have no other purpose?" I enquired, maintaining my rearward movement.
"Dammit--no!" answered uncle Jervas.
"Word of honour!" cried uncle George.
At this I halted and suffered them to approach nearer.
"You do not meditate attempting the futility of force?" I demanded.
"We do not!" said uncle Jervas.
"Word of honour!" cried uncle George.
"On the contrary," continued uncle Jervas, handing me my silver-buttoned, frogged surtout, "I for one heartily concur and commend your decision in so far as concerns yourself--a trifle of hardship is good for youth and should benefit you amazingly, nephew--"
"B'gad, yes!" nodded uncle George. "Fine thing, hardship--if not too hard. So we thought it well to see that you did not go short of the--ah--needful, d'ye see."
"Needful, sir?" I enquired.
"Rhino, lad--chink, my boy!"
"Ha, to be sure," sighed uncle Jervas, noting my bewilderment. "These coarse metaphors are but empty sounds in your chaste ears, nephew--brother George is trying to say money. Do you happen to have a sufficiency of such dross about you, pray?" A search of my various pockets resulted in the discovery of one shilling and a groat. "Precisely as I surmised," nodded my uncle Jervas, "having had your every possible want supplied hitherto, money is a sordid vulgarity you know little about, yet, if you persist in adventuring your precious person into the world of men and action, you will find money a somewhat useful adjunct. In this purse are some twelve guineas or so--" here he thrust the purse into the right-hand pocket of my coat.
"And six in this, Perry!" said uncle George, thrusting his purse into my left pocket.
"So here are eighteen-odd guineas," quoth uncle Jervas, "a paltry and most inadequate sum,