Stella Fregelius | Page 4

I can. No; it's not a joke. I would
give a great deal to see the thing a success."
"Why do you say I don't think anything of you, Mary? Of course, it
isn't true. Besides, you are my cousin, and we have always been good
friends since you were a little thing."
She laughed. "Yes, and I suppose that as you had no brothers or sisters
they taught you to pray for your cousin, didn't they? Oh, I know all
about it. It is my unfortunate sex that is to blame; while I was a mere
tom-boy it was different. No one can serve two masters, can they? You
have chosen to serve a machine that won't go, and I daresay that you

are wise. Yes, I think that it is the better part--until you find someone
that will make it go--and then you would adore her--by aerophone!"

CHAPTER II
THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS
Presently Morris heard a step upon the lawn, and turned to see his
father sauntering towards him. Colonel Monk, C.B., was an elderly
man, over sixty indeed, but still of an upright and soldierly bearing. His
record was rather distinguished. In his youth he had served in the
Crimea, and in due course was promoted to the command of a regiment
of Guards. After this, certain diplomatic abilities caused him to be sent
to one of the foreign capitals as military attache, and in reward of this
service, on retiring, he was created a Companion of the Bath. In
appearance he was handsome also; in fact, much better looking than his
son, with his iron-grey hair, his clear-cut features, somewhat marred in
effect by a certain shiftiness of the mouth, and his large dark eyes.
Morris had those dark eyes also--they redeemed his face from plainness,
for otherwise it showed no beauty, the features being too irregular, the
brow too prominent, and the mouth too large. Yet it could boast what,
in the case of a man at any rate, is better than beauty--spirituality, and a
certain sympathetic charm. It was not the face which was so attractive,
but rather the intelligence, the personality that shone through it, as the
light shines through the horn panes of some homely, massive lantern.
Speculative eyes of the sort that seem to search horizons and gather
knowledge there, but shrink from the faces of women; a head of brown
hair, short cut but untidy, an athletic, manlike form to which, bizarrely
enough, a slight stoop, the stoop of a student, seemed to give
distinction, and hands slender and shapely as those of an Eastern--such
were the characteristics of Morris Monk, or at least those of them that
the observer was apt to notice.
"Hullo! Morris, are you star-gazing there?" said Colonel Monk, with a
yawn. "I suppose that I must have fallen asleep after dinner--that comes
of stopping too long at once in the country and drinking port. I notice

you never touch it, and a good thing, too. There, my cigar is out. Now's
the time for that new electric lighter of yours which I can never make
work."
Morris fumbled in his pocket and produced the lighter. Then he said:
"I am sorry, father; but I believe I forgot to charge it."
"Ah! that's just like you, if you will forgive my saying so. You take any
amount of trouble to invent and perfect a thing, but when it comes to
making use of it, then you forget," and with a little gesture of
impatience the Colonel turned aside to light a match from a box which
he had found in the pocket of his cape.
"I am sorry," said Morris, with a sigh, "but I am afraid it is true. When
one's mind is very fully occupied with one thing----" and he broke off.
"Ah! that's it, Morris, that's it," said the Colonel, seating himself upon a
garden chair; "this hobby-horse of yours is carrying you--to the devil,
and your family with you. I don't want to be rough, but it is time that I
spoke plain. Let's see, how long is it since you left the London firm?"
"Nine years this autumn," answered Morris, setting his mouth a little,
for he knew what was coming. The port drunk after claret had upset his
father's digestion and ruffled his temper. This meant that to him--
Morris--Fate had appointed a lecture.
"Nine years, nine wasted years, idled and dreamt away in a village
upon the eastern coast. It is a large slice out of a man's life, my boy. By
the time that I was your age I had done a good deal," said his father,
meditatively. When he meant to be disagreeable it was the Colonel's
custom to become reflective.
"I can't admit that," answered