The Mighty Atom | Page 8

not breathed a word, even to Willie Montrose. The scheme was a bold and dreadful one; and it was this,--to run away for the day. He did not wish to shirk his studies,--but he knew there were to be no lessons till his new tutor, Professor Cadman-Gore arrived, and Professor Cadman-Gore was not due till that evening at ten o'clock. The whole day therefore was before him,--the long, beautiful, sunshiny day,--and he, in his own mind, resolved that he would for once make the best of it. He had no wish to deceive his father,--his desire for an 'escapade' arose out of an instinctive longing which he himself had not the skill to analyse,--a longing not only for freedom, but for rest. Turning it over and over in his thoughts now, as he had turned it over and over all night, poor child, he could not see that there was any particular harm or mischief in his intention. Neither his father nor mother ever wanted him or sent for him except at luncheon, which was his dinner,--all the rest of the time he was supposed to be with his tutor, always engaged in learning something useful. But now, it so happened that he was to be left for several hours without any tutor, and why should he not take the chance of liberty while it was offered him? He was still mentally debating this question, when Montrose entered softly, portmanteau in hand.
"Come along, laddie!" he said with a kind smile--"Step gently! Nobody's astir,--and I'll aid and abet you in this morning's outing. We're going to breakfast together at Miss Payne's,--the coach won't be here for a long time yet."
Lionel gave a noiseless jump of delight on the floor, and then did as he was told, creeping after his tutor down the stairs like a velvet-footed kitten, and reddening with excess of timidity and pleasure when the big hall-door was opened cautiously and closed again with equal care behind them, and they stood together among the honey-suckle and wild rose-tangles of the sweetly-scented garden.
"Let me help you carry your portmanteau, Mr. Montrose"--he said sturdily--"I'm sure I can!"
"I'm sure you can't!" returned Montrose with a laugh, "Leave it alone, my boy,--it's too heavy for you. Here, you can carry my Homer instead!"
Lionel took the well-worn leather-bound volume, and bore it along in both hands reverently as though it were a sacred relic.
"Where are you going, Mr. Montrose?" he asked presently,--"Have you got another boy like me to teach?"
"No,--not yet. I wonder if I shall manage to find another boy like you, eh? Do you think I shall?"
Lionel considered seriously for a moment before replying.
"Well, I don't know," he said at last,--"I suppose there must be some. You see when you're an only boy, you get different to other boys. You've got to try and be more clever, you know. If I had two or three brothers now, my father would want to make every one of them clever, and he wouldn't have to get it all out of me. That's how I look at it."
"Oh, that's how you look at it," echoed Montrose, studying with some compassion the delicate little figure trotting at his side,--"You think your father wants to get the brain-produce of a whole family out of you? Well,--I believe he does!"
"Of course he does!" averred Lionel solemnly, "And it is very natural if you think of it. If you've only got one boy, you expect a good deal from him!"
"Too much by half!" growled Montrose, sotto-voce,--then aloud he added--"Well, laddie, you needn't fret yourself,--you are learning quite fast enough, and you know a good deal more now than ever I did at your age. I was at school at Inverness when I was a little chap, and passed nearly all my time fighting,--that's how I learned my lessons!"
He laughed,--a joyous ringing laugh which was quite infectious, and Lionel laughed too. It seemed so droll for a boy to pass his time in fighting!--so very exceptional and extraordinary!
"Why, Mr. Montrose,"--he exclaimed--"what did you fight so much for?"
"Oh, any excuse was good enough for me!" returned Montrose gleefully, "If I thought a boy had too long a nose, I pulled it for him, and then we fought the question out together. They were just grand times!--grand!"
"I have never fought a boy,"--murmured Lionel regretfully, "I never had any boy to fight with!"
Montrose looked down at him, and a sudden gravity clouded his previous mirth.
"Listen to me, laddie," he said earnestly--"When you have a chance, ask your father to send you to school. You've a tongue in your head,--ask him,--say it's the thing you're longing for,--beg for it as though it were your life. You're quite ready for it; you'll take a high place at once with what you know, and you'll be