The Railway Man and His ChildrenOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Railway Man and His Children
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Children of the rich -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Forgery -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction; Social classes -- Fiction
“Yes,” replied Eddy, wincing a little, “the college man.” He had not
minded at all promulgating that fiction to the ladies. It was immense
fun. To do him justice it had been struck off on the spur of the moment,
without any intention; but to say it to Rowland, two fellows on the
hillside, was a different matter. He began to pull up the tenacious
roots of the ling with both hands, struggling with them, and did not
meet Archie’s eyes. Nothing could be more innocent than Archie’s eyes,
which suspected nothing. Archie had scarcely been conscious of Johnson’s
presence at all. He had made no mental remarks as to the breeding or
want of breeding of the stranger. He had no theories about a College
Don. It is doubtful, indeed, whether he had any clear impression as to
what that character was. Eddy added quickly, “He’s a little uncouth.
They don’t see much society, these fellows. I would not mix him up with
the ladies: but he would be awfully pleased--and when it’s only two
young fellows on a moor, you and me--”
“Oh, I have no objections,” said Archie. “Ask him if you like, Saumarez;
it was hardly necessary to take the trouble of asking me.”
“You are an awfully good fellow, Rowland!” said Eddy, struck with a
faint and very temporary sense of shame.
“Oh, if that’s all,” cried Archie with a smile which lighted up his
face. It pleased him that anybody should think so, and still more that
Eddy Saumarez should think so. In the exhilaration of that encouragement
he went a little further, as the simple giver pleased with his own
liberality is so apt to do.
“If there is anything else we can do for him? I’ll tell Roderick to see
that it’s all right. And we can go out any day you like. I’m not such a
hearty sportsman as you. If it wasn’t a kind of duty--but it’s pleasant
when somebody enjoys it,” he said with a glow upon his brightened face.
“I enjoy it--down to the ground,” said Eddy. “It’s not that there’s so
very much game; but then one has it all one’s own way. Nobody poking in
before you, saying, ‘My bird?’ and then a young fellow has to give in.
You’re a lucky dog, Rowland--the cock of the walk so far as the moor
goes, and thought no end of at home.”
“Do you think so?” said Archie, with a sort of painful gratification.
“I’m afraid that’s more than I can believe. I’m a disappointment to my
father, Saumarez. I don’t know what he expected, but he expected
something very different from me.”
“They are always like that,” said Eddy, with the air of an authority.
“They put you in a certain grind, and then they look out for something
quite different. I am just the product of my training; but the Governor
jaws at me as if I were a monster: though if all tales be true, he could
have given me odds, at my worst.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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