CHAPTER VI.
[MASTER EDWARD BUNNY.]
Mr. Sarkies lived with his widowed mother and an unmarried aunt, an elderly spinster, in a small house behind that occupied by the Bunnys. The family were of Armenian descent, although they were unwilling to own the fact. Wherever they went, however, they bore the cachet of their origin with them in their noses, the insignia of race bestowed upon them by Providence. When the wave of religious enthusiasm swept over Bombay it caught up among other flotsam the Sarkies family. The head of the house died shortly after this event, making a most edifying end. He left a little money, and his son was educated as well as it was possible for a man of his class, and was now an assistant accountant in the great firm of Apcoon Brothers, and in receipt of a salary of about two hundred pounds a year. Of a light, volatile character by nature, the strain of having to live under the restraints of the sect to which he belonged was sometimes too much for Sarkies, and he often broke out occasionally, as on the memorable Sunday when the elder fell foul of him, with disastrous results to himself. He was idolized by his mother and his aunt, and was a contributor to the Poet's Corner of the Bombay Bouncer. He had been much touched by the emotion displayed by Lizzie Bullin when the elder attacked him. He sat up half the night pouring his feelings into verse. He rose early, and copied the verses out neatly on a piece of bright pink Baskeville paper, with a blue J. S. in rustic letters on the top. This he folded carefully in an envelope, but did not address it. "Don't want rows," he said emphatically to himself. His excitement was so great that he contented himself with about one-third of his usual quantity of curry for breakfast, and, entering his buggy, a legacy from his father, in which an old flea-bitten Arab worked loyally, he drove toward his place of business.
"Mind and come back earlee, Jimmee!" screamed his aunt after him.
"Yes, auntee," and the buggy rattled out of the gate on to the road, a cloud of dust rising behind it.
He had not gone far when he saw Eddy Bunny before him, walking to school, a satchel full of books swinging in his hand. A happy thought struck Sarkies; Eddy Bunny attended the High School, where both boys and girls were taught, in different classes, however. Now Sarkies knew that a small sister of Lizzie's was also a pupil at the school. If he could only induce Eddy to give the verses to Florry they would be sure to reach safely. He pulled up, therefore.
"Hallo, Eddy!"
"Hallo!" shouted back the boy, making a shambling sort of salute.
"Want a lift?--drive you to school."
"Orright," and Eddy climbed in.
"When I grow up I'm going to get a buggy better than this."
Sarkies felt a little nettled, but made no reply. He hit the horse smartly, and the beast kicked up its heels, and then went on.
"I say, give me the whip."
"Here you are; and look here, Eddy, I want you to do something for me."
"Aw!"
"Do you know Florry Bullin?"
"She's my sweetheart," replied Eddy; "I'm going to marry her when I grow up."
Better and better, thought Sarkies. "Well, look here, Eddy: Lizzie is my sweetheart, and I want to marry her."
"Then you are not going to marry Aunty Halsa? But she wouldn't marry you; she is going to marry Mr. Galbraith."
"What!" Sarkies pulled the reins in and stopped the horse.
"Yes. What'er you stopping for?"--chick, slish--and Eddy used the whip with all his little might.
"Are you sure of this?" asked Sarkies, as they moved on.
"Yes; paw said he'd lick me if I spoke about it."
"Well, look here, Eddy; I want you to give a letter I have to Lizzie; give it to Florry, and tell her to give it. I will give you a ru--no, eight annas, if you do this, and mind and keep quiet about it, or I'll tell that you spoke about Aunty Halsa."
"Give me the eight annas," said Eddy, stretching out his disengaged hand.
They had reached the school gate by this time.
"All right; get down first."
Eddy descended, and held out a small paw, into which Sarkies dropped the coin.
"Quick!" said Eddy, "the bell is ringing. Give me the letter."
Sarkies handed him the note. "Be careful," he said, and Eddy, nodding, turned back in the direction of the school. He had not gone ten yards, however, when he stopped suddenly.
"Mr. Sarkies!" he shouted.
"What is it?"
"Oh! I heard paw tell maw that you are to be turned out of church--wot fun!" He turned again and ran down the road toward the school.
Sarkies was taken aback. He had no idea that the elder meant to carry his threat out.
"Damfool!" he burst out savagely and loudly, for there was no danger of being overheard. Having relieved his feelings in this manner, he urged the old Arab forward, and the buggy once more joggled down the road.
It was not until the half-hour's recess that Eddy obtained an opportunity to deliver the note. He pulled out of his satchel, which hung on a peg in the veranda of the school, a brown paper parcel containing his lunch--egg sandwiches. Clutching this in one hand, he made his way to the back garden of the school, and found Flora Bullin there. It was their trysting place.
"Have a sweet?" she asked, handing him a lozenge which had become rather damp and limp in her hand.
"Lozengers--eh!" said Eddy, and transferred the delicate morsel to his mouth.
"I say," he said, "that's nice." He took a huge bite out of one of his egg sandwiches and began to speak again, with his mouth full.
"I say, Florry, Jim Sarkies is sweet on Lizzie."
"Lizzie is a horrid cat," replied Florry, as she soberly chose a sweet for herself out of a glass bottle. "She pinched me--awfool, last night, as I lay awake and listened. See there," and Florry bared a small arm showing the blue marks of a finger and thumb.
Eddy examined it gravely. "How did you get caught?" he inquired--"laff?"
"Yes."
"Well, you are a muff. I never get caught that way."
"Oh, but you're a boy!"
"Yes; when I'm a man I'm going to marry you--do you hear that?"
Florry nodded. "All right," she said. "What did Jimmee say about Lizzie?"
"Oh! he gave me--a--hm--no--he gave me a letter for Lizzie, and I promised to give it to you to give to her, y'know."
"Where's the letter?--give it to me."
Eddy pulled out of his pocket the envelope, now soiled and grimy from contact with a peg-top, a bit of native sweetmeat, and the leather pouch of his catapult.
"Here 'tis," he said; "you'll give it to Lizzie?"
Florry took the letter carefully. "It's very dirty," she said, as she slipped it into her pocket. There was a silence of about a minute, during which time Eddy finished the remainder of his sandwiches.
"Well," he said, "I'm off to bowl a little; you girls are no use--can't do anything."
"Stop a minute, Eddy. Lizzie is a cat. She don't like you neither. Wouldn't it be fun to give this letter to paw?"
"Urn," reflected Eddy, "Lizzie pinched you. I won't have anybody pinching you, y'know. I'm going to marry you when I grow up. Serve Jimmy Sarkies right, too," he added, suddenly brightening up--"awful sneak. Yes, leave it on your paw's table, and say nothing. I'm off now, only ten minutes left."
"Look here, Eddy."
"Oh, bother! what's it now?"
"Only this. I might like to marry some one else, you know, when I grow up. Ta--ta." She blew a kiss at him, and was gone.
Eddy thrust his hands into his pockets and looked moodily after her. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike him. "It's Billy Bunder," he said, striking his clenched fist into his open palm--"only wait till I catch him----"
Clang, clang, went the school bell. The recess was over.