“Master Philip’s not such a bad fellow, after all,” remarked the butler; “he’d have done well enough if he hadn’t had the ill luck to be born heir to a large fortune!”
“Oh! he was spoilt from a baby!” cried the cook.
“’Tisn’t so much that,” said the moralizing butler, seating himself by the fire and leaning back on his chair. Jenny, who, while taking the cold meat with which she had been provided, could not avoid hearing what was passing, listened with wonder to the easy, and, as it seemed to her, the insolent manner in which the affairs of the Hall were discussed in the kitchen. She began quite to change her mind as to the advantage of keeping many servants; her simple, honest heart, revolted from the treachery of their gossiping with any stranger about the most private concerns of the family which they served. “I’m glad we’ve our own little cot to ourselves,” was the thought which crossed Jenny’s mind; “and that we have not a set of people about us to watch every look, listen to every word, and make our troubles known to all the world!”
“You see,” continued the butler, addressing himself to Mrs. Dale, “here’s the mischief of the thing: Young master found out that he was a person of mighty importance in the house, before he was high enough to look over the table. Wasn’t there fireworks on his birthday, and his health drunk with three times three at the tenants’ dinner at Christmas! I mind how he used to strut about, toss his head, and bully his nurse, and smash his toys when he got tired of them; and they never pleased him more than a day! He grew older, too old for a nurse, so mistress had a tutor for him. He didn’t like a tutor—why should the heir to the estate be plagued with books and study? There was no peace till the tutor was sent off! Master found the boy getting beyond all bounds, with a mighty strong will of his own—sent him to school. He didn’t like school—why should the heir be tormented with schooling? He was brought back after the first half, to be a plague to himself and to every one near him! So he grew up, able to settle to nothing, never finishing anything that he began—thinking of nothing but how to kill time! He must go to London and see something of life. So to London he went; and the sharpers crowded around him as the wasps round a ripe plum. They taught him to gamble and spend money—he was apt enough at learning that! The heir to such a fortune was a bird worth the plucking; and such gentry as those that he has brought with him to-day will stick by him while there’s one golden feather left! So you see the truth of what I observed,” said the butler in conclusion;—“the worst luck which could have befallen young master was to be born the son of a man of fortune. If he’d had his own bread to earn, d’ye see, he’d have studied as a boy, and worked as a man, and thought of something besides pleasure; the sharpers would have left him alone; and he’d have turned out, may be, a mighty respectable member of society.”
Mrs. Dale nodded her head very thoughtfully. She was experienced in the management of children, and in her own nursery had always laboured to maintain strict discipline, but she knew well the disadvantages which attend a rich man’s son and heir. She sat for a few moments, turning over the matter in her mind, as though the expression of her opinion on the subject could influence the future of the spoilt child of fortune. Then, with the decision of one who has maturely considered a difficult question, and has come to a satisfactory conclusion, she said, “If I were Lady Grange I know what I’d do. I’d send the boy to my own old home. Her brothers are both men of sense and spirit, who would stand no nonsense; and if they didn’t bring the young pickle to his senses, why I’m greatly mistaken in the matter.”
“Her brothers!” exclaimed cook and lady’s-maid in a breath. “Why,” said the butler, “don’t you know that neither of them ever enters this house?”
Mrs. Dale lifted up her hands in amazement; “Lady Grange quarrelled with her own brothers! impossible!”
“Oh! it’s not mistress, but master. The worry and the distress which she has had no words can tell. Why, I don’t believe that she may so much as write to her old home!”
“Dear! dear!” exclaimed the old nurse, looking really concerned; “and they were such a happy, united family; it was quite a picture to see them! Miss Clara was the darling of the house; her brothers never thought that they could make enough of their pet. Sure it must be just a heartbreak to her to be on bad terms with them now! How could such a shocking thing have happened?”
“Why, you see,” said the butler, laying the finger of his right hand on the palm of his left, and lowering his voice to a more confidential though not less audible tone, “you see it was all along of the marriage settlement. Master thought that mistress should have had more of the money—”