CHAPTER XI.
THE BROTHERS TALBOYS.
It is ten o'clock on one of those warm balmy mornings which in this erratic climate of ours sometimes come upon us in the month of February. The bushes and hedges, and even some of the young trees, lacking experience and knowledge, allow themselves to be deluded into the idea that spring is coming, and are making feeble attempts at budding. They are apparently ignorant of the fact that the next frost will cut off the too venturesome little sprouts, and breathing upon them with its chilling breath reduce them all to the little brown lifeless-looking twigs that they were before the week's spell of mild weather had turned their heads. Even the rose trees, in which the garden of "The Rosery" abounds, show signs here and there of succumbing to the seductively balmy air, and it is with real grief that the two little old gentlemen, who are trotting round the garden taking their usual after-breakfast constitutional, shake their heads at these unlooked-for symptoms of frivolity in their much-cherished pets, murmuring plaintively:
"The blossoms will not be half so fine this year; this will weaken them dreadfully."
These two little old gentlemen are none other than the Messrs. E. and B. Talboys alluded to in the advertisement of the nine-roomed house to let, and owners of the same. In appearance and manners they are almost exactly alike, being in point of fact twins; the only noticeable difference being that one, Mr. Edward, is in all points a little more strongly developed than his brother, Mr. Benjamin. Mr. Edward is perhaps a trifle the taller of the two, but as he is at the same time also a trifle stouter the difference in height is hardly if at all perceptible. Both have good, benevolent faces; but here again is the slight, very slight, difference referred to. Both brothers have bright blue eyes; but while Mr. Benjamin's have the mild, limpid expression which tells of the more placid nature beneath, Mr. Edward's have a keenness, amounting at times almost to a glitter, which is entirely absent in those of his brother. Both have the same perfect aquiline nose; and while the mouth and chin in both faces are equally good in a measure, the curves of Mr. Edward's mouth, and the slight extra squareness of his chin, testify to his having the stronger character. The same thing is to be noticed in the matter of dress; for although the brothers are always dressed exactly alike, they appear to wear their clothes differently. Both have high shirt collars, but there is, or appears to be, always less starch in those of Mr. Benjamin; and while his cravat is tied in a modest little bow, which has a trick of being always either a little to the left or the right of the stud which fastens the collar in front, Mr. Edward's is always tied with the greatest precision, the end of one loop protruding exactly the same distance from the middle of the collar as the other. There are also little creases and folds to be sometimes detected in Mr. Benjamin's coat, which never by any chance can be discovered in that of his brother. Mr. Benjamin walks with a slight limp, owing to an accident which had occurred years ago when they were young men. Both the old gentlemen, therefore, carry a stout black walking-stick, with a gold knob at the top. The subject of this accident is a sore one to both brothers, and it is without exception the only one upon which they have ever been known to disagree.
A cricket match in which both brothers were playing was being held on the village cricketing ground. Edward was batting, and his brother was fielding close to the opposite wicket. The rays of the setting sun were streaming down upon the field, right in the very eyes of the batsman; and as the ball came swiftly bounding towards him straight as a dart from the practised hand of the bowler, it seemed to Edward's dazzled sight that there were two balls instead of one to claim his attention. With a feeling of desperation he rushed, so to speak, at the ball; but in the flurry he received it on the edge of his bat, and sent it flying with the strength for which he was envied by the whole field exactly in the opposite direction to that he intended. It was a few seconds before he noticed that the other wicket was deserted, and that nearly all the men were clustered round one who was stretched upon the grass at their feet. With a terrible fear at his heart he strode across to the little throng, to find, to his grief and horror, that it was indeed his brother lying helpless before him. Though nearly fainting with agony Benjamin was in the wildest state of anxiety that the truth should be kept from his brother as to his having been unwittingly the cause of his broken ankle, the pain of which was rendering him half unconscious as he leant back, faint and white, in the arms of the wicket-keeper.
"Don't let him know it!" he gasped, unconscious of the fact that his brother was standing close beside him; "let him think I slipped—and—fell. You see the sun was in my—eyes—or I would have seen it—coming; I ought to have got out of the way. Don't let him know—don't let—" and with these words he fainted, and was carefully carried from the ground by his sympathetic friends, Edward being still too much stunned to take any active part in the proceedings. Ever since that hot early evening in August it had been a subject of discussion between the brothers as to whether the sun could possibly set in two places at once, each one being perfectly convinced that he himself had been standing opposite to its dazzling rays.
Only two days ago the brothers Talboys had met Honor and Molly Merivale by appointment at "The Rookery," as the house they had been advertising was called. Old Mr. Hobson had come down with the girls, rightly thinking that there should be someone older than Honor present on such an important occasion as taking a new house.
"You cannot be expected to understand anything about bad drainage, damp, and such things, my dear," he had said to Honor, "and it will do me good to run down into the country for an hour or two; so let us consider it settled that I go with you and Miss Molly whenever it is convenient for you to fix a day. No—not a word of thanks, my dear; I am only too glad to be of use to the children of my dear old friend, your father."
And so at the appointed time Mr. Ned and Mr. Ben, waiting about for their possible new tenants, passing now in now out of the quaint-looking old house, were not a little surprised to see bearing down upon them from the road, two young ladies, an old gentleman who was walking by their side, and four youths, or more correctly speaking two youths and two boys, who made a sort of straggling procession in single file. For at the last moment, when Honor, Molly, and Hugh Horton were just starting with old Mr. Hobson, Dick, accompanied by Regy and Alick, suddenly arrived upon the scene, determined to look over the new house also.
"Why, bless my soul, Brother Ben!" exclaimed Edward, planting his stick firmly on the ground and looking with undisguised dismay at the troupe now entering the gate, "these boys can never all belong to the family. Why, why—they will make havoc of the garden before they have been a week in the place."