"I have everything else that I require," says Honor, anxious to conclude the bargain. "You will see by these that I know something about painting;" and with very pardonable pride she places before the astonished little man several sketches which her former master, who was no mean artist, had pronounced "excellent."
Mr. Nathan looks with supreme and undisguised astonishment first at the sketches and then at Honor. Then he pulls himself together, and with many "hums" and "haws" and waves of the hands he says, "But pardon me, my dear young lady, will you be so obliging as to look once again at my advertisement, which I fear you do not rightly comprehend?—or stay, I have a paper here;" and running his dirty, fat forefinger down one of the columns he at length stops and points out to Honor the words, "One pound a week may be earned," &c. &c. "You see, mees, it does not say I myself will give one pound. I give two lessons, one-and-six each; then my pupils paint the views, four, six, what they please, and I put them in my window and on my counter, so; then customers will come, and one will say 'I will buy this,' and another 'I will buy that.' And sometimes many are sold, and sometimes also none. It depends much"—with a little shrug—"on the merit of the painting, without doubt; and therefore, my dear young lady, yours would sell well, ve-ry well, I should say. The commission I charge is not much, and—" But here Honor, who begins to see through the old impostor, interrupts him, and moving towards the door says, "Thank you, I think it is useless to continue the conversation. I understood from your advertisement that you could offer employment for which you would give certain payment. But it seems to me," she adds with justifiable warmth, "that the only certain part in the matter is the fact that your possible pupils would be paying you for the two lessons, which I notice are made rather a point of in the advertisement. Good-afternoon!" And poor Honor, trembling with suppressed indignation and disappointment, hurries out of the shop and is out of sight before the old man can recover from his astonishment. Thoroughly disgusted and discouraged by the result of her expedition to the town, poor Honor gets back to the station with all possible speed, and before long is safely ensconced in a corner of a third-class carriage, where, finding herself alone, she indulges in a good cry, which somewhat relieves her feelings; though she cannot, poor girl, forget the dreadful fact that the three shillings expended on her fare there and back have been utterly wasted and thrown away. She has dried her eyes again, and is trying, with her usual common sense, to reconcile herself to the loss, which cannot now be helped, when suddenly, just as the train is about to start, the door of the compartment is flung wide open, and a stout little elderly gentleman shoots past her right to the end of the seat opposite, while a good-natured-looking porter, who is standing on the step closing the door, says, touching his cap, "There weren't no time for the 'firsts,' sir; they be right at the other end." "Thank you, thank you," gasps the old gentleman, sitting up and straightening his hat, "this will do very nicely, very nicely indeed. Dear me, now, what a fortunate, I may say providential thing, that my brother was not with me! Why, bless my soul, if it's not Miss Honor!" And leaning forward Mr. Edward Talboys, for he it is, seizes the girl's two hands and shakes them up and down in such a kind, affectionate manner that Honor, still feeling a little hysterical, has hard work to keep her tears from rising again. "And now," says Mr. Ned, who, though he appears not to do so, notices the girl's pale cheeks and swollen eyelids—"now, you must tell me where you have been and what you have been doing. Wait a minute, I mean to have a guess. You have been, perhaps, to see your kind old friend Mrs. Horton? or perhaps that very excellent old gentleman Mr. Dobson—no, Hobson, who came down with you when you paid your first visit to the Rookery?" Honor smiles and shakes her head. "Then perhaps," says the old gentleman, with his head on one side, "you have been doing a little shopping?"
"No, not shopping, Mr. Talboys," says the girl with a tremulous voice; and then, longing for a little sympathy, she tells the whole history of the advertisement from beginning to end.
Mr. Ned works himself into a regular heat over the story, and for some time Honor scarcely knows which predominates—indignation at the man or pity for herself. First he is for taking the next train back again and giving Mr. Nathan "a good round piece of his mind," as he expresses it. Then he calms down a little, and shaking his head solemnly, says, "A hoax, my dear—nothing but a rascally hoax to extort money. You may see the advertisements every day in some form or another. The paper is full of them. Now, if only you had come and asked our advice about it. But dear me, how should a young girl like you know that there are such cheating rogues in the world!" Then, after a few more remarks of a similar character, Mr. Talboys leans back in his seat for a while quite lost in thought, and it is not until they are nearing the little station of Edendale that he rouses himself again.
He startles Honor, who has also been wrapped up in her own thoughts, by suddenly leaning forward and saying, "Now, can you find time, my dear, to run up to us to-morrow morning—any time, any time after breakfast that is convenient to yourself, you know? I am inclined to be interested in this painting on tin of which you have been telling me, and I should like to know more about it. I should like my brother Ben to hear something about it too. With his artistic taste, I am sure he will be deeply interested in the subject. Now, what time would you like to fix, Miss Honor,—shall we say eleven? Are you quite sure that will be convenient?" Honor satisfying Mr. Talboys on this point, they part outside the station gates; and while the old gentleman trots off to the village on some suddenly-remembered business, Honor, with a heart lightened and cheered by his kindness and sympathy, goes her way towards home.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MR. TALBOYS RESORT TO STRATEGY.
On arriving at the Rosery the next morning Honor finds the two old gentlemen waiting in the garden to receive her, both in an unwonted state of excitement. For they have been arranging a little plot together, which they are burning to disclose (partially) when the right moment shall arrive.
Mr. Edward had gone home the evening before with his thoughts running on the tin painting, and pinning his brother Ben by the button-hole without loss of time he told him of a plan which he had thought of for Honor's benefit, and which only required discussion with him, Mr. Benjamin, to be carried into instant effect.
"And although I should still like to break Mr. Nathan's head with this stick," says Mr. Edward to his brother, and shaking the said stick menacingly, "I cannot help feeling grateful to the rogue, Ben, for having, as it were, paved the way for our helping Miss Honor, poor child, in a manner which cannot possibly hurt her feelings. That was a good thought of yours, Ben, a capital thought, about Spaull the picture-dealer. If this tin painting is to come into vogue for a time—and I suppose it will from what Miss Honor said—he will be just the man to place the paintings with; and of course we must bind him over to strict secrecy as to our part in the business, eh, Ben?" and Mr. Ned nudges his brother playfully with his stick.