A bird of passage

by B. M. Croker

"I only wish lambs were in the habit of handing out five hundred rupee notes, I'd take to a pastoral life to-morrow!" returned Mr. Quentin fervently, casting a woeful thought to the many long bills he owed in Calcutta, London, and elsewhere.

"Let us hope Miss Denis will have some force of character," said Dr. Parks; "that's the only chance for him! A strong will, like her mother's, minus her capabilities for making the money fly, and a few other weaknesses; and here," halting and holding out his hand, "our roads part."

"No, no. Not a bit of it," replied Mr. Quentin, taking him forcibly by the arm. "You just come home and dine with us, doctor, and tell a few more family histories."

Dr. Parks was a little reluctant at first, declaring that he was due elsewhere, that it was quite impossible, &c. &c.

"It's only the Irwins, I know, and they will think you have stopped at Ross—it will be all right. Come along."

Thus Dr. Parks was led away from the path of duty, and down the road approaching Mr. Quentin's bungalow;—he was rather curious to see the ménage; that was the reason why he had been such an unresisting victim to Mr. Jim's invitation,—Mr. Jim rarely entertained, and much preferred sitting at other people's boards to dispensing hospitality at his own.

Dinner was excellent—well cooked, well served. Dr. Parks, who was not insensible to culinary arts, was both surprised and pleased; he had known his host for many years, had come across him on the hills and on the plains, on board ship, and in the jungle; they had a host of acquaintances in common, and after a few glasses of first-rate claret, and a brisk volley of mutual reminiscences and stories, Dr. Parks began to tell himself that "he was really very fond of Apollo Quentin, after all, and that he was one of the nicest young fellows that he knew!" And what about the man who sat at the foot of the table? Hitherto he had not been able to classify this Mr. Lisle, nor had he been so much interested in the matter as other, and idler, people. He had seen him often coming and going at Aberdeen, and had nodded him a friendly "Good-morrow," and now and then exchanged a few words with him; his clothes were shabby, his manner reserved; Dr. Parks understood that he was a broken-down gentleman, to whom Quentin had given house-room, and, believing this, he could not help feeling that he was performing a gracious and kindly action in noticing him, and "doing the civil," as he would have called it himself, to this beggarly stranger! But now, when he came to look at the fellow, his appearance was changed. What wonders can be worked by a decent coat! Seen without his slouch hat and rusty Karki jacket, he was quite another person; and query, was that reserved manner of his humility? Dr. Parks noticed that there was nothing subservient in his way of speaking to Quentin; quite the reverse; that far from holding a subordinate position in the establishment, servants were more prompt to attend on him than on any one else, and sprang to his very glance; that he, more than Quentin, looked after his (Dr. Parks') wants, and saw that his plate and glass were always replenished to his liking, in which duties Apollo (who was a good deal occupied with his own dinner and speculations on Miss Denis's appearance,) was rather slack. When the meal was over, and the silent, bare-footed servants had left the room, cigars and cigarettes were brought out, and conversation became general, Mr. Lisle had plenty to say for himself—when he chose—had travelled much, and had the polished manners and diction of a man who had mixed with good society. Dr. Parks scrutinized him narrowly, and summed up his age to be a year or two over thirty—he looked a good deal younger without his hat; his hair was black as the traditional raven's wing, slightly touched with grey on the temples, his eyes were deep-set, piercing, and very dark, there was a humorous twinkle in them at times, that qualified their general expression—which was somewhat stern. On the whole, this Lisle was a handsome man; in quite a different style to his vis-à-vis Apollo (who lounged with his arm over the back of his chair, and seemed buried in thought), he was undoubtedly a gentleman, and he looked as if he had been in the service. All the same, this was but idle speculation, and Dr. Parks had not got any "forrader" than any one else.

The pause incident to "lighting up" lasted for nearly five minutes, then Mr. Quentin roused himself, filled out a bumper of claret, pushed the decanter along the table, and said,—

"Gentlemen, fill your glasses. I am about to give you a toast. Miss Denis—her very good health."

"What!" to Dr. Parks. "Are you not going to drink it? Come, come, fill up, fill up."