She was quite right. Jemmy fought like a tiger to defend his person from the intended rape, and was deaf alike to coaxings and to reassurances. But the two damsels before him had not helped to bring up their respective young brothers for nothing. They stripped Jemmy of his rags, heedless of his sobs and his protests, and they dumped him, wildly kicking, in the bath, and ruthlessly washed every inch of his emaciated small person.
It was not to be expected that Jemmy’s howls would not be heard beyond the confines of the room. They were lusty, and they penetrated to Lady Bridlington’s ears. It was inconceivable to the good lady that they could really be emanating from within her house, as they seemed to be, and she was just about to ring her bell, and desire Clara Crowle to send away whatever child it was who was screaming in the street, when the howls ceased (Jemmy had been lifted out of the bath, and wrapped in a warm towel), and she sank back again in her bed. Not long after this. Miss Crowle came softly in with her breakfast-tray, and the pleasing intelligence that Miss Arabella was out of her mind, and had got a dirty little boy in her room, and wouldn’t let him go, not whatever anyone said. Hardly had her ladyship grasped the essential points of the story poured into her bemused ears than Arabella herself came in. Her visit made it necessary for Miss Crowle to revive her mistress with a hartshorn-and-water, and to burn pastilles, for it brought on a nervous spasm of alarming intensity. Lady Bridlington now understood that she was expected not only to house a boy picked out of the gutter, but to pursue his late master by every means in her power. Arabella talked of the Law, and of magistrates; of cruelties which made it almost impossible for Lady Bridlington even to swallow her coffee; and of what Papa would say must be done in so shocking a case. Lady Bridlington moaned, and said faintly: “But you cannot! The boy must be given back to his master! You don’t understand these things!”
“Cannot?” cried Arabella, her eyes flashing. “ Cannot, ma’am? I beg your pardon, but it is you who have not understood! When you have seen the dreadful marks on the poor little soul’s back—and his ribs almost breaking through his skin!—you will not talk so!”
“No, no, Arabella, for heaven’s sake—!” begged her godmother. “I won’t have you bring him in here! Where is Frederick? My dear, of course it is all very dreadful, and we will see what can be done, but do, pray, wait until I am dressed! Clara, where is his lordship?”
“His lordship, my lady,” responded Clara with relish, “having partaken of his breakfast, has gone riding in the Park, as is his custom. His lordship’s gentleman happening to mention that Miss had a climbing-boy in her room, his lordship said as how he must be sent off at once.”
“Well, he will not be!” said Arabella, not mincing matters.
Lady Bridlington, reflecting that it was just like Frederick to issue orders in this foolish style, and leave others to see them carried out, decided to postpone any further discussion until he should be present to lend her his support. She persuaded Arabella to go away, looked with distaste at her breakfast tray, and begged Clara, in a failing voice, to give her her smelling-salts.
When Lord Bridlington returned from his morning exercise, he was displeased to learn that nothing had so far been done about the climbing-boy, except that Miss had sent one of the under-servants out to buy him a suit of clothes. He was still frowning over this when his Mama came downstairs, and almost fell upon his neck. “Thank heaven you are come at last!” she uttered. “What can have induced you to go out with the house in this uproar? I am driven nearly distracted! She wants me to employ the boy as a page!”
Frederick led her firmly into the saloon on the ground-floor, and shut the door upon the interested butler. He then demanded an explanation of an affair which he said he was at a loss to understand. His mother was in the middle of giving him one when Arabella came into the room, leading the washed and clothed Jemmy by the hand.
“Good-morning, Lord Bridlington!” she said calmly. “I am glad you are come home, for you will best be able to help me to decide what I ought to do with Jemmy here.”