Hopper went his way. Roland caught up the paper, tore it to pieces with his strong hands, and tossed them after the man. The wind took up the quarrel, and scattered the pieces indiscriminately, right and left. Roland strode on.
“What a mercy that there’s a Port Natal to be off to!” was his comment.
Things were not particularly promising at home, when Roland entered, looking at them from a quiet, sociable point of view. Lady Augusta was spending the evening at the deanery, and the children, from Gerald downwards, were turning the general parlour into a bear-garden. Romping, quarrelling, shouting and screaming, they were really as unrestrained as so many young bears. It would often be no better when Lady Augusta was at home. How Gerald and Tod contrived to do their lessons amidst it was a marvel to every one. Roland administered a few cuffs, to enjoin silence, and then went out again, he did not much care where. His feet took him to the house of his friend, Knivett, with whom he spent a pleasant evening, the topics of conversation turning chiefly upon the glories of Port Natal, and Roland’s recent adventure with Hopper. Had anything been wanted to put the finishing touch to Roland’s resolution, that little adventure would have supplied it.
It was past ten when he returned home. The noisy throng had dispersed then, all except Gerald. Gerald had just accomplished his tasks, and was now gracefully enjoying a little repose before the fire; his head on the back of my lady’s low embroidered chair, and his feet extended on either hob.
“What’s for supper?” asked Roland, turning his eyes on the cloth, which bore traces that a party, and not a scrupulously tidy one, had already partaken of that meal.
“Bones,” said Gerald.
“Bones?” echoed Roland.
“Bones,” rejoined Gerald. “They made a show of broiling some downstairs, but they took good care to cut off the meat first. Where all the meat goes to in this house, I can’t think. If a good half of the leg of mutton didn’t go down from dinner to-day, I possessed no eyes.”
“They are not going to put me off with bones,” said Roland, ringing the bell. “When a man’s worked within an ace of his life, he must eat. Martha,”—when the maid appeared—“I want some supper.”
“There’s no meat in the house, sir. There were some broiled bo—”