“Mr. Eagles!” he cried, with angry consternation, as he saw him.
Of course, he knew what was coming. He cast a quick, instinctive glance at a portmanteau which was in a corner. He would pack it up at once, and be gone.
“I have seen nothing of you, Curtis, for some weeks,” said Mr. Eagles, abruptly. “I have been remiss in seeing you on the subject. Men come here, you are aware, to read, not for other pursuits; but you have not been reading.”
“No; you have reason to find fault,” said Arthur, with candour. “I acknowledge it. And the fact is, I am on the eve of going away. I, too, ought to have seen you about it before, but I have been occupied.”
“Evidently—and how occupied?” said the little man, sternly. “I have nothing to do with your morals, Mr. Curtis. I didn’t undertake to look after your conduct.”
“Conduct—morals!” cried the young man.
“Yes, Sir!” said the “coach,” in a voice of thunder, “conduct and morals. Do you think it shows either morals or conduct to shirk entirely the object for which you were received under my roof, and to give all your attention to a love affair—an intrigue?”
“How dare you use such a word?” cried Arthur; but the effect of his indignation was spoiled by the fact that his opponent was too voluble and energetic to give him his turn in speaking, or anything more than just a momentary opportunity to insert, edgeways, half a word.
“This is not what you came here for,” said Mr. Eagles. “Your father has a right to turn upon me, and ask me what I mean by it; and all the fathers of all the men have a right to drag me over the coals for countenancing such misconduct. Parents are intolerable, but here they might have some reason. I have done wrong in letting you remain under my roof.”
“That is easily managed,” cried Arthur, with a rush, seizing upon the portmanteau. “You shall very soon be relieved of my presence.”