"Not so fast," said Spenworth, as I walked to the bell. "You asked me to second that little beast at the club. I did. I went there the other day and was told that some fellow with a name like Apple-pie-bed had told Will that, if he ever dared shew his nose inside the door again, he'd be kicked into the street. Well, as it's our misfortune to share a common name, I took it on myself to have Mr. Apple-pie-bed pointed out to me; I asked him if he didn't think that perhaps he was being a little high-handed. I don't allow every Chinese grocer to take liberties with me. He said: 'I'm sorry the feller should be a relation of yours, but for the sake of the club I must stick to what I threatened. You'd better report me to the committee when it's all over, and we shall then see whether, on a show-down, my action is approved.' That, my dear Ann, is all I know; but, in case you're not aware of it, any reflection on a man I've supported at a club is a reflection on me; if the young cub had been pilled, I should have had to resign; if he gets hoofed out, people will want to know why the hell I ever backed him..."
As you know, I am always lost in admiration of Spenworth's elegance of diction. And all delivered as though he were cheering hounds on to a line. Everything in my poor little house trembled...
Truly honestly I had no idea that men in their clubs could be such great babies...
"Sir Appleton Deepe—that is his name, Spenworth; I am not sure whether you were trying to be facetious—," I said, "is evidently a queer-tempered man. I have had evidence of it before. Should you engage in conversation with him again, you may tell him that he touches a hair of Will's head at his peril. I have nothing more to say except that in your club you seem to be as violent and disorderly as out of it."
There was a certain amount more noise ... and bluster. But I think that in time even Spenworth must have seen that he was hardly the appropriate person to champion such a cause ... whatever cause he imagined he was championing... Hardly had he left when my nephew was announced—and came in with a great show of embarrassment. I am very fond of Culroyd; so far as any one, without taking the responsibility of active interference, can help to bring two young people together... Both Culroyd and Hilda persist in regarding me as their good fairy...
"My dear boy," I said, "what is the matter?"
"Oh, I'm—in the deuce of a hole, Aunt Ann," he answered. "Where's Will?"
"He has not come in yet," I said. "Tell me what has happened."
"Well," said Culroyd, "I think you know a man called Deepe, Appleton Deepe." My heart sank! "He called on me to-day—I don't know if the fellow's mad, but he said: 'You're a cousin of Mr. William Spenworth, aren't you? Now, he's been doing one of the things that a gentleman doesn't do; and some one has to thrash him for it. I'll say that there's a girl mixed up in it, but I won't tell you any more. She has no brothers, and her father's too old to do justice to the occasion. The question is: who's to give him his thrashing? I'm not as vigorous as I could wish; but I'll undertake it, if I must. If, on the other hand, you'll do it for me and do it properly, we may save a scandal; I shouldn't like to injure his mother in any way, but he has to have his thrashing.' ... Well, I didn't know whether the fellow was in his right mind... I tried to get him to tell me something more... Then I said I'd think it over... What the devil's Will been up to now?"
"Now?," I repeated.