From the day of the kidnapping adventure he was a sworn ally of Jeffreys. It mattered nothing to him who else snubbed the new librarian, or who else made his life uncomfortable. Percy liked him and thought much of him. He established a claim on his afternoons, in spite of Mrs Rimbolt’s protests and Mr Rimbolt’s arrangements. Even Jeffreys’ refusal to quit work at his bidding counted for nothing. He represented to his mother that Jeffreys was necessary to his safety abroad, and to his father that Jeffreys would be knocked up if he did not take regular daily exercise. He skilfully hinted that Jeffreys read Aeschylus with him sometimes; and once, as a crowning argument, produced a complete “dodge,” perfected and mechanically clever, “which,” he asserted, “Jeff made me stick to till I’d done.”
Mr Rimbolt did not conceal the satisfaction with which he noticed the good influence on the boy of his new friend, and readily fell in with the arrangement that Jeffreys’ afternoons should be placed at his own (which meant Percy’s) disposal. As for Mrs Rimbolt, she groaned to think of her boy consorting with quondam tramps, yet consoled herself with the knowledge that Percy had now some one who would look after him and keep him out of danger, even with a vulgar right arm.
Jeffreys accepted this new responsibility cheerfully, and even eagerly. It sometimes came over him with a shock, what would these people say if they knew about young Forrester? Yet was not this care of a boy given to him now as a means, if not of winning back his good name, at least of atoning in some measure by the good he would try to do him, and the patience with which he would bear with his exacting ways for what was past? It was in that spirit he accepted the trust, and felt happy in it.
As the summer passed on, Wildtree, the moors around which were famous for their game, became full of visitors. The invasion did not disturb Jeffreys, for he felt that he would be able to retire into private life and avoid it. The company numbered a few boys of Percy’s age, so that even that young gentleman would not be likely to require his services for a while. He therefore threw himself wholly into his work, and with the exception of an hour each afternoon, when he took a turn on the hill-side, showed himself to no one.
On one of these occasions, as he was strolling through the park towards the moor, he encountered Miss Atherton, very much laden with a camp-stool, a basket, a parasol, and a waterproof. Shy as he was, Jeffreys could hardly pass her without offering to relieve her of part of her burden. “May I carry some of those things?” said he.
He had scarcely exchanged words with Raby since the day of his first arrival; and though he secretly numbered her among his friends, he had an uncomfortable suspicion that she looked down on him, and made an effort to be kind to him.
“Thanks, very much,” said she, really glad to get rid of some of her burdens; “if you wouldn’t mind taking the chair. But I’m afraid you are going the other way.”
“No,” said Jeffreys, taking the chair, “I was going nowhere in particular. May I not take the waterproof and basket too?”
“The basket is far too precious,” said Raby, smiling; “it has grapes in it. But if you will take this horrid waterproof—”
“There is not much use for waterproofs this beautiful weather,” said Jeffreys, beginning to walk beside her. Then, suddenly recollecting himself, with a vision of Mrs Rimbolt before his mind, he fell back, and said awkwardly,—