Mr Huntingdon listened to this explanation with much surprise and vexation, and then was silent.
“And what do you mean to do about it, Walter?” asked his aunt. “You surely won’t let the matter go on.”
“I don’t see how I can help it,” was her nephew’s reply; “the challenge has been publicly given in my name.”
“It can’t be—it mustn’t be,” exclaimed his father angrily; “it’s perfectly preposterous. We shall be the talk and the jest of the whole county. It will do harm, too, to the working-classes. Why, you’ll have all the idle vagabonds there. Some light-fingered and light-heeled poacher will win your sovereign—you’ll be the laughing-stock of all the country round, and so shall I too. And such a thing, instead of encouraging patient industry and sobriety, will be just the means of giving heart to the idlers and the profligates. It must not be, Walter, my boy.”
His son did not reply for some time; at last he said, “I don’t see how I can back out of it; I’ve pledged my word. I’m sorry for it, and I’m willing to take all the shame and blame to myself, and all the ridicule, if I’m beaten. You may depend upon it I won’t be caught in this way again, but I must go through with it now.”
“Nonsense,” said his father; “I don’t see that at all.”
“Perhaps not, father,” replied his son; “but I can’t go back from what I’ve said.” These last words were uttered with a dogged determination of tone and manner which showed that Walter had made up his mind, and was not to be turned from his purpose.
Like his father, he had a considerable share of obstinacy in his disposition, and Mr Huntingdon could call to mind several occasions on which a battle with his favourite son had ended in the boy’s getting his own way. And so, thinking further remonstrance useless, at any rate for the present, he let the matter drop, hoping, as he said afterwards to his sister, that Walter would come to his senses on the matter when he had had time to think the subject over coolly. But he was mistaken in this hope. Much as Walter was annoyed at having been thus taken at his word, which he had given half in jest, he nevertheless considered that he was pledged to abide by what had been advertised in his name and with his sanction. So on the day appointed there was a considerable gathering of working-men, and also of women and children, on Marley Heath, and this gathering swelled into a crowd as the time of trial approached.
Gregson and Saunders—who enjoyed the whole thing amazingly, and none the less because, as they had expressed it to each other as they came along, “Young Huntingdon would be none the worse fellow for getting a little of the shine and brag taken out of him”—were on the spot in good time, with several like-minded companions. These all gathered round Walter as he came on to the ground, and wished him good success, assuring him that no doubt he would keep his sovereign safe in his pocket, and come off conqueror.
Poor Walter’s reply to his friends was not particularly cordial in its tone, and made Gregson see that he must put in a word of conciliation. “Come, old fellow,” he said, “you must forgive me if I took you too literally at your word. I really thought you meant it; it will do no harm to anybody, and will only show that you’ve got the old Huntingdon pluck and spirit in you.”