Mr. Daniel Meggison, for his part, made no secret from the beginning of the attitude he intended to adopt. For some weeks now he had been given a free hand, and that fact, combined with new clothes, and a comfortable house, and money in his pocket, and servants to do his bidding, had already gone far to spoil the man, and to bring out some of the original bully that had been suppressed in his nature. Whatever qualms he may have felt he hid successfully at the first moment of meeting. He stood at the door of the house, with arms outstretched, and with a beaming smile upon his face.
"Welcome, my dear Byfield—thrice welcome!" he exclaimed, seizing Gilbert by the hand and wringing it hard—as much in apparent cordiality as to impress upon him that he understood the secret compact between them, and was acting his part accordingly. "Delighted to see you. I would have driven down myself to the station—but my child here seemed to think that you would expect her alone. Well—well—that is quite natural; you were always good friends. Come in, my dear Byfield—come in and make yourself at home. You will find friends here; stay as long as you like—do what you like—order what you like! Come in!"
So Gilbert Byfield went into his own house, not without some feeling of amusement, and looked about him. The servant who hurried forward as he saw his master was silenced with a look, and retired, wondering more than ever; Gilbert allowed the girl to run on before him up the stairs, to show him the way with which he was already familiar. He expressed due approval of the room (which happened to be his own), and said that he felt he should be very comfortable there for a few days.
When presently he went downstairs, his object was to find Mr. Daniel Meggison and to have a talk with that gentleman. But Daniel was not to be caught napping; he avoided Gilbert on every occasion, and clung to his relatives with an amazing fondness whenever he saw the young man approaching him.
The relatives, for their part, adopted characteristic attitudes towards Byfield. Mrs. Stocker conceived it to be her duty, being in the mansions of the great, to sit in the largest and the stiffest chair she could discover, in a condition of state, ready to receive all and sundry. Her dignity in this particular instance compelled her to suffer tortures, for the simple reason that her husband, Mr. Edward Stocker, was free to come and go as he liked, and was having rather a good time. He cheerfully flitted about the place, and smoked unaccustomed pipes in the boldest manner, and was for once quite happy. Being introduced by Bessie to the new-comer, he greeted Gilbert cordially.
"It's a wonderful world, sir," he exclaimed, looking at Gilbert with a smiling face. "Now, it would never have occurred to me that Meggison was the man to make money—and yet to be so dark about it. Having a little property myself—which runs to 'ouses—I may say that I know what property is, and how money is made. But Meggison seems to have gone a cut above us all. A modest place down Clapham way—or Brixton—or even Norwood—but when you makes a splash in the country—with servants and what not——well, I can only say that it's a very wonderful world, sir."
Gilbert left the little man, and, still in search of Meggison, came presently into the presence of Mrs. Stocker, sitting in state. She received him coldly, but with the resignation of one who expects that all sorts of people may drift in, and are not specially to be accounted for. He was retiring again hastily, when she recalled him.
"One moment, sir, I beg. One of my brother's new friends?"
"Oh, no—an old friend," stammered Gilbert. "A friend of his daughter."