‘Dawkins dyes his hair!’ everybody would be saying. ‘Could you have believed it?’
The poor little Major shuddered at the bare thought of the ridicule which would ensue.
‘I’ll look over this, Hollis,’ he said, drawing up his stiff military collar, in order to appear more dignified and to render his words more impressive. ‘You ought to be thankful for that; but understand, if you try anything like this again, or if any hint of this morning’s business reaches my ears, you go. You understand?’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’
‘Very well. We start for Todhurst Grange to-morrow. Get my things ready to-day.’
Hollis bowed and retired without attempting explanation or apology.
The Major was much perturbed as he drove along the crowded streets to keep the appointment, for which he was now a quarter of an hour late. That was disturbing enough to a man of his punctual habits; but it was not the main cause of his present vexation. The main cause was his sense that from this day forth he was, metaphorically, under his servant’s thumb.
Observing Dawkins approach for the first time, you would have fancied that he was a youth of about twenty-five, although he was several years more than double that age. His slim figure, below the average height, was always arrayed in the latest style affected by young men about town. There were a few decorous modifications, certainly, but they were so slight as to be scarcely observable. Then there was a vivacity about his movements which only occasionally suggested a degree of stiffening about the knee-joints, and thus an appearance of juvenility was produced until he was subjected to close inspection. The wrinkles on his brow and under the gray eyes, and the yellow complexion resulting from the touch of liver which he had brought home with him from India, set a stranger speculating whether he was a prematurely aged boy or a very vain old man. But as soon as he began to speak, all speculation on the subject ceased—he was so young in thought, so interested in everything he saw and in every one he met.
The fact was that the Major had not yet realised the truth that he was a grown man and had passed the equator of middle age. He had never been married; he had never suffered under any absorbing attachment to maid or widow; and although he had been twenty years in the army, he had never been in action. A petty riot was the only approach to a battle in which he had ever been privileged to take part. Whilst he bore his disappointment cheerfully, as a general rule, there were times when he lamented the ill luck which had attended him so far as war was concerned. His soul had been always eager for the fray; but fate had denied him any opportunity to distinguish himself on the field. During his twenty years of service in India, there had been battles enough fought and won; but he had no share in any of them. To satisfy his ambition, he had twice exchanged into regiments which were under orders for active service. In the first instance, the orders were countermanded; and in the second—the war was over before his regiment reached the front. So he was gazetted Major, and was ‘retired’ on half-pay without having sustained a scratch in his country’s cause, and without any experience of the proud pomp and circumstance of the big war that makes ambition glorious. He lived in hope, however, that a time would come when the offer of his sword might be acceptable to the War Office. He was then a rabid Jingo, and a resolute advocate of armed opposition to every step made by Russia in the direction of our Indian empire. But he kept these sentiments very much to himself, and only ventilated them when much provoked by some peace-at-any-price man.
The Major’s cab rushed along the Strand, along Fleet Street, and up Ludgate Hill, and stopped in Godlenian Street, one of the dingy, narrow thoroughfares which represent the wealth of England. He ascended two flights of dark and well-worn staircases, stopping at a door on the glass portion of which was printed the legend, M. Willis & Co. Entering the office, he was at once shown into the room with the principal, who started to his feet to welcome him with a hearty shake of the hand, although he looked as if his mind were very much disturbed.