Like many other people, Captain Bowood had a great respect for anything that he saw in print, more especially for any opinion enunciated by the particular daily organ whose political views happened to coincide with his own, and by whose leading articles he was, metaphorically, led by the nose. When, therefore, he came across a laudatory notice anent his nephew’s acting extracted from his favourite Telephone, he felt under the necessity of taking out his handkerchief and rubbing his spectacles vigorously. ‘There must be something in the lad after all,’ he muttered to himself, ‘or the Telephone wouldn’t think it worth while to make such a fuss about him. But why didn’t he keep to tea-broking?’
‘I am much obliged to you, sir,’ said the Captain, as he handed the extracts back to Mr Brooker.
‘I am afraid that I make but a poor envoy, sir,’ said the latter, ‘seeing that as yet I have furnished you with no reason for venturing to intrude upon you this morning.’
‘You have a message for me?’ remarked the Captain.
‘I have, sir; and I doubt not you can readily guess from whom. Sir, I have the honour to be the manager of the travelling theatrical company of which your nephew forms a component part. I am old enough to be the young man’s father, and that may be one reason why he has chosen to confide his troubles to me. In any case, I have taken the liberty of coming here to intercede for him. There are two points, sir, that he wishes me to lay before you. The first is his desire—I might, without exaggeration, say his intense longing—to be reconciled to you, who have been to him as a second father, since his own parents died. He acknowledges and regrets that in days gone by he was a great trouble to you—a great worry and a great expense. But he begs me to assure you that he has now sown his wild-oats; that he is working hard in his profession; that he is determined to rise in it; and that he will yet do credit to you and every one connected with him—all of which I fully indorse. But he cannot feel happy, sir, till he has been reconciled to you—till you have accorded him your forgiveness, and—and’——
Here the Captain sneezed violently, and then blew his nose. ‘I knew it—I said so,’ he remarked aloud. ‘Those confounded draughts—give everybody cold. Why not?’ Then addressing himself directly to Mr Brooker, he said: ‘Well, sir, well. I have listened to your remarks with a considerable degree of patience, and I am glad to find that my graceless nephew has some sense of compunction left in him. But as for reconciliation and forgiveness and all that nonsense—pooh, pooh!—not to be thought of—not to be thought of!’
‘I am sorry to hear that, Captain Bowood—very sorry indeed.’
‘You made mention of some other point, sir, that Mr Summers wished you to lay before me. Eh, now?’
‘I did, sir. It is that of his attachment to a young lady at present staying under your roof—Miss Brandon by name.’
‘Ah, I guessed as much!’