Chapter 25. Jerry To The Front

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. JERRY TO THE FRONT.

Dick Smithson found himself face to face with a problem that grew harder to solve the more he tried, and, as he lay awake at night, the words of the old, old ballad used to come to him:--

"And for as you have made your bed, so on it you must lie."

A barrack bed, too--a very hard, thin, single Glo'ster-cheese sort of bed! And yet it seemed at the first sight so easy to jump out of it, go and see the colonel--no; he could talk to Lieutenant Lacey, who was always so friendly, and that gentleman would tell the colonel.

Oh, it would be simple enough! So long as it meant his voluntary exile, it was not of so much consequence; and he had always kept in reserve the time when he could go back to his old position in society. But now he found that when he leaped down it was from a high perpendicular rock, and the base of that rock stood in. Around, too, it was smooth; and, now jumping back was out of the question, climbing appeared impossible.

What was to be done? He could not sit still and let Mark hold his title and position without a struggle; but how to begin?

Naturally enough, the old state of calm passed away, and Dick's brain was in a state of effervescence as he waited three days for an opportunity to meet and consult with Jerry Brigley. For this had been planned at parting, after Jerry had sworn to be silent until some plan of action had been decided upon.

At last Jerry and he met again, and this time went off for a walk towards the country, accidentally taking the road which Dick had followed when he first entered the town.

For some time the great subject they had met to discuss was avoided, and they talked about the country round, with its hills and hop-gardens, till Jerry drifted from a remark on the beauty of a sheep-cropped, velvet-green field, with its lawn-like grass, into a lesson on one of the follies of the day.

"Yes, sir," he said; "feel how soft it is under your feet! Turf's a lovely thing when it's lawns; but when it's horse-racing, and gets hold on yer tight, it's a sort o' Bedlam-Hanwelly business. Don't you never bet, sir. If I hadn't never betted, I should ha' been a rich man now, with two hundred pound in the savings bank, instead of being a private soldier--me, too, as knows more about valetting a gent than half the chaps as goes into service."

"Ah, well, Jerry, don't fret about it; things may get better."

"Ay, sir, they may; but then, you see, they might get wuss."

"Or half-way between. Let's sit down under this tree; I want to talk."

"Not a bad place, sir--fine view o' the Kentish hills. What money a man might make out of chalk, if he had it in some place ready to sell, and people would buy it! Mind my lighting a pipe, sir?"

"Mind? No; I've got pretty well hardened to people smoking about me now. Sorry I can't offer you a cigar, Jerry."

"Pipe's good enough for such as me, sir. There," continued the man, as he filled his briar-root, "aren't I keeping my tongue well in hand? Haven't called you S'Richard once."

"And you must not, whatever you do."

"Well, sir," said Jerry, lighting up, and half-shutting his eyes as he leaned back meditatively, "sometimes I don't see why not; sometimes it's all t'other. One day I says to myself, 'What's he got to mind? He's livin', and it's all nonsense about his being dead and buried; and, as to that business over the bill and the signature, why, he could fight that down like a gentleman.'"

"Yes, Jerry," said Dick, dismally; "but I ran away like a coward, and that was like a tacit confession of guilt."

"Like a what confession o' guilt?"

"Silent."

"No, sir: you said something else."

"Tacit, man--tacit."

"Oh, was it, sir. Well, if you say it was tacit, I 'spose it was. Never heered o' that sort o' confession before; it was always open confession. But, as I was a-saying, one day I thinks as I just said; next day it's all the other way. I don't want to put you out o' heart, sir; but, as you very well know, being quite a scholar, and having read o' these things lots o' times, there's an old saying about possession being nine points of the law. He's got possession tight, and, if you go and tell him he must give it up now, he'll say--"

"Well, what, Jerry?"

"Don't like to tell you, sir, for fear of giving offence."

"Speak out, man; speak out, and don't say 'sir' to me again while we are equals here in the army."

"Ekals, sir? Bein' both in the ranks don't make us ekal."

"But it must not be known at present, and if you keep calling me 'sir' you may ruin my prospects."

"All right, then; I won't say it--I'll think it, and that'll make it easier, because I can think the other the same time."

"What other?"

"The Richard. I shall allus say 'S'Richard' to myself."

"Very well, do. But, mind--I trust you."

"And you may, sir. It seems to me--as I was going to say--if you won't be offended--"

"Go on, man," cried Richard; "nothing will offend me now."

"Oh! won't it? You're as big a honourable gent now as ever you was; but, if you was to go to your cousin, sir, he'd call you a impostor."

"I'm afraid so, Jerry."

"And, if you turn nasty with him, he'll tell you to go down in the country there, and look at your grave."

Dick was silent.

"But don't you be downhearted, sir. You shall have your rights. What d'ye say to sending a petition to the Queen? I'm told that she's a very nice old lady, when you know her."

Dick laughed.

"Why should she believe me?"

"Because you're a gent, sir. Anybody could see that with half a heye. But, look here, sir, there--"

"Will you leave off saying 'sir'? I am Dick Smithson."

"Oh, very well, Dick Smithson. There must be a way out of the wood. What do you say to me killing him--by accident?"

"I say, talk sense, man!"

"Right; I will. I wish I was in your regiment, though. One could see you oft'ner like, and settle things with you. I s'pose if I was to desert and 'list in yours, they'd make a row about it?"

"No doubt about that, Jerry."

"There wouldn't be no harm. I should only have changed from one regiment to another."

"You know enough about a soldier's duties to the colours, man. But I wish you were in the 205th with all my heart."

"And in your company? I could valet you just as I used to."

"Nonsense! I'm not in any company; and for me to have a servant would be impossible as well as absurd."

"Well, I can't see as it would be absurd, because you, being a gent, ought to have your servant. But, to come back to my being in your regiment--ain't there no way of managing it?"

"I don't know, Jerry. Officers exchange."

"There you are: allus a way out of a difficulty, if you can find it. Officers exchange; why shouldn't privates? I could be no end o' use to you, Dick Smithson. S'pose we try?"

Dick laughed, and shook his head.

"Impossible, Jerry! We must be content as we are for the present, and meet now and then, and talk matters over till I see my way to get out of this position."

And it was in this way that they parted.

About a week later Dick was summoned to the lieutenant's rooms; and, upon reaching them, it was quite plain that something was wrong. For Lacey looked black as thunder as he walked up and down.

"What have I done to offend him?" thought Dick, as he waited for the young officer to speak.

"Sit down!" growled Lacey; and Dick obeyed.

"It's beyond bearing!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "I'll clean my own boots, and brush my own clothes. I'm sick of it!"

"Nothing to do with me," thought Dick; and he ventured a remark.

"Can I help you in any way, sir?"

"No--yes; play something soothing to me. I'm put out. No, don't. It's like making a fool of myself."

Dick thought so, too, but he did not say anything; while the lieutenant went on pacing the room for a few minutes, and then faced round.

"What do you think he has done now?"

"Who, sir--the colonel?"

"Bah! no: that idiot servant of mine?"

"Broke something, sir?"

"No!" roared the lieutenant; "I wish he had--his neck! Can I trust you, Smithson?"

Dick bowed.

"Yes; one can confide in you, Smithson. You remember--er--er--a little adventure of ours--the serenade?"

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"I hardly care to refer to it, Smithson; but, as I think I said before, I always feel as if I can trust you."

Dick bowed again, and felt disposed to laugh; but his face was extra-serious as the lieutenant went on--

"The fact is, we made a great mistake, Smithson, and that duet was played under the wrong window. There is an aunt there--and--and--she is not young."

"I presumed so, sir, from the voice," said Dick, for the young officer waited.

"There is no presumption about it, Smithson; you were quite right. She is still single. Miss--well--er--since then--er--we have met."

"You and the aunt, sir?"

"Smithson, this is no matter for ribald jest," said the lieutenant, sharply.

"I beg pardon, sir; I meant to be quite serious."

"I thank you, Smithson. You will grasp what I mean when you grow older. You may come to feel as I have felt for months past."

"I hope not!" thought Dick.

"I will continue, Smithson. We have met since, more than once; and yesterday I sent that idiot with a note."

"And he gave it to the wrong person, sir?"

"What! You have heard?"

"Oh, no, sir; but it is what I should have expected him to do."

"You are quite right; and I ought to have known better. He took the letter, and delivered it to the aunt. Smithson, I am in agony! She has responded to me, thinking my words were meant for her. I walked by there an hour ago and saw her, and--oh, Smithson!--she smiled. What is to be done?"

Dick was silent for a minute, not knowing how to answer the question; then a way out of the difficulty came.

"I'll tell you, sir! You must discharge that fellow."

"I did, Smithson--at once. I was in such a rage that I kicked him; and I fear that there will be some trouble about that, if he reports it to his superior officer."

"Pooh! Give him half a sovereign, sir, and you'll hear no more about it."

"That's very good advice, Smithson. I wish I had your head."

"You want a good, clever, smart servant, sir," said Dick, who was breathless with excitement consequent upon his new idea.

"Yes, Smithson; but such a treasure seems to be unobtainable."

"I don't know--I think I could find you such a man, sir."

"You could! Oh, no; I want a regular valet, Smithson. I have grown sadly indolent, and I often wish a war would break out to rouse me up."

"This is a regular valet, sir."

"But--really, Smithson, I'm afraid I'm very lazy--can he shave?"

"Oh, yes, sir, and cut hair admirably."

"Indeed? A friend of yours?"

"Well, sir, not exactly; I used to know him."

"Whose company is he in?"

"Unfortunately, sir, he is not in this regiment."

"Smithson! how can you?" cried the lieutenant in lachrymose tones. "What is the use of raising my hopes to dash them down? Is he a man of bad character who wants to join?"

"No, sir; he is a soldier already; but he is in the 310th, sir--the regiment we 'played in' the other day."

"In the 310th?" said the lieutenant, thoughtfully.

"And, of course, not available, sir."

"Is he anyone else's servant?"

"He is simply a private, sir."

"Then--I don't know, though. Perhaps I might--or I could--I--how tiresome!"

For at that moment Dick sprang from his seat, as he heard steps outside.

"You at home, Lacey?" cried a voice.

"Yes: come in."

As the door opened, the lieutenant said excitedly--

"What is this man's name?"

"Jeremiah Brigley, sir;" and the young officer carefully put down the name before Dick retreated and took his leave, the new arrival saying:

"Here, Smithson, I shall want you to give me some lessons, too."

The next minute Dick was crossing the barrack yard to reach his quarters, wondering whether it would be possible for Jerry to be exchanged, and meeting the bandmaster, who said rather gruffly--

"Where have you been, sir?"

"To Mr Lacey's, sir."

"Ha! I hope I shall find out that this is the truth."

Dick flushed.

"There is too much lesson-giving, and the band practice is neglected. Be good enough to recollect, sir, that I have reported your conduct."

"I don't understand you, sir," replied Dick.

"I allude to that episode, sir, when you absented yourself from the practice without leave. Your conduct is not what it should be, sir. And recollect this: that a man picked up, as you were, in the street ought to be doubly careful when he has got a lift in life; so have a care, sir--have a care."

"I am sorry I absented myself, sir," began Dick, but Wilkins raised himself on tiptoe, and interrupted him.

"Say 'stopped away,' sir. Leave 'absented' to your officers. There's too much favouritism in this regiment; but I warn you, sir: have a care--have a care."

He strutted away, arranging the few thin bits of hair about his ears, leaving Dick looking after him.

"Oh, you stupid little man!" muttered Dick, who then went to his quarters to think out what he had better do. But, try hard as he would, he could not think it out; for the more he thought, the more it seemed to him that he had completely obliterated himself by his foolish act-- that Sir Richard Frayne was dead to the world and Dick Smithson reigned in his stead. _

Read next: Chapter 26. Finding A Leech

Read previous: Chapter 24. The Strange Complication

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