CHAPTER V

A night's rest restored self-respect to Frank Mannix. He felt when his clothes were brought to him in the morning by a respectful footman that he had to some extent sacrificed his dignity in his confidential talk with Priscilla the day before. He had committed himself to the bath-chair and the boating expedition, and he had too high a sense of personal honour to back out of an engagement definitely made. But he determined to keep Priscilla at a distance. He would go with her, would to some extent join in her childish sports; but it must be on the distinct understanding that he did so as a grown man who condescends to play games with an amusing child. With this idea in his mind he dressed himself very carefully in a suit a cricket flannels. The garments were in themselves suitable for boating as he understood the sport. They were also likely, he thought, to impress Priscilla. The white flannel coat, bound round its edges with crimson silk, was at Hailey-bury part of a uniform set apart for the sole use of members of the first eleven who had actually got their colours. The crimson sash round his waist was a badge of the same high office. Small boys, who played cricket on the house pitches in the Little Side ground, bowed in awed humility before a member of the first eleven when he appeared before them in all his glory and felt elated if they were allowed to walk across the quadrangle with any one who wore the sacred vestments. Frank had little doubt that Priscilla, who was to be his companion for the day would realise the greatness of her privileges.

But Priscilla seemed curiously unimpressed. She met him in the breakfast room before either Sir Lucius or Miss Lentaigne came down.

"Great Scot! Cousin Frank," she said, "you are a howler!"

Frank drew himself up; but realised even as he did so that he must make some reply to Priscilla. It was impossible to pretend not to know that she was speaking about his clothes.

"An old suit of flannels," he said with elaborate carelessness. "I hope you didn't expect me to be grand."

"I never saw anything grander in my life," said Priscilla. "I thought Sylvia Courtney's summer Sunday hat was sw.a.n.key; but it's simply not in it with your coat I suppose that belt thing is real silk."

"School colours," said Frank.

"Oh! Ours are blue and dark yellow. I have them on a hockey blouse."

The bath-chair turned out to be rather more dilapidated and disreputable than Frank expected. The front-wheel?bound to its place with string, not hair ribbon?seemed very likely indeed to come off. He eyed it doubtfully.

"If you're afraid," said Priscilla, "that it will dirty your beautiful white trousers, I'll give it a rub-over with my pocket-handcher. But I don't think that'll be much use really. You'll be filthy from head to foot in any case before we get home."

Frank, limping with as much dignity as possible, sat down in the chair.

He got out his cigarette case and asked Priscilla not to start until he had lit his cigarette.

"You don't object to the smell, I hope," he said politely.

"Not a bit I'd smoke myself only I don't like it. I tried once?Sylvia Courtney was shocked. That's rather the sort she is?but it seemed to me to have a nasty taste. You're sure you like it, Cousin Frank? Don't do it simply because you think you ought."

Priscilla pushed the bath-chair from behind. Frank guided the shaky front wheel by means of a long handle. They went down the avenue at an extremely rapid pace, Priscilla moving in a kind of jaunty canter. When they reached the gate Frank's cigarette had gone out. There was a pause while he lit it again. Then he asked Priscilla to go a little less quickly. He wished his approach to the public street of the village to be as little grotesque as possible.

"By the way," said Priscilla, "have you any money?"

"Certainly. How much do you want?"

"That depends. I have eightpence, which ought to be enough unless you want something very expensive to drink."

"Why should we take anything to drink? We said at breakfast that we'd be back for luncheon."

"We won't," said Priscilla, "nor we won't for tea. Lucky if we are for dinner."

"But Miss Lentaigne said she'd expect us. If we stay out she won't like it."

"Let her dis.," said Priscilla. "Now what do you want to drink? I always have lemon flavoured soda. It's less sticky than regular lemonade. Stone ginger beer is better than either, of course, but Brannigan doesn't keep it, I can't imagine why not."

"If we're going to stay out," said Frank, "I'll have beer, lager for choice."

"Right. Lager is twopence. Lemon flavoured soda twopence if we bring back the bottles. That will leave fourpence for biscuits which ought to be enough."

Fourpence worth of biscuits seemed to Frank an insufficient supply of food for two people who are to be on the sea for the whole day. He saw, besides, an opportunity of a.s.serting once for all his position of superiority. He made up his mind to tip Priscilla. He fumbled in his pocket for a coin.

"You get quite a lot of biscuits for fourpence," said Priscilla, "if you go in for plain arrowroot. Of course they're rather dull, but then you get very few of the better sorts. Take macaroons, for instance. They're nearly a halfpenny each in Brannigan's. Sheer robbery, I call it."

Frank, determined to do the thing handsomely if he did it at all, pa.s.sed half a crown to Priscilla over the back of the bath chair.

"My dear child," he said, "buy macaroons by all means if you like them.

Buy as many as you want."

Priscilla received the half-crown without any appearance of shame.

"If you're prepared to lash out money in that way," she said, "we may as well have a tongue. Brannigan has small ones at one and sixpence. Brawn of course is cheaper, but then if you have brawn you want a tin-opener.

The tongues are in gla.s.s jars which you can break with a stone or a rowlock. The lids are supposed to come off quite easily if you jab a knife through them, but they don't really. All that happens is a sort of fizz of air and the lid sticks on as tight as ever. Things hardly ever do what they're supposed to according to science, which makes me think that science is rather rot, though, of course, it may have its uses only that I don't know them."

Priscilla wheeled the bath-chair for some distance along the road without speaking. Then she asked another question.

"Which would you rather have, the tongue or a tin of Californian peaches. They're one and sixpence too, so we can't have both, for it would be a pity to miss the chance of one and fourpence worth of macaroons. I don't remember ever having so many at one time before.

Though of course they're not really so many when there are two of us to eat them."

"I'll give you another one and sixpence," said Frank, "and then you'll be able to get the peaches too if you want them. I rather bar those tinned fruits myself. They have no flavour."

On Sat.u.r.day evenings, when prefects and all self-respecting members of the upper and middle schools have tea in their studies, Frank was accustomed to eat tinned lobsters and sometimes tinned salmon, but he knew that superiority to such forms of food was one of the marks of a grown man. He hoped, by speaking slightingly of the Californian peaches, to impress Priscilla with the idea that he was a sort of uncle of hers.

The luncheon was involving him in considerable expense, but he did not grudge the money if it produced the effect he desired. Unfortunately it did not.

"Well have a gorgeous bust," said Priscilla. "I shouldn't wonder if Brannigan got some kind of fit when we spend all that in his shop at once. He's not accustomed to millionaires."

Frank, not being able to find a shilling and a sixpence in his pocket, handed over another half crown. Priscilla promised to give him his change. She stopped the bath-chair at the door of Brannigan's shop. The men of leisure who sat on the window sills stared curiously at Frank.

Young gentlemen dressed in white flannels and wheeled in bath-chairs are rare in Rosnacree. Frank felt embarra.s.sed and annoyed.

"Excuse me half a mo.," said Priscilla. "I'll just speak a word to Peter Walsh and then do the shopping. Peter, you're to get the sails on the _Tortoise_ at once."

She spoke with such decisive authority that Peter Walsh felt quite certain that she had no right to give the order.

"Is it the _Tortoise_, Miss?"

"Didn't I say the _Tortoise_. Go and get the sails at once."

"I don't know," said Peter, "whether would your da be pleased with me if I sent you out in the _Tortoise_. Sure you know??"

"Mr. Mannix and I," said Priscilla, "are going out for the day in the _Tortoise_."

Peter Walsh took a long look at Frank. He was apparently far from satisfied with the result of his inspection.

"Of course if the young gentleman in the perambulator is going with you, Miss?the _Tortoise_ is a giddy kind of a boat, your honour, and without you'd be used to her or the like of her?but sure if you're satisfied?but what it is, the master gave orders that Miss Priscilla wasn't to go out in the _Tortoise_ without either himself or me would be along with her."

Frank was painfully aware that he was not used to the _Tortoise_ or to any boat the least like her. He had never in his life been to sea in a sailing boat for the management of which he was in any way responsible.

He was, in fact, entirely ignorant of the art of boat sailing. But the men who sat on the window sills of Brannigan's shop, battered sea dogs every one of them, had their eyes fixed on him. It would be deeply humiliating to have to own up before them that he knew nothing about boats. Sir Lucius's order applied, very properly, to Priscilla who was a child. Peter Walsh looked as if he thought that Frank also ought to be treated as a child. This was intolerable. The day seemed very calm. It was difficult to think that there could be any real risk in going out in the __Tortoise__. Priscilla nudged him sharply with her elbow. Frank yielded to temptation.