Lorrimer Littlegood

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Contents

CHAP. PAGE.

1. Wherein our Hero makes his Bow and comes into his

Property 5

Chapter I. Wherein Our Hero Makes His Bow And Comes Into His Pro- Perty

“ And all the rest, residue, and remainder of my real and personal estate, whatsoever and wheresoever, I give, devise, and bequeath unto my dear son, Lorimer, his heirs, executors, and administrators, for ever.”

Such were the words which Mr. Bosher, attorney-at-law, read out with due solemnity in the little drawingroom of Verbena Cottage, near the well-known town of Muddleford, in the county of Surrey. Mr. Bosher always threw extraordinary emphasis into the reading of a will, especially when the document had been drawn by himself. When he announced a large legacy, the words were very slowly and distinctly drawn out, and a little tremulousness of the voice at the same time thrown in, to impress you with the deep respect he entertained for the benevolence of the departed. A bequest to himself produced a Blight huskiness, and the necessity of pulling out a very white and voluminous pocket handkerchief to be applied to the corners of his eyes. The cutting off of any scapegrace or offending relation with a shilling, was delivered with thrilling severity of tone. The provision for ‘‘ my dear wife” brought forth a tenderness of utterance almost unprofessional; and the final

LORIMER LITTLEGOOB.

wind-up of all “ the rest and residue,” came with a force and dignity of manner that nothing but long practice could have produced.

Mr. Bosher was a florid and stout gentleman with a bald head, which shone as brilliantly as if carefully polished every morning with a furniture brush. He was always dressed in black, and on important occasions like the present he wore a white neckcloth several inches high, and swathed round his neck in a manner that seemed to threaten suflbcation. Such watchseals and keys as dangled from Mr. Bosher’s fob are rarely seen in these degenerate days, which is to be lamented, seeing that they are wonderfully imposing.

In character, Mr. Bosher was unassailable. Everybody (that is, the everybody of Muddleford and its vicinity) knew him and trusted him. His private office was, from floor to roof, all round the four walls, crowded with japanned tin boxes holding clients’ papers and title deeds, and labelled “ Jonathan Podgers, Esq.,” “The Pumpkin Estates,” “Tompkins’s Trustees,” dsc. dec. Everybody — the everybody aforesaid — left a legacy, large or small, to “My friend John Bosher, Esq., as a slight token of my esteem for him, and my appreciation of his professional services.” Everybody employed Mr. Bosher as his attorney ; Mr. Bosher knew everybody’s affairs much better than everybody himself did, and Mr. Bosher kept his knowledge locked in his own breast as safely as his clients’ papers were locked in the tin boxes.

Such was the gentleman who had just read the concluding sentences of the will of the lateMr. Littlegood, a mild, quiet man who, having an independence, and being fond of botany and geology, fishing and floriculture, had retired to Verbena Cottage, near Muddleford, some three-and-twenty years previously, immediately after his marriage. He had been dead a week when our tale opens, leaving a widow and two children — a daughter aged 19, and named J essie ; and a son just 21, who was christened Lorimer, Mr. Littlegood had first of all provided for his

COMES INTO Ills FORTUNE. 7

wife ; then left £2,000 to his daughter ; and the rest of his property to his son.

The widowed mother and her two children were the only persons present in the little drawing-room besides the attorney. Mr. Bosher had told them that no one else need attend ; and of course Mr. Bosher knew all about it, for he bad drawn the will himself, and kept it in one of the before-mentioned tin boxes, labelled “ Thomas Littlegood, Esq.,” till death carried the testator off.

Gentleness seemed to be the prominent characteristic of Mrs. Littlegood, judging from her appearance. Facility of temper and a kind of bodily and mental inactivity, which is considered highly virtuous in people who are above the reach of want, made her a weak character. Energy was as foreign to her as courage to a hare ; while anything absolutely wrong she knew nothing about except from hearsay. She was an amiable negative.

Mrs. Littlegood wept as the attorney concluded his task ; wept placidly and gently, and yet sincerely.

“ lie was so good,” she murmured. ^

“Excellent man, my dear madam,” assented the attorney — “ excellent man ; a great consolation to know that.’^

Mrs. Littlegood sighed.

• “ He w'as the best of husbands and of fathers, and I hope,” she continued, “ Lorimer ’ll be exactly like him.”

Mr. Bosher always wished to assent to a proposition when he could ; but whether in this instance he found it difficult to indulge in the hope expressed, or impossible to believe in its realization, it is not for us to decide. Certain it is that he only cleared his throat and said, “ Ahem !”

Lorimer Littlegood looked at Mr. Bosher, and then looked at his mother, and then looked at his sister, and lastly took a slight glance at the mantelpiece-glass. Apparently, Mr. Lorimer Littlegood was not quite certain whether he was expected to say anything, or whether he could decently tell such a fib a«

R

LOEIMER LITTLEGOOD.

to join in the maternal hope. He had liked his father very much; few men had such an indulgent “governor;” he respected the old gentleman’s goodness of heart, serenity of temper, and innocence of pursuits ; but he did not exactly desire to give up his own tastes for those of his departed parent ; he did not wish to become what Sydney Smith calls a “ kind of holy vegetable” any more than to exchange his own luxuriant curls and bright blue eyes for the scratch wig and silver-rimmed spectacles of his father.

“ Mr. Lorimer will no doubt have all the steadiness and sobriety of character that we admired so much in his father,” said the lawyer, to fill up the pause ; though he felt anything but satisfied with himself for telling such an untruth ; for Mr. Bosher entertained strong suspicions that Lorimer was likely to be the very reverse of his father in those important points. Considering that Lorimer had been once rusticated while at Oxford, and had usually spent five times his allowance, the lawyer may perhaps be pardoned for his suspicions.

Lorimer muttered something about “ doing his best,” but looked fidgetty ; Mrs. Littlegood glanced fondly and trustfully at her son ; the attorney again clearned his throat, and, swallowing the remains of a glass of sherry which he had been sipping, he proceeded to make his bow, shake each of the three inmates of the room by the hand, and take his departure from Verbena Cottage.

We have said something about Mrs. Littlegood and her son, but nothing about her daughter. And yet Jessie deserves a little description, though we feel some diffidence in attempting it; for Jessie Littlegood was not one of those every-day persons of whom you can say that they are pretty or plain, clever or stupid, amiable or ill-tempered. There were so many apparently conflicting elements in her character, that it required some power of analysis to determine their relative proportions and strike the balance between — not the good and evil, for o* positive evil she had perhaps none — but of the truly lovable

COMES INTO HIS FORTUNE.

and the less amiable qualities. Pope, for whose opinions we have the highest respect, was nevertheless a bad judge (because a prejudiced one) of women, and never wrote so silly a line as —

“ Most women have no characters at all.”

Our own experience and study of human nature teach us the very reverse — that there is more variety of character among women than in our own sex. But as we may be at variance on this point with some philosophers, and perhaps many of our readers, we will not attempt to enter into a disquisition on the subject. We may at least record the fact that Jessie was a girl of decidedly original character. She had inherited none of her father’s placidity or her mother’s indolence. Whence came her quick temper, her strength of affection, her shrewd sense, yet her deep poetry of feeling, who shall say ? or why, instead of her hither’s blue eyes and light hair, and her mother’s grey eyes and hair of no color at all, she had those dark, lustrous, liquid orbs full of passion and of intellect, and those tresses only a few shades removed from black ? Thought, feeling, and energy were the characteristics which even a superficial observer might have read in her face. What else there was — how much of good and noble, how much of perilous and passionate — the progress of our story will develop.

A tall and graceful figure, and regular features, with such eyes and hair as we have mentioned, made Jessie a beautiful girl — one that you would turn to look at a second time, wherever vou might chance first to see her.

So thought Lorimer as he gazed for some time on his sister after Mr. Bosher had quitted the room. Mrs. Littlegood soon left them alone.

“ She will fret to death, I fear,” said Lorimer.

“No,” said Jessie; “not so, my dear brother. Her disposition is too calm and equable for you to fear that ; it is pent-up grief that kills, not that which gushes forth in copious tears.”

“ Perhaps so,” replied Lorimer.

LOEIMER LITTLEGOOD.

He was not much accustomed to think for himself, and was content always to adopt the sentiments of his sister so long as they did not run contrary to his personal wishes.

‘‘ Lorimer, do you mean to live here ?” asked Jessie, after a pause.

“ Eh ? — Well, really, my dear girl, I have not thought about it yet ; but, now you mention it, 1 suppose not. You see I have no rural tastes, except hunting and shooting ; and one can only follow those at certain times of the year. So I dare say I shan’t live here.”

“ What do you think of doing ?” asked Jessie ; “ shall you follow a profession

“I don’t think I shall; one does not feel the necessary stimulus when one’s wants are provided for ; don’t you think so r

“ Perhaps,” said Jessie, but very doubtingly.

“ I want to see life,” continued Lorimer.

“ In what way ?” asked Jessie, most innocently.

“ ’Pon my soul, I don’t know how to answer you,” replied Lorimer, after a pause ; “ what I mean is, that I don’t know enough of the world. I want to mix with men of all classes — knock about a little — don’t you understand

“ The description is not a very precise one, my dear Lorimer,” said Jessie, with a half melancholy smile; “ but I think I understand it a little. You mean, that as you have tasted of some dissipation on a small scale' at Oxford, you would, now that you are master of yourself and a small fortune, like to try it on the larger scale of London? Am I right?”

‘‘No, hang it, not exactly that. Women always fancy that seeing life is being dissipated — that awful word, which is gen erally a bugbear of their own or their mama’s raising.”

“ Perhaps I have strange notions on these subjects,” said Jessie, scarcely noticing her brother’s protest. “ 1 believe that if we follow the straight line of duty in our own station, whatever that may be, we see all we need of what you call life ;

COMES INTO HIS EORTUNE.

and that those who step aside to see more of it, may occasionally be wiser in one sense — but are seldom happier — than their fellows. However, my dear brother, 1 don’t expect a sister’s tongue to turn you aside from your purpose. I only hope you may find the result of your search more conducive to your happiness than I anticipate. And now, Lorimer dear, I won’t preach any more. God bless you, my brother, and shield you from harm ! I must go to mama — I don’t like her to be alone.”

Next day, Mr. Lorimer Littlegood proceeded to call on Mr. Bosher. The attorney received him with cordiality and the respect due to a client.

“ What I particularly wish you to understand, my dear sir,” said he, “ is the exact position of your own affairs. I dare say you are not quite acquainted with your father’s property.”

“ I scarcely know anything about it.”

“Exactly so,” continued Mr. Bosher. “Well, first of all, there are six houses in Muddleford, which produce £306 per annum. Then there is a small fiirm at Whippenham, which lets for £180 a year. There is a sum of £3,000 on mortgage of Lord Crackley’s estate, at 4 per cent. ; that brings £120 a year. And then there are some shares in the railway here, which at the present dividend produce £245. Then there is exactly £1,000 a year dividends from 3 per cent consuls. All this is exclusive of the little landed property settled on your mother, and the £2,000 charged on it for your sister. So that, you see, your income is now £1,851 per annum.”

“ It is more than I expected,” said Lorimer. “ It would be absurd for me to go to the bar : don’t you think so ?”

^ “ Decidedly,” replied Bosher ; and he did think so, though

for very difterent reasons from those of his young client. “ May I ask what you do think of doing 1” he said.

“ 1 want to see life, you know,” replied Lorimer.

“ Exactly so ; travel, I presume ?”

“ No : at least, not just yet. I think I shall run up to town and look out a snug little place to live in ; and join a club ; and go into society, and so on. You understand 1”

LORIMER LITTLEGOOD.

“ Entirely,” said the lawyer ; and again he spoke the truth.

“ By the by,” said Lorimer, “ I owe about four hundred at Oxford. I suppose I can raise that without much trouble ?”

“ 1 shall be happy to place it to your credit at the bank here to-day,” answered the attorney.

“ Thank you, thank you,” said Lorimer, very heartily. “ Do you want me to sign anything ?”

“ Not yet,” replied Mr. Bosher ; “ and if you excuse me for giving you the advice. I’d recommend you not to sign anything you can help. You’ll find, when you’re seeing life, that there are some friends who are always anxious to possess one’s autographs — on little stamped slips of paper.”

“ Ha, ha !” said Lorimer. Yes, I know something about that sort of thing. Good day.” And he left the office.

“ Capital fellow, old Bosher,” he said to himself as he walked homewards.

‘‘ HeHl go to the deuce,” muttered the attorney when left alone ; “ and my impression is that he won’t even keep to the high road to get there, but take an unusually short cut to reach it. We shall see!”

THE PECKS.

Chapter II The Pecks

Mrs. Peck was rocking the cradle, and Mr. Peck was smoking his pipe. The cradle contained the fifth little Peck which the good wife had presented to her husband. And perfectly contented with the presents he had received looked Mr. Peck, as he puffed out small clouds of tobacco-smoke, and alternately glanced at his wife and his sleeping baby. Very happy also looked Mrs. Peck, as she watched the little one, and turned now and then a smile of loving satisfaction towards her husband.

Mr. Peck was, in size, next door to a giant. . He stood six feet and we don’t knowhow many inches more in his stockings ; that is to say, when he stood upright, which was very seldom. He had very broad shoulders, very large hands, and enormous feet ; but a head small enough for a much more moderatesized man. It was a round, compact, bullet-shaped head, with crisp curling hair growing thickly over it. But it was not a vicious-looking head : on the contrary, the expression of Mr. Peck’s face was that of perfect placidity and good nature. You were not likely to mistake him for a genius ; still less for a ruffian. He wore a suit of brown corduroy familiar to the eyes of all railway travellers ; for Peck was a porter on one of the principal lines.

Mrs. Peck was almost as remarkable for her diminutive size as her husband for the reverse. She was small in height, and small in every way— small features, small hands, and small feet. Indeed, so small was she, that it was currently believed u

LORIMER LITTLEGOOD.

that Mr. Peck had acquired his perpetual stoop by continually leaning down to whisper soft tales of love in her ear, during their days of courtship.

Mr. Peck gave you the idea of a lazy good-natured giant ; not that he was actually idle, but he had a ponderous way of doing everything, even to the lifting of a tea-cup, that impressed one with a notion of slowness. Mrs. Peck, on the other hand, was as lively as a little bird, hopping about the room, and doing half a dozen things at once, with the most perfect ease and vivacity. They had been married about six years, and the fifth little Peck in the cradle bore testimony to the rapidity with which Mrs. Peck added to the population returns of the Registrar-General .

It was an evening in April, and a cheerful fire was burning in the grate. There neede(f to be something cheering indoors, for the weather outside was wretched enough. The rain came pouring down in that determined style which makes it seem a type of infinity. Who can watch the steady, heavy streams from the pea-soup colored clouds, that are clouds no longer, but part of the atmosphere itself, and believe that it will ever leave off? Chilly and damp feels everything to the touch; dreary and miserable and dirty looks every living thing in the streets ; monotonous and wearying sounds the incessant pattering on the window.

“ Job’s very late, and it’s an awful night to be out in,” observed Mrs. Peck, as she looked at a little Dutch clock that hung over the dresser, and saw that it pointed to nine o’clock.

“ He’s old enough to take care of himself, Betsey,” said Mr. Peck ; “ and a little rain won’t hurt him.”

“ I hope he’ll get the situation,” continued the wife : “ it’s a sad thing for a lad of eighteen not to be earning his own living'”

“Well, it ain’t his fault, poor fellow,” said the husband: “ he did earn it till that there Binks became bankrupt ; and Binks owns that Job’s as good a stable-boy as ever he had.”

THE PECKS.

He’s a good lad, I know, Tom,” replied Mrs. Peck : “ and I’m sure 1 love him as your brother ; and it’s because he is your brother that I’m so anxious about him. I hope he’ll always be steady.”

“ Oh ! he’ll do,” rejoined the giant, who was of a comfortable disposition, contented to take things as they came, and never trouble his little round head with the anticipation of evils that might never happen. Peck was a philosogher in his way.

A slight interruption to the conversation now took place, by Peck No. 5 in the cradle waking up and fancying that he was being defrauded of his proper share of nutriment. His dissatisfaction was expressed in the usually forcible infantile fashion of screaming, as though ten thousand pins were running into him, while his mother cried, “ There, there, there, dear little fellow and his father looked (like a politician of the Manchester school) anxious for peace at any price.

“ I think I heard a knock, Tom,” cried the wife, as soon as she could make her voice audible above the baby’s yells : ‘‘ perhaps it’s Job.”

Mr« Peck went and opened the door, and admitted, not the expected Job, but a neighbor with a dripping umbrella.

“Why, it’s Mr. Weazel, I declare !” exclaimed Mrs. Peck. “ Who’d have thought of seeing you on such a night as this

“ It is an unpleasant evening, certainly,” replied Mr. Weazel, shaking hands with her and then taking a seat ; “ and that’s partly the reason why I came, for I thought you might be dull, and I’d got a little news to tell you.”

The speaker was a sharp-featured, small man, with bright grey eyes, and an unquiet, perpetually-twitching mouth. His age was apparently about five-and-forty, but might have been less, as he was evidently of that nervous kind of disposition that never gives the body a fair chance.

“ And what’s the news ?” asked Mrs. Peck, who generally conducted three-fourths of the conversation, as her husband was a man of few words.

LOKIMEK LITTLEGCOD.

“ You recollect Mr. Littlegood, don’t you ?” said Weazel.

“The gentleman that lived at Verbena Cottage, when I was in service at Muddleford asked Mrs. Peck.

“Yes. Well, he’s dead — been dead these six months,” said Weazel.

“ You don’t mean that !” exclaimed Mrs. Peck, as if the idea of any one dying was something remarkably novel and in - comprehensible : “ poor fellow !”

“He’s dead and buried,” said Weazel: and as he had already told her that Mr. Littlegood had been dead six months, it is probable that the good woman would have conjectured that he had also been buried by this time.

“ He was rich, wasn’t he ?” asked Mrs. Peck.

“ Ah ! that’s it,” answered Weazel, looking mysterious and extremely disagreeable at the same time. “ He was rich ; but how did he get his riches

“ I’m sure I don’t know : he didn’t do anything wrong, did he ?” she asked.

“No: didn’t, perhaps; but his father did :” and Weazel

looked more mysterious than ever.

“ Goodness me ! you don’t mean it !” answered Mrs. Peck, with a vague feeling of terror, as if she were going to hear a ghost-story.

“ Burked anybody asked Tom, joining the conversation for the first time.

“No — not that,” replied Weazel, contemptuously; for he despised Mr. Peck’s intellectual powers, as much as he envied him his bodily strength. “ He was a lawyer, and he got hold of property he’d no right to ; and he warn’t the only lawyer mixed up in it ; and the other one’s alive now ; and I know the man who ought to have the property ; and I’ve been finding out all about it these six years ; and I’ve got nearly all the proofs.”

It must not be supposed that Mr. Weazel delivered this speech right off as we have written it. He only gave a sen-

THE PECKS.

tence at a time, and paused for half a minute between each one to observe the effect upon his hearers. Tom Peck took it very quietly — it did not concern him, and he didn’t care anything about it. But Mrs. Peck, partly from having often seen the late Mr. Littlegood, and partly from being of a quick and sympathetic nature, felt greatly interested. She also felt rather in awe of Mr. Weazel, and that was precisely the feeling that Mr. Weazel was always anxious to inspire. It is astonishing how sharp little men love to excite respect, and even dread.

“ Is your friend a good man she asked, after a pause.

“ No : he’s a beast,” candidly replied Weazel.

“ Mr. Littlegood was not a bad man, I believe ; least-ways, 1 always heard him spoken well of at Muddleford,” observed Mrs. Peck.

“ I dare say he was well enough for a haristocrat,” said Weazel, whose dislike made him aspirate the detested name.

“ Don’t you think, then,” suggested Mrs. Peck, very mildly, “ that it would be better to leave things as they are ? It can’t be the fault of poor Mrs. Littlegood nor Miss Littlegood, nor Master Lorimer, that the grandfather got the money wrongly; and as they’ve been taught to consider it’s theirs, and always been used to all the comforts of life, it would be a shocking thing to turn them out of all their property ; don’t you think sof’

“I’ve nothing to do with that,” answered Weazel, with the air of a Rhadamanthus. “ I want justice.”

“ But you say your friend’s a bad man ! Do you mean to get him his property directly

“ No,” replied Weazel. “I haven’t got all the proofs yetand the worst of it is, I don’t know where my lazy beast of a friend is.”

Mrs. Peck w^as glad to hear that, but did not say so.

“ I tell you what / think,” said Mr. Peck : and as he seldom communicated his thoughts, both Weazel and Mrs. Peck lis tened. “ I think you’d better leave this affair alone ; because, 2

LORIMER LITTLEGOOD.

do you see, if Mr. Littlegood or whoever it is •that has the money now, gets done out of it by you, of course he’ll settle accounts with yoi/.”

“ How f ’ asked Weazel.

“ Break your neck,” replied Peck.

“ Oh, I dare say ! we live under the protection of the laws, and those that commit ferocious assaults are punished accordingly.”

“ I’d chance that,” said Peck, quietly : “ and I dare say he will.”

Weazel sneered; but Weazel felt far from comfortable. Cunning little men are not often blessed with physical courage.

Another knock at the door was now heard, and this time it turned out to be Job himself.

“ Well, Job !” cried Mrs. Peck. “ I thought you was lost.”

“ Nothing nigh it, sister-in-law,” answered Job.

“Have you got the situation, Job]” asked Mrs. Peck, anxiously.

“ All right, sister-in-law ; I’m booked, safe enough : but ain’t he a rum un]” and Job grinned.

“ Who ]”

“ Why, my master as is to be ; he’s the rummest fellow ever /.see,” answered Job.

Job was a miniature edition of his brother. He had the same round head and crisp curling hair : he had the large feet and large hands also ; but he was short and sturdy in build. The only thing remarkable about his face was his enormous mouth, which, when he laughed, and Job was almost always laughing, seemed literally to extend from ear to ear.

“ I’ll tell you all about him,” said Job, looking, however, rather doubtingly towards Weazel, whom he evidently neither trusted nor liked, though poor Job was too simple a fellow to know why. “ First of all, he’s dressed like a Chinee, in a long silk gown with flowers all over it ; and a little round flowery cap on his head ; and flowery shoes on his feet ; and a smoking

THE PECKS.

thing in his mouth that’s got a tail all curled round and round like the boar-constructor in little Tom’s book (only it ain’t so big,) and it fits into a great glass thing like a bell, standing on the floor. But he smokes it, 1 can tell you ; for I see the smoke coming out of his mouth.” Here Job paused a little for breath, and then went on.

Says he to me, ‘ What’s your name V and I told him, ‘Job Peck.’ Then he says, ‘How old are you V and I says, ‘ Eighteen turned.’ And then he says, ‘ Can you fight V ”

“ Gracious me !” cried Mrs. Peck ; “ what’s that to do with horses ?”

“ ‘ Because,’ says he,” went on Job, “ ‘we may get into rows sometimes, and you’ll have to take your own part ;’ and so I tells him, ‘ I ain’t afraid of one of my own size and weight — nor a bigger one neither.’ Then says he, ‘ Stand up and have a round ;’ and he squares up at me, and I at him, and he knocks me over in a jiffey ; and I gets up laughing ; and he says, “ That ’ll do for the present,’ and I thought so too. Then says he, ‘ Can you tell fibs without blushing and looking stupid V and I answers that I’ve never tried ; and he says, he’s ‘ afraid I’ve been very badly brought up.’ ”

“ He ought to be ashamed of himself,” cried Mrs. Peck, indignantly : “you’ve been very well brought up, Job — that you have ; and you should have told him, that though you’re poor you’re honest ”

“ All right, sister-in-law,” said Job, who knew the torrent of eloquence that was coming. “ I did begin something of that sort, and he cries out, ‘ Oh yes, I know all about that — it’s in all the melodramas — never mind, my lad, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings ; so if you like to come on Monday, you may — • it’s £20 a year wages, and three suits of livery — will that do So you see,” cried Job, triumphantly, “ he’s a trump, though he is such a rum un.”