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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction diff^rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est filmd d partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 E B Auth'^r BUTTONS- T TO WHICH IS ADDED BOOTLES' BABY. BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER Author of ^^ Beautiful Jimr ^^ Army Society ^ etc., etc. MONTREAL: JOHN LOVELL & SON, »3 St. Nicholas Stkiit. PRSf^^ KJS Bg7 I SSI Entered according to Act of Parliament in the year 1889, by John Lovell 6- Son, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture and Statistics at Ottawa. 8806/6 BUTTONS. CHAPTER I. A FEW DAYS' LEAVE. / "They pass best over the world who trip over it quickly." — Queen Elizabeth. It was a lovely April morning, though perhaps it was a shade too warm for the old-fashioned folk who believe in the truth of the old saying, " Don't cast a clout till May's out "—the people, by-the-bye, who generally pride themselves on cleaning up their houses and getting fires done with by the 1st of June and heroically doing without them till the ist of November. In the cavalry barracks at Routh the influence of the weather seemed to make itself felt everywhere. The lawn in front of the officers' quarters looked fresh and green, the sunshine glittered on the win- dows and on the helmet of the sentry at the gate, there were two cats dozing peacefully on a sunny ledge and several dogs holding a school-board meet- •^ 4 BUTTONS. ing a little way off, while just in front of the ante- room door three officers were standing talking together. Two of them were men well up the list of captains, the third a much younger man, little more than a lad, in fact, a good looking young fellow, fresh colored and with honest steady eyes. " Yes," he said, in answer to a question from one of the older men — " I'm in great luck, I've got twelve days' leave." "And you're going to town, of course?" said Mildmay. ) "Yes." " Where do you stop — Long's ? " " No. I always put up with my sister. She lives in Sloane street." "Ah! very convenient for you," remarked Mild- may, and the subaltern moved off towards the quar- ters. The two older men watched him till he disap- peared through the doorway of the officers' quarters. *' High old time he'll have of it in town, I should think,'' laughed Brande. "Very likely," answered Mildmay. " He's a nice lad all the same." " Good fellow, yes — but weak," e s a nice BUTTONS. 5 " Weak— ^y^th that jaw ! " echoed Mild may. "Well, he has a jaw, that's true," Brande admitted, " and when he makes up his mind he sticks to it— but it is possible for a man to be uncommonly strong at sticking to a mistake." "Perhaps— perhaps," answered Mildmay, "but I must say I like Buttons immensely ; I like him better than any sub in the regiment." ^. Meantime "Buttons," as he was called in the Twenty.first Dragoons, had gone gaily off to his quarters to set about getting himself and his belong- ings off to town by the afternoon train. " You'll have to look uncommonly sharp, Brough- ton," he said, when he had imparted his news to his servant. "Am I to go with you, sir.?" Broughton inquired. " No— there are plenty of people at Mrs. Mere- dith's who will look after me." " Very well, sir," and Broughton went on with his packing, not at all sorry (having just begun to walk out with one of the prettiest girls he had ever come across in all his life) that he was let off this particu- lar London visit. An hour or two later saw his master driving up to the Routh railway station with a goodly array of « BUTTONS. luggage, and when the quick train left at ten minutes past three, that happy young gentleman was com- fortably seated in a first-class smoking carriage en- joying himself with a novel and a cigarette. Before I go any further I ought to tell you some- thing more about this young man who rejoiced in the homely name of Buttons. Well, to begin with, he was twenty-two years old, was the possessor of the comfortable income of three thousand a year, had come of a good family, was blessed with a good temper touched with hastiness, and was far and away the most popular subaltern to be found in the Twenty- first Dragoons. And his name was Roger Cotten- ham-Page. Perhaps it is not often that a man in or out of the army is given a fancy name that is thoroughly to his liking, but when at Sandhurst and afterwards in his regiment Mr. Cottenham-Page found himself regu- larly called " Buttons," he had not only tolerated the name but even went further and was proud of it. " Ugly name," he said one day, when he had been six months or so in the Twenty-first, to a lady who commiserated him on having a name so unromantic or high-sounding—-" Oh, I don't know— it might be ever so much worse, you know. They might have BUTTONS. f called me * The Claimant,' or still worse, * Double- Barrel.' I shouldn't like to be called • Double-Bar- rel ' — it's bad enough to be double barreled without being called so." " But don't you like your double name } " the lady asked. " Hate it," answered Buttons promptly. It was true enough! When people first got to know him, or he to know them — whichever you like — there was always a tendency to give him the benefit of both names. " How do you do, Mr. Cot- tenham-Page ? " would be the question. " Page, please — if you don't mind " — would be the invariable reply. However, this is a digression and I must get back to my story. In due time my hero arrived at King's Cross and got into a cab with his luggage, and had himself driven to Sloane street, feeling as happy as a king is popula) supposed to be, and as gay as a school boy out tor a holiday. " Mrs. Meredith at home ? " he asked of the butler when that respectable personage appeared at the door. " Mr. and Mrs. Meredith went away this morning for a few days, sir," he answered — "but Mrs. Mere- 8 BUTTONS, dith left a message~a note I should say. sir, and your room is ready for you." * "Oh; that's all right," said Buttons, and having paid the cabman he went into the house and read the note which Mrs. Meredith had left behind her. "My dear Roger," it said, "your telegram has h,<,f come, and, alas, we are just off to Paris forTfor^niih. However I have told them to make you as comfonfble fi'm^^^-.f ' r^ ^ ^^'^ ^">^ y°^ ^i" have 'ust aT good a time without us as you would if we were at hnmV v might just have a lo'ok at the chiTdreTrefl^you go^'out th^nl t'?T ^""^ ^''."^". ^"°^ '^y«" think they a§ any thing. If they started with smallpox old nurse wo Id ^r^r^y^^v^ "^' '^^ ^"y^"S a word until the la t moment me before ^"^^^^>^-g«--^"e^« ^^^ never been left wiS "Make yourself quite at home, dear old boy, and have as good a time as possible. ^' "^^® " Your always affectionate sister, " Muriel." Buttons folded the note and put it back into its envelope. " Rather a bore Muriel being away," he said to him- self. " And yet-oh ! I dare say it will be all right -what's that } " as a i^v, words on the back of the envelope caught his eye, « Hilda Wrothersley is in town-staying with the de Carterets." "Oh! bother-who wants to know anything about Hilda Wrothersley! " and then Buttons flung the note into ly. sir, and BUTTONS. g the fire with as much energy as if he wished he could dispose of Miss Hilda Wrothersley in as easy a fashion. "Will you dine here, sir? " asked Jones coming in quietly. "I think not, Jones— not unless dinner is being got ready for me." " No, sir— my mistress thought you would prob- ably dine out." " Yes— I should like a whisky and soda, though, I wish you would send it up to my room." 10 BUTTONS, CHAPTER II. ETHEL'S JEANIE. Women have more strength in their looks than we have in our — Savtlle. By the time he nad had his whisky and soda, and refreshed himsel/ further with soap and water and a change of clothes, it was seven o'clock. " I suppose I shall have to go up and see old nurse," he said as he opened the door— so instead of turning down-stairs, he went along a passage to the left and up another flight of stairs to the nursery. " Well, Nanna," he said, as he opened the door. " My blessed boy," was the reply. Buttons went in and shut the door behind him— it was a large bright cheerful room, this particular nursery, and the comfortable looking person who re- joiced in the name of Nanna was sitting before a bright fire, with a chubby baby in no more clothing than its little jersey upon her knee. She had been nurse to the young Cottenham- Pages in the by-gone days, and Buttons was, because BUTTONS. II of her having dragged him through several severe illnesses in his babyhood, the very idol of her life, the apple of her eye, and " the blessed lamb" of her familiar converse. " The mistress told me you were coming, Master Eoger," she said, when he had put himself a chair on the other side of the hearth and had seated himself thereon. "Yes, I was vc lucky to get leave just now, Nanna," he answered. " And how are you getting on } And how is this youngster } " " After her teeth, Master Roger," the old woman answered, " but well in spite of it, and the lovingcst bairn except yourself that ever I had to do wi*^h " "Ah! I expect I was a nice handful if we only knew the truth," said he with a laugh. " And the others.?" " Master Jack will be here in a minute," said the old nurse. "Ah! here he is — come here. Master Jack, dear, and say 'How do you do.?' to Uncle Roger." The little lad came fearlessly in. " Are you my Uncle Roger?" he asked. " Yes, I am. And how do you do ? Eh ? *' asked Buttons, casting about in his mind what he should say next. BUTTONS. bnVht r°T"' ''""""^ *^^ dumbfounded, then a bright thought occurred to him " I'M ,m \ -rni„g,o,dfe,,ow,"hesaid."you i'ir;".'''' haven't come yet." ^ """^^ ■'What is it? "Jack persisted. ' What did you most wan*- ) '? ^w.atheri„gi.j::::;,::^;---; z::gX-°"^^----o-a:,rtt raX^arh^rlrr^^^^'^^"^"-^'"'''- " Eh J " exclaimed his uncle, genuinely taken aback You get them at the toy shops. Master Roger " put m Nanna, hurriedly. "Sarahs j , Wadp if M,- 17.1 , ' S° ^"'' ask Miss Wade ,f M,ss E.hel can come and see Mr. Page > " The young undcr-nurse went obediently ouLf th. room, and Buttons a.ik,.H , .■ "^ °"to' the Miss Wade > r-r -"' '°"- " ^"-^ "ho is M,ss W de .> Have you set up a governess, Nanna , " Well, something of the sort. Master Roger" Nanna returned. -The mistress felt that Mis;Eth:i wanted somebody about her a little better^I^Id than Sarah, and whc'd be able to teach her a littl without seeming to teach her at all and h ! she is " ' ^"d— but here BUTTONS. n She broke off as a tall and pretty child of five years old came running into the room. "Why, dear Buttons," she cried, gladly, " I didn't know you had come. Movah has gone to Paris with Mr. Meredith to get some frocks." Buttons caught her up in his arms. " With Mr. Meredith— what makes you call him Mr. Meredith, eh.>" " Because," answered Ethel, with a vigorous hug, " because my father is Mr. Meredith." " Of course he is, but still " and then Buttons raised his steady grey eyes from the child's soft blue ones and encountered the direct gaze of the nursery governess who was standing behind old Nanna. Some- how what he saw there made him stop short. Ethel, not understanding, nudged him to go on. «' Yes— but still," she said by way of prompting him. Buttons started. " Eh > What .?— Oh— er— well, I don't know what I was saying exactly, Ethel." He set her down on the floor again with an awk- wardness which was new to him. The nursery gover- ness, on the contrary, was standing perfectly composed and calm behind old Nanna's chair, not expecting him to take the smallest notice of her. Something «4 BUTTONS, notice everything. *""' ^° ^"'^k to -■•• --d Button, mentaCs ^r;- "r ""' ther. ^ snaking Jumself toge- " Well, this is Miss WadP explaining the situation aft^'L ?"''"'' ^^'^'' of-fact n^anner of childhood " st '"' "^"^^- 3nd she goes out with me ;.nd , '' ""^ e:overness. ^nd everything." ^ '^'"^^ ^'^^ "^e and^ i^uttons put out his h^n^ J '•" "- " Ethel d,-d„' ei :°°' ""= ^'"^''= "-" pleasantly, ..b„t ',"'7'"" ^''^ ' ="».- Lc saW. -k Nanna here " la '2, ""•; ' '""'' »''^-y°" to ^' ^^y^"ffnis other hTnrJ ^o- . °" the old nurse's shoulder '"''.""'' '"^«"°"ately you do, you will have a sort V! """'°"' '""^ ''^ b'essed lan,b, fron, the dav If ° . '"'"^ "^ '>- P^-ent ; eh, Nanna V- ' "'' '""' "P '° "'^' '""e " ^^ •' you may tease th^ «m -'■e's used to 1^ Ch d ^ Jr"' "-" ■'".or "«= »t"ngs of the babyt tht ' "' ""■' '''"'''' °"' There was a moment' i ^"™ ""° " "™^ ''°>v. broke,-, ""'^"'"'^•-■•^»<' "-as Ethel who ./ BUTTONS. »5 t»" she said, 'rward. introduced "self toge- said Ethel, id matter- ?overness, tiie and — irl's hand iie said, 5cyou to tionately '11, for {{ ^ of her the time I* Roger "ad out t bow. cl who " Did you bring us anything, Puttons ? " she demanded. Buttons dropped Miss Wade's hand as if he had forgotten that he was still holding it. " Well, to be candid, Ethel, I did not," he admitted. "They have such rubbish in the shops at Routh, and I believe I promised you a bracelet when I came to town again." " I should like another bracelet," said Ethel, whose special vanity was in the way of bangles. " And I thought you would like to go and choose it yourself." " Oh ! how lovely," cried the child in great glee. " Will you go in the morning ? We go out in the carriage every day, don't we, Jeanie ? " " Yes, dear," said Jeanie. " All right," said Buttons, " we'll talk about it in the morning. I must go now, because I'm horribly hungry, and I know Nanna wants to get rid of me." In less than five minutes he was out of the house and in a cab on his way to his club — and the image of Jeanie Wade went with him. He was soon there, for his club was in Pall Mall, and as he jumped out and went up the steps he shook himself together, and told himself he was a fool to be knocked over in that way by a girl who had hardly spoken to him, and 16 SUTTOIVS. Who had evidently scarcely exnect.H v her. ^ expected him to speak to. "Buttons, old man, you're ;,n m -nt into the <.,■„,•„,.„,„. wh ^ ^t ,o "^ he knew were Just sitting down to ! "" ■nsisted upon his joining tl,L "■' '"'' ^f'-wards they looi^e :T: t?:' "■"""■ ^"' * 'adies- night at the Lyric the "' "' '""^ --nd«„i3hedupthe^:,:ir--B-'' -j;rtrth:tifretdr^'°'^^- "ight, old chap-thanr c '"" '""'=' "f=°°d "■-•" And Jet t-s K r" "--"-oniy good ' '"e Vision of fhat J^^.TX^'t""' ''■-'"•">'. been from time to tfml d *"" '■™ "^ " '>'"' Anc.hedid„:r:;:f^^':-"«-ve„i„, ^'^ywithhimsopersistlX S^r''--''''^''" P-tty. and yet she was not pto r "°' ^^^^ «e face, pa,e and smali'w^hsoftT"'''"" e^^^e^^e^srr-^--^:^: ---nd wa^rnrcedi-cr ;^: BUTTONS. 17 but just as nature had made it." Still there was really nothing out of the common about her, nothing to make him think about her for a whole evening, absolutely nothing, or at least only the kind of attrac- tiveness which had been thrown in his way hundreds of times without having the very smallest effect upon him. Altogether, it was absurd that he should find himself haunted, literally haunted, by a sad little face and a pair of dewy eyes— of what color he positively did not know. It was simply absurd, and as the cab turned into Sloane street he told himself that he would not stand any more of it. Unfortunately for the success of his resolution, the workings of the human mind are sometimes very erratic, and altogether beyond the control of the owner of the mind. So Mr. Cottenham-Page found out for himself that night— he went to bed and he went to sleep, but do you think he got rid of Ethel's Jeanie by such simple means as those > Not a bit of it ! It is true that his body spent that night in his own bed, but his mind did otherwise. His mind spent the night practically in his sister's nur- sery, in a strange and confusing jumble of letters- babies and old Nanna, with a mixture of Beerbohm Tree as a Russian minister of police, and a flavoring '^ BUTTONS. Of the Lyric Club and George Giddens thrown in / and through all this odd medley he was conscious o^ the sad little face and soft dewy eyes of the flaxen- haired girl whom his little Ethel called "her Jeanie " The result of all this was that he woke up in the niormng feeling somewhat more fatigued than he would have done \i he had not gone to bed at all, and he jumped up with a sense of relief that the night was over. Before he had got half-way through his breakfast, Miss Ethel made her appearance, very full of the expedition that he ar.d she were to make in quest of her new bangle. "Jack says," she remarked, "that you have bought him a butcher's shop." " Oh!" said Buttons, who did not wish to commit himself. "He has been wanting a butcher's shop ever since his last birthday," said Ethel in quite a grown-up voice, so grown-up indeed, and with so altogether young lady-like a manner that Buttons looked at her in some surprise, "but nobody has given him one How did you know he wanted a butcher's shop Buttons ? " ^' " I didn't know," Buttons added, feeling that it was BUTTONS. »9 useless to try and conceal anything from this obser- vant young person. " I don't believe you've got it at all," she remarked quietly. " Well, I haven't— I thought I could buy it this morning." " Well, then I'll choose it," said Ethel. " What's it like > Is it big .? " Buttons asked " Oh — about a yard and a quarter big," answered Ethel with so perfect an air of thoroughly under- standing the subject that her uncle's surprise turned to positive awe to hear her, child of five — well, yes, nearly six— talking sensibly of yards and of quarters. Now, as a matter of fact, a yard and a quarter was Ethel's latest acquisition of knowledge, and just at that time everything with her meant "a yard and a quarter," everything in the way of size. If he had asked her how much she liked him, her answer would have been, as sure as eggs are eggs — " a yard and a quarter." Equally surely would she have given that particular measurement as that of her own height, and most probably also it would have done duty as to the extent of her age, if inquiries had been put to her concerning it. Buttons, however, did not know all this, and her acumen impressed him accordingly. * BUTTOKS. "Well, I've finished my breakfast," he said pres- ently. "I suppose I might have a cigarette before we p-o." we go (< Oh lyes. I think you may have a cigarette," answered the child gravely-" but hadn't you better tell them about the carriage ? " "The carriage," said Buttons doubtfully-" oh ' we needn't wait for the carriage-can't we take a cab - " Yes we can-but three is too many i„ acab- Movah always, says so." -But you and I are only two," Buttons answered. But there s my Jeanie, you know," cried Ethel who was not accustomed to going out without her governess. Buttons looked doubtful-" I don't really think we want your Jeanie this morning," he ventured to -ggesv. "Supposing we go and see what Nanna says about it .> " "Yes, Nanna is sure to say yes," cried Ethel She ran off upstairs and Buttons followed more slowly. "Wouldn't do, that," he said to himself w.th a portentous shake of the head-- wouldn't do at all. It s bad enough that I can't get the girl out ofmyhead without making things worse by going about w,th her. Besides, Muriel would be ,„ „! Il7r'''\--" '"''''" '^ ^.-okeoffsha; as Ethd dragged him into the nursery. As ill-luck BUTTONS. 21 -" oh ! we e a cab ? " n a cab — mswered. ed Ethel, hout her ly think Uured to t Nanna :thel. •d more himself Idn't do girl out y going - in no ^ sharp ill-luck would have it, Jeanie was there, consulting with Nanna about the alteration of some small article of Ethel's attire. She looked up as he entered, and for a moment or so he felt as if something was going wrong with his heart. " Good morning," he said, trying hard to be very cold and nothing more than barely civil. " Good morning — Mr. Page," she answered. There was scarcely a perceptible hesitation before she uttered his name, and he fancied that she had been on the point of saying "sir" instead of his name, and that she checked herself. She got up off her knees as she answered him, and stood quietly beside the nurse's chair — then by some uncontrollable im- pulse Buttons held out his hand to her. It is hard to tell how these things com* about; scarcely a word had passed between them ; the girl had been silent almost to taciturnity during the few minutes he had spent in her presence — she had not sought him by so much as a glance of her soft eyes, and equally httle had he desired to seek her. And yet certain is it that on that mild and balmy April morning when Roger Cottenham-Page and his small niece, Ethel Meredith, went out of the house in Sloane street and got into a hansom-cab, that he was over head and ears in love with the girl who was called Jeanie Wade. aa BUTTONS. CHAPTER III. GOOD RESOLUTIONS. — Robertson, Now although it was a fact that Buttons had fallen oyer head and ears in love with Jeanie Wade, he yet did not acknowledge it to himself, did not in truth realize that such was the case. He had, as yet, only a sort of feeling that she was the most altogether attracfve creature that he had ever met in his life, that she was fresh and modest, a perfect little lady m her shy and retiring, yet wholly easy, simplicity moreover, that she was exquisitely pretty, or, if no; pretty m the usual acceptation of that word, that she was exquisitely uncommon™.,. .• ,., be ca ,i J I tWnk Buttons said to himsca c:.a. sue was so de-' hghtfully chu. He fancied that she had no idea of her own attractiveness, else she would never have been dressed "anyhow" as she was that morning. -^ even found himself wondering, as he and the BUTTONS. %% r of the feel- lim. ■Robertson, !iad fallen le, he yet t in truth yet, only Itogether 1 his h'fe, ttle lady iph'city ; r, if not rd, that ca lid, > so de- idea of ;r have lorning. nd the child drove past the park, how she would look with all her pretty fair hair piled up on the top of her head in a classic knot , with a nice fresh white gown on, quite simple and without much decoration (between ourselves, the sort of elegant simplicity which a good dressmaker always classi- fies as " a sweet little gown," and charges you five and twenty guineas for it if she thinks you will pay it), excepting for a bunch of fresh flowers, jon- quils or lilies-of-the-valley, at her throat. And her name, so simple, so soft-sounding, so lik herself — Jeanie ! Such a dear little name. ** Do you like my Jeanie, Buttons ? " Ethe. asked suddenly, just as his thoughts had drifted to this interesting point. Buttons fairly jumped — " Oh !— yes — yes— T think she seems very nice. I suppose you are verj fond of her ? " " I think she's lovely," said Ethel. " Movah says she's 'So-So'— what does So-So mean, Butt ns? Movah says she couldn't possibly explain it to me." Buttons laughed. "Well, I don't know that I can either— but I think it means that your mother doesn't think that Miss Jeanie is lovely." " Oh ! " said Ethel, and sat bolt upright for full fi /e ! M BUTTONS. , """"'"'^ gating in front of J,er -.ll !,„ , Warently engrossed by Z^^^ T"" "''"' various kinds of vehicles . ' °^ ''°'''' ^"^ -■owever, she looked tp T;'Br"'"°- '^^-">" «>'-"k= Miss Rotters,:; :p':°?:^'^«-h Wisely. ^ ^^>^' she remarked " "^''es, I know she does " snM r 4... *-t>y-he had heard Mis Wro f": "'"" '■'"''^■ and perfections well ,nd n ^''"'"^'■^'^>' ^ beauties ^ oa^iijgs and doinp-s thnn J,« u . been before. "^ "a<^ ever "Because I eard her tell iw u Ethel answered. °^'^ ^° °"^ day," ;;And when dfd she see Miss JeanfeP" ^^ • °"^ d'-^y not long after mv r • J'V'e with us," the child / '^>^ ^^^n'e came to J , ^""<^ answered " qn^ lunch— no, I mean «ho . ^"^ ^^"^^ to '-h,andMoX^:;:::;-^''"--ereat '-«ng at ., Jeanie, an , '::: ■^°"^^- ' ^'^ "- ^-.o.ethin,Movahwa d;:Z"''r^'^-° -socross,,, Wheredid,ou,et :t2ri:f BUTTONS. as " And then Movah said, ' Why ? ' and Miss Rotters- ley said, ' She's much too pretty, much too pretty. I wouldn't have her in my house for the world,' and then Movah laughed and said something about little pitchers — that meant me, you know — and they didn't say any more about it. I don't like Miss Rottersley, Buttons." " Neither do I," said Buttons promptly. " Buttons, I love you," said Ethel fervently. She stole a very small hand in a neat little Suede glove into his, and Buttons gave it a squeeze such as made all the little bones go "scrunch " in his strong man's hand. " Oh ! my dear old woman, did I hurt you .-' " he cried with much compunction. " Well, you very nearly hurt me," said Ethel, who was a plucky little soul, and much too proud of being out with her beloved Buttons in a hansom-cab to be betrayed into tears for a mere trifle. " I forgot, you know, that it was such a little wee tot of a hand," he explained ; " you are such an old- fashioned grown-up little piece of goods, one forgets that your little fist ij such a little one, and it is a little one — 'pon my word it is. Where in the world do you get your gloves .'' " " Movah gets them at her shop," Ethel answered. A«^**^^«« ^ a W^rv jr^ • • A> V*.*^** I* >d^l* *^.x...mL. ^^^^^JX..^ s^-iwauiii^ uuL iici itaiiu wiLU iiiucxi piiuc i atf ^ j ' ^ BUTTONS. I "^^' J don't quitp u I f "'"'"-"^^er heard of ,V' •. „ yo^!" """"''^ °»'" ^hop, won't "Of course, vve win " .. Buttons was always ^ooH '' ^' S°°d-'>aturedly_ -^".to borrow': tl:: 7'- ■•'-'..•3-.-ne,l-s good-natured that if the ,Z '""' "''" '"• '-'''« to the Tower of London 3 'T''' ''•''' '» ^o ^""P. "e wou,d probabl/h 1""" "' ^ P""™'- "";"W have gone. "^ ''' ^^'^ "^" nght," and " Now, here we are " h ""^•^oorofasmartjewdlerT" "' ""^^ «°PPed at out first." ' ""'■°P-"^'ay.,et„,eget *;""edt?o:;;:f?;;;;;''^<'a,^^^^ said that :^-°^'>-ownpowe.:,r^°""^'^''>'ofiarge ;- ''finger or so to he,p ZtZ' ""'"^'' "- then they went into the shon ^ ^'■°""''- ^nd ^'^^> very soon becan e t,T "''"■^■•' ""=-«- P'-'^'ty gold bangie with at T """"=- °^ » quoises. ^ horseshoe set with tur. BUTTONS, VI ^ Buttons ; u j^^^ &o back, eh ? " ^^^" shop, won't oc^-naturedJy_ ^^shisifnchis ^^" -^'- ^^It so ^ed him to go ^ a particular ^^ ^'grht," and y stopped at y, let 5t said that ^dy of large epted more ^n^. And ^liere Miss lessor of a "^"f'^^h. tur- " Look here." said Buttons, when the bangle-ques- tion was settled — " I want a very small single-stone diamond pin— just to keep an evening tie in its place." " Certainly, sir," answered the shopman, " Buttons," put in Ethel eagerly, "there's a Lady's Pe^oriaZ—Movah's glove shop's in the Lady's Peto- rial—'' " May I look at that paper one moment } " Buttons asked. " To be sure, sir," answered the man handing him the paper. "I'll find it," cried Ethel eagerly. " But you can t read yet, can you ? " objected But- tons. " Oh ! yes, I can," cried Ethel— who could not read a word, by-the-bye — " I can read the picture of a lady in her comberations. There it is." I am bound to admit that as the child triumphantly put her finger on the figure of a young lady in a single garment in which she was apparently going to dive into the vasty deep, Buttons sat down on a chair and laughed till the tears fairly stood in his eyes, and Ethel laughed too, though she did not know why. " Ethel, my child," he cried, " I am afraid that 28 I: ' you and your quaint of nie. You can read I'ttle say/ngs will be the end - gay fit of laughter again. "^ "' "^'" '"'° H/T laughter was so infectious tl,.f ., young n,a„ „„ the o.i.er ilo ', " '^"^"^"'^ chucWeCand Ethel, the c^^^ Jf 7°7': '"-'^ -ely, feeiing that Buttons Jf^ "e^"^.^ ''^^- Of some immense joke, but not h T"""' standing it. •■ j^n'.t ,, f„„„^ ° "' ""=. '^^^' ""der- "Pemberthy's, 390 Oxford street " safd ^^ .. the cabman. ' ^^ buttons to '•"--p-ongedagonie!:;:;:.:^"""- '-:t;:::;;r;r'--°'-"v,.-i. -SorsX:::— 7-""-to.etH. old, march into Pe^be tTv "" "°' ''' ">--" Xnowing the ways ft ^I "'^ """""""■ °' m of the house, walk-her pretty BUTTONS. 29 ^vill be the end of a lady m her off he went into Jie gentlemanly ! counter fairly laughed elabo- the enjoyment e least under- ned at iast— is off again. lop and safely id Buttons to •Jl impressed >red Buttons • " it certain- to see that yet 6 years *li an air of ■licr pretty blonde head well in air — past the cases of smart silk stockings and mufflers to the stairs leading above. " Hi " — said Buttons — " Can't we get them down here ? " " Movah always goes upstairs," said Ethel with dignity. So Buttons, chucking inwardly at the whole busi- ness, followed the little white-robed figure obediently, and fairly laughed outright to see her seat herself at the counter — not without difficulty, for the chairs were rather high — and hold out her hand for inspection to the young man who came to attend to them. " They always try your gloves on here," she said — feeling, apparently, that it was her duty to do the honors of the place to him — "you put your elbow on this cushion and then they put your gloves on," " Gloves for the young lady, sir ? " asked the young man in attendance. " Yes — the same kind as these," said Ethel answer- ing for herself. " Buttons, do you see that picture } " — pointing to a small case showing a glove as it is first cut out — " that is a glove before it is born." "You don't say so," said Buttons with deep inte- rest. '* Yes, I do — and that organ is to sew them with." I I 30 BUTTONS. ^'■"P fe very „uch liL In I " "'"'' '^' """^ ?'°ve ""-^t Redfern, ,3 ,„ „ J^ ';'° '"o^' others of its k/„d '^'^">' -nterest hi™. ^ "' ^^ '^'"^ did not espe- ;"" wi..-ch his youn, :l i;"^ ^^- -^ «"4 d.fficu,t subjects and ^d' H r '"''''' ""^ "'°^' '"^ "^ht word. and. ev^th t '' '''""' *°'^ <" P-nunciation .ere ai, Lla ' '"""'"^ -d the ■^""vey her i„fo,„,,.„„ i„7' ";"f "^ ^on^ehow to "-"—oh , it ,,3 J; P"'^=«'>' clear and iucid ^^velation to him , """""S- it was a perfect " ^here, aren't they lovelv > " u ; "eat iittie Suede-giovedtnd f '^'^* '""'''•"? "P ^ ''"e another pair , " '"'' '^^^ '"^Pection— Ca„ ^^s jitiiel picked j^ / "■^" she „,ade a suggestin /? ''~"' P^'^' ^d a pair fo.„„j,^„.^f ;'»"-■ I should like to have B""ons fairlv • '^^"'^"•ked. -""-orthe:ir;.x::;rr'^"'-"''de„ . "'^^ J'" -Iced Ethd «?'''"•"•• ■nnocent eyes. ' ''^'"^ ^im with her big ' Of course of r "■^^ ^J-e takes, do yru7"~°"''' ^°" """'^ "^"o- what 't^^> not in what he ^■^"^^ eye one glove ■^°^e shop, and the St others of its kind '■^ors did not espe- e ease and fluency attacked the most at getting hoJd of meaning and the ?i"g- somehow to [ c^ear and Jucfd ^'t was a perfect sked, holding up Pection--" Can ■<^ond pair, and ^ Jike to have ^ the sudden him. BUTTONS. 31 " No, I don't—" Ethel admitted rather crestfallen \ but — oh ! I know, she takes the same size as Mo- ^ah ! Movah often gives her her gloves when she las worn them." A wave of indignation swept over Buttons' mind ; to think that she — oh ! it was shameful that she, that -" I fancy your mother takes six and a quarter," he jsaid, breaking in on his own thoughts. " If it is Mrs. Meredith of Sloane street, the size is |six and a quarter," said the young man, who had recognized Ethel. " Yes — then show us some ladies' gloves," said But- tons, who was more interested at that moment than he had ever been in a pair of gloves in all his life before, even his own. They chose two pairs of delicate grey gloves and then they went back to the cab. " My Jeanie will be so pleased," said the child holding her two precious parcels very carefully. " I hope so," said Buttons—" seems to me, little woman, that you are real fond of your Jeanie, eh } " " I love her, said Ethel with emphasis. " Ah ! " was all that Buttons had to say about it. He leant back in the cab, while Ethel amused her- self by peeping in the little mirror in which she was 3* ' BUT7'0^S. just high enough to see h^r ^ 'he effect of her new bangle iTf . "''" ''^ -irst that he had never been sot ^ ''"'"Sht-^^U. '•'•^ «fe, then that it „ou:;r'r'"'°"'"^" At least until Muriel came Tuu *' '"^ P"''- "- *«y. and perhap ^tln the V"" '''' °"' °^ ^yes would have passed aal I "' "'"""^ ^'^ do for him to be setting . ^^'"'^ '' '™"'dn't °^ "is sister, hou!e oM du'r" T '''' '"' ■"-"- i -"><' »e furious at h ve:';T "";"-"— «"-, ' F"" of this resolve :7n r "^'' ^ ""■■'^• "eiust saw the child ^J^TZ^r""' "" '""'^ then went off to his club ^ "■ P"'"'^ ""d «- to dress for L ' ^ -''7' ™' """ " -^ «" nearly seven o-c,oc;.aL:'"''"°'~'"--" '"t. J"st as he entered the'h "1 ""'' "■'""'' ''^-e Jean.iust,eavinrt:\t:fa:r'"'^"^- had been having supper '^'''■™°"' '^"ere they " Dear, dear Buttons,- cried Ethel "vo '"'-e to see me before I go to bed T "' '"' upstairs-pickyback." ^° '° ''<^d. Do carry me ■As Buttons Was lU^ „ ■ ^''O'-cebuttocompiy' /ri;7-''^hadno step of the stairs whlk v,u, " °" "''^ "»>d ably for her r^. ^"''' '''"'' '-=^'f comfort- BUTTONS. 33 tie face, and 'e better see ught— we]], gone in a]] any price, ^eep out of tiiose soft t wou]dn't y member ' -— Murie] tiling. lie house ceJs and til it was ■ come \n lid have and her ^e they ''e just rry me ad no third nfort- " You go up first, Jeanie," Ethel cried imperatively, "and then Buttons and I will catch you." Jeanie was not, however, very easy to catch when, she once got a start ; her fleet young feet carried her up well in advance of the young man, hampered as he was by a child who was too carried away by ex- citement to be careful to get a firm hold of her steed. " I must get my breath— you are throttling me, child," Buttons gasped as they reached the first land- ing. " Yes, get your breath, poor thing," laughed Ethel, to whom Buttons' distress was a great joke-- " and oh ! Buttons, my Jeanie was so pleased with her gloves— weren't you, Jeanie ? " Jeanie came down a step or two. " Yes, dear, I was. Mr. Page," she said, addressing Buttons a little shyly — " I believe I have to thank you for so kindly " "Not at all— not at all," returned Buttons in haste, and still keeping his sister in his mind—" it was Ethel's own suggestion entirely. I—I only paid for them." Jeanie shrank back instantly. " I was afraid Mrs. Meredith might not like me to take them," she said, blushing scarlet—" but since it was Ethel— why— I " "Movah not like you to have new gloves, Jeanie," pii 'It 34 BUTTONS. cried Ethel indio-nantly. " Wliy, how absurd ! Why Movah gets heaps of gloves lierself. Buttons often gives her a whole box a. a time." "It's rather different, old woman." said Buttons who did not want the fact of Iiis having bought a couple of pairs of gloves for Miss Wade to be made a matter of too much importance. '< I .i^ould not have presumed to give Miss Wade a box of gloves- but ils quite different for you to give her anythino- you Hkc." . "^ " Oh!" said Ethel, not understanding at all, and not being willing to say so. Jeanie turned and went ups-airs without another word. He had misunderstood her and there y-^, nothing more to be said. It was natural, no doubt, but she felt that she had been put in her place without havmg tried to leave it; she felt that she had not deserved such a snub, and all her innocent pleasure m her new gloves had been turned to gall and bitter- ness. Therefore she turned a«-ay and went up to the nursery, feeling hurt and crushed ; and Buttons and Ethel followed, he feeling quite a glow of inward satisfaction in having honorably kept his t,„spoken faith with his absent sister when he wo. d, if he had BUTTONS. W. i 35 followed his inclinations only, have been already at Jeanie Wade's feet. "I don't think, Buttons "said Ethel when they got to the top of the stairs, " that I would go in if I were you, Jack isn't as pleased with you as he might be." " But why not ?" cried But' -ns in amazement. " Why ? " said Ethel tragically, " because we went out this morning and we quite forgot the butcher's shop." fi 3« BUTTONS. Ml lui ' 11 I CHAPTER IV. UNSPOKEN FAITH. «'Live in the Present wisely, alike forgetful of the Past, and careless of what the mysterious Future might bring." —//^//enon For three days nothing out of the common hap- pened in the house in Sloane street. Miss Ethel insisted on taking up a good deal of her beloved Buttons' time, and Buttons was carried off here and there to suit that small person's convenience or pleasure in a manner which might have been highly irksome to him had he not been so fond of the child as he was, and so deeply interested in her Jeanie. As it was, it was a delight to him to take the bright and pretty child, in her smart white tailor coat and her dainty white hat, out with him each morning, to hear her naive comments on the shops and the people, and better still to hear her prattling on about her Jeanie, until Buttons felt that he knew the girl almost as well as he knew himself. And on the third afternoon he was dawdling quietly BUTTONS. 37 through the park on his way home, when he met them together. Jeanie bearing in mind, poor child, the snub she had had about the gloves, would fain have passed on ; but Ethel had no idea of letting her dear Buttons off so easily as that. " I go on and leave Buttons, Jeanie ? " she exclaimed, when she fully grasped Jeanie's wishes — " why, as if I would. Of course I shan't go and leave him. You will be very angry if I do, won't you, Buttons "i " " Oh, awfully," said Buttons in a strictly conven- tional tone, which made Jeanie more desperately anx- ious to get away than ever. " I am sure Mr. Page does not want us with him, Ethel, dear," she said to the child in an imploring undertone. "I am quite sure he does, Jeanie," said Ethel with much dignity. " Don't you, Buttons .? " " Of course I want you," said Buttons promptly. " Then, I w*ll go home and you can come in Avith Mr. Page," said Jeanie, She looked at him in a distressed kind of way, as if to say — "You see how it is with this child. I have done my best to get her away and she won't be got away. But at least I can betake myself off, if I can- not get her to leave you." Vii=^ 38 BUTTONS. Buttons caught the look and understood It, and for a moment he forgot hfs sister and his unspoken faith with her, and only remembered that he wanted Jeanie to stay quite as much as even Ethel could wish. " I don't see why you should go away, Miss Jeanie," he said mildly. " There is surely room enough for u's all in the park, and I am going home presently. I really don't see why you need want to run away from us." " I— I— thought you would rather I did," faltered Jeanie, meekly. Buttons began to feel his blood dancing more quickly through his veins, and a certain devil-may- care feeling came over him. After all, why shouldn't he talk to this girl for an hour or so because his sister happened to be away from home. The girl was a little lady, every inch of her, and—" Well, hang it all," he said to himself, he had been fairly let in for this meeting, and as he was in for it he would make the most of it, and enjoy himself. Having come to this resolve, care and caution alike went to the winds and he let his voice drop to a dangerous tenderness. " Of course, I don't want you to go away," he said gently; " yo- must know that I would rather you stayed. Let us sit down here i id watch the people go by," BUTTONS. 39 So they sat down under the trees, Ethel on one side of him and Jeanie on the other, and they admired the people a h'ttle and laughed at them a h'ttle too. Then Ethel, who soon got tired of one occupation, began to admire Buttons' shiny boots. " They are real- ly very pretty boots, Buttons," she remarked wisely; '• they are new, of course. I haven't got new boots on, but I have my new bangle and the gloves you bought me at— at Per— berty's. I wanted Jeanie to put a pair of her new gloves on, but she wouldn't. She said she would wear them by-and-by." Thus reminded of his small gift to her, Buttons turned and looked at Jeanie's hands, which were covered by a pair of rather shabby black gloves. " Why would you not wear my gloves } " he asked. " Don't you like them } " Jeanie turned a fine scarlet— "Oh! yes," she an- swered— " but— but— oh ! I can't tell you why I did not want to wear them," she ended, not being able to find any reasonable excuse for not doing so. " You were not offended at my buying them, were you > I hope not," he said in anxious undertone ; " I would not offend you for the world. But I could not very well disappoint the child." " I should not have liked you to do that," said jcanic quickly. « Ml III 40 BUTTONS. " But you thought it rather a liberty, I knew you thought so," he rejoined. "Well, it was a liberty, one I should not have dreamed of taking \{ it had not been for the child's wish to buy them for you." " It wasn't quite that," Jeanie admitted. " No ? Then what was it ? " he asked eagerly. The girl turned her soft eyes upon him in hesita- tion and what was almost distress; and the look was too much for Buttons, in fact it fairly set his heart in a flame. " Tell me," he said persuasively, " do tell me." But Jeanie still hesitated. " I~I don't think I can tell you, Mr. Page," she said at last. " You will think me so silly— and so— so conceited." " Tell me ! " was his answer, » Well— I— I couldn't help thanking you for them," she managed to say at last, " because I thought it so kind— and— and I don't often have things given me, and these were so unexpected, and they were just what I wanted." " Well } " said Buttons eagerly. " Well > " "And when I said something to you about them, you — you——" " Wc:i > I-I what did I do > "he spoke anxiously, yet waited with a smile in his eyes for her explana- tion. " What did I do ? " he repeated. BUTTONS. 41 "Well, you snubbed me," she answered growing scarlet again, " and, after that, I did not care about them any more." All the smile died out of Buttons' steady eyes, his mind went back to that little scene on the stairs, and he realized that, in trying to keep faith with his sister, he had hurt the feelings of the girl whom of all others he would least wish to wound. "Miss Jeanie," he said gravely, "I understand what you mean, but will you believe that I had no intention whatever of making you feel like that ? It was the very last thought in my heart to snub you — why ! it is preposterous — preposterous ! " Jeanie looked down at the shabby black gloves in her lap, and Buttons longed to take the little hands they covered prisoner in his own eager ones. " You do believe me, don't you ? " he urged. "Why, yes, of course," she answered. "And — and I'm so glad, Mr. Page," she ended, with a blush and a smile over her girlish burst of confidence. "And so am I," said Buttons. "And you will wear those gloves to-morrow ? " " Perhaps," she answered shyly. " What are you two talking about ? " suddenly demanded Ethel, who had been intently occupied in I !i II ill k ^^ BUTTONS, watching an oUl gentleman who had dropped asleep on a neighboring seat, and who had been for the last five minutes the subject of mud. attention from a fine large fly that had survived the winter. "Oh! various odds and ends," returned Buttons easily. " Oh ! only odds and ends," said Kthel Buttons looked at Jeanie, and Jcanie' smiled ; so already confidence was established between them and unspoken faith 1 ' BUTTONS. 4S CHAPTER V. HONOR. " A man's own conscience is his sole tribunal." — Lord Lytton. Somehow or other after the day that they mfit in the park and sat under the trees until it was time to go home together, it became quite a daily custom for Buttons to turn in there every afternoon towards five o'clock and spend an hour or so with Ethel and Jcanic Wade, under cover of a comfortable feeling that it would please Muriel if he took a little notice of the child. And more than once he was seen and noticed by his friends, who one and all wondered who the pretty girl was, with her dewy eyes and soft, flaxen hair, and more than one of them " chaffed " him unmercifully about her. " Hollo, old chap," said one man to him whom he met at the club — "having a good time in town, eh ? Yes — saw you in the park this afternoon — what! Vou didn't see me ! No, I dare say not. I shouldn't have seen you if I'd been in your shoes, take my word for it" r! 44 BUTTONS. It was easy enough to fence all such hints as these and Buttons was, fortunately for him. a young man who seldom or never lost his temper. He almost lost ;t though on that particular question ; for. after allow- .ng as much of his leave to elapse as he decently could, he dressed himself very sprucely one day and set out to go and make a duty call upon Miss Hilda Wrothersley, who was staying with the De Carterets m Harrington Gardens, and Miss Hilda Wrothersley was, I must remind you, a great friend of his sister's a very stylish-looking lady of some half dozen years ■o der than himself, whom Mrs. Meredith would dearly ).ke to call sister-in-law. Why? Oh ! it is hard to say I Women are so oddly moved on .hat subject- ■ndeed, as far as n,y e.xperiencc goes, the majority of women are never satisfied till they get their brothers what they call "settled," and once their desire is humored, they generally seem to Hnd that the arrange- ment IS not to their liking. Well, my friend Buttons went off to call upon the lady of h,s sister's heart, whom, to his sorrow he found at home, not only at home but for the moment alone He was ushered into Mrs. Dc Carteret's boudoir, a' lovely httle gen, of a roon,, a harmony in sea-greL, and gold embroideries, with rose-colored blinds to the BUTTONS. 45 windows, which gave a most becoming tint to the faces of the occupants of the room ; then there were flimsy- white draperies which prevented the roselight from being too strong— and really Miss Wrothersley, who though of stylish appearance was not a beauty, looked quite passably pretty as she lay back in a low chair among a pile of soft silken cushions waving a quaint eastern fan slowly to and fro. " Oh ! my dear Roger," she exclaimed when she saw who her visitor was— and by-thc-bye, I may say here that she had called him " Roger" from the time when he had been at Eton—" is it really you ? I quite thought you were not coming to see me." " Did you know I was in town ? " he asked, wishing with all his heart that he had never told his sister a word about it, but had gone to an hotel. " Dear Muriel wrote to me just before she went off to Paris," Miss Wrothersley explained smoothly. "•Of course,' she said, 'you will see a good deal of Roger as we are not here.'" Now this put Buttons into somewhat of a dilemma. It is not easy to account for an absence which is a purely voluntary one, without admitting that it was such, that is. » The fact is," he said glibly enough, " I have only I ^^ BUTTONS. ' -f year, you know, and a good „,a„y of my dihicidt to get round and sec everybody " " Ves,- answered Miss Wrothersley quietly - tiie P-k takes upsuch a lot of one's ti.e7oesn?;t,. Butto began to get flurried-a fatal n^istake. ^ c, hesa,d, .. I have looked in there once or twice on my way home." wiih?d"" ''T ""^ ''■'^■" ^="'' *^'- Wrothersley wth a disagreeable smiie. " I n,ust te,l dear Muriel ''To^:"'f'"'-^''-t°EtheIwhi,stsheisa„:;' hauSny """' " '°" "'^•" ^^'"-^ «""- He was flurried no longer ; he knew that probably 3 had, etched hin, each day he had bee' in2 P--K.and.fshecou,d„ake„,ischiefoutofitw Mne.seevide„t,y„eanttodoso. He there urned the subject as abruptly as he could, and after en m ,3 of the. ost unsatisfactory cllat,;: orld, he went out of that house in a towerin. ra^e -d Jun,p,nginto a cab at the door he went ofHo tl,: park, w,tha feeling thatthenn-schief was sure to co 1 -^ooner or later, in which case he n,i.ht as we 1 hanged for a sheep as a lamb. '^'""^ '''<^" »- BUTTONS. 47 He o-ot out at Albert c^ate and ^valked up the north side of the Row; but-, the child and Jeanie were not there. Then he went and had a look at the horses and their rider.s, then sauntered up the Row a^ain, this time not without success, for the child and Jeanie were sitting under the trees demurely watching the people pass by. '" Here we are, Buttons," cried Ethel in her shrill cliild'.s voice—" I chose this seat because there were three chairs empty together." Buttons needed no further invitation but sat down between them, and then for the first time he forgot his annoyance and Miss Hilda Wrothersley. " You are very late in the park to-day, little woman," he remarked to his small niece. " Yes, we are rather, but a lady came to see us and she stayed rather a long time," Ethel replied. " We had to stop because she doesn't come very often, and :dovah has a respect for her." Buttons burst out laug ling. " What do you mean > Who was it ? " he asked " Miss Paget," answered Ethel. " Oh, I know—Miss Sally," he laughed. " A very pious old lady. And what did she say to you ? " "Well, she didn't say much to me, she never does," Ethel replied. " She talked most to Jack, \ ii 48 BUTTONS. Sir;:?'" "'^ ^^'"'-'^ ^ '^^^ -" °- Ethel looked serious. " Well UU t> hin. what he had been doi,, Jat j.^ ^ ^^f "^-^^ her that he had been nl "^ "'^''^ '°'d shopagooddel.^M.'pZr'^^''''"^^'"'^''-'^ Buttons; she said ,> ° ""'"^ '''°*ed, ■ -hen ,0 reali ed :r: ' T""^ "'^^-^f"' *^'"^ word, beanie?- "''""' ''^-de-what was the "Depravity." answered Jeanie, smiling. Thel:LXXo;";',r"' °"' -''- - ■•'• ^''e.haverorlo^TS:^^ -^-----nation - 'he constant associaJn C^h tlZT't ' servants low things, Buttons > " T 7 ^'^ "Idon-tseehowlheyclTeVorNa:: "''^"'^• and she always lives no in 1 " ^ '""^""'■ she be low > I aTk d , "'%""^^--> » how can ■•t whilst I was wa^ " """'' ""^ "-""ght about Jones said h:i:"L;;:v^''r^^--"'' -e I think he could hav "o iMr h"'. ^" ''' for I heard him say to Alice 7 ^"^ '*^<'> BUTTONS. 49 'all of us,' and he hadn't got common patience with the horrid old cat." Buttons burst out laughing. " And how did Jack come off.''" he inquired, "Jack } oh ! well, he didn't exactly come off at all," Ethel answered. " Miss Paget asked him if he hadn't been learning anything, or if he'd spent all his time over his butcher's shop .^ And Jack said 'Yes' — and that he'd been learning some poetry. And then he began to repeat : ' Tom, Tom, the piper's son, He learned to pipe when he was young, And all the tune that he could play. Was " Over the Hills and Far Away. " ' And when he had finished that, Buttons, Miss Paget said that his depravity was really dreadful. Does depravity smell, Buttons "i " " Eh } " said Buttons, not understanding. " Well, you see I don't quite know what depravity is," Ethel explained, " but Miss Paget sniffed so hard I thought perhaps it smelt nasty. Well, then she said in a very severe tone, ' John, my child, can you not say some poetry that is prettier than that .-" ' Jack said he could say ' Hey, diddle diddle ' and part of * Old Mother Hubbard,' and then Miss Paget asked !fe* 50 Brrroxs. him if he didn't know any hynm, ? For a minute or so Jack thought about it and at last lie cried— ' Why of course I do, Miss Paget. Father's a him and But-' tons is a him too.' " At this Buttons went off into a gay fit of huightcr, from which he recovered himself in time to see'' Mrs.' De Carteret and Miss Hilda Wrothersley pass slowly down the Row in a smart victoria which was driven at h"ttle more than a walking pace. "There's Miss Wrothersley," remarked Ethel, whose quick eyes were here, there and everywhere,' "tliere in that victoria, looking straight at you, But-' tons— yes— bowing to you now." Buttons had no choice but to look up and take off his hat, and he saw but too plainly that the look on Miss Wrothersley's face unmistakably meant mischief. Well, the effect of this was that our friend Buttons became possessed of a kind of " in for a penny in for a pound " feeling which made him, during the few- days of leave which still remained to him, see much more of Jeanie Wade than she or he had ever thought of. One day he took them to the Zoo, where they loitered about among the animals. Buttons spending quite a small fortune in nuts and cakes with which to regale certain of, the prisoners, and at the same time BUTTONS. 51 keep Miss Ethel's attention from dwelling too closely upon her Jeanie. Then the next day they took another pilgrimage in ahnost the same direction, for they went up to Baker Street to seethe wax-works. Ethel, mind you, had been to both these places before, but it was new ground to Jeanie Wade, who had had no sight-seeing pleasures since she had lived in Sloane Street, with the exception of often driving or walking in the park v/ith the child, and occasionally with Mrs. Meredith herself. And then his very last day came, when he must turn his back on the great city and all its attractions and go back to the regular routine of his usual life in Routh Barric" He went by an evening train, of course, and when Ethel canie down, as was lier custom, while he was eating Is is breakfast, he asked her what she would like to do on this his last day. Ethel carefully considered the question. " Have you got nothing to do .? " she asked. " I want to run down to the club this morning," he said, " but I shall only be an hour, or less probably. I've got to look in at a couple of shops. Then I can do any mortal thing that you like." m % t \ v^ ^^ ^ BUTTONS. Ethel considered again. " Well, Buttons," she sa.d, you know my great ambition is to go to the Tower and see everything there, but Movah never has t,me to go, and she doesn't like Jeanie and me to go there w.thout somebody with us. She offered to le us have Jones, but Jeanie and I thought we'd rather not." Buttons laughed out aloud. " I should think not -fancy sentimentalizing over Lady Jane G^ey under Jones' solemn guidance. Well then, tell your Jeame to be ready at twelve o'clock and I'll be back to the minute." Away he went as radiant as the early summer n^ormng, and got through all his business so that he was back at twelve, to the stroke of the clock as a matter of fact. He found Ethel and Jeanie all ready for the expedition, and fortifying themselves with milk and sandwiches. "I couldn't get her to have a regular meal," Jeanie explamed, "and I'm afraid to take her out without something to eat," •' All right, there is plenty of time. By-the-by little woman," turning to Ethel and dropping a little package into her lap, "here's something to remind you of the jolly time we've had together." BUTTONS. 53 Buttons," she 5 to go to the Movah never ni'eand me to he offered to :hought we'd riy summer IS so that he e clock as a lie all ready iselves with eal," Jeanie out without By-the-by, •ing a h'ttle : to remind " Oh ! Buttons," she said, " it's a present, I know it. How lovely of you." It was a charming gift for a child, a little gold brooch made like a safety-pin, with a single pearl set towards one end of the little bar of gold, and Ethel was enchanted. " You are such a dear Buttons," she cried rap- turously, and then she put her arm about his neck and hugged him tenderly. "And I hope," he said in reply, holding her tightly in his arms and looking at Jeanie Wade over her head, " that I shall always be a dear Buttons to you, my sweet little woman." A few minutes later they set off on their expedi- tion and in due time arrived at the Monument station, and after crossing the wide road turned in at the great gates of the Tower and soon passed under the forbidding portals. And what a time they had. " It was here on this very spot that Lady Jane Grey suffered," murmured Jeanie in an awed whisper, when they stood on 'ower Green and looked down upon the little enclosed plot where so many tragedies have been enacted. "Ton my word but these fellows get uncommonly il mnnH ^* BUTTONS. good quarters here," exclaimed Button., looking round at the houses which faced tl,e green. "But fancy hving here alu.M= i„ i- ' *> ^^"^' ai"'ijs looknig out on that, said Jeanie, pointing to the enclosure His reply was careless enough. ■• Yes-yes-poor I.ttle soul, it's very sad, of course," he said. " But you know it's a long time ago, and even if they hadn't taken her head off, she would have died a.es and ages ago; and she must have died somewLre or Other. "Yes, but we know that she died just here," said Jean,e with a gesture to the recording tablet on the ground before them. "Yes, that's so, poor little soul," answered Buttons witli careless pity. But he was serious enough a few minutes later when they found themselves in the armo.y, and Ethels attention was wholly taken up by v hat she saw around her. Then his carelessness all seemed to van,sh,and his manner showed plainly enough that one glance from Jeanie Wade, the gentle litt'le nur- sery-governess. was worth more to him than the n.emory of all the heroines of romances whose beauty or whose good or bad qualities had carried them to dte^upon^the scaffold by the coarse hand of the public headsman. BUTTONS. 55 ns looking n. ing- out on re. -yes > — poor aid. "But hey hadn't d ages and ewh v:;e or ere, said •let on the " I want to say somethint^ to j'ou," he said, draw- ing her into a dim recess as soon as he saw that Ethel was safely in conversation with a friendly beef- eater. " You know I'm going away to-day, and possibly I may not be able to get leave again for some months .'' " "Yes," said Jeanie in a scarcely audible voice. ** I have brought you a little trifle to wear always until we meet again. You will wear it, Jeanie, won't you ? " " Yes," she said again. " . -l while you wear it you will understand why I ■ 1 ..ot say anything else to you, won't you ? " he asked anxiously, thinking of his unspoken faith to Mrs. Meredith. " I think I do," faltered Jeanie, thinking of some- thing quite different, poor child, thinking that he meant that she was good enough to amuse him- self with for a little time but not good enough to become his wife. " I am not going to say another word to you, Jeanie," said poor Buttons, thinking that he was steering clear between his duty to his sister and his anxiety to let Jeanie know without saying any- thing else that he meant to come back again, and i u I 1 1 vuimp 56 BUTTONS. are sometimes thinking, of me." ^^ As he spoke he opened his hmH . a t. ^-apIaingoldchiofasJTor^ -•- With a ,oId padlock Citrw /" ^'^ " Here is a little kev tn ^*'" '^• plained. '< Mav n ^ . ''" ^' '^"" '" ^^^ - , ' '^^ «^'^- She had, strangely h'ttle fo somehow, between the pleasure and t ''''' had given her ^h. T ^^ P^'" ^^^^ he given Her, shp seemed to have loQf- oil speech Rnf t, t. , , ^ ^^ power of 'ock with a snap. '' ""'' ^'"" ""= P"''- " ^''"^> ""W. you are my prisoner " h. -j in? down upon her ^ P™°"". he sa.d, smil- .«:.;::rL's:;r. J.: '- 7 and so true is h. f . ' ^ ^° "^^"^y ar™or.„.;;„;:i:;S..7:';'>^'^^'"'%-e.-n 'o her into his hand •■ vl '"' J""*' e'*'^" Page." she .aid shy^. ""' ""^ ''"^ '''^' *»'' BUTTONS. 57 " Oh, my darling," he burst out— and then Ethel ran back to them and he remembered the promise he had made to himself on account of his sister, and dropped the hand which he had just caught in his own. " Buttons— J eanie— come and look here," the child cried excitedly. "This is the block that poor lady had her head'cut off on, and there's the chopper that they did it with. Do come and look. I wonder was it that same poor lady we saw at Madame Tussaud's the other day ? " So their golden moment came to an end and they went back to sight-seeing and the child's quaint company, outwardly the same and yet how different, for upon Jeanie's slender wrist there was a fetter which only Roger Page could unloose, and in Jeanie's heart and his — ah ! well, well, those were fetters of which neither cared how soon nor for how long the key was lost beyond recovery. "Jeanie," said Ethel, suddenly, when they were in the train on their way home, "you've got a new bracelet. Did Buttons give it to you ? '.' Jeanie looked at Buttons, who answered for her. "Yes, I did, my sweetheart," he said, honestly, "and Jeanie would rather you didn't talk about it to any- J. 58 BUTTONS. syllable to a single soul." BUTTONS. 59 CHAPTER VI. A SURPRISE. •'* Thou Shalt know by experience how salt the savor is of others* bread." —Dante, A WEEK had gone by, and Buttons was once more thoroughly occupied by the regular routine of his ordinary soldier's life. He had found the heartiest of welcomes awaiting him, both from those who had just had leave and were more or less bored since finding themselves in Barracks again, and from those whose leave was yet to come, and who were therefore but too delighted to see the return of the various wanderers, whose coming, by-the-bye, would set them free in their turn. After town, Buttons found Routh itself both dull and tiresome, and spent a good deal of time in his own quarters, thinking of the little girl he had left behind, and wondering how soon he would be able to see her again. Then he would get up and take a long look at a very indifferent photograph of Jeanie, lit I \ 60 BUTTONS. vvh,ch he had begged fn„„ Ethel, and which now stood on his narrow , himney shelf in a smart open- work s,Iver frame whfch had been gfven to hi.„ on wh.ch he had ignominiously turned . very beautiful photograph of Miss Hilda Wrothersley. also a present from h,s s,ster, that is to say, it had come with the fame and he had .ever before troubled himself to d.st„r ,t As- a work of art it was a much more p.esentable affair than the picture of Jeanie, which was about as poor a likeness and as bad a picture as .t could very well be ; and yet Buttons would get up a dozen times a day and take a long look at it, generally ending with a "'Bless you. my little girl how I do love you." Well, as I said, a whole week had gone by, a whole week smce he and she had gone down to the Tower and had wandered in and out among the great troph.es of arms, and he had put a golden fetter on her wr,st under the protection of a huge figure in armor; since they had found their way into the jewe house, and had gazed their fill at the state jewels, and had tried to realize that they were wo'rth m.lI.ons of money. He was thinking of it that pleasant May afternoon, as he stood looking at the BUTTONS. 61 wretched photograph in its silver frame, how she had scood gazing with an awed face at the blazing jewels and then — yes, he could swear that it was so — he had seen her right hand steal towards the golden fetter on her left wrist and .ouch it tenderly, as if to show that it was of more value to her than all those costly jewels blazing in their splendor on the other side of the iron bars. Well, it was no use standing there any longer ;., thinking and thinking and thinking would not bring Jeanie any nearer to him. He had got to go down into the town and a mile or so on the other side, to show himself at an afternoan party which he had been foolish enough to let himself in for. He had been a fool to get let in and he told himself so vigorously enough, but still he had actually promised, so he knew that he would have to go ; so with another growl at his own folly and another look at Jeanie, he knocked his pipe out against the chimney shelf and got out of his uniform with tolerable speed. . He found the party very much what he had ex- pected ! An afternoon party in London is not always a brilliant affair, but an afternoon party in the country is generally a very dange"*us experiment. In this case the show was of the average kind, and by six o'clock ^' BUTTONS. our n-icul liuttons I,ad I,ad „h„x- than enoa-h of it and i„ company -.viUi a brother ofilccr made his fare' wells and set off to walk back to the barracks Not a word did cither of them say until they had gone down the drive and got clear away into the road ■ then the other man. Vane, looked halfback and said dnly-.. Poor sort of show that, eh, old man .' " " Oh ! ghastly," answered Buttons promptly-" can't thn,k why people want to ask us, nor why we are such lools as to go." Vane laughed, and then they began to talk of other thmgs, and presently were walking through the narrow s reets of the town. It was a quaint and rather pretty .tt e place, with a fine old abbeychurch which liked to fancy itself a cathedral, and a winding high str.-ct so narrow that two carriages could scarcely pasj each other, i„ which were situated the best shops of he place. Down this street the two young officers walked, and ,t was easy to see that Buttons at least was a great favorite with the ladies, young and old who were promenading up and down "Who is that girl .-> Vane asked, as a remark,ably pretty gn-1 wearing a picture-hat bowed a, they passed. ^ "I haven't an idea, but I took her in to dinner at EUerby the other night," Buttons answered. w £CTTOA'S. 63 " Uncommonly pretty," said Vane, who was fancy, free and therefore open to fresh impressions in the way of feminine charms. " Yes, fairly so," Buttons admitted ; he had a vision of silky fair hair framing a sad little face, with a tender mouth and grey dewy eyes always in his mind, and the saucy eyes and laughing lips under the picture-hat might have been the eyes and lips of a crone of ninety for any effect they had upon him. Just then they met two more ladies, a mother and daughter these, and they without hesitation stopped and spoke to the two young men. The mother was charming and the daughter was pretty, and Vane seemed determined to make the most of his oppor- tunity, leaving Buttons to talk to the elder lady. And whilst he was saying all the civil things he could think of, by some impulse he raised his eyes to the windows of a bonnet shop in front of which they were standing, and saw looking straight at him the face of Jeanie Wade. He was so thoroughly astonished that he had not even presence of mind to take off his hat before the face had vanished, then he woke up to the fact that the two ladies were going on their way and that Mrs. Aries was holding out her hand to him. The next . i I l\ i ii 64 BUTTONS. moment he and Vane were walking down the street together. But when they got to the end of it, Buttons pulled up short. " I say, old chap," he asked, " where are you going back to Barracks ? " "No, I want to look in at the club," Vane an- swered, " Then I'll go back again, I saw some one just now that I want to speak to. By-by.' His manner was so abrupt and his face so flushed that Vane instinctively turned to watch him go along the street. " That chap has got something on his mind," said he to himself, " h'm, queer any way,'' and then he turned back again and went off in the direction of the club. Buttons meantime had gone quickly almost the entire length of the street, and just as he reached a house about two doors from the bonnet-shop, he saw the familiar figure come out and without glancing his way go quickly in the opposite direction. Buttons instantly quickened his pace, and catching her up immediately touched her on the shoulder and said, "Jeanie, Jeanie. What are you doing in Routh .? Why are you in such a hurry .? " and then as she BUTTONS. «S turned her face towards him, he exclaimed. " Why- child, good heavens, what has happened ? Is any- thing the matter? Jeanie, what is it ? Tell me." " Yes, a great deal is the matter, Mr. Page," she said in a low voice ; " but I can't tell you here ; in fact, I'd rather not tell you at all." " You would rather not t ell me, Jeanie ! " he cried. " Why, child, what h is happ. ned } What brings you to Routh ? Do you ];now -^r^ one here ? You've not come here for me — ;. rc-ly nothing has gone wrong with the child, Miss Ethel ? " " Not with Ethel, Mr. Page," she answered. " But I have come home because your sister, Mrs. Meredith, — has — has turned — me — out." 3 66 SUT70NS, CHAPTER VII. JEANIE'S STORY. " In the right place is his heart." — Elizabttht As J:anie Ward uttered the words, ** Your sister- has —turned — me — out," they reached the end of a narrow lane which led by a little gate into the Abbey Gardens, and Roger Page drew the girl down this lane with a soothing, "There, there, darling, let us go and sit down in the Abbey Gardens and you shall tell me all about it." There was not a soul in the gardens when they reached them, and he made her sit down on a seat half hidden by a clump of sweet-smelling lilac bushes and sat down close beside her, holding her hand in his. *' Now, dear'st, teli me everything — you have had a row with my sister, but about what ? " '• About you," answered Teanie, looking at him in infinite distress. " About me," in a tone of surprise. " And why about me ? " f^Tl BUTTONS. 67 " I— I don't like to tell you," she faltered unwil- lingly. " No, I dare say not, darling," he said soothingly ; "but you'll have to tell me sooner or later, you know, so you may as well tell me at once. What did my sister say about me ? " "Well, she came back from Paris two days after you left, and everything was as happy as could be," Jeanie answered with a miserable sob catching her voice. "And then that Miss Wrothersley came to see her the next day, and— and— I don't know what it was she said, but Mrs. Meredith came up to our room in a great state, and— and she told me all Lon- don was talking about my disgraceful behavior, and that I had pushed myself forward in a shameful way, and that it was her own fault for having left me in the house — and — and " "Yes, go on," said Buttons briefly. She looked piteously up at him. " Mr. Page," she said, "don't make me tell you any more ; I don't want to make mischief between you and Mrs. Meredith, for she loves you dearly, far more dearly than you perhaps know. And it was natural enough for her to be angry. I am only her servant, you know, and —and— it's not likely thi-t she would wish me to— to ." 68 BUTTONS, " To marry me," put in Buttons, seeing that she hesitated for a word. " No, I dare say not. But, my dear, you cannot make further mischief than Mrs, Meredith has already made by turning you out of her house without hearing what I had to say about it. Now tell me all the rest." He looked so white and stern and so full of anger that Jeanie obediently went on and told him the whole pitiful story. How Mrs. Meredith had raved at her, had accused her of running after her brother, and of putting ideas into his head which he would never have thought of himself, how she had ordered her to leave that day month, and then had suddenly perceived the handsome fetter upon her wrist, and in an instant put two and two together and asked if it had been his gift. " I had not spoken, scarcely even to defend myself, until then," Jeanie said wretchedly, "but I would not tell her where I had got it, or whether you had given it to me or not. And then Mrs. Meredith insisted that she knew all about it, and ordered me to take it off instantly and that she would send it back to you " '• But you did not," he said, catching her hand in his and holding it up that he might see if she was BUTTONS, 69 Still wearing it. " Ah ! yes, I am glad you did not take it off, that you were not frightened into taking it off" "Why, Mr. Page," Joanie cried, " I could not take it off if I had wanted ever so much. You have the key, you know." " And you did not want to, did you, Jeanie ? " he asked. " You would not have taken it off if you had been able." " No, I should not," she replied. " That is right. Well, and my sister said, then— Go on, my dear, I want to hear everything.'* " Well, then she got more angry than ever, told me to pack up my things and leave the house at once; and whilst I w s putting my books together in the school-room, Ethel ran m and saw that I was crying. She ran to me like the dear little angel she is, and— and— Mrs. Meredith wouldn't even let her speak to me. She said she wouldn't have her polluted by such a creature." Jeanie's piteous voice sank lower and lower until Buttons could scarce catch the words ; he did just hear them, however, and set his resolute jaw in its most obstinate lines. "Well? "he said. Jeanie's tears began to flow instantly. " My dear \i 70 BUTTONS, li I 1 1 \\ little child, she flew into my arms and called out that I was not a creature, and that she loved me dearly, dearly. And then Mrs. Meredith asked her where I had got my new bracelet — and — and Ethel said quite sharply that she never talked about other people's business. And then Mrs. Meredith said that I had taught her to defy her own mother — I — I, who love every hair of the child's head, and that it would come home to me sooner or later; and oh ! Mr. Page, I can't tell you any more ; I can't tell you all the cruel things she said. She didn't mean them, she couldn't mean them, but she was angry and said more than she would have said if she had been just herself. And then that Miss Wrothersley had poisoned her mind — I know it, though why, I can't thinl " Buttons burst into a grim laugl: * I knew when I left London that the woman meant mischief, I knew it." " And then, when Ethel realized that I was going away she began to cry and said I shouldn't go. And old Nanna came in to see what she was crying about, and Mrs. Meredith burst out with the whole story to her," Jeanie went on, "and Nanna just heard it all and shut up her lips tight, and at last she said, •Well, Miss Muriel, ma'am,'— she '-lys calls her ""f I BUTTONS. 71 ' Miss Muriel ' when she is angry — ' You are tlie mis- tress of the house and must do as you judge best about things. But I've known Master Roger ever since he was a babe of less than an hour old, and I never see aught that was crooked about him yet, and I fancy he's got over f^ir to begin going crooked now," and then she turned round to me and she said, * My dear, the mistress has got hold of a wrong story and it's your duty to set it right. Now tell the mistress did Master Roger ever say a single vv ord to you that you'd have been ashamed for the mistress or anyone else to hear ? ' " Not a single word, Nanna," I answered. " ' Then,' said she, 'did Master Roger ever — ever — '" But there Jeanie stopped short and turned her burn- ing face away. " Yes ? " said Buttons, enquiringly, " go on ! " " I can't ! " she whispered. " Oh, yes, you can," smiling tenderly at her. " My dear old Nanna asked if I had ever kissed you ? Was that it ? Well, I never did, so you were quite safe on that score." " I said, of course, that you never had ; and then Nanna turned round to Mrs. Meredith and said tri- umphantly, 'There, Miss Muriel, where ;> the harm that's done ? ' i» 79 BUTTONS. "'The bracelet,' Mrs. Meredith cried. " ' Oh, the bracelet,' repeated Nanra. ' Why Mas- ter Roger meant no harm to come out of that Vn\ sure. For he bought Miss Ethel a brooch and me a new gown ; an i as for "he bracelet, he told me he had bought a little present for Miss Etuel's yoiug lady, and that I wao to explain i!: to you if you wanted to know about it.* " A nd then Mrs. Meredith went on about our beinof in the park with you, and how you had not been ne?ir Miss Wrothersley except once for ten minutes, and Nanna just laughed at that. '"Why, my dear Miss Muriel,' she said — ' it's that young lady that is at the bottom of all this business. It's easy enough to see her meaning,' she added, ' but mark old Nanna's words. Miss Muriel, one man can take a horse to the water, but twenty cannot make him drink, and it's queer to me, ma'am, if wild horses '11 make my blessed lamb think other o' Miss Wrothersley than he does at present — and that's not marrying, ma'am, mark my words.' " Buttons had laughed heartily during the whole time she was telling him about Nanna, and he laughed yet more at his old nurse's concluding words. " Bra- vo, Nanna," he cried. " She's a fin ^ old soul, and I BUTTONS. 73 i^h> Mas- that Vn\ and me a (Id me he I's yoing u wanted bout our not been minutes, -* it's that business. le added, Uriel, one ty cannot tn, if wild er o' Miss that's not /hole time : laughed Is. "Bra- 3ul, and I owe her one more good turn for that, and I'll not forget to pay it either. Well, what happened then .=> " " Oh, Mrs. Meredith was more angry than ever, and rated Nanna soundly iur always taking every body's part against her. ' I believe,' she said, ' that you think more of Roger's little finger than you do of my whole body, Nanna.' " ' Not at all, ma'am,' said Nanna quietly. ' I but express an opinion. It seems to me it's ill work trying to punish other folk because Master Roger has got eyes in his head and doesn't think Miss Wrothersley the prettiest woman to be found in all the world. I, for one, agree with him, ma'am, and I doubt me the master does the same,' and then she went off out of the room ind shut the door behind her. " Mrs. Meredith burst out crying then, so I thought it was time for me to go; but as I went up the stairs to my own room I saw her rush out and run down the other flight to the drawing- room. Mr. Meredith happened to be coming up, and of course wanted to know what she was cry- ing for, and she burst out with it all to him. But he was very cool about it, and I heard him say : ' Well, my darling, you really can't blame poor old Buttons for not falling in with your plans about 74 " BUTTONS. Hilda Wrotherslc)— you couldn't expect h-'m to marry such a bunch of bones as that/ and then I went into my bedroom and packed up my things, and Mrs. Meredith sent me my money, and I came away." " And you never saw the child again ? " " No. Mrs. Meredith took her out in the carriage with her, and I left before they got back. And when I opened the note with the money I found Mrs. Meredith had sent me a whole year's salary, so I just took the money up to that day out of it, and put the rest in an envelope and sent it back to her again." " Quite right, perfectly right, my poor little girl. I am so glad that you did that, it was quite the right thing to do. But tell me, dearest, what brought you to Routh ? Did you come because I was here ? " The girl blushed painfully and hesitated a little. " No, it was nothing to do v/ith that," she .-^aid shyly, " but the fact is, I have said so little to you, Mr. Page, that you don't know who I am or even where I come from." " Because I don't care. I love you, Jeanle, and that is the main point. All the rest is but detail." "Ah! but I am not so sure of that. I don't know— you may think differently when you hear why I came home to Routh." BUTTONS. 75 " But you are not a Routli girl surely ? " he ex- claimed. " No, I was never in Routh in all my life before but my father is-is quartered here now and "' "Your father is quartered here," he echoed. Your father! why Jean ie-your father-why surely you cannot be Sergeant Wade's daughter? It's im- possible ! " "No," said Jeanie, "it is not impossible, for it is true." ^' But how is it that I have never seen you before > " he exclaimed. "Because until a few months ago I have always .ad my home with my aunt. My mother was a lady, you know, and ran away from school with my father when he was only a private in the Twenty, first. Her own people never took any notice of her afterwards, excepting one sister who had married very well and was left a widowsoon after my mother was married. I was the only child my parents had and my aunt, from the time I was a little toddling thmg of four or five, kept me always with her and had a governess to educate me, and afterwards I went to school and was finished off as if I had been -well, as my mother was at my age. Well, last Mil m i 76 BUTTONS. August rvj- iun< 'fed and her money all went back to her liusband'b people, so that it was necessary that I should do something for myself. My aunt left me a little money, all that she had been able to save out of her income, and t'l; br'r.v- me in about seventy pounds a year. So you see I am not actually penni- less. But my father would not hear of my coming to them for good, because — well, because they are living in quarters, you know, and " Yes. I understand exactly. Your father is per- fectly right. So you went to look after Ethel, and you met me. You're not sorry you met me, are you Jeanie } " " No," said she honestly " How could I be ? " She looked up at him with her soft shy eyes as she spoke, and Buttons in a burst of love caught her to his breast and kiss^.d her again and again. " M}- own darling— my dear little love," he cried. " No one shall ev slight- you a-, dn while I live. I know my sister — well. And I promise you she shall make amends (or every unkind word i^he has spoken to you, every unkind word she has pain^^:' you with.. As for that woman — an. iis face darkened and his lips grew set one ore— I will soon show her how- much good she ha~ ion by her meddling an'^ her went back essary that mt left me o save out it seventy illy penni- ly coming they are her is per- i^thel, and e, are you BUTTONS. mischief-making. Wl>y, my dearest." he exclaimed! you are shivering. I have kept you too long in the cold Let me take you home. I must not let ray darling get chilled." Jeanie rose to her feet and would have turned owarfs the gate, but Roger Page drew her back. There ,s only one thing for you to say-you have forgotten it," he said ' ndly ; "just to kiss me and say, ' Roger, I love you.' " I be ? " y'es as she [it her to " My own " No one know my lall make spoken to ro\i with. and his ' her how an'^ her m 7« HUTTOA'S. CHAPTER VIII. BUTTONS TAKES THE BULL BY THE HORNS. "Love is of all stimulants the most powerful." — A. B. Edwards. *' I SHALL not see you till to-morrow evening or possibly the next day, Jeanie," said Buttons, when he had seen her safely to the door of her father's quarters, " because I am going up to town to-night, if I can get leave, that is." Jeanie looked scared. " You are going to see Mrs. Meredith— to— to—" " To have it out with her ? " he ended. " Yes, that is just it. I am going to have it out with Muriel." Jeanie caught at his arm imploringly, <'0h! Mr. Page, Roger, don't do it ! I shall never forgive my- self if you quarrel with Mrs. Meredith about me. Oh ! please, please, don't do it." " My dear little girl," he answered, " I am not at all likely to quarrel with Mrs. Meredith about it. But it is impossible for me to allow an injustice to be M BUTTONS. thing-eve^"' " ' "="" '° '^'■"^ J'"" «ny- " But ^," she began. " I have never been a coward, my child •• h» -a "So Drav rlr.nV > '"y cnua, he said. P"y don t say any more about it r„„^ • ., ^y dariin,. don't wor.y yourself abl';," J :J' -ion t worry yourself about anything >■ ' "co.ein;crieT:vif::r.r"--^- papers before L^"'^'"'"'"°"*-<^^P"e of warny2;'.r'^^^-'"''--*^^- "I'oyou "Yes, sir," Buttons answered "T T,.,, ask a tremendous favor Ca„ I \ """' '" leave, sir? I „ant tn T ' """ ''^>''= important busin!: " "" "'' '° ^"""^ °" -"^ "Very important business, a ball to-ni^ht I sun pose, ■ sa.d the colone^, with a laugh. '^^ " No, sir, nothing of that VtnrJ " earnestly. " It is real b '• "'■™^^^'' ''"«°"s / It IS real business, sir T oc„ ., I "ii, ^ ujouic you. IM BUTTONS. fO The commanding officer was touched by the des- perate earnestness of the young man's tone, and grew grave at once. " Oh ! to be sure, Page." he said kindly. " I hope you are not in trouble of any sort. " Not exactly, colonel." Buttons answered, "but I very easily might have been, and I want to prevent the possibility of trouble being made out of mischief. "Very well, you can have two days' leave," said the colonel hastily scribbling the order. « Thanks awfully, sir." said Buttons, "but I really only want the one day." However, the colonel had already written the or- der and Buttons went out with it in his hand and went quickly off to his own quarters, where he found his servant just laying his things out for mess. *^ I shan't want those, put me up some things in a bag. enough for to-night." he said, |' and look .live. I must catch the 7.20 train to town." By dint of great good luck and not a little exer- tion to himself he managed to catch the 7.20 train to London, and just as Mr. and Mrs. Meredith had finished dinner, and Mrs. Meredith was resting her- self for half an hour preparatory to going off to a party, he walked into the house in Sloane street and jiskcd for her, the des- and grew ' he said any sort." :d, "but I o prevent mischief." ;ave " said lut I really en the or- 5 hand and •e he found less. things in a ook iilive, I L little exer- 7.20 train to eredith had resting her- ing ofif to a le street and BUTTONS. 8, Mrs. Meredith jumped up when she saw who her visitor was. " On, my dear Roger," she exclaimed breathlessly, " who ever expected to see you to-night > You have not dined, of course," "No, I have not dined, Muriel, and I don't want to kiss you," was Buttons' unexpected reply. " I have come up from Routh on purpose to see you and to have it out with you." Mrs. Meredith, who had been feeling not a httle uneasy ever since Jeanie Wade's departure, and who knew in a moment by past experience that she was in for a desperate quarrel with her brother, sat down on her sofa again and took refuge in a very special kind of stilted dignity which she always called into use on such occasions. Tliat kind of dignity did not suit her. and she began the fray in thorough discom- fort, which Buttons, also from past experience, saw. and manlike took full advantage of. " Really, Roger," she remarked, "you are speaking in a very extraordinary manner to mc. I confess I don't understand you." " Oh ! yes, Muriel, excuse me, you understand mc perfectly," he reph^ed quietly. «' I have come up to town on purpose to find out from you what you mean by the way you have called my conduct, while I have been in your house, in question. ' L. ^ laWMIiHHM gj BUTTONS, "I have done nothing of the kind," she burst out. " Then, why did you dismiss Miss Wade at a moment's notice ? " he demanded. " Because I chose to do so. I thought fit to do so. I have not your leave to ask when I dismiss my ser- vants," Mrs. Meredith cried ; " upon my woni, Roger, you try to carry matters with too high a hand." - 1 don't think so. Besides Miss Wade was not a servant, she was your child's governess. She is going to be my wife." "You are not going to marry that girl!" his sister cried incredulously. « Yes, I am going to marry that girl, as you call her," he answ deliberately. " It is true that as yet I have • ''^'^^ '-er to marry me, but I shall do so T r. ffai'n 'ind I don't believe that she as soon as I gu l.. .^ cxgam, anu i uuu will refuse. I came up at once because I wanted to set everything right with you before I asked her. And first of all I will tell you that until this after- noon, not four hours ago, I had never said one word of love to her at all. If you had been at home when I came up here I should have proposed to her within a week of meeting her, probably even sooner than that. But although I knew I was utterly done for the same night that I came up here, I fi^rced my- Durst out. ade at a to do so. ;s my ser- rd, Roger, and." was not a le is going ' his sister IS you call rue that as shall do so ;ve that she ; wanted to asked her. il this aftcr- Dne word of lome when sed to her even sooner itterly done ! forced my- BUTTONS. 83 self not to take advantage of your absence, as I miobt easily have done, and I resolutely kept my mouth shut, nor did I utter one word to her which might not have been shouted aloud from the house-tops." " You gave her a bracelet," Mrs. Meredith burst out. "Certainly, I did. I have always given the people m the house little presents when I stayed with you I gave Ethel a bangle and a brooch and Nanna a' gown. I g^ve Jones a couple of sovereigns for looking after me, and I gave Jeanie a bracelet. Why should I not ? I am going to give her myself to-morrow " "Then it is all right, there is no reason for me to know or to say anything more about it." cried Mrs Meredith bitterly. ' "There is every reason for you to say a great deal more about it," returned Buttons coldly. " Miss Wade IS my future wife, and you have to answer to me for turning her out of your house at a moment's notice for casting a slur upon her fair name for which you' had no justification, to say nothing of your crueltv in turnmg a young girl adrift upon the world without even a hearing, absolutely in the face of evidence that was distinctly in her favor } " " What evidence ? " ■ ,i -.1 BUTTONS. "What did Naiina say abov.t her behavior and mine ? " he asked. " How do you know anything about what Nanna said ? '' Mrs. Meredith crijd. " I know everything— J eanie tried to keep every- thing back from me, but I made her tell me every cruel word you said. I know everything that there is to know," he replied. For a moment his sister was silent, then she lifted up her eyes and looked at him. " And where did you see her ? " she asked. " I saw her in Routh this afternoon." " In Routh— what ! Did she follow you there > " she said scornfully. " No, she did not follow me there, Mrs. Meredith," answered Roger sternly. " She is at home with her father and mother, and that their home happens to be in Routh is not to be twisted into an accusation against her, if you please. But all this is not material to the question, what I am here for is to put your mind right about my conduct in your house during your absence." " My dear Roger," cried Mrs. Meredith fretfully, «• I have never questioned your conduct in any way whatever." BUTTONS. 85 avior and lat Nanna sep every- me every that there 1 she lifted jre did you )u there ? " Meredith," lie with her ppens to be accusation not material t your mind luring your th fretfully, in any way "You turned Jeanie out, did you not?" Roger demanded stolidly. "Yes, I did. I was very angry with her. I heard such tales of how she had flaunted about " " You turned her out for not behaving herself pro- perly, and because that worthless woman told you she had seen her flaunting about day after day in the park with me," he broke in-" then how could she mis- behave herself with me and I be no party to it.? You talk arrant nonsense, Muriel ; you accuse a girl dis- tinctly of not behaving as she ought to have done to- wards me, and you turn her out without a hearing on the evidence of a jealous hag like Hilda Wrothersley, and yet you pretrnd that I, whose fault, if fault there was at all, must have been greater than hers, am per- fectly blameless. And then all you can bring against the poor child is that I give a bracelet, a pretty trifle of no greater value than I could give to the child, Eliiel, and that I sat in the park with them ! I did sit in the park with them-I have sat in the park with Kthcl and her nursemaid before now. And if I did ^lo )ou suppose I did not pleise myself about it ? Do you suppose that Jeanie Wade asked me to go and sit in the park with her, or that I should have gone if she had ? Do you suppose that if she had behaved ;■ i I rirTmrnmni 86 BUTTONS. % i'' to me with the bare-faced shameless effrontery that your friend Miss Wrothersley invariably does that I should be going back to Routh to-morrow morning to ask her to become my wife ? No, I tell you, Muriel, a thousand times, no." By the time that Roger Page had got thus far, Mrs. Meredith had in her own mind abjectly given in and had begun to cry piteously. She always did the same thing when she was beaten, and usually her tears were the signal for the other side to feel they had been a little hard upon her, and proceed forthwith to pet her and make much of her, so that in spite of her having given in, she should feel that she was very sweet and gracious to kiss and make friends again. But on this occasion she found she had to deal with more than an ordinary "other side," and Roger was as unmoved by the tears as if she had been somebody he had never seen in all his life before, and was more- over richly deserving of greater shame and grief than she was then enduring. " It's all very well to cry about it, that won't do any good," he said, icily ; " it won't take away the slur you have cast upon the poor child's character, nor make her ever think you anything but an unjust termagant as long as ever she lives." m\\ BUTTONS. 87 ntery that oes that I V morning ou, Muriel, IS far, Mrs. iven in and d the same / her tears :1 they had orthwith to in spite of le was very inds again. :o deal with , Roger was n somebody i was more- id grief than lat won't do ic away the 's character, (Ut an unjust " Roger ! " cried Mrs. Meredith miserably. « What is it you want me to do > I'm very sorry, I didn't know that you were hard hit, and if you want to go and marry a girl like that, why of course you can ; I can't help it. If there is anything I can do to please you, you know that I will do it. Shall I write to her and ask her to come back again } " At this Buttons burst out laughing, but it was not quite his own laugh, though he had got his own way. " No, I don't want you To go quite so far as that," he answered. " I don't suppose she could come back, and if she would I would not let her. But you might write her a line and say that you had been a little hasty or something of that kind ; it would please me very much if you would." Mrs. Meredith got off her sofa and dried her eyes, looking at herself carefully in the glass to see if her tears had had much effect on her nose. " Then, my dear Roger, I will write you a pretty letter in the morning, and I'm sure I hope that you will never say such dreadful things as you have said to-night to me as long as ever you live.' " I hope I never shall, Muriel," said he, gravely. " I must go," said Mrs. Meredith lightly, " because it's most necessary that we should be seen at this 88 BUTTONS. party, and Tom would be very vexed if I stayed away. Good night, my dear Roger. Shall Jones get you some dinner or do you go to your club ? " "I'll goto the club," said Buttons ; " many thanks," and then Mrs. Meredith walked away quite at peace with herself and him. lU I stayed lall Jones club ? " y thanks," e at peace BUTTONS. 89 CHAPTER IX. REJECTED. JMust w« in all things look for the how and the why and the where- — Evangeline. The next day Roger Page went back to Routh car- rying with him a very gracious letter to Jeanie from Mrs. Meredith, crying "Peccavi!" as completely as any lover could expect his sister to do under the cir- cumstances. He had stayed only a couple of hours longer than he actually need have done, and during that time he had taken the child out with him and had gone to Streeter's to buy a ring with which he might seal his engagement with Jeanie. Ethel was highly satisfied at the general condition of affairs. " If you are going to be married to Jeanie. Buttons," she remarked as they drove back along Piccadilly, "you will have a house, I suppose." "Yes, we shall live somewhere," Buttons answered complacently. "Then I shall come to stay with you, i shall like w I' ' I ! lillilliil ^ BUTTONS. that," Miss Ethel observed. " I am aever the least bother to Jeanie, you know." " No, I don't think you ever will be, old woma.i," answered Buttons in quite a glow of delightful anti- cipation. Well, he dropped Ethel at her own house and drove straight off to catch his train to Routh, and by five o'clock in the afternoon was back in his own quarters and thinking about his forthcoming inter- view with Jeanie and afterwards with her father. He opened the little case containing the ring, and looked at it for the twentieth time, then polished it up with his silk handkerchief, and thought how pretty it was, and how the deep blue of the stones— it was a sap- phire and diamond ring — would set off his dear little love's soft and slender hand. Then he thought he would like to have a pipe just to settle his nerves a bit, after which he would dress himself so as to get rid of the dust of his journey, and go down to Sergeant Wade's quarters. He lit up his pipe, therefore, but the rest of his programme was never carried out, for before he had come to an end of it, there was a knock at the door, and, not a little to his surprise, in answer to his shout of" come in," it opened, and Sergeant Wade, of whom he had just been thinking, stood in the doorway. (iJ BUTTONS. ' J, Buttons jumped up. " Oh ! is that you, Serjeant Wade ? " he said. « You are the very man I want to see— in fact, I was just coming over to your quar- ters." " I wanted to speak to you, sir," said the sergeant quietly. " All right. Come in and shu j door. What is it.?" Although ..e was Jeanie's father, it did not occur to the officer to ask the sergeant to sit down, but he sat down again himself and put his pipe back into his mouth, looking at his visitor more keenly than he had ever done before, and thinking that he was hand- some enough to make it but little wonder that a lady had been willing to run away with him for love and give up everything that before had constituted life to her. " Well ? " said Buttons, inquiringly. "Well, sir," said the sergeant straightening him- self and looking very proud and stern— "you met my daughter in the town last night." " Yesterday afternoon," corrected Buttons. " Yes, I did, and what of that .? " "And you walked home with her to the very door of my quarters, sir," Sergeant Wade went on. I: If IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A O / 4f^y^ M^..< < " he asked, speaking in a different tone and with other words than he would have done under different ci cumstances. ''No, sir; he has gone lato the town," Mrs. Wade ep W. << In Tact he has gone to take my dau^hte to the railway station." ^ Buttons fairly staggered against the lintel. " You don t mean to say he has taken her away ! Why it's cruel, it's positively brutal." ^ ir. 11 ill loa BUTTONS. Mrs. Wade snatched her handkerchief out of her pocket and began to dry her eyes fiercely, and then Buttons saw that she had evidently been crying most of the morning. " I suppose you have heard all about it," he said vexedly. " Oh ! yes, everything, but won't you come in," she answered. So Buttons followed her into the room, a very differ- ent one to any other in the sergeants' quarters, for it was very tastefully arranged, and there were many evidences that its occupant was a lady. Mrs. Wade sat down at once herself and made a slight gesture towards a comfortable chair near to hers, and the very action, slight as it was, made Roger Page feel differently towards her to what he would have felt towards any other sergeant's wife in the barracks. " Mrs. Wade, are you too against me ? " poor Buttons asked miserably. " Have you too got *his absurd idea about unequal " " I," she echoed. " Mr. Page, believe me,thA idea has been the very curse of my married life. I dare- say Jeanie or my husband has told you my story, that I was not quite born to this," with a wave of her hand towards the room. "Yes, I see you know about BUTTONS. »03 it of her md then \ crying he said : in," she rydiffer- rters, for ;re many rs. Wade ,t gesture and the Page feel have felt •racks. I ? " poor o got *-his , th A idea I dare- my story, ave of her low about it," as she gave a nod of assent. " Wei!, T was a foolish slip of a girl, but eighteen years old, when I picked up the acquaintance of the smart young soldier whom my parents would never have let me know at all if they had the least idea of it. I was a pretty enough girl, and he was the handsomest man I had ever seen, and I loved a touch oi romance dearly, and it seemed to me ever such a fine tlu'ng to give up everything for love's sake. If I l,a] 104 BUTTONS. band and my husband simply worshipped me, and but for one thing I should have been perfectly happy. That was the idea which you jusc now called absurd. It is more than absurd, Mr. Page, it has been the ruin of our lives, and it bids fair to be the ruin of our child's happiness." " No, no, we shall talk Wade over," said Buttons, soothingly. At that moment he was more sorry for her than for nimself Her tears were streaming fast, and her grief distressed him beyond what words can express. " We will talk him over after a while." " Mr. Page," said the sergeant's wife, solemnly, •«we shall never talk him over. I have been trying for more than twenty years to talk him out of his idea that he has wronged me by persuading me to marry him, but he believes it more firmly now than he did twenty years ago." "Then, Mrs. Wade," said Buttons, quietly," I must stand up to him on his own ground. There is nothing else for me to do.'' " I don't understand you," she said timidly. For a moment she fancied the young officer meant that he must call her husband out to fight him. He, how- ever, soon explained himself. " Your husband told me yesterday that if I had :d me, and 1 perfectly i just now Mr. Page.. aids fair to d Buttons, re sorry for :aming fast, : words can ivhile." solemnly, jcen trying 1 out of his ding me to T now than quietly, " I . There is lidly. For a :ant that he He, how- lat if I had BUTTONS. »0S been a sergeant or even a promising young pri- vate, he would have said * yes ' to me without hesi- tation — that he had no personal objection to me whatever." •' Yes, he said the same thing to me," she said eagerly. "Well, now, you have done your best for me, haven't you, Mrs. Wade .? " he asked. " Oh, sir, I have begged, and prayed, and implored, and argued," she answered " but I might as well have prayed to a stone foraii the good I did." "And Jeanie, I suppose she said a good worci for me too," he said, with a tender smile at the mention of his little girl. Mrs. Wade began to sob again pitifully. "Oh! Mr. Page, it would have broken your heart to hear Jier," she cried. " Then, Mrs. Wade," said Buttons, with a roguish look, " I think we may take it for granted that if I were the promising young private Sergeant Wade has in his mind's eye I should be just as acceptable to Jeanie — hey ,> " " I don't follow you yet," said Mrs. Wade blankly. " Don't you > Well then, I think I had better not explain myself any further," he said smiling. '• But lo6 BUTTONS. when you next write to Jeanie, will you tell her that I came to see you, that I can't write or try to see her, because I promiired her father I would not ; or, stay, I didn't quite do that either, but I allowed him to think that I wouldn't, and it amounts to the same thing in the end. But tell her that I am always think- ing of her, and that I have a plan in my head by which I shall be able to win her father's consent, and that it may be a few months before she hears anything of me, but that she must not mind that or think any- thing about it. I shall always be thinking about her all the time." " I will tell her," said Mrs. Wade, as he rose. " And I had not better tell my husband that you came." " I think you had better mention it. I have been in here some little time, and it is possible he may hear of it. Yes, you had better tell him, and tell him that I was horribly cut up to find Jeanie actually gone, and, ill fact, draw as harrowing a picture of my feel- ings as you can." He took her hands in his and held them fast for a moment while he looked at her. " You are so like my Httlegirl," he said at last. " I don't wonder he wanted to run away with you," and then he pressed her hands again and the next moment was gone. ell her that ■ to see her, t ; or, stay, ved him to the same ivays think- \y head by Dnsent, and rs anything think any- y about her ose. " And came." have been e may hear :11 him that ually gone, of my feel- n fast for a at last. " I 1 you," and xt moment SUTTOXS. 107 The sergeant's wife watched him go, ,,atched him until he turned the corner and was lost to si-ht then she turned back into her room, and getting out her desk sat down there and wrote a letter, a very long letter, which began, " My darling child," and which set forth in detail an account of the visitor who had just left her, of how brave and bright he looked, and that he had a great project in his mind for winning her father's consent. She felt better and more at rest when the letter was written and addressed, the envelope stamped and put carefully away in her pocket ready for the post when the post corporal should come past to the sergeants' mess, and then she sat down to think it over, to go over every word that he had said, to wonder what the great project could be. What he said was. " li I were the promising young private that Sergeant Wade has in his mind's eye, I should be just as acceptable to Jeanic-hey ? " Yes that was exactly what he said. What could he mean by It? If he were a promising young private-why good Heavens, could it be possible that he had some' thought of leaving the 21st, of resigning his commis- s.onand then of enlisting in some other regiment ? Never, it was preposterous ; and yet-yet she believed ■M io8 BUTTONS. that was just what he had in his mind. She must go and see him. She must ask him plainly if that was what he was thinking of, and if it was she must stop it. Jeanie would never forgive her, she told herself, if she found out that her mother had known he was on the eve of making such a sacrifice, and had not at least tried to stop it. And yet how was she to see him .-' Well, so far as she could see there was no way but that of going round to his quarters, taking the chance of his being there. She glanced nervously at the clock above the chimney-shelf; her husband would be back in twenty minutes or thereabouts ! Well, if she hurried on her bonnet and things and was quick, it was a question which wouldn't take her long to ask nor him long to answer, and if she could only get out before Frank — Sergeant Wade's name was Frank — came back, she could evade any questions he might ask about her having been out. Oh, yes, he would be sure to ask a question about it if he returned to find her out, for he disliked her going in and out among the barrack buildings any more than was absolutely necessary; he never forgot, though she, poor woman, often wished that he would, that she had not been born of a class which thinks no more harm of trotting in and out of She must 1 plainly if f it was she her, she told had known fice, and had "ell, so far as liat of going of his being :k above the ck in twenty rried on her s a question him long to ore Frank — Tie back, she k about her ; sure to ask 1 her out, for the barrack lecessary; he >ften wished rn of a class n and out of BUTTONS. 109 the barracks than it does trotting in and out of— of— a church yard. She ran to the glass and glanced at herself— yes, she was quite tidy and presentable— then she seized her bonnet and tied it on anyhow, hurried on her pretty black silk dolman, for Mrs. Wade dressed well for a sergeant's wife; her husband insisted on it; her sister had always been ready and wilh'ng to provide her with good clothes, and now Jeanie was never satisfied unless she was buying her something or other. So she was quickly ready in spite of the fact that her fingers seemed all thumbs, and that, in her anxiety not to lose a moment, she pulled a couple of buttons off her gloves with her nervous, trembling attempts to get them on. At last she took them in her hand, however, and went out into the yard, hurrying off towards the officers' quarters, and getting within sight of them just in time to see Mr. Page pass along the front and go with another subaltern into the officers' mess. It was no use going on then, and in deep disap- pointment she turned back and went home again, and iust as she reached her own door. Sergeant Wade came around a corner and saw her. "Where have you been, Amy.?" he asked, not 1. no BUTTONS. unkind, or as if he were spying upon her movements, but from a sort of instinct of guardianship. " I wanted a breath of air, Frank," she said, feel- ing very guilty. " My head aches this morning." " Come and lie down then," he said, tenderly, going to the sofa and shaking up the cushions. After this it was not easy to get out again, and yet she felt that she must contrive by hook or by crook to have a word with Mr. Page. So at half-past four, when she knew that her husband was safely out of the way for a little time, she slipped on her things again and ran rather than walked off to the officers' quarters, where she, by great good luck, found Roger Page. " Oh ! Mr. Page," she exclaimed breathlessly, •' I have come to ask you one question. You are not meaning to throw up your commission and enlist } That was not what you meant by * a promising young private ? '" " Yes, you have hit it, Mrs. Wade," he answered. " I sent in my papers this morning." BUTTONS. Ill 2r movements, ihip. she said, feel- morning." enderly, going again, and yet k or by crook lialf-past four, safely out of Dn her things :o the officers' , found Roger sathlessly, *'I You are not n and enlist ? mising young he answered. CHAPTER XI. WIFELY INFLUENCE. " Full of hope and yet of heart-break." —Hiawatha, In vain did the sergeant's wife implore Roger Page to change his mind, and protest that such a thing could not be-that Jeanie would never, never forgive her if she knew that her mother had known he was about to do anything so derogatory to his position so harmful to his career. Roger Page simply would not listen to a word. " Now, Mrs. Wade, I came to you and I trusted you," he said severely, " and you are in my con- fidence. If you betray me-oh ! well, it's no use my saying anything about that, because I know very well that you won't betray me. Why, my dear lady what are you crying about } Bless me, it won't do me any harm, it will be mere child's play compared with what an ordinary recruit, who knows nothing whatever of soldiering, has to go through. There i men ■■ ■1 112 BUTTONS. there, don't cry. Why, you ought to feel quite proud that I think Jeanie is worth taking such a lot of trouble for." " So I do feel proud, Mr. Page," Mrs. Wade cried, struggling between tears and smiles, " so I do. But I can't help thinking that it's all so useless and so unnecessary. If only my husband had not got this — this craze in his mind, there is no reason why you and Jeanle should not have been married pleasantly and happily, and not a single word have been said about it except of real thankfulness that the child had married so well." "Well, but you see," said Buttons, " he happens to have got this craze, as you very rightly call it, so there's no more to be said or done except to get round him as best we can. If only Sergeant Wade had told me he didn't trust me, I'd have run away with Jeanie before this— at least, I'd have had a hard try for it. But you see he did trust me to do nothing of that kind, and he told me so, so I was regularly cornered." "It's the same with Jeanle," sighed Mrs. Wade vexedly. " She has promised her father, and she'll stick to her promise. For my part," the poor soul went on, " I have come not to believe much in duty quite proud :h a lot of iVade cried, I do. But ess and so lot got this )n why you 1 pleasantly i been said t the child happens to '^ call it, so cept to get yeant Wade 2 run away had a hard > do nothing as regularly Mrs, Wade r, and she'll le poor soul uch in duty BUTTONS, to parcn.s-or rather not to believe /„ p,re„„ ,21 lennqf with th^.V c-waa » t^ " cm j, inter- 'ry-ng to decMe whether'a ma^e " tr:"^ out badi, or no, „,,, , , „„ JJ ^ "^ J - think of such a thin g^n-'al • Ye, I Tl ' "' ^°" ™'"^" '° J-^^-n'-e ? " >fes, I sat down and wrote at once " ^ J And you told her everything that I asked you to " Everything." "And nothing more? "laughing a Httle. Mr. Page," said Jean.Vs mother earnestly "I hope you will never let Jeanie know that I h d the least suspicion of what your plan really was I 1 perfectly sure she would never forrive 1, she lived-never." ^ ' "' '°"S "' •■ Mrs Wade," said Buttons solemnly, " I g.Ve „ou -y^acred word of honor that I Win nLrJIr: 114 BUTTONS. mm lii .1 single word on that subject to Jeanie, not one single word. You keep faith with me and I'll keep faith with you. There, is that a bargain ? " He held out his hand as he spoke, and Jeanie's mother laid hers within it. And then they parted, and the young officer showed the sergeant's wife the way out, going down the stairs and to the door with her as if she had been a queen. Once in the open air, Mrs. Wade hurried back to her own quarters, feeling as if she had overstayed her time, and full of fear lest her husband should be back before her, and therefore question her about her absence. There are at times certain inconveniences attend- ing the circumstances of great affection between hus- bands and wives. It is very dreadful, of course, when men and women who have married to be help-meets to one another, fall so far apart that neither cares which way the other goes, nor what is the manner of his or her going. But, at the same time, there are occasions in life when it is a little, or more than a little, awkward that a husband or wife has to account in detail for every moment of the day. And it is also exceedingly awkward when a wife— as in Mrs. Wade's case— wants to pay a visit without talking it over I t one single p faith with nd Jeanie's hey parted, It's wife the le door with ■ied back to srstayed her )uld be back • about her ices attend- >etween hus- course. when e help-meets leither cares le manner of Tie, there are J than a little, account in Lnd it is also Mrs. Wade's Iking it over BUTTONS. clrZT: '° "°" '^^^'^ *''>' ^'- "^-^ been out, wH.,3he went for, and when she saw on he^ Jrll:t: "'''"'■ ^"' '° '■" ^-' -"^^. "ow- he hanr, st.r the fire and put on the kettle for t!a before he appeared. * at The' rr "'r '" '^ '■■' ""' ^P^^"^' He sat down p of t: ; X ^'''' '"' ''' '--"' '^'^ P°-e^ outa cup of tea for h,m. Then he thanked her in a verv .en.eo,. „d looked atherhes.-tat.-„,,,'"^^"^ p-foTneirtriftr.-"- •"- -- ^ Pitatr "'"' ^""' ■ " ^'^ ^^P"^'^' '>- -eart .ofng Havetrd'rrZY""*?^.'''"-'''--''-^ Henodded °;s:;T'°d •'^'"'^''''^^'^^^• Pa..hadse„ti„hisp:pe"r-^^-"-'''-Mr. sItW """""" --'ence-then Mrs. W.^de said m a rather faint voice "I thint ,> ■ unlikely." ^'"'' " '" "°t ^t all ! J rf***!. Ii6 BUTTONS. " I don't belicx c a word of it," said the sergeant curtly. " Wliy should he send in his papers ? There isn't an officer in the regiment so keen on soldiering as he is. If it had been an exchange I could have understood it, but to cut the service altogether, well, it's incredible." " Who told you ? " Mrs. Wade asked. " Nobody told me at all. I heard two of the officers talking about it in the orderly room. They seemed completely staggered about it, and well they might." '* I didn't expect he would remain in the regiment, Frank," said Mrs. Wade sadly. " But why not .? " " Well, it wasn't likely that he would," she per- sisted. " But who knew a word about it } " the sergeant demanded. " That is not it. You know and I know, that is enough for him, enough to make Ihc poor boy h ite the sight of both of us." " I don't see why he should hate the sight of you. Amy," said the sergeant, who was beginning to awake to a consciousness that he had been rather a fool than oUierwise— " Oh ! no, no, he didn't put it in that ; sergeant s ? There soldiering could have ither, well, wo of the m. They i well they 2 regiment, " she per- le sergeant ow, that is jr boy h ite ght of you, ig to awake a fool than it in that BUTTONS. ha b „ , «,, ,,,, „„ ^,,^ youngpeopic, and .hat. after a.l, the.r case was not a parallel one to his inJS.f'!,' "''' ''"'"'' "''^' ''°''"'™ '"is morn- aKi Mrs. Wade, taking what seemed a good oppo . tun.ty to speak of Mr. Page's visit The sergeant looked up. "And when did yo , see Mr. Page .-he said in a tone of surprise. '■He came here this morning," she answered. He came here.' Mr. Page came here .'" the ser goant repeated, tapping his fingers on the table as if" to emphasize the place. " Yes, poor boy. He came in the hope thatyou'd have changed your mind during the night " ;; You never told me," he said, half reproachfully. told V " "° ."" ''""'"^ ^°" ^">'"""g- 1 have old you my opm.on, Frank, and it has had no more cffe t upon you than if rd been the worst wife in the world to you " ,„„;°"= '""■'">- *'"^'- ^-y ■■ he cried with a pained „ "" '^r''^ '""^^'^ "^^ '>-'» '° -0 frowearily- No, don t say ,t ; don't say anything that is .ainful. ii8 BUTTONS, however true it is. Some people always keep the sick in ignorance that they're dying, though they're anxious and pining to know exactly the truth. That is what I have done to you, Frank, all these twenty years that we have lived together, and now when we come to a crisis, and my opinion ought to go for some- thing and to carry some we>:,ht with it, I have no more say than if I were a dummy in a tailor's window. I have done wrong all these twenty years, but it's hard that the child should be the one to suffer because I was too great a coward to take my proper place at first." I am bound to say that by the time Mrs. Wade reached this point, her husband was almost crushed with shame. In all her married life she had never set her will against his. She had given all her mind and thought to trying to make him feel that he was in no wise her inferior. And now to have her sud- denly rise up and, metaphorically speaking, flay him aUve — well, it was a new experience for Sergeant Wade, and one too thoroughly astonishing for him to know just then whether the taste of it was bitter or not. " So I didn't tell you lie had been," she said quietly — "it is no good telling you anything." "Amy," cried the sergeant in an agony, "don't BUTTONS. say that this business is ,oi„g to ™ake a ba. between hard' t'o'r' '""' ™^ '"''^ '■' "■'"■ ' ^''^" fi"d ■•' ha d to forg,ve you, Franic, if you breal< my only child's heart." ^ ^ "Amy! "he exclaimed. His wife looked at him with the eyes that were so vLl^' T'-'f'"-'- " 'f >- "eart is brolcen. Frank, she sa,d gravely, "it w/,i be no less of a trouble to me because you broke it." "Amy," he cried, "don't say that " ^^••And«.hys,,ouldI„ot.,"sheasked;",-,is„hat " I die! wh,,t I thought was for the best,- he groaned. ' "^ ■■Ye.,, but who made you the best judge. Frank V in,e .s worth his salt he will stick to her in spite -.T't, he returned, evading tlie question "Oh, he will stick to her-he will marry her" answered his wife promptly and hyudiciously. for th"e husband caught the words up in a moment '■ 0^,. he will marry her, will he ? Well, we shall -e about that." and then he got up from he and wen tout in the nearest approach ,o a rage with h w^e that he had ever shown during all the years they had been married. I20 BUTTONS. As for Mrs. Wade, she was so angry with herself for having let slip that one injudicious sentence, and so lost all the ground she had gained, that she burst out crying is soon as her husband had closed the door behind him. The result of the burst of tears coming as a finish to a highly exciting and trying day was to give her a racking headache, and when he returned presently he found her simply prostrate. He was as grieved, and as tender as man could be~- made her strong tea, bathed her head with rose- water, of which he always made her keep a supplj-, for she suffered a good deal from nervous headache, and finally persuaded her to go to bed. But he never said a word more about Jeanie and Mr. Page. BUTTONS. ith herself tence, and she burst closed the st of tears ind trying d when he prostrate, :ould be— - ivith rose- ) a supply, headache, [eanie and 131 CHAPTER XII. THREE MOxVTHS AFTERWARDS. « Man's usual fate-he was lost upon the coral reefs." —D. yen-old. Three months had gone by. The Twenty-first was st.ll lying in Routh Barracks, and Sergeant Wade and his wife still occupied the quarters in which the tragedy of Roger Page's life had taken place. Outwardly everything was much the same The orderly officer of the day still got up at abnormally early hours in the morning and went through his usual -round-early stables, breakfasts, office, morning stables, hospital, and all the rest of the ordinary routme, and if now and then one officer expressed a regret to another that " Poor old Buttons " was no longer there, and wondered in a good-natured casual kmd of way why the poor old chap had cleared out of the service and what had become of him, well, that was about the extent of the hole that his departure had made in the officers' mess. There had been gazetted to the regiment in his stead the wildest 122 BUTTONS. young limb of evil that the Twenty-first had had the pleasure of numbering among their officers for many a year, and this young gentleman contrived to keep the whole mess so thoroughly alive with his escapades that the memory of Roger Page had, by comparison, paled into insignificance and actual tameness. Mrs. Wade probably thought more often about him than did any other person in the regiment wherein he had been so universally popular — but then it is always so in a regiment; every day you have a vivid illustration of the cry, " The king is dead ; long live the king." It was a blazing afternoon even for August, and Mrs. Wade felt hot and faint as she sat in her quarters writing to Jeanie, who, poor child, in a pension at Brussels was eating her heart out, and, though she tried hard to be patient and brave until Roger Page's grand plan had had time to work and bear fruit, succeeding very badly. If she had con- sulted her own inclinations, Mrs. Wade would have laid quietly down on the sofa and simply have rested herself until it was time for the sergeant's tea, but the knowledge and certainty that Jeanie would be anxioi'sly looking for a letter the following evening, kept her chained to her desk until the usual number BUTTONS. d had the for many \ to keep escapades )mparison, 2SS. "ten about : regiment 3ular — but y day you le king is ugust, and lat in her child, in a t out, and, brave until I work and e had con- vould have have rested t's tea, but ; would be ig evening, 4al number las of pages were covered. By the time she had finished her task the little clock on the chhnnej-shclf warned her that it was time to think about tea, and she closed her desk with a sigh of relief that her letter was ready. She was not accustomed to do any rou^^h work about their quarters, for a woman came in each day to do all that, and went off in the afternoon, leaving air ready to her hands for the rest of the .lay the coal-pan filled with coals, the kettle with wa.er 'and so on, so that Mrs. Wade had scarcely to soil her hands with what was left to do and which, in fact consisted chiefly of setting the tea, and later a slight cold supper upon the table. It was easy to do the first, and when the sergeant came in for his meal it was ready and looked tempting enough for any one A pretty little cloth with fringed edges was set cornerwise upon the table, and a smart red tray with the tea things stood upon it ; there was a plate of bread and butter, some honey in a glass dish and a few water cresses in another, while half a do/en litf fish-bowls, each with a flower or two, were set about and made the whole look dainty and inviting. " It's frightfully hot to-day, Amy/' said die ser- geant whenhe came in, "and I'm as thirsty as a dog 124 BUTTONS. that has had a ten mile trot ; " then he seated himself at the table and asked a question. " What h;ive you been doing all the afternoon ? You look tired." " I am a little tired," said his wife, as she handed his cup. " I've been writing to Jcanie." " Ah ! " The sergeant had nothing to say to this apparently, and he stirred his tea round and round with a solemn face. " I couldn't miss the post, you know, Frank," his wife went on, "though I was so tired I was just pining to He down all the time. But I know she would be disappointed if there was no letter to-mor- row, poor child." " H'm," muttered the sergeant, paying quite unusual attention to the condition of a sprig of water cress. " I am sure she might come back now, Frank," Mrs. Wade went on, " she suffers so from the heat, and she's pining to be at home again. It isn't as if the child had done anything wrong, Frank." " No, that is true," the sergeant admitted. *' And it will be very much worse if she is attracted by some foreigner, who makes up to her because she has a little money," Mrs. Wade went on in a dreamy tone. ed himself t h'lve you Lired." le handed say to this md round 'rank," his I was just know she er to-mor- ing quite ig of water w, Frank," L the heat, : isn't as if d. s attracted lecause she 1 a dreamy BUTTONS. ..^ The sergeant was all alert in a moment. "Some foreigner make up to her ? Wh)-, what do you mean Amy ? " ' "Just what I say, dear," answered Mrs. Wade mildly. " You know Jeanie says in her last letter that she has flowers sent almost every day." " The schoolmistress ought not to allow it," he blustered. "Well, but Jeanie isn't at school, Frank," his wife reminded him. " A pension where a girl can live while she takes lessons outside is one thing, and a school is quite another.' " Then she had better come home-yes, she had better come home," said the sergeant gruffly. « You can tell her to arrange it all as soon as she can." "All right, Frank," answered his wife, joyfully. She had no longer any desire to lie down on the sofa and rest herself; she let the tea things stand on the table long after the sergeant had gone out again, and she flew to her desk and wrote off the joyful tidings to Jeanie, scribbling her letter as if hurrying for dear life, and then putting her bonnet on anyhow that she might run off to catch the first train to London. Well, within a week from that day, Jeanie Wade was back again at her father's quarters, and never in 126 BUTTONS. this world did any little nun live such a life of seclu- sion as she did. There was a little side door near to their quarters, of which Sergeant Wade was able to command a key, and through this Mrs. Wade and Jeanie used to go out in the morning and take their walks, or go into the town and see after their market- ings, and then perhaps in the hot summer evenings they would go through the little gate again and take a turn towards the country in the gloaming. Ill spite of that, however, more than one pair of eyes watched the sweet little pale face and tried to meet the direct gaze of the grey soft eyes, and more than one handsome young soldier in the Twenty- first found all at once that the long flight of steps which led towards the veranda, on which Sergeant Wade's quarters were situated, was a much nearer way to the other side of the barrack-yard than he had known before. Ah ! dear, dear, for all the im- pression these and other such attentions made on- Jeanie, these fine young fellows might have spared themselves the trouble that they were taking for her sake. For Jeanie had only one thought, and that thought took the name of Roger Page. A few more weeks went by — they had no news of Mr. Page or how his wonderful plan was working, "e of seclu- )or near to as able to Wade and take their Mr market- f evenings 1 and take ne pair of id tried to and more e Twenty- t of steps 1 Sergeant uch nearer rd than he all the im- 3 made on • ave spared :ing for her t, and that no news of ;s working, BUTTONS. and many and many a time, when Jeanie.was wonder- ing and wondering how he was. and where he was and what he was doing, her mother felt fit to burst' with her secret, and positively ached to tell the poor cbld all that she suspected and everything that she " I ^^»'t think why he should have left the service " was Jeanie's puzzled remark one afternoon when she was busy setting the table for tea and her mother was lymg on the sofa watching her. "We shall hear in good time," answered Mrs. Wade evasivel'. "Oh, yes ; but still I can't help wondering. And he was so fond of soldiering," Jeanie returned, " that somehow or other I cannot ever think of him as any- thing but a soldier." Mrs. Wade got up off her sofa and walked to the wmdow, repressing the words which came rushing to her hps with an effort. "Once a soldier, always a sold.er, she .said at last. "And here is your father." The sergeant can,e in, he was hot and tired, but he k.3sed his wife and spoke gently and tenderly to Jean,e. He seemed, poor man, as if he was always trying to make amends to the girl for the trouble he had put upon her. and in return Jeanie never paraded 128 BUTTONS. her disappointment, never sulked or gave herself airs, but tried with all her might to live and act as if no such incident as hei love affair with Mr. Page had ever taken place. They sat down to tea, and Jeanie, as was her cus- tom when at home, began to pour it out. " Some- body has driven up," she said. " Is it somebody going away, I wonder "> " " No, someone is coming up the steps," her mother answered. She was more familiar with the sounds of the place than her daughter was. Almost as she spoke a tall figure went past the window, but it was a figure in uniform, and of late the occupants of Sergeant Wade's quarters had grown accustomed to seeing soldiers pass and repass their window a dozen times a day, so that it never occurred to them to connect this particular one with the cab they had heard draw up a moment or two ago. Then there was a sharp, imperative summons at the door. " I'll go," said the sergeant, who was peculiarly sensitive about his women-folk answering the door. The next minute he walked to the door and opened it, but when he saw who his visitor was, he uttered a cry of surprise and finally staggered back into the I room. ve herself airs, d act as if no Mr. Page had was her cus- out. " Some- . it somebody s," her mother th the sounds went past the m, and of late ters had grown id repass their never occurred with the cab ivo ago. Then is at the door, was peculiarly ng the door. 3orand opened Ls, he uttered a 1 back into the il I I 125 J^UTTOA^S. ''^^^^•. Page," he exclaimed. " May I come xn ? " nci.,,^i +1 ••egiment and of tlie r.nl- of • ""'"' "My love-n,y ,ove," he mu™„ed, then held i^ou have been ill, my darlino- " 1. -^ "^^"ngr» he cried. " Von ™°- What does .t all mean ? " " What does this mean ' " na-^.! r • , trembling little h-,nd „ !. "' ""' '"^'"S her ^e what does ,t mean?" cried the sercreant findmg his voice at last. 'i^geant, Roger Page turned around to face him. ."You '-e an uncommon.y short memory. Sergeant' he --'...' just the old orficers tone "^.y'^ \ ^' ;-"ou. better than anybody .ha:;:meal";:t:: qu'te five months ago since you refused your co sen to n,y marnage with your daughter and to,d Z7l 130 BUTTONS. were a sergeant like yourself, or even a promising young private, you would give her to me. Well, here I am, a promising young private, and I therefore claim your promise." " Mr. i^age," said the sergeant, you have got the "best of me. I see that I was a fool, an utter fool, to think that I could keep love back where love had made up its mind to go. I'll make a clean breast of it, sir, I'll tell you exactly what is in my mind— I was wrong — I made a mistake, but all the same my girl ought to thank me for being the means of proving you for her." "I am sure she will," cried Buttons, heartily. " Then you will give her to me ? " " Certainly I will, and my blessing with her," cried Sergeant Wade, heartily too. " Stay," put in Jeanie, disengaging herself from Roger Page's arms. " You both leave one important factor out of the question. I am not going to marry a private soldier at any price, don't think it for a moment." She drew herself up, looking very stiff and firm for a moment, but then the mischievous dimples began to sparkle about !ier mouth, and Buttons burst out laughing. , promising Well, here I therefore ave got the itter fool, to e love had in breast of lind — I was me my girl of proving IS, heartily. 1 her," cried erself from e important ig to marry nk it for a and firm for nples began 5 burst out BUTTONS. ^^ " No more you shall, my darling," he cried gaily. 1 ve done four months of it. but it's the most awful grind I ever put in in all my life. I'll go back and buy myself off to-morrow." Three months afterward, an officer of the Twenty, first met Roger Page in St. James street. " Folio Buttons, old chap," he said, '^ heard the oddest' thing about you the other day. Desmond swore he saw you at Routh station wearing a private's uniform of the One Hundred and Sixtieth." " By Jove, you don't say so." answered Roger Paee with a laugh. - What queer stories get started about one Are you busy.. What are you doing .^ Got hall an hour to spare, then come into Long's and be intro- duced to my wife. We've taken a flat and are stay- ing at Long's till it is ready for us. That's a good old chap— private's uniform— By Jove ! " THE END.