Chapter IX. The Wrong Room and what I Heard in it.

On awaking I found the glorious sunshine of a New Zealand spring morning pouring into my window, and I at first began to wonder where I was, when the subdued tones of some sweet female voices brought me to my bearings. The voices were, of course, those of my cousins. Now, although I, as a general rule, am above listening to conversations not meant for my ear, yet I think the reader will allow that in the present case the temptation was too great to be resisted, so I lay as still as a mouse. The partitions in some of these old wooden houses are very thin, and unless the tones are particularly low the voice can be easily heard in the next room. As will hereafter appear, my cousins had not the remotest idea that anyone was sleeping page 36 in the apartment I occupied. Alice's voice was the first I distinguished.

‘I wonder what the new-chum cousin will be like?’

‘Oh, a regular duffer, I expect. All new-chums are.’

‘How about that tall young fellow on the Stormbird that you spilt your coffee over, eh? He was a new-chum, wasn't he?’

‘Ah! he was a plum. He's the exception to the rule, and Mr Grosvenor is another. They are the only two new-chums I ever met that were any good.’

‘Well, I didn't think much of the tall gentleman,’ returned Alice, mischievously.

‘Didn't you? I fell in love with him at first sight. He was a darling.’

‘Fell in love with him, did you? What about the baronet's son in Auckland? Is he forgotten already? It is well to be off with the old love before you are on with the new.’

‘Forgotten? no. It does not do to forget a baronet's son travelling for pleasure for a young fellow who has to work hard for a living.’

‘Ah, but Fanny, love in a cottage with him might be better than travelling for “pleashaw” with Mr Grosvenor.’

‘I don't know. It would be grand to be Lady Grosvenor some day, and go and see the old country with all its wonders, and live in a castle. Still, I am not certain that you are not right. He just was a darling.’

My feelings here got the better of me, and I could not help giving a sort of ecstatic grunt to save exploding altogether.

‘What was that noise? Surely old Jane never put Frank in that room. She must have known that he was to have the little room the other end of the house when he did come. It must have been a mouse.’

‘Well, even if he was there, which he can't be, he would not have heard anything about himself except that you called him a duffer?’

‘Hasn't he, though,’ thought I. ‘That's all you know about it; quite enough to satisfy him, any way.’

Feeling convinced it was a mouse they had heard, they continued their conversation.

‘Ah, well! I wish he had come down with us in the Stormbird instead of last week, as papa said. I should have had someone to amuse me while you were engrossed with your tall friend,’ said Alice.

‘Yes, I wish he had. You would have been quite welcome to him for me. I do wish I had found out where my last victim was going. I didn't even hear his name. He didn't volunteer the information, and I didn't like to ask him. I don't as much know whether he was going to remain at Wanganui.’

‘Oh, I expect he will, but it doesn't matter. You'll have Mr Grosvenor down shortly. I heard him tell you he should follow you down. Do you know, Fanny, I cannot bear him. I was only joking when I said I did not like the tall young fellow. I think him far preferable to the baronet's son. You remember our friends, the Grahams, in Auckland, where we met him, said they did not quite know what to make of him; that he was introduced to them by an acquaintance, who admitted he had known him very slightly, having just met him a few days before, when he landed, for he had only been in Auckland a very short time. I don't like you making such a friend of a gentleman you have only met two or three times.’

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‘Oh, I know all about that, but I am certain he is what he says. You are far too suspicious of strangers, Alice. But come along, we must hurry down and lay the breakfast table.’

With this they left the room, having evidently finished their toilettes. My sensations, as I thought over what I had heard, were varied. I was very vexed to think my cousins had met Grosvenor. Was he coming in my way again with his specious tongue, and what the ladies appeared to consider his fascinating manner? If so, should I be able to get the better of him as I had done on board ship? If there were any mutinies about I might, but without some similar chance of showing our respective mettles I might find a difficulty. If I related the scene there would be only my word against his, for he would doubtless swear that he worked wonders. I really could not prove that he is not what he pretends, although I have grave suspicions. Even simple little Alice seems to have doubts about him. There must be something wrong about the cur. However, I determined to trust to luck. It was a great advantage her being a cousin, and I should see far more of her than he would, being always in the same house. I was a fool to be fearful of the result, but I had a very humble opinion of my qualifications for gaining the affections, or even esteem, of the other sex. I felt I was not a ladies' man. I had not the self-confident manner and outward address which appear to go so far in securing the favour of the desired object.

I could now hear Fanny's lovely voice, as she flitted about her household duties singing an old song, always a great favourite of mine. As I entered the breakfast-room she was trilling the words, ‘Her bright smile haunts me still,’ in her rich melodious tones.

‘Yes, my dear Miss Fanny, you are right, it does haunt me still,’ I exclaimed, and to my great surprise—for am I not naturally a bashful man?—I positively gave her such a shower of cousinly salutes that her song was instantly checked. Nor was this the only consequence of my rash act, for with a wild fierce look in her sparkling dark eyes, which only appeared when she considered herself insulted, she returned my fire by a storm of most uncousinly blows on my devoted ears with her delicate hands.

‘How dare you take such a liberty, sir? I'll teach you manners,’ she exclaimed, when she could find words.

‘I always thought that sort of thing was correct when cousins met, is it not?’

Her look of surprise was grand—which of her looks was not?

‘What, are you our cousin Frank? I had not the remotest idea, and you never told me, although we travelled all the way from Auckland together.’

‘But, my dear cousin,’ I answered, ‘how could I tell you when I didn't even know that my uncle had been married, or that I had any cousins in New Zealand, till he told me himself lase night? Then I never happened to hear your name on board.’

‘We did not know yours either. However, “all's well that ends well;” but I must say you have a nice way of introducing yourself to a new cousin.’

‘Well,’ I replied, colouring even more than she did, ‘I thought it very nice, at least part of it, and I am glad you enjoyed it, too.’

‘Now, Master Frank you are a cool one. You know very well that is not what I meant.’

‘I may appear cool to you, Fanny, but in reality I am awfully hot, page 38 especially here,’ continued I, feeling my ears dolefully. ‘Your style of introduction did not anything like come up to mine.’

‘What could I do when a gentleman I considered but a three days’ acquaintance insulted me in such a manner? I can't quite forgive you yet, though you are my cousin.’

Then suddenly remembering that I had not spoken a word to Alice, I turned to her to pursue my method of saluting cousins, but whether it was that my effort lacked energy in this case, or that the young lady was prepared, I only succeeded in brushing my lips against her back hair, as she slipped from my grasp and left the room—to call them to breakfast, she said. In this case I was not disappointed at my ill-success. Alice shortly returned and whispered some words to Fanny, causing her to colour deeply and cast a glance at me, lowering her eyes again instantly.

‘How did you sleep, Frank?’ was her next remark. ‘I fear not well. By some mistake you were put in the wrong room. Did we disturb you when we came home?’

‘No, not in the least. I slept splendidly, only waking up as I heard you singing in the breakfast room. I then jumped up and dressed in a great hurry.’

I hope this wilful preversion of the truth will be forgiven me. It effected its object, and put the young ladies at their ease at once.

‘Oh, did you? I'm glad of that,’ looking with a glance of relief at Alice. ‘It's so very unpleasant to pass a wakeful night.’

Charlie and his father now came in desperately hungry. They had been out making arrangements for the day's mustering. In a very few minutes a sumptuous breakfast was on the table, and we all did it full justice.

‘Now, girls, get on your habits. I suppose you want to see the fun. Going to muster the cattle ont he black ranges. A pretty wild lot. Frank says he can ride. He will know better to-night. I brought up your traps, Frank. Don't bother to open them this morning.’

‘I'll just get out my saddle and bridle; it won't take a minute.’

‘Charlie, go and help Tim run in the horses. I'll be ready by the time they're saddled.’

We all left the room. I went to get my saddle unpacked. While so engaged Charlie came rushing up convulsed with laughter.

‘I have just been catching it,’ he said; ‘it's such a lark. The girls had fixed that when you did come, though we didn't expect you for a month or two, you were to have another room, but knowing they'd be chattering about you in the morning, and thinking you'd like to heat what they had got to say, I told old Jane to put you in there. Just now they asked her where she put you, and when she told them they were in such a funk. That's why they asked how you slept. They said when you went out they were so glad you slept so well, you could not have overheard them. But as they hammered me for my little joke, I told them you were cramming them, and that you had overheard all they said.’

‘You young scamp, you! I'll hammer you for telling such lies as that.’

‘You've got to catch me first, though,’ said he, darting out of the room, and with a bound he sprang on the back of a horse which was standing by the verandah, and was off like a dart down the paddock for the other horses.