The Elderbrook Brothers by Gerald Bullet

‘Shot! That’s shot!’ (the Mershire vowel made it sound more like ‘shaht’). But the others seemed too intent on the game to enjoy its mere comedy, to which, indeed, each was contributing his own share. Rufus Fletching, however, even to his fellow-players, was a source of innocent mirth, though they could not but respect and applaud his results. Behind his back grown men would nudge each other and begin to giggle softly when long Rufus, wood in hand, addressed himself to the solemn task. His procedure never varied. With immense care he would go down on his right knee, then raise the wood in his right hand slowly to the level of his nose, remain in thatposture for precisely five seconds, then lower the hand with funereal unction and play his shot. And a very good shot it commonly was, so what was there to laugh at? Nothing, of course; but these people liked laughing and believed it did them good.
    â€˜You ought to try it some day,’ said Matthew, wishing only to hear her voice again; for politeness sets a certain limit to silent staring.
    â€˜What about you?’ Miss Linnet retorted. ‘I suppose you’re a champion player?’
    He felt himself reddening, but without resentment. To be talking on equal terms with this unearthly beautiful being was as much as any boy could wish: what was said did not matter. He looked at her in simple wonder, with a faint smile dawning in his face, scarcely able to believe that she was there, in the solid flesh, and no dream.
    If she had met his glance then it would perhaps have told her more than she could reasonably guess and more than he himself could have been said to know. But her attention was distracted. She was looking elsewhere.
    â€˜Who’s this coming?’ she said.
    He followed the direction of her eyes and a spasm of surprise and disenchantment surged up in him.
    â€˜It’s Guy. My young brother. What the world’s he doing here?’
    Guy approached slowly, hands in pockets, with an air of extreme nonchalance that masked a conscious audacity.
    Matthew jumped to his feet; the elder brother, whose privilege, symbol of budding manhood, had been poached upon by this cheeky youngster.
    â€˜What d’ you want here? Anything wrong at home?’
    â€˜Not that I know of,’ said Guy.
    â€˜Then who told you to come here? They don’t want kids like you.’
    â€˜I told myself,’ said Guy. ‘That’s who told me.’
    He left it at that, saying nothing of the brooding anger, theforlornness, the conflict, and at last the passionate resolve not to be left out of everything just because he was the unwanted middle one. He said nothing of all that, because it was not in the part he meant to play, not in the picture of himself he was willing to exhibit.
    â€˜How did you get here?’ Matthew hotly demanded, speaking at random, for the question could hardly advance his cause.
    â€˜On my two legs, dear brother,’ said Guy, with a bland smile. He half-glanced at Miss Linnet, inviting her approval.
    â€˜On your two legs, eh?’ came the harsh voice of Joe Elderbrook, cruel as a whip. ‘Then on your two legs you shall go back, my boy. And look sharp about it!’
    An order from their father was something no son of Joe Elderbrook had ever been known to ignore. Guy recognized the voice of his doom, yet regretted nothing of his adventure. He had asserted himself, and he had won a compassionate glance from the strange young woman to whom Matthew, he supposed, had been showing off. He was secretly as much fortified, as Matthew was embarrassed, by the presence of Eva Linnet at this quarrel. But for her he might have broken down, might have stormed and blubbered like the unlucky little schoolboy he was. She, by being there, and being a ‘lady’ and a stranger, made the supreme effort of self-control both imperative and worth while.
    â€˜All right, Father.’ He turned on his heel.