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The Christopher who wandered amongst the wharfs and warehouses in that vague region across the river, remembered and was concerned over quite different matters to the happy boy who rode every morning in the Row with Mr. Aston. There were many people to and fro to Aston House: Men who were a power in the world; men who would be so, and men who had been, as well as many of no note at all.
Christopher is as much a family name as Aston, for example." Something in his tone caught Christopher's attention and he looked at him sharply. Peter Masters was gazing straight before him with that same cynical smile on his face it had worn when Christopher was first introduced to him six years ago. "I wonder why on earth they did that?" ruminated the Juggernaut.
Saunderson in town to-morrow," Christopher went on, "I am not quite clear yet how it's to be worked. I am only clear I won't touch money of that sort. It costs too much. I feel pretty certain Mr. Saunderson has instructions what to do, if I refuse it." He looked at Mr. Aston with an unusual desire for confirmation of his hope and his decision.
And he had answered it had belonged to Aymer Aston, but he had found it as a boy and Aymer had given it to him. Peter had given it back without the further explanation that he had originally given it to Aymer. A day or so later Christopher had missed it, and he told his host regretfully it was lost. Again Peter failed to explain he was the finder.
The Festival Choral Society promised its assistance, and everything augured well, if only the weather should be fine. Monday, September 15th, came at last. Fortunately, it was a very beautiful autumnal day. Nearly all the shops in the town were closed, and everybody talked of the fête. As the day wore on, the excitement became intense. The town literally emptied itself into Aston Park.
"He does not think anyone too big to scold," sighed Aymer resignedly. "Father, about the name: I'd rather tell him to-night." His voice was a little hurried. Mr. Aston glanced at him questioningly. "As you like, Aymer if he's not too sleepy to listen. Are you, Christopher?" "I'm not tired," answered Christopher, valiantly blinking sleep out of his eyes.
He made that mental reservation as they walked along together in front of their elders, and then glancing sideways at the wonderful hair again, decided he liked fair hair best. Constantia's was dark. They soon outdistanced the two men who followed at a leisurely pace. Mr. Aston looked after them and said kindly: "The little girl still gives trouble, I see." "Occasionally."
Hilliard gave a laugh, then threw himself back into the corner, and did not speak again until the train pulled up at New Street station. An hour later he was at Old Square, waiting for the tram to Aston. Huge steam-driven vehicles came and went, whirling about the open space with monitory bell-clang.
"Have you any brothers or sisters?" "I have only one married sister, with whom you may possibly be acquainted." "What is her name, and who is her husband?" "Her husband is a Piedmontese, but she does not live with him." "Is she the Madame Slopis who travels with Aston?" "Exactly." "I can give you good news of her." After dinner I asked Agatha how she came to know Callimena.
She was well born; being daughter of Robert Barry, Esq., barrister at law; a gentleman of an ancient family and good estate, who hurt his fortune by his attachment to Charles I.; for whom he raised a regiment at his own expense. Tony Aston, in his Supplement to Cibber's Apology, says, she was woman to lady Shelton of Norfolk, who might have belonged to the court.
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