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She set her life fairly there before her, and began to try to understand it. As she took this first step and saw the long journey stretching out before her, she knew on what staff she leaned. It was Neale's belief that she was strong and not weak, that she could find out, if she tried, what was deepest and most living in her heart.
She tried to fill the empty hours of Neale's daily absences from the house with some of the fastidious, delicate occupations of which she had so many, but they seemed brittle in her hot hands, and broke when she tried to lean on them.
But I undertook to narrate a circumstance which exhibited Sir Harry Burrard Neale's character in its true colours. I need not enter into an account of that painful event, the Mutiny of the British Fleet. It broke out first at Spithead, on the 15th April, 1797, on board Lord Bridport's flag-ship, the Royal George; the crews of the other ships of the fleet following the example thus set them.
Marise happening to glance at Eugenia now, caught on her face an expression which she took to be annoyance at a breach of manners. She reflected, "Eugenia must find Neale's abrupt American ways perfectly barbaric." And she was surprised to feel for the first time a rather scornful indifference to all that was involved in Eugenia's finding them barbaric. Heavens! What did it matter?
Of course he's dead or he'd found us, for lemme tell you, Miss, the repertation of Twomley & Sorber's Herculean Circus and Menagerie ain't a light hid under a bushel by no manner o' means!" Not if Mr. Sorber were allowed to advertise it, that was sure. But the man went on: "So there you have it. Neale's mine. I'm his uncle. His mother told me when she was dying to look after him.
From the opposite side, where the dance-hall opened, came a hum that seemed at once music and discordance, gaiety and wildness, with a strange, carrying undertone raw and violent. Hough led Neale across the room to where he could look into the dance-hall. Neale saw a mad, colorful flash and whirl of dancers. Hough whispered in Neale's ear: "Stanton throws the drunks out of here."
A glossy brown head showed just above the tall back of the old-fashioned pew. The sun shining through the long windows on the side of the church shone upon Neale's thick thatch of hair with iridescent glory. Whenever he moved his head, the hue of the hair seemed to change like a piece of changeable silk! "That can't be him," said Agnes, with awe. "Where's all his lovely flaxen hair?"
The camp Neale's guide led him to was back some distance from the construction work. It stood in a little valley through which ran a stream. There was one large building, low and flat, made of boards and canvas, adjoining a substantial old log cabin; and clustered around, though not close together, were a considerable number of tents. Troopers were in evidence, some on duty and many idle.
"That's probably what brought Hollis down to Scarnham! A cheque for ten thousand pounds! And incomplete!" The three men bent wonderingly over the bit of pink paper. Neale's quick eyes took in its contents at a glance. LONDON: May 12th, 1912. Pay .............................. or Order the sum of Ten Thousand Pounds £10,000.00. ................... "That's extraordinary!" exclaimed Neale.
Although Ruth Kenway professed no high regard for boys of any description with Tess, she felt thankful there were none "in the family" she had to admit that the boy who had run away from the circus was proving himself a good friend and companion. Many of the good times the Corner House girls had enjoyed during the fall and winter just past, would have been impossible without Neale's assistance.
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