Maria left the room, and there was a tremendous sound of wiping shoes
all over the mat, although it was a dry day without, and the butcher's
boots were speckless.
Then there was another burst of wiping on the mat by the study door as a
finish off, a loud muttering of instructions to Maria, and the door was
opened to admit the butcher, looking hot and red, with his hat in one
hand, a glaring orange handkerchief in the other, with which he dabbed
himself from time to time.
"Good morning, Dengate," said the doctor; "what can I do for you?"
"Good morning, sir; hope you're quite well, sir. If you wouldn't mind,
sir, reading this letter, sir. Received this morning, sir. Sir James,
sir."
"Read it? ah, yes," said the doctor.
He ran through the missive and frowned.
"Well, Dengate," he said, "Sir James is a near neighbour and friend of
mine, and I don't like to interfere in these matters."
"No, sir, of course you wouldn't, sir, but as a gentleman, sir, as I
holds in the highest respect--a gentleman as runs a heavy bill with me."
"Hasn't your account been paid, Dengate!" said the doctor, frowning,
while Dexter looked hard at the butcher, and wondered why his face was
so red, and why little drops like beads formed all over his forehead.
"No, sir, it hasn't, sir," said the butcher, with a chuckle, "and I'm
glad of it. I never ask for your account, sir, till it gets lumpy. I
always leave it till I want it, for it's good as the bank to me, and I
know I've only to give you a hint like, and there it is."
"Humph!" ejaculated the doctor.
"What I have come about is them bullocks, sir, hearing as your young
lady, sir, and young shaver here--"
"Mr Dengate," said the doctor, frowning, "this young gentleman is my
adopted son."
"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure," said the butcher obsequiously. "I had
heared as you'd had taken a boy from the--"
"Never mind that, Dengate," said the doctor shortly, as the butcher
dabbed himself hurriedly,--"business."
"Exactly, sir. Well, sir, it's like this here: I'm the last man in the
world to put dangerous beasts in any one's way, and if I knowed that any
one o' them was the least bit risky to a human being, he'd be bullock
to-day and beef to-morrow. D'yer see?"
"Yes, of course," said the doctor, "and very proper."
"But what I holds is, sir, and my man too says is, that there ain't a
bit o' danger in any on 'em, though if there was nobody ought to
complain."
"Well, there I don't agree with you, Dengate," said the doctor
haughtily, as Dexter came and stood by him, having grown deeply
interested.
"Don't you, sir? Well, then, look here," said the butcher, rolling his
yellow handkerchief into a cannon ball and ramming it into his hat, as
if it were a cannon that he now held beneath his left arm. "There's a
path certainly from stile to stile, but it only leads to my farrest
medder, and though I never says nothing to nobody who thinks it's a nice
walk down there by the river to fish or pick flowers or what not, though
they often tramples my medder grass in a way as is sorrowful to see,
they're my medders, and the writing's in my strong-box, and not a
shilling on 'em. All freehold, seven-and-twenty acres, and everybody as
goes on is a trespasser, so what do you say to that?"
The butcher unloaded the imaginary cannon as he said this triumphantly,
and dabbed his face with the ball.
"Say?" said the doctor, smiling; "why, that I'm a trespasser sometimes,
for I like to go down there for a walk. It's the prettiest bit out of
the town."
"Proud to hear you say so, sir," said the butcher eagerly. "It is,
isn't it? and I'm proud to have you go for a walk there, sir. Honoured,
I'm sure, and if the--er--the young gentleman likes to pick a spot out
to keep ground baited for a bit o' fishing, why, he's hearty welcome,
and my man shall save him as many maddicks for bait as ever he likes."
"I'll come," cried Dexter eagerly. "May I go?" he added.
"Yes, yes; we'll see," said the doctor; "and it's very kind of Mr
Dengate to give you leave."
"Oh, that's nothing, sir. He's welcome as the flowers in May; but what
I wanted to say, sir, was that as they're my fields, and people who
comes is only trespassers, I've a right to put anything I like there. I
don't put danger for the public: they comes to the danger."
"Yes; that's true," said the doctor. "Of course, now you mention it,
there's no right of way."
"Not a bit, sir, and I might turn out old Billy, if I liked."
"I say, who is old Billy?" said Dexter.
"Hush, my boy! Don't interpose when people are speaking."
"Oh, let him talk, sir," said the butcher, good-naturedly. "I like to
hear a boy want to know. It's what my boy won't do. He's asleep half
his time, and I feed him well too."
"Humph!" ejaculated the doctor.
"Billy's my old bull, as I always keeps shut up close in my yard,
because he is dangerous."
"And very properly," said the doctor.
"Quite right, sir, quite right; and I want to know then what right Sir
James has to come ordering me about. He's no customer of mine. Took it
all away and give it to Mossetts, because he said the mutton was woolly,
when I give you my word, sir, that it was as good a bit o' mutton as I
ever killed."
"Yes, yes, Dengate, but what has all this to do with me?" said the
doctor testily.
"Well, sir, begging your pardon, only this: your young lady and young
gentleman was there, and I want to know the rights of it all. My man
says the beasts are quiet enough, only playful, and I say the same; but
I may be making a mistake. I went in the medder this morning, with my
boy Ezry, and he could drive 'em anywheres, and he's only ten. Did they
trouble your young folks, sir?"
"Well, Dexter: you can answer that," said the doctor.
"Trouble us?--no!" said Dexter, laughing. "Miss Grayson was a bit
afraid of 'em, but I ran the big one, and he galloped off across the
fields."
"There," said the butcher; "what did I say? Bit playful, that's all."
"And when we heard a noise, and found one of 'em standing over that
young Danby, he was only turning him over, that's all."
"Yes; he was running away, and fell down, and the beasts came to look at
him," said Dengate, laughing.
"And Sir James was over on the stile calling for help. Why, as soon as
I ran at the bullocks they all galloped off, all but the big one, and I
give him a crack on the horn, and soon made him go."
"Of course. Why, a child would make 'em run. That's all, sir, I only
wanted to know whether they really was dangerous, because if they had
been, as I said afore, bullock it is now, but beef it should be. Good
morning, sir."
"What are you going to do!" said the doctor.
"Do, sir? I'm a-going to let Sir James do his worst. My beasts ain't
dangerous, and they ain't on a public road, so there they stay till I
want 'em for the shop. Morning, young--er--gentleman. You're not
afraid of a bullock?"
"No," said Dexter quietly, "I don't think I am."
"I'm sure you ain't, my lad, if you'll 'scuse me calling you so.
Morning, sir, morning."
The butcher backed out, smiling triumphantly, but only to put his head
in again--
"Beg pardon, sir, only to say that if he'd asked me polite like, I'd ha'
done it directly; but he didn't, and I'll stand upon my medder like a
man."
"Humph!" said the doctor, as soon as they were alone; "and so you were
not afraid of the bullocks, Dexter?"
"There wasn't anything to be afraid of," said the boy. "I'm ever so
much more afraid of you."
"Afraid?"
"Yes, when you look cross, sir, only then."
"Well, you must not make me look cross, Dexter; and now get on with your
copying. When you've done that you may go in the garden if you'll keep
out of mischief."
"And when may I go fishing?"
"When you like."
"Down the meadows!"
"Why not fish down the garden; there's a capital place."
"All right," said Dexter. "I'll go there. But I want a rod and line."
"There is an old rod in the hall, and you can buy a line. No, Helen is
going out, and she will buy you one."
Dexter's eyes glistened at the idea of going fishing, and he set to work
most industriously at the copying, which in due time he handed over to
the Doctor, who expressed himself as highly satisfied: though if he
really was, he was easily pleased.
Helen had received her instructions, and she soon afterwards returned
with the fishing-line, and a fair supply of extra hooks, and odds and
ends, which the doctor, as an old angler, had suggested.
"These--all for me!" cried the boy joyfully.
The doctor nodded.
"Recollect: no mischief, and don't tumble in."
"All right, sir," cried the boy, who was gloating over the new silk
line, with its cork float glistening in blue and white paint brought
well up with varnish.
"Do you know how to fish!"
"Yes, I know all about it, sir."
"How's that? You never went fishing at the workhouse."
"No, sir; but old Dimsted in the House used to tell us boys all about
it, and how he used to catch jack and eels, and roach and perch, in the
river."
"Very well, then," said the doctor. "Now you can go."
Dexter went off in high glee, recalling divers instructions given by the
venerable old pauper who had been a fishing idler all his life, the
river always having more attractions for him than work. His son
followed in his steps, and he again had a son with the imitative
faculty, and spending every hour he could find at the river-side.
It was a well-known fact in Coleby that the Dimsteds always knew where
fish was to be found, and the baskets they made took the place of meat
that other fathers and sons of families would have earned.
Rod, line, and hooks are prime necessaries for fishing; but a fish
rarely bites at a bare hook, so one of Dexter's first proceedings was to
obtain some bait.
Mr Dengate had said that his man should save plenty of gentles for him;
but Dexter resolved not to wait for them that day, but to try what he
could do with worms and paste. So his first proceeding was to appeal to
Mrs Millett for a slice or two of bread.
Mrs Millett was not in the kitchen, but Maria was, and on being
appealed to, she said sharply that she was not the cook.
Dexter looked puzzled, and he flushed a little as he wondered why it was
that the maid looked so cross, and always answered him so snappishly.
Just then Mrs Millett, who was a plump elderly female with a pleasant
countenance and expression, appeared in the doorway, and to her Dexter
appealed in turn.
Mrs Millett had been disposed to look at Dexter from the point of view
suggested by Maria, who had been making unpleasant allusions to the
boy's birth and parentage, and above all to "Master's strange goings
on," ever since Dexter's coming. Hence, then, the old lady, who looked
upon herself as queen of the kitchen, had a sharp reproof on her tongue,
and was about to ask the boy why he hadn't stopped in his own place, and
rung for what he wanted. The frank happy expression on his face
disarmed her, and she smiled and cut the required bread.
"Well, I never!" said Maria.
"Ah, my dear," said Mrs Millett; "I was young once, and I didn't like
to be scolded. He isn't such a bad-looking boy after all, only he will
keep apples in his bedroom, and make it smell."
"What's looks!" said Maria tartly, as she gave a candlestick she was
cleaning a fierce rub.
"A deal, my dear, sometimes," said the old housekeeper. "Specially if
they're sweet ones, and that's what yours are not now."
Dexter was not yet armed with all he wanted, for he was off down the
kitchen-garden in search of worms.
His first idea was to get a spade and dig for himself; but the stern
countenance of Dan'l Copestake rose up before him, and set him wondering
what would be the consequences if he were to be found turning over some
bed.
On second thoughts he determined to find the gardener and ask for
permission, the dread of not succeeding in his mission making him for
the moment more thoughtful.
Dan'l did not need much looking for. He had caught sight of Dexter as
soon as he entered the garden, and gave vent to a grunt.
"Now, what mischief's he up to now?" he grumbled; and he set to and
watched the boy while making believe to be busy cutting the dead leaves
and flowers off certain plants.
He soon became aware of the fact that Dexter was searching for him, and
this altered the case, for he changed his tactics, and kept on moving
here and there, so as to avoid the boy.
"Here! Hi! Mr Copestake!" cried Dexter; but the old man had been
suddenly smitten with that worst form of deafness peculiar to those who
will not hear; and it was not until Dexter had pursued him round three
or four beds, during which he seemed to be blind as well as deaf, that
the old man was able to see him.
"Eh!" he said. "Master want me?"
"No. I'm going fishing; and, please, I want some worms."
"Wums? Did you say wums!" said Dan'l, affecting deafness, and holding
his hand to his ear.
"Yes."
"Ay, you're right; they are," grumbled Dan'l. "Deal o' trouble, wums.
Gets inter the flower-pots, and makes wum castesses all over the lawn,
and they all has to be swept up."
"Yes; but I want some for fishing."
"'Ficient? Quite right, not sufficient help to get 'em swep' away."
"Will you dig a few worms for me, please?" shouted Dexter in the old
man's ear.
"Dig wums? What for? Oh, I see, thou'rt going fishing. No; I can't
stop."
"May I dig some!" cried Dexter; but Dan'l affected not to hear him, and
went hurriedly away.
"He knew what I wanted all the time," said the boy to himself. "He
don't like me no more than Maria does."
Just then he caught sight of Peter Cribb, who, whenever he was not busy
in the stable, seemed to be chained to a birch broom.
"Will you dig a few worms for me, please?" said Dexter; "red ones."
"No; I'm sweeping," said the groom gruffly; and then, in the most
inconsistent way, he changed his tone, for he had a weakness for the rod
and line himself. "Going fishing!"
"Yes, if I can get some worms."
"Where's old Copestake!"
"Gone into the yard over there," said Dexter.
"All right. I'll dig you some. Go behind the wall there, by the
cucumber frames. Got a pot!"
Dexter shook his head.
"All right. I'll bring one."
Dexter went to the appointed place, and in a few minutes Peter appeared,
free from the broom now, and bearing a five-pronged fork and a small
flower-pot; for the fact that the boy was a brother angler superseded
the feeling of animosity against one who had so suddenly been raised
from a lowly position and placed over his head.
Peter winked one eye as he scraped away some of the dry straw, and then
turned over a quantity of the moist, rotten soil, displaying plenty of
the glistening red worms suitable for the capture of roach and perch.
"There you are," he said, after putting an ample supply in the
flower-pot, whose hole he had stopped with a piece of clay; "there's as
many as you'll want; and now, you go and fish down in the deep hole,
where the wall ends in the water, and I wish you luck."