Things were not quite so smooth as Dr Grayson thought, for there had
been stormy weather at Sir James's.
"Well, my dear, you are my husband, and it is my duty to obey," said
Lady Danby; "but I do protest against my darling son being forced to
associate with a boy of an exceedingly low type."
"Allow me, my dear," said Sir James importantly. "By Dr Grayson's act,
in taking that boy into his house, he has wiped away any stigma which
may cling to him; and I must say that the lad displayed a great deal of
animal courage--that kind of brute courage which comes from an ignorance
of danger."
"Is it animal courage not to be afraid of animals, ma?" said Master
Edgar.
"Yes, my dear, of course," said Lady Danby.
"I wish Edgar would display courage of any kind," said Sir James.
"Why, you ran away from the bulls too, papa," said Master Edgar.
"I am a great sufferer from nervousness, Edgar," said Sir James
reprovingly; "but we were not discussing that question. Dr Grayson has
accepted the invitation for his adopted son. It is his whim for the
moment, and it is only becoming on my part to show that we are grateful
for the way in which the boy behaved. By the time a month has gone by,
I have no doubt that the boy will be back at the--the place from which
he came; but while he is at Dr Grayson's I desire that he be treated as
if he were Dr Grayson's son."
"Very well, James," said Lady Danby, in an ill-used tone of voice. "You
are master here, and we must obey."
The day of the invitation arrived. Dexter was to be at Sir James's in
time for lunch, and directly after breakfast he watched his opportunity
and followed Helen into the drawing-room.
"I say," he said; "I can't go there, can I?"
"Why not?" said Helen.
"Lookye here."
"Why, Dexter!" cried Helen, laughing merrily; "what have you been
doing!"
"Don't I look a guy!"
There was a change already in the boy's aspect; his face, short as the
time had been, was beginning to show what fresh air and good feeding
could achieve. His hair had altered very slightly, but still there was
an alteration for the better, and his eyes looked brighter, but his
general appearance was comical all the same.
Directly after breakfast he had rushed up to his room and put on the
clothes in which he had taken his involuntary bath. These garments, as
will be remembered, had been obtained in haste, and were of the kind
known in the trade as "ready-mades," and in this case composed of a
well-glazed and pressed material, containing just enough wool to hold
together a great deal of shoddy.
The dip in the river had been too severe a test for the suit, especially
as Maria had been put a little more out of temper than usual by having
the garments handed to her to dry.
Maria's mother was a washerwoman who lived outside Coleby on the common,
and gained her income by acting as laundress generally for all who would
intrust her with their family linen; but she called herself in yellow
letters on a brilliant scarlet ground a "clear starcher."
During Maria's early life at home she had had much experience in the
ways of washing. She knew the smell of boiled soap. She had often
watched the steam rising from the copper, and played among the clouds,
and she well knew that the quickest way to dry anything that has been
soaked is to give it a good wringing.
She had therefore given Dexter's new suit a good wringing, and wrung out
of it a vast quantity of sticky dye which stained her hands. Then she
had--grumbling bitterly all the time--given the jacket, vest, and
trousers a good shake, and hung them over a clothes-horse as near to the
fire as she could get them without singeing.
Mrs Millett told her to be sure and get them nice and dry, and Maria
did get them "nice and dry."
And now Dexter had put them on and presented himself before Helen,
suggesting that he looked a guy.
Certainly his appearance was suggestive of the stuffed effigy borne
about on the fifth of November, for the garments were shrunken so that
his arms and legs showed to a terrible extent, and Maria's wringing had
given them curves and hollows never intended by the cutter, the worst
one being in the form of a hump between the wearer's shoulders.
"The things are completely spoiled. You foolish boy to put them on."
"Then I can't go to that other house."
"Nonsense! You have the new clothes that came from the tailor's--those
for which you were measured."
"Yes," said Dexter reluctantly; "but it's a pity to put on them. I may
get 'em spoiled."
"Then you do not want to go, Dexter," said Helen, smiling.
"No," he cried eagerly. "Ask him to let me stop here."
"No, no," said Helen kindly. "Papa wishes you to go there; it is very
kind of the Danbys to ask you, and I hope you will go, and behave very
nicely, and make great friends with Edgar Danby."
"How?" said Dexter laconically.
"Well, as boys generally do. You must talk to him."
"What about?"
"Anything. Then you must play with him."
"What at?"
"Oh, he'll be sure to suggest something to play at."
"I don't think he will," said Dexter thoughtfully. "He don't look the
sort of chap to."
"Don't say chap, Dexter; say boy."
"Sort of boy to play any games. He's what we used to call a soft Tommy
sort of a chap--boy."
"Oh no, no, no! I don't suppose he will be rough, and care for
boisterous sports; but he may prove to be a very pleasant companion for
you."
Dexter shook his head.
"I don't think he'll like me."
"Nonsense! How can you tell that? Then they have a beautiful garden."
"Can't be such a nice one as this," said Dexter.
"Oh yes, it is; and it runs down to the river as this one does, and Sir
James has a very nice boat."
"Boat!" cried Dexter, pricking up his ears. "And may you go in it!"
"Not by yourselves, I suppose. There, I'm sure you will enjoy your
visit."
Dexter shook his head again.
"I say, you'll come too, won't you?" he cried eagerly.
"No, Dexter; not this time."
The boy's forehead grew wrinkled all over.
"Come, you are pretending that you do not want to go."
"I don't," said the boy, hanging his head. "I want to stay here along
with you."
"Perhaps I should like you to stay, Dexter," said Helen; "but I wish you
to go and behave nicely, and you can tell me all about it when you come
back."
"And how soon may I come back?"
"I don't suppose till the evening, but we shall see. Now, go and change
those things directly. What would papa say if he saw you?"
Dexter went slowly up to his room, and came down soon after to look for
Helen.
He found her busy writing letters, so he went off on tiptoe to the
study, where the doctor was deep in his book, writing with a very severe
frown on his brow.
"Ah, Dexter," he said, looking up and running his eye critically over
the boy, the result being very satisfactory. "Let's see, you are to be
at Sir James's by half-past twelve. Now only ten. Go and amuse
yourself in the garden, and don't get into mischief."
Dexter went back into the hall, obtained his cap, and went out through
the glass door into the verandah, where the great wisteria hung a
valance of lavender blossoms all along the edge.
"He always says don't get into mischief," thought the boy. "I don't
want to get into mischief, I'm sure."
Half-way across the lawn he was startled by the sudden appearance of
Dan'l, who started out upon him from behind a great evergreen shrub.
"What are you a-doing of now?" snarled Dan'l.
"I wasn't doing anything," said Dexter, staring.
"Then you were going to do something," cried the old man sharply. "Look
here, young man; if you get meddling with anything in my garden there's
going to be trouble, so mind that. I know what boys is, so none of your
nonsense here."
He went off grumbling to another part of the garden, and Dexter felt
disposed to go back indoors.
"He's watching me all the time," he thought to himself; "just as if I
was going to steal something. He don't like me."
Dexter strolled on, and heard directly a regular rustling noise, which
he recognised at once as the sound made by a broom sweeping grass, and
sure enough, just inside the great laurel hedge, where a little green
lawn was cut off from the rest of the garden, there was Peter Cribb, at
his usual pursuit, sweeping all the sweet-scented cuttings of the grass.
Peter was a sweeper who was always on the look-out for an excuse. He
was, so to speak, chained to that broom so many hours a day, and if he
had been a galley slave, and the broom an oar, it is morally certain
that he would have been beaten with many stripes, for he would have left
off rowing whenever he could.
"Well, squire," he said, laying his hands one over the other on the top
of the broom-handle.
"Well, Peter. How's the horse?"
"Grinding his corn, and enjoying himself," said Peter. "He's like you:
a lucky one--plenty to eat and nothing to do."
"Don't you take him out for exercise?" said Dexter.
"Course I do. So do you go out for exercise."
"Think I could ride?" said Dexter.
"Dersay you could, if you could hold on."
"I should like to try."
"Go along with you!"
"But I should. Will you let me try!"
Peter shook his head, and began to examine his half-worn broom.
"I could hold on. Let me go with you next time!"
"Oh, but I go at ha'-past six, hours before you're awake. Young gents
don't get up till eight."
"Why, I always wake at a quarter to six," said Dexter. "It seems the
proper time to get up. I say, let me go with you."
"Here, I say, you, Peter," shouted Dan'l; "are you a-going to sweep that
bit o' lawn, or am I to come and do it myself. Gawsiping about!"
"Hear that?" said Peter, beginning to make his broom swing round again.
"There, you'd better be off, or you'll get me in a row."
Dexter sighed, for he seemed to be always the cause of trouble.
"I say," said Peter, as the boy was moving off; "going fishing again?"
"No; not now."
"You knows the way to fish, don't you? Goes in after them."
Dexter laughed, and went on down to the river, examined the place where
the branch had broken off, and then gazed down into the clear water at
the gliding fish, which seemed to move here and there with no more
effort than a wave of the tail.
His next look was across the river in search of Bob Dimsted; but the
shabby-looking boy was not fishing, and nowhere in sight either up or
down the stream.
Dexter turned away with another sigh. The garden was very beautiful,
but it seemed dull just then. He wanted some one to talk to, and if he
went again to Peter, old Dan'l would shout and find fault.
"It don't matter which way I go," said Dexter, after a few minutes,
during which time he had changed his place in the garden again and
again; "that old man is always watching me to see what I am going to
do."
He looked round at the flowers, at the coming fruit, at everything in
turn, but the place seemed desolate, and in spite of himself he began
thinking of his old companions at the great school, and wondering what
they were doing.
Then he recalled that he was to go to Sir James Danby's soon, and he
began to think of Edgar.
"I shan't like that chap," he said to himself. "I wonder whether he'll
like me."
He was standing thinking deeply and gazing straight before him at the
high red brick wall when he suddenly started, for there was a heavy step
on the gravel.
Dan'l had come along the grass edge till he was close to the boy, and
then stepped off heavily on to the path.
"They aren't ripe yet," he said with an unpleasant leer; "and you'd best
let them alone."
Dexter walked quickly away, with his face scarlet, and a bitter feeling
of annoyance which he could not master.
For the next quarter of an hour he was continually changing his position
in the garden, but always to wake up to the fact that the old gardener
was carrying out a purpose which he had confided to Peter.
This the boy soon learned, for after a time he suddenly encountered the
groom, still busy with the broom.
"Why, hullo, youngster!" he said; "what's the matter!"
"Nothing," said Dexter, with his face growing a deeper scarlet.
"Oh yes, there is; I can see," cried Peter.
"Well, he's always watching me, and pretending that I'm getting into
mischief, or trying to pick the fruit."
"Hah!" said Peter, with a laugh; "he told me he meant to keep his eye on
you."
Just then there was a call for Dan'l from the direction of the house,
and Mrs Millett was seen beyond a laurel hedge.
Directly after the old man went up to the house, and it seemed to Dexter
as if a cloud had passed from across the sun. The garden appeared to
have grown suddenly brighter, and the boy began to whistle as he went
about in an aimless way, looking here and there for something to take
his attention.
He was not long in finding it, for just at the back of the dense yew
hedge there were half a dozen old-fashioned round-topped hives, whose
occupants were busy going to and fro, save that at the hive nearest the
cross-path a heavy cluster, betokening a late swarm, was hanging
outside, looking like a double handful of bees.