In many ways the life which Barbara led at Clovelly was calculated to
rest her mind. She developed a passion for exercise, and when night came
was too full of tired good health to read or talk. Since the estate was
to be hers one day, she found the wish to know her way intimately about
it, and since there were three thousand acres, for the most part thick
forests spread over rocky hills, she could contemplate weeks of
delightful explorations. To discover ponds, brooks, and caves that
belong to other people has its delights, but to go daily up and down a
lovely country discovering lovely things that belong to yourself is
perhaps the most delightful way of passing time that has been vouchsafed
to any one.
On these explorations Barbara's chosen companion was Bubbles. He was no
longer a mere Buttons: her interest and belief in the child had passed
beyond the wish to see him develop into a good servant. She wished to
make something better of him--or if there is nothing better than a good
servant, something more showy and ornamental.
He was sharp as a needle; and he was honest. He was not too old to be
moulded by good influences, schools, and associations into a man with
proper manners, and an upper-class command of the English language. He
should go to one of the New England church schools, later to college,
then he should choose a career for himself and be helped into harness.
So she planned his future. In the meanwhile she wished to see the thin,
spindly body catch up with the big, intelligent head. Although his
muscles were tough and wiry he had a delicate look which troubled her,
and a cough which to her inexperienced and anxious ears suggested a
consumptive tendency.
Dr. Ferris laughed at this, but to satisfy her he gave the boy a
thorough questioning and a thorough looking over. "Any of your family
consumptives, Bubbles?"
"Don't think so, sir."
"Well, you're not. Heart and lungs are sound."
"Miss Barbara says she doesn't like my cough."
"Yes," said the surgeon, "it worries her quite a good deal. And I advise
you to stop it."
"But my throat gets tickling, and--"
"Your throat gets tickling because you are an inveterate cigarette
smoker. And that's the reason why you are undersized and
under-nourished. How long have you smoked?"
"I don't remember when I didn't."
"Can't you stop?"
"I stopped once for two days, and then I took a pack of smokers that
wasn't mine. That was about the only thing I ever stole."
"But if you gave me your word not to smoke any more till you're
twenty-one, couldn't you keep that promise?"
"I could try," said Bubbles, evincing very little confidence,
"Will you try?" said the surgeon. "Hello, what's this?"
The boy in lifting his left arm had disclosed a dark-brown birthmark
shaped like the new moon. All amusement had gone out of Dr. Ferris's
eyes; and he had that look of tragic memories that so often put an end
to his smiling and optimistic moods.
"Do you remember your father?"
"No, sir."
"Mother living?"