CONCERNING MICHAEL FIELD
Antony, having seen a figure approaching the door, opened it, and
confronted a big, rugged-faced man, who looked at him somewhat grimly.
"Michael Field?" demanded the big man briefly.
"Sure, 'tis my name," he replied cheerfully. "You'll be Doctor Hilary,
I'm thinking. Won't you be coming in out of the wet." He flung wide the
door on the words.
"George found you all right?" queried Doctor Hilary stepping across the
threshold. He appeared totally oblivious of the fact that Antony's
presence made the success of George's search fairly obvious.
"He did that," returned Antony pushing forward a chair, but making no
attempt to sit down himself. The impulse had been upon him. Memory had
awakened just in time.
Doctor Hilary was silent. The reality was so entirely different from his
preconceived notions. The cheerful, clean-shaven young man, with the
Irish accent, standing before him in an attitude of quite respectful, but
not in the least subservient attention, was at such complete variance
with either of his two imaginary types, that he found his attitude of
grimness insensibly relaxing.
"Did George speak to you regarding your work?" he demanded suddenly. He
couldn't for the life of him, think of anything else to say.
"Well," returned Antony thoughtfully considering, "he asked me about my
last place, and I told him I'd been working on my own account. Thereupon
he expressed surprise that I should now be taking an under post, but
remarked with vast wisdom that every man knew his own business best."
"Hmm," said Doctor Hilary.
"He also," continued Antony, his eyes twinkling, "was for giving me
advice on matrimony, and mentioned three 'vitty maids' he could produce
for my inspection. I told him," continued Antony solemnly, though his
eyes were still twinkling, "that I was not a marrying man at all."
Doctor Hilary found the twinkle in Antony's eyes gaining response in his
own. He was such a remarkably cheerful young man, and so confiding.
"Hmm," he remarked again. "He said nothing else I suppose? Expressed no
surprise at your being chosen for the post, instead of a local man?"
"He did not," responded Antony, replying to the last question. "It would
seem that he thought any appointment to the post unnecessary, in view of
the fact that the Hall was at present untenanted."
"And you replied--?" asked Doctor Hilary.
"Sure, I had no opinion to offer," said Antony. "It was not my affair at
all. He talked, but I said little."
"A good principle," remarked Doctor Hilary approvingly, "and one I should
advise you to adhere to. Your accent is all right, but your--your speech
is a trifle fluent, if I may make the suggestion."
Antony laughed pleasantly. He was now made sure of the fact of which he
had been already tolerably certain, namely, that this big, rugged-faced
man was fully aware of the conditions of the will, and his own identity.
"Sure, 'tis we Irish have the gift o' the gab," he returned
apologetically, "but I'll be remembering your advice."
There was a little silence. It was broken by Antony.
"I was for making a cup of tea when you came up the path, sor. Will you
be having one with me? It'll not take beyont ten minutes or so to get a
fire going, and the water boiling. That is, if you'll be doing me the
honour, sor," he concluded gravely.
Doctor Hilary laughed outright.
He watched Antony disappear into the scullery, to reappear with a bundle
of sticks and a log. He watched him kneeling by the fire, manipulating
them deftly. He watched him fill a kettle with water, and put it on the
fire, set cups on the table, then open his bag, and produce bread,
butter, a packet of tea, and a lemon.
It was extraordinary what an alteration his sentiments had undergone
since entering Copse Cottage. Every trace of prejudice had vanished.
There was, in his mind, something pathetic in the skill, evidently born
of long practice, with which this tall lean man made his preparations for
the little meal.
From watching the man, Doctor Hilary turned his attention to the room. It
was fairly comfortable, at all events, if not in the least luxurious. But
the inevitable loneliness of the life that would be led within its walls,
struck him with a curious forcefulness.
"Do you know anything of gardening?" he demanded suddenly, breaking the
silence.
"Sure, it's little I don't know," returned Antony. "'Twas a bit of wild
earth my garden was before I took it in hand. Now there's peach trees,
and nectarines, and plum trees in it, and all the vegetables any man
could be wanting, and flowers fit for a queen's drawing-room. There's
roses as big as your fist. Oh, 'tis a fine garden it is out on--" he
broke off, "out beyont," he concluded.
"On the veldt," suggested Doctor Hilary quietly.
"'Twas the veldt I was after meaning," responded Antony smiling, "but I
thought 'twould be as well to get my tongue used to forgetting the sound
of the word, lest it should slip out some fine day, when I wasn't meaning
it to at all."
"Wise, anyhow," agreed Doctor Hilary, and he too smiled. "But you
understand that I--well, I happen to know all the circumstances of this
arrangement."
Antony laughed. "I was thinking as much," he confessed.
"I wonder--" began Doctor Hilary. And then he stopped. He had been about
to wonder aloud as to why on earth Antony should have accepted the
conditions, why he should have exchanged the freedom and untrammelled
spaces of the veldt for the conventional life of England, even with the
Hall and a goodly income, at the end of the year, to the balance. He knew
most assuredly that nine hundred and ninety-nine men out of a thousand
would have done so, and he knew that he himself was the thousandth who
would not. His exceedingly brief acquaintance with Antony had given him
the impression that he, also, was a thousandth man.
"You wonder--?" queried Antony.
"I wonder how you'll like the life," said Doctor Hilary, though it was
not precisely what he had originally intended to say.
"'Tis England," said Antony briefly.
"Is that your sole reason for accepting the life?" asked Doctor Hilary
curiously.
Antony looked him full in the eyes.
"It is not," he replied smiling. And then he turned to the kettle, which
was on the point of boiling over.
Of course it was a rebuff. But it was a perfectly polite one. And
oddly--or, perhaps, not oddly--Doctor Hilary did not resent it in the
least. On the contrary, he respected the man who had administered it.
"There's no milk," said Antony presently, pouring tea into two cups. "Can
you be putting up with a lemon?"
"I like it," Doctor Hilary assured him.
After the meal they smoked together, making remarks now and again,
interspersed with little odd silences, which, however, appeared quite
natural and friendly. Josephus, who at the outset had viewed the entry of
the big man on the scene with something akin to disapproval, now walked
solemnly over to him, stood on his hind legs, and put his fore paws on
Doctor Hilary's knees.
"A token of approval," said Antony.
And then another of the odd little silences fell.
"You will report yourself to Golding at half-past seven on Monday
morning," said Doctor Hilary some quarter of an hour later, as he rose to
take his leave. "He lives at the lodge about five minutes' walk up the
road. You'll find the place all right. You will take all instructions as
to your work from him. If you should wish to see me personally at any
time regarding anything, you will usually find me at home in the
evening."
Antony touched his forehead in the most approved style.
"I thank you, sor," he responded.
Doctor Hilary smiled. "Well, good luck to you. It will be better--of
course, from now onward, we must remember that you are Michael Field,
under-gardener at the Hall."
"'Tis a good name," said Antony solemnly. "Sure, I'm downright obliged to
me godfathers and godmothers for giving me such a one."
Again Doctor Hilary smiled. "Oh, and by the way," he said, "how about
money."
Antony felt in his pockets. He produced two florins, a sixpence, and a
halfpenny. He looked at them lying in the palm of his hand. Then he
looked whimsically at the Doctor.
"I don't know whether the possession of these coins breaks the spirit of
the contract. I'm thinking 'twill hardly break the letter. 'Tis all I
have."
The Doctor laughed.
"I fancy not," he replied. "I'd better give you your first week's wage in
advance. You'll need to lay in provisions. There's a general store in
Byestry. Perhaps you'll want to do a little in the purchasing line.
Remember, to-morrow is Sunday."
He laid a sovereign on the table, and a moment later the garden gate
clicked to behind him.
Antony went back into the little parlour.