"That's what I like in the country," said Jack Scales to himself, as he
thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled down one of the garden
paths. "Humph! Five o'clock, and people snoring in bed, when they
might be up and out enjoying this lovely air, the sweet dewy scent of
the flowers, and the clear sunshine, and be inhaling health with every
breath they draw. Bah! I can't understand how people can lie in bed--
in the country. There is reason in stopping in peaceful thought upon
one's pillow in town till nine.--Ah, gardener, nice morning."
"Beautiful morning, sir," said John Monnick, touching his hat, and then
going on with his task of carefully whetting a scythe, and sending a
pleasant ringing sound out upon the sweet silence of the time.
"Grass cuts well, eh?" said the doctor.
"Yes, sir; crisp, as if there was a white frost on."
"Ah, let's try," said the doctor. "I haven't handled a scythe for a
good many years now."
"No, sir; I s'pose not," said Monnick, with a half-contemptuous smile.
"Mind you don't stick the pynte into the ground, sir, and don't ee cut
too deep. I like to keep my lawns regular like."
"Why don't you have a machine?" said the doctor, taking the scythe, and
sweeping it round with a slow measured _swish_ that took off the grass
and the dewy daisies to leave a velvet pile.
"Machine, sir? Oh, there's two in the potting shed; but I don't want no
machines, sir. Noo-fangled things, that breaks a man's back to push 'em
along. You has to put yourself in a onnat'ral-like position to work
'em, and when you've done it, the grass don't look like as if it had
been mowed.--Well, you do s'prise me, sir; I didn't know as you could
mow."
"Didn't you, Monnick?" said the doctor, pausing to take the piece of
carpet with which the old man wiped the blade, using it, and then
reaching out his hand for the long gritty whetstone, with which he
proceeded to sharpen the scythe in the most business-like way. "Ah, you
never know what a man can do till you try him. You see, Monnick, when I
was a young fellow, I often used to cut the Rectory lawns at home."
"He's a clever one," muttered the old man, watching intently the rubber,
as it was passed with quite a scientific touch up and down and from side
to side of the long curved blade. "Man who can mow like that must, be a
good doctor. I'll ask him about my 'bago."
"There, I'm going for a walk. I'm out of condition too, and mowing
touches my back."
"Do it now, sir?" said the old man, smiling. "Hah! that's where it lays
hold o' me in a rheumaticky sort o' way, sir. You couldn't tell me
what'd be good for it, sir, could you? I've tried the iles, but it
seems as if it was getting worse."
"Oh, I'll give you something, Monnick," said the doctor, laughing; "but,
you know, there's a touch of old age in your complaint."
"Eh, but I'm afraid there is, sir; but thank you kindly, and you'll
forgive me making so bold as to ask."
"Of course, of course. Come to me after breakfast.--And look here, I
want to get on the open heathy part, among the gorse and fir-trees.
Which road had I better take?"
"Well, sir, if you don't mind the wet grass, you'd best go acrost the
meadows out into the lane, turn to the left past the church, take the
first turning to the right, and go straight on."
"Thanks; I shall find my way. Don't forget. I daresay I can set you
right." And the doctor went off at a swinging pace, crossed the
meadows, where the soft-eyed cows paused to look up at him, then leaped
a gate, walked down the lane, had a look at the pretty old church,
embowered in trees, and had nearly reached the open common-land, when
the sharp cantering of a horse roused him from his pleasant morning
reverie.
He looked round, to see that the cantering horse was ridden by a lady,
whose long habit and natty felt hat set off what seemed in the distance
to be a very graceful figure; while the oncoming group appeared to be
advancing through an elongated telescopic frame of green leaves and
drooping branches, splashed with gold and blue.
"Here's one sensible woman, at all events. What a splendid horse!" His
glance was almost momentary. Then, feeling that he was staring rudely,
he went on with his walk, continuing his way along the lane, and passing
a gate that opened at once upon the furzy common-land.
Suddenly the horse was checked a short distance behind him, and an
imperious voice called out: "Here!--hi!--my man."
John Scales, M.D., felt amused. "This is one of the haughty aristocrats
we read about in books," he said to himself, as he turned and saw a
handsome, imperious-looking woman of eight-and-twenty or so, beckoning
to him with the handle of her whip.
"The goddess Diana in a riding-habit by Poole, and superbly mounted,"
muttered the doctor as he stared wonderingly. He saw that the lady's
hair was dark, her cheeks slightly flushed with exorcise; that there was
a glint of very white teeth between two scarlet lips; that the figure
was really what he had at the first glance imagined--well formed and
graceful, if slightly too matured; and his first idea was to take off
his hat and stand uncovered in the presence of so much beauty; his
second, as he saw the curl of the lady's upper lip, and her imperious
glance, to thrust his hands lower in his pockets and return the haughty
stare.
"Here, my man, come and open this gate."
As she spoke. Scales saw her pass her whip into her bridle hand, draw
off a tan-coloured gauntlet glove, and a white and jewelled set of taper
fingers go towards the little pocket in her saddle.
"Why, confound her impudence! she takes me for a yokel, and is going to
give me a pint of beer," said the doctor to himself; and he stood as if
turned into stone.
"Do you hear!" she cried again sharply, and in the tones of one
accustomed to the greatest deference. "Come and open this gate."
John Scales felt his dignity touched, for he too was accustomed to the
greatest deference, such as a doctor generally receives. For a moment
he felt disposed to turn upon his heel and walk away; but he did not,
for he burst into a hearty laugh, and walked straight up to the speaker,
the latter flushing crimson with anger at the insolence, as she mentally
called it, of this stranger.
"How dare you!" she exclaimed. "Open that gate;" and she retook her
whip with her ungloved hand to point onward, while her highly bred horse
pawed the ground, and snorted and tossed its mane, as if indignant too.
"How dare I, my dear?" said the doctor coolly, as he mentally determined
not to be set down.
"Sir!" exclaimed the lady with a flash of her dark eyes that made the
recipient think afterwards that here was the style of woman who, in the
good old times, would have handed him over to her serfs. "Do you know
whom you are addressing?"
"Not I," said the doctor; "unless you are some very beautiful edition in
animated nature of the huntress Diana."
"Sir!"
"And if you were not such a handsome woman, I should leave you to open
the gate yourself, or leap the hedge, which seems more in your way."
"How _dare_ you!" she cried, utterly astounded at the speaker's words.
"How dare I?" said the doctor, smiling. "Oh, I'd dare anything now, to
see those eyes sparkle and those cheeks flush. There," he continued,
unfastening the gate and throwing it back; "the gate's open. _Au
revoir_."
The lady seemed petrified. Then, giving her horse a sharp cut, he
bounded through on to the furzy heath, and went off over the rough
ground like a swallow.
The doctor stood gazing after them, half expecting to see the lady turn
her head; but she rode straight on till she passed out of sight, when he
refastened the gate.
"She might have given me the twopence for that pint of beer," he said
mockingly. "Why, she has!" he cried, stooping and picking up a sixpence
that lay upon the bare earth close to the gate-post. "Well, come, I'll
keep you, my little friend, and give you back. We may meet again some
day."
It was a trifling incident, but it seemed to affect the doctor a good
deal, for he walked on amidst the furze and heath, seeing no golden
bloom and hearing no bird-song, but giving vent every now and then to
some short angry ejaculation. For he was ruffled and annoyed. He
hardly knew why, unless it was at having been treated with such
contemptuous disdain.
"And by a woman, too," he cried at last, stopping short, "of all
creatures in the world. Confound her impudence! I should just like to
prescribe for her, upon my word."
Volume 1, Chapter IX.