DR. MAYBRIGHT _versus_ SCORPION.
Dr. Maybright returned to his home on Monday evening in tolerably good
spirits. He had gone up to London about a money matter which caused him
some anxiety; his fears were, for the present at least, quite lulled to
rest, and he had taken the opportunity of consulting one of the greatest
oculists of the day with regard to his eyesight. The verdict was more
hopeful than the good Doctor had dared to expect. With care, total
blindness might be altogether avoided; at the worst it would not come
for some time. A certain regimen was recommended, overwork was
forbidden, all great anxiety was to be avoided, and then, and
then--Well, at least the blessed light of day might be enjoyed by the
Doctor for years to come.
"But you must not overwork," said the oculist, "and you must not worry.
You must read very little, and you must avoid chills; for should a cold
attack your eyes now the consequences would be serious."
On the whole this verdict was favorable, and the Doctor returned to
Sleepy Hollow with a considerable weight lifted from his mind. As the
train bore him homeward through the mellow, ripened country with the
autumn colors glorifying the landscape, and a rich sunlight casting a
glow over everything, his heart felt peaceful. Even with the better part
of him gone away for ever, he could look forward with pleasure to the
greeting of his children, and find much consolation in the love of their
young hearts.
"After all, there never were girls quite like Helen and Polly," he said
to himself. "They both in their own way take after their mother. Helen
has got that calm which was always so refreshing and restful in her
mother; and that little scapegrace of a Polly inherits a good deal of
her brilliancy. I wonder how the little puss has managed the
housekeeping. By the way, her week is up to-day, and we return to Nell's
and Mrs. Power's steadier regime. Poor Poll, it was shabby of me to
desert the family during the end of Indigestion week, but doubtless
matters have gone fairly well. Nurse has all her medicine bottles
replenished, so that in case of need she knew what to do. Poor Poll, she
really made an excellent cake for my supper the last evening I was at
home."
The carriage rolled down the avenue, and the Doctor alighted on his own
doorsteps; as he did so he looked round with a pleased and expectant
smile on his face. It was six o'clock, and the evenings were drawing in
quickly; the children might be indoors, but it seemed scarcely probable.
The little Maybrights were not addicted to indoor life, and as a rule
their gay, shrill voices might have been heard echoing all over the old
place long after sunset. Not so this evening; the place was almost too
still; there was no rush of eager steps in the hall, and no clamor of
gay little voices without.
Dr. Maybright felt a slight chill; he could not account for it. The
carriage turned and rolled away, and he quickly entered the house.
"Polly, where are you? Nell, Firefly, Bunny," he shouted.
Still there was no response, unless, indeed, the rustling of a silk
dress in the drawing-room, a somewhat subdued and half-nervous cough,
and the unpleasant yelping of a small dog could have been construed into
one.
"Have my entire family emigrated? And is Sleepy Hollow let to
strangers?" murmured the Doctor.
He turned in the direction of the rustle, the cough, and the bark, and
found himself suddenly in the voluminous embrace of his sister-in-law,
Mrs. Cameron.
"My dear Andrew, I am pleased to see you. You have been in the deep
waters of affliction, and if in my power I would have come to you
sooner. I had rheumatism and a natural antipathy to solitude. Still I
made the effort, although a damper or more lonely spot would be hard to
find. I don't wonder at my poor sister's demise. I got your letter,
Andrew, and it was really in reply to it that I am here. Down, Scorpion;
the dog will be all right in a moment or two, my dear brother, he is
only smelling your trousers."
"He has a very marked way of doing so," responded the Doctor, "as I
distinctly feel his teeth. Allow me, Maria, to put this little animal
outside the window--a dog's bite given even in play is not the most
desirable acquisition. Well, Maria, your visit astonishes me very much.
Welcome to Sleepy Hollow. Did you arrive to-day? How did you find the
children?"
"I came here on Friday evening, Andrew. The children are as well as such
poor neglected lambs could be expected to be."
Dr. Maybright raised his eyebrows very slightly.
"I was not aware they were neglected," he said. "I am sorry they strike
you so. I also have a little natural antipathy to hearing children
compared to sheep. But where are they? I have been away for four days,
and am in the house five minutes, and not the voice of a child do I
hear? Where is Helen--where is my pretty Poll? Don't they know that
their father has arrived?"
"I cannot tell you, Andrew. I have been alone myself for the last two or
three hours, but I ordered your tea to be got ready. May I give you
some? Shall we come to the dining room at once? Your family were quite
well three hours ago, so perhaps you and I may have a quiet meal
together before we trouble about them any further. I think I may claim
this little indulgence, as only properly respectful to your wife's
sister, Andrew."
"Yes, Maria, I will have tea with you," said the Doctor. The pleased,
bright look of anticipation had altogether now left his face; it was
careworn, the brow slightly puckered, and many lines of care and age
showed round the lips.
"I will just go upstairs and wash my hands," said Dr. Maybright. "Then I
will join you in the dining-room."
He ran up the low stairs to his own room; it was not only full of Aunt
Maria's possessions, but was guarded by the faithful Scorpion, who had
flown there in disgust, and now again attacked the Doctor's legs.
"There is a limit," he murmured, "and I reach it when I am bitten by
this toy terrier."
He lifted Scorpion by his neck, and administered one or two short slaps,
which sent the pampered little animal yelping under the bed; then he
proceeded down the passage in search of some other room where he might
take shelter.
Alice met him; her eyes glowed, and the color in her face deepened.
"We are all so glad you are back, sir," she said, with an affectionate
tone in her voice. "And Miss Helen has got the room over the porch
ready, if you'd do with it for a night or two, sir. I've took hot water
there, sir, for I saw the carriage coming up the drive."
"Thank you, Alice; the porch room will do nicely. By the way, can you
tell me where all the children are?"
But Alice had disappeared, almost flown down the passage, and the Doctor
had an uncomfortable half suspicion that he heard her sob as she went.
Dr. Maybright, however, was not a fanciful person--the children, with
the exception of baby, were all probably out. It was certainly rather
contrary to their usual custom to be away when his return was expected,
still, he argued, consistency in children was the last thing to be
expected. He went downstairs, therefore, with an excellent appetite for
whatever meal Mrs. Cameron might have provided for him, and once more in
tolerably good spirits.
There are some people who habitually, and from a strong sense of duty,
live on the shady side of life. Metaphorically speaking, the sunshine
may almost touch the very path on which they are treading, but they
shrink from and avoid it, having a strong preference for the shade, but
considering themselves martyrs while they live in it. Mrs. Cameron was
one of these people. The circumstances of her life had elected plenty of
sunshine for her; she had a devoted and excellent husband, an abundant
income, and admirable health. It is true she had no children, and it is
also true that she had brought herself by careful cultivation to a state
of chronic ill-temper. Every one now accepted the fact that Mrs. Cameron
neither wished to be happy, nor was happy; and when the Doctor sat down
to tea, and found himself facing her, it was with very somber and
disapproving eyes that she regarded him.
"Well, Andrew, I must say you look remarkably well. Dear, dear, there is
no constancy in this world, that is, amongst the male sex."
Here she handed him a cup of tea, and sighed lugubriously. The Doctor
accepted the tea with a slight frown; he was a peaceable man, but as he
said, when chastising Scorpion, "there are limits."
"If you have no objection, Maria," he said, curtly, "we will leave the
subject of my personal appearance and the moral question which you have
brought forward out of our conversation."
Then his voice and manner changed; he put on a company smile, and
continued, without any pause, "How is your husband? Is he as great an
antiquary as ever? And do you both continue to like living in Bath?"
Mrs. Cameron was a strong and determined woman, but she was no match for
the Doctor when he chose to have his own way. For the remainder of the
meal conversation was languid, and decidedly commonplace; once only it
brightened into animation.
"I wonder where Scorpion can be?" said the good lady; "I want to give
him his cream."
"I fear he is under punishment," said the Doctor. "If I judge of him
aright, Scorpion is something of a coward, and is not likely to come
into the same room where I am for some time."
"What do you mean? Surely you have not been cruel to him?"
"Cruel to be kind. Once again he attempted to eat my legs, and I was
obliged to administer one or two sharp slaps--nothing to hurt; you will
find him under your bed. And now I really must go to look for my
family."
Dr. Maybright left the room, and Mrs. Cameron sat still, scarlet with
annoyance and indignation.
"How could Helen have married such a man?" she said to herself. "I never
can get on with him--never. How cowardly it was of him to hurt the
little dog. If it was not for the memory of poor dear Helen I should
leave here by the first train in the morning; but as it is, I will not
stir until I have established Miss Grinsted over this poor, misguided
household. Ah, well! duty is ever hard, but those who know Maria Cameron
are well acquainted with the fact that she never shirked it. Yes, I will
stay; it will be very unpleasant, but I must go through it. What very
abrupt manners the Doctor has! I was just preparing to tell him all
about that wicked Polly when he jumped up and left the room. Now, of
course, he will get a wrong impression of the whole thing, for the other
children all take her part. Very bad manners to jump up from the tea
table like that. And where _is_ Helen?--where are they all? Now that I
come to think of it, I have seen nothing of any one of them since the
early dinner. Well, well, if it were not for poor Helen I should wash my
hands of the whole concern. But whoever suffers, dear little Scorpion
must have his cream."
Accordingly Mrs. Cameron slowly ascended the stairs, armed with a saucer
and a little jug, and Scorpion forgot the indignities to which he had
been subjected as he lapped up his dainty meal.
Meanwhile, the Doctor having explored the morning room and the
schoolrooms, having peeped into the conservatory, and even peered with
his rather failing sight into the darkness outside, took two or three
strides upstairs, and found himself in the presence of Nurse and baby.
"Well, Pearl," he said, taking the little pure white baby into his arms,
looking into its wee face earnestly, and then giving it a kiss, which
was sad, and yet partook of something of the nature of a blessing.
"Baby goes on well, Nurse," he said, returning the little creature to
the kind woman's arms. Then he looked into her face, and his own
expression changed.
"What is the matter?" he said, abruptly. "You have been crying. Is
anything wrong? Where have all the children vanished to?"
"You have had your tea, sir?" said Nurse, her words coming out in jerks,
and accompanied by fresh sobs. "You have had your tea, and is partial
rested, I hope, so it's but right you should know. The entire family,
sir, every blessed one of them, with the exception of the babe, has took
upon themselves to run away."