Mrs Champernowne's arbour was a very homely affair, consisting of four
fir poles to form as many corners, and a few more nailed and pegged
together to form gables. Nature built all the rest with roses and
honeysuckle and some vigorous ivy at the back, the roses spiring up, the
honeysuckle creeping in and out among the long strands and holding them
together, while the ivy ran rapidly up the back till it could grow no
higher, and then began to droop down till it had formed itself into a
thick curtain which kept out the wind.
There was a very rustic table in the middle, formed by nailing two
pieces of plank on to a tree stump, and a couple of seats, one on each
side, pierced with holes that had once upon a time been made by ship
carpenters' augers, when the wood was built up over the ribs of some
stout ship which long years after was bumped to pieces by the waves upon
the rocks and then cast up upon the southern shore, to be bought up and
carted all through the county.
Yes, it was a very rustic place, but it suited its surroundings, and
Uncle Paul looked supremely happy as he sat there slowly smoking his
pipe and gazing dreamily before him at the beautiful landscape
stretching far, and the garden of the one cottage within reach only a
short distance away from the plot of ground where by the help of the
neighbour sufficient potatoes were grown for the widow's use. "What a
silent, peaceful evening, Pickle," said Uncle Paul. "Look yonder in the
east; the moon will be up soon, and then it will be night, and we have
done no work. How do you feel, my boy?"
"Tired and stupid, uncle. My legs ache right down to the ankles."
"No wonder, hopping about amongst those granite boulders. My back's a
bit stiff too. There, let's go into the parlour, light up, and then you
shall fetch down the microscope."
"Oh, not yet, uncle!--I say, have another pipe."
"A vaunt, you young tempter! Trying to lead me astray into idleness!
No, let's get in. We have been playing all day; now let's go and get a
bit of work done before we lie down to sleep."
"But I say, uncle, do you think that Napoleon will ever start another
war in France?"
"Who knows, boy? His goings-on have brought nearly everything to a
standstill, and there has been war enough to last for a hundred years."
"Yes, uncle; but do you think that Napoleon and the war put a stop to
your expedition that you were to make in a vessel of your own?"
"Of course I do, Pickle," said Uncle Paul, smoking very slowly now, with
his eyes shut, so as to make the little incandescent mass at the bottom
of his bowl last for a few minutes longer. "Government promised me and
my friends to make a grant for the fitting out of a small vessel, and
for the payment of a captain and crew, and it was voted that we should
have it; but do what we might, my friends and I could never get the
cash, and it has always been put off, put off, on account of the
expenses of the war."
"But, uncle--" began Rodd.
"No, you don't, sir," said Uncle Paul, with a soft chuckle. "None of
your artfulness! You are trying to lead me on to prattle about Bony, so
as to avoid my lecture upon the fresh-water polypes I have taken to-day.
Get out, you transparent young scrub! In with you, and fetch down the
case, and light the two candles on the parlour table. Nice innocent way
of doing it. Think I couldn't see through you, sir? Be off!"
A few minutes later Uncle Paul's pipe was cooling on the parlour
chimney-piece, kept almost upright by the waxy end leaning against a
glass tube which had been formed into a sort of ornamental rolling-pin
to be suspended over the fire, and to be much treasured by its owner.
It was not a very aesthetic piece of art or ornamentation, being only
composed of coloured flowers carefully cut out of a piece of chintz,
before being gummed upon the inside of the glass tube. This was then
filled up with salt, and the ornament was complete.
The candles were burning brightly after each application of the
snuffers; the polished mahogany microscope case stood on a side-table,
and the brass tube that had been taken out was ready to receive one of
the many slips of glass, some of which had little cup-like hollows
ground out of one side ready for receiving a tiny drop of water and one
or other of the specimens, the result of the past day's search.
Uncle Paul was on one side of the table with his big glass bottle; Rodd
sat on the other, with his chin resting in his hands, trying to listen
to his uncle's discourse, and with his eyelids drooping down now and
again.
"Bother the flies and moths!" said Uncle Paul testily. "Who's to work
with them circling round and round the candles, trying to singe
themselves to death? What's that white one, boy?"
"Ghost moth, uncle," replied Rodd sharply, his uncle's question seeming
to rouse him up to attention.
"Good boy! Well named. Trying hard to make a ghost of itself too.
Why, there's a great Daddy Longlegs now! Here, you'll have to shut the
window."
"Oh, don't, uncle! It will make the room so hot."
"Umph! So it will. Very tiresome, though, when one's trying to work.
Now then, let me see; let me see. I want to examine this hydra, but I
must put on a lower power, and--Oh, dear, dear, dear! Gnats! Moths!
Tipulae and--Really, really, Pickle, that lamp gives no light at all;"
and Uncle Paul leaned forward, took a pin out of the edge of his
waistcoat, and began to prick at and try to raise the wick of the
reflecting microscope lamp.
Then there was a little catastrophe, for after a most vigorous
application of the pin the wick seemed to resent it as if it were some
kind of sea worm, and drew back out of reach into its little brass cell.
"There, now I've done it!" said Uncle Paul. "Did you ever see anything
so tiresome in your life, Pickle?"
"Yahah!" sighed the boy slowly.
"Why, what are you doing? Yawning!" cried Uncle Paul. "You are about
the sleepiest chap I ever knew. There, I am afraid I shall have to wait
for to-morrow morning's sunshine. Clear away, or help me. Let's put
everything on a side-table, and I'll tell Mrs Champernowne that she
isn't to touch what she sees there."
"Yes, uncle," said the boy, with something like alacrity, as the table
was cleared and the candles re-snuffed, the effect of opening and
shutting the snuffers seeming to act upon Rodd and making him yawn
widely, while quite involuntarily Uncle Paul did the same. "Now then,"
said Uncle Paul.
"Aren't we going to bed, uncle?" said Rodd eagerly. "Bed? Nonsense!
Because we are in a country place where people like going to bed almost
in the middle of the day and getting up in the middle of the night, do
you think we need follow their example? Absurd! I want to talk to you
about some of the wonderful things I captured to-day. The waters on the
moor swarm with the most beautiful limpid specimens."
Rodd sighed softly, and put his hand before his mouth to stop a yawn.
"Oh, by the way," said Uncle Paul, "did you change your trousers when
you went up to wash?"
"No, uncle; they didn't want it."
"Weren't they damp?"
"No, uncle; I only got my shoes wet, and they were pretty well dry when
I got home. Besides, you had got my other trousers in the big
portmanteau in your room."
"Well, you could have come and fetched them. Always be careful to
change damp things.--Come in!"
There had been a soft tap at the door, and Mrs Champernowne appeared.
"I beg pardon, sir, but what would you like for breakfast in the
morning?"
"Breakfast, Mrs Champernowne? Nothing."
"Oh, I say, uncle!" said Rodd sharply. "We seem to have eaten enough
this evening to last us for twenty-four hours."
"Oh no, sir," said the landlady. "Excuse me, but our moorland air will
make you think very differently to-morrow morning."
"Humph!" grunted Uncle Paul.
"You see, sir, I did think that you'd bring home enough trout this
evening to do for your breakfast too, and I am afraid there's nothing
but ham and eggs. Would you mind them?"
"I'll tell you to-morrow morning, madam," said Uncle Paul.
"Then if you wouldn't mind, sir--I don't want to hurry you and the young
gentleman--but it's my time, and if you will excuse me I'll say
good-night."
"Good-night, Mrs Champernowne; good-night, and pleasant rest to you,"
said Uncle Paul heartily, "and--Yes? You were going to say something?"
"If you wouldn't mind, sir, being sure that the candles are well out."
"Oh, of course; of course."
"And it's a very hot night, sir."
"Yes, madam; we have found that out."
"So if you'll be kind enough to shut and slip the bolt of the front door
I'll leave it for you to do so when you go up to bed."
"Certainly, Mrs Champernowne, certainly. Once more, good-night."
Their landlady smiled benevolently on both, and the next minute they
heard the little old staircase creaking beneath her tread, this being
followed by the cracking of the boards in the little room over the
kitchen, the visitors both listening till all was silent again.
Somehow as Rodd sat opposite to his uncle, his head seemed to be
unusually heavy, and he rested more and more upon his two thumbs, which
he had placed for support beneath his chin.
There was a faint pinging sound, the trumpeting of a gnat flitting about
the room, and then the deep boom of a beetle somewhere outside the open
window. There was a hot delicious odour, too, floating in over the
flowers in the garden, a portion of whose scent the warm air seemed to
be taking up to mingle with that which it had swept off the moor.
And then as Rodd listened and gazed across the table between the two
candles, whose tops were growing tiny brown mushrooms as they silently
asked to be snuffed, it seemed to the boy that his uncle's face looked
dim and misty, and then that it swelled and swelled and began to float
up like a faintly seen balloon, till it died right away. And all was
still but the _um-um-um_ of the great beetle or chafer which had passed
in through the window, and began circling round just below the
whitewashed ceiling, against which its wings brushed from time to time
with a faint fizz, till all at once Rodd started up, for his uncle
exclaimed--
"Why, Pickle, what are you about?"
"I--I--nothing, uncle," said the boy hastily. "Why, I believe, sir, you
were going to sleep!"
"Oh, I am quite wide awake, uncle," cried the boy.
"Humph, yes--now. You see, my boy, these hydras are most extraordinary
things, and to-morrow morning in the bright sunshine we will get the
microscope to work, and I'll show you how they--"
_Burr_--_burr_--_burr_--_hum_--_hum_--_hum_--_um_--_um_.
Was that Uncle Paul talking in a low tone with his voice getting farther
and farther away, or was it that big chafer spinning round and round the
room? Now it nearly died out, and then it grew louder again and seemed
to double into a duet, just as if the great stag beetle had whisked in
at the casement and had joined in the nocturnal valse, the duet seeming
to be intended to lull the naturalist and his nephew to sleep in the
soft musky sweetness of that delightful summer's night.
How long it lasted, who could say, but all at once there was a sudden
start, and Uncle Paul's hand came down with a thump upon the tablecloth
after he had knocked over one of the candlesticks, making so much noise
that, wide awake now, Rodd made a dash and stood the candlestick up
again, before snatching the candle from where it lay singeing the
lavender and red-check cotton table-cover and beginning to deposit a big
spot of grease.
"Bless my heart, Pickle!" cried Uncle Paul. "I believe I was going to
drop asleep."
"I am afraid I was asleep, uncle," replied the boy. "You were saying
that hydras--that hydras--er--er--er--something about hydras."
"Yes, yes, yes, but never mind. Perhaps we had better go to bed, and
I'll finish what I was saying in the morning. There, light the two flat
candlesticks, and we will have a good long snooze. That's right; put
out the others. No, no; use the extinguisher! Don't blow them out, or
there will be such a smell."