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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 5. A "Reg'lar" Bad One |
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_ CHAPTER FIVE. A "REG'LAR" BAD ONE Maria, the doctor's maid, opened the door, and as she admitted her master and his charge, her countenance was suggestive of round O's. Her face was round, and her eyes opened into two round spots, while her mouth became a perfectly circular orifice, as the doctor himself took off the boy's cap, and marched him into the drawing-room, where Helen Grayson was seated. On his way to the house, and with his young heart swelling at having to part from the only being who had been at all kind to him--for the recollection of the rough tramp had become extremely faint--the boy had had hard work to keep back his tears, but no sooner had he passed the doctor's door than the novelty of all he saw changed the current of his thoughts, and he was full of eagerness and excitement. The first inkling of this was shown as his eyes lit upon Maria's round face, and it tickled him so that he began to smile. "Such impidence!" exclaimed Maria. "And a workus boy. My! what's master going to do with him?" She hurried to the housekeeper's room, where Mrs Millett, who had kept the doctor's house, and attended to the cooking as well, ever since Mrs Grayson's death, was now seated making herself a new cap. "A workhouse boy, Maria?" she said, letting her work fall upon her knees, and looking over the top of her spectacles. "Yes; and master's took him into the drawing-room." "Oh! very well," said Mrs Millett tartly. "Master's master, and he has a right to do what he likes; but if there's anything I can't abear in a house it's a boy in buttons. They're limbs, that's what they are; regular young imps." "Going to keep a page!" said Maria, whose eyes looked a little less round. "Why, of course, girl; and it's all stuff." "Well, I don't know," said Maria thoughtfully. "There's the coal-scuttles to fill, and the door-bell to answer, a deal more than I like." "Yes," said Mrs Millett, snipping off a piece of ribbon viciously; "I know. That boy to find every time you want 'em done, and a deal less trouble to do 'em yourself. I can't abear boys." While this conversation was going on in the housekeeper's room, something of a very different kind was in progress in the drawing-room, where the daughter looked up from the letter she was writing, and gazed wonderingly at the boy. For her father pushed the little fellow in before him, and said: "There!" in a satisfied tone, and looked from one to the other. "Why, papa!" said Helen, after looking pleasantly at the boy. "Yes, my dear, that's him. There he is. From this hour my experiment begins." "With this boy?" said Helen. "Yes, my dear, shake hands with him, and make him at home." The doctor's sweet lady-like daughter held out her hand to the boy, who was staring about him at everything with wondering delight, till he caught sight of an admirably drawn water-colour portrait of the doctor, the work of Helen herself, duly framed and hung upon the wall. The boy burst into a hearty laugh, and turned to Helen, running to her now, and putting his hand in hers. "Look there," he cried, pointing with his left hand; "that's the old chap's picture. Ain't it like him!" The doctor frowned, and Helen looked troubled, even though it was a compliment to her skill; and for a few moments there was a painful silence in the room. This was however broken by the boy, who lifted Helen's hand up and down, and said in a parrot-like way-- "How do you do?" Helen's face rippled over with smiles, and the boy's brightened, and he too smiled in a way that made him look frank, handsome, and singularly attractive. "Oh, I say, you are pretty," he said. "Ten times as pretty as Miss Hippetts on Sundays." "Hah! yes. Never mind about Miss Hippetts. And look here, my man, Mr Hippetts said that you were anything but a good boy, and your schoolmaster said the same." "Yes; everybody knows that I am a reg'lar bad boy. The worst boy in the whole school." Helen Grayson's face contracted. "Oh, you are, are you!" said the doctor drily. "Yes, Mr Sibery told everybody so." "Well, then, now, sir, you will have to be a very good boy." "All right, sir." "And behave yourself very nicely." "But, I say: am I going to stop here, sir?" "Yes; always." "What, in this room?" "Yes." "And ain't I to go back to the House to have my crumbs!" "To have your what?" "Breakfasses and dinners, sir?" "No, you will have your meals here." "But I shall have to go back to sleep along with the other boys?" "No, you will sleep here; you will live here altogether now." "What! along of you and her?" cried the boy excitedly. "Yes, always, unless you go to a good school." "But live here along o' you, in this beautiful house with this nice lady, and that gal with a round face." "Yes, of course." "Ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ri-i-kee!" cried the boy in a shrill, piercing voice; and, to the astonishment of the doctor and his daughter, he made a bound, and then, with wonderful skill and rapidity, began turning the wheel, as it is called, going over and over on hands and feet, completely round the room. "Here, stop, sir, stop!" cried the doctor, half-angry and half-amused. "I can do it t'other way too," cried the boy; and, as he had turned before commencing upon his left hand, he began with his right, and completed the circuit of the room in the opposite direction. "There!" he cried, as he stopped before the doctor and his daughter, flushed and proud. "There isn't a chap in the House can do it as quick as I can. Mr Sibery caught me one day, and didn't I get the cane!" There was such an air of innocent pride displayed by the boy, that after for the moment feeling annoyed, Helen Grayson sat back in her chair and laughed as much at the boy as at her father's puzzled look, of surprise. "That's nothing!" cried the boy, as he saw Helen's smiles. "Look here." He ducked down and placed his head on the hearthrug, his hands on either side in front, and threw his heels in the air, to the great endangerment of the chimney ornaments. "Get down, sir! get down!" cried the doctor. "I mean, get up." "It don't hurt," cried the boy, "stand on my head longer than you will for a penny." "Will you get up, sir!" The boy let his feet go down into their normal position upon the carpet, and rose up with his handsome young face flushed, and a look of proud delight in his eyes. "I can walk on my hands ever so far," he shouted boisterously. "No, no; stop!" "You look, miss, and see me run like a tomcat." Before he could be stopped, he was down on all-fours running, with wonderful agility, in and out among the chairs, and over the hearthrug. "That's what I do to make the boys laugh, when we go to bed. I can go all along the dormitory, and jump from one bed to the other. Where's the dormitory? I'll show you." "No, no; stop!" cried the doctor, and he caught hold of the boy by the collar. "Confound you, sir: are you full of quicksilver!" "No. It's skilly," said the boy, "and I ain't full now I'm ever so hungry." The doctor held him tightly, for he was just off again. Helen Grayson tried to look serious, but was compelled to hold her handkerchief before her mouth, and hide her face; but her eyes twinkled with mirth, as her father turned towards her, and sat rubbing his stiff grey hair. The doctor's plan of bringing up a boy chosen from the workhouse had certainly failed, she thought, so far as this lad was concerned; and as the little prisoner stood tightly held, but making all the use he could of his eyes, he said, pointing to a glass shade over a group of wax fruit-- "Is them good to eat!" "No," said Helen, smiling. "I say, do you have skilly for breakfast!" "I do not know what skilly is," replied Helen. "Then, I'll tell you. It's horrid. They beats up pailfuls of oatmeal in a copper, and ladles it out. But it's better than nothing." "Ahem!" coughed the doctor, who was thinking deeply. The boy glanced at him sharply, and then turned again to Helen-- "You mustn't ask for anything to eat at the House if you're ever so hungry." "Are you hungry?" said Helen. "Just!" "Would you like a piece of cake!" "Piece o' cake? Please. Here, let go." He shook himself free from the doctor and ran to Helen. "Sit down on that cushion, and I'll ring for some." "What, have you got a big bell here? Let me pull it, will you?" "It is not a big bell, but you may pull it," said Helen, crossing to the fireplace. "There, that will do." She led the way back to the chair where she had been seated, and in spite of herself felt amused and pleased at the way in which the boy's bright curious eyes examined her, for, outside of his school discipline, the little fellow acted like a small savage, and was as full of eager curiosity. "I say," he said, "how do you do your hair like that? It is nice." Just then Maria entered the room. "Bring up the cake, Maria, and a knife and plate--and--stop--bring a glass of milk." "Yes, miss," said Maria, staring hard at the boy with anything but favourable eyes. "I say, do you drink milk?" said the boy. "Sometimes. This is for you." "For me? Oh, I say! But you'll put some water to it, won't you!" "No; you can drink it as it is. No, no! Stop!" Helen Grayson was too late; in the exuberance of his delight the boy relieved his excited feelings by turning the wheel again round the room, stopping, though, himself, as he reached the place where the doctor's daughter was seated. "Well, why do you look at me like that?" "I d'know. Feels nice," said the boy. "I say, is that round-face gal your sister?" "Oh no; she's the servant." "I'm glad of that," said the boy thoughtfully; "she won't eat that cake, will she!" Helen compressed her lips to control her mirth, and glanced at her father again, where he sat with his brow knit and lips pursed up thinking out his plans. Maria entered now with the cake and milk, placing a tray on a little table, and going out to return to the housekeeper, saying-- "Pretty pass things is coming to when servants is expected to wait on workus boys." In the drawing-room the object of her annoyance was watching, with sparkling eyes, the movements of the knife with which Helen Grayson cut off a goodly wedge of the cake. "There," she said; "eat that, and sit quite still." The boy snatched the piece wolfishly, and was lifting it to his mouth, but he stopped suddenly and stretched out his hand-- "Here; you have first bite," he said. Helen shook her head, but felt pleased. "No," she said. "It is for you." "Do," said the boy, fighting hard with the longing to begin. "No; eat it yourself." "Would he have a bit if I asked him!" said the boy, torturing himself in his generous impulse. "No, no. You eat it, my boy." Once more the cake was within an inch of the bright sparkling teeth, but the bite was not taken. Instead of eating, the boy held out the cake to his hostess. "Cut it in half, please," he said; "fair halves." "What for?" "I'm going to eat one bit; t'other's for Billy Jingle. He's had measles, and been very bad, and he's such a good chap." "You shall have a piece to send to your schoolfellow," said Helen, with her eyes a little moist now, for the boy's generous spirit was gaining upon her, and she looked at him with more interest than she had displayed a few minutes before. The boy took a tremendous bite, and began to munch as he sat upon a velvet-covered hassock; but he jumped up directly, and held out the bitten cake again, to say, with his mouth full-- "Oh, do have a bit. It's lovely." Helen smiled, and laid her hand upon the boy's shoulder, as she shook her head, when to her surprise he caught the soft white hand in his left, gazed hard at it, and then pressed it against his cheek, making a soft purring noise, no bad imitation of a cat. Then he sat eating and holding the hand which was not taken away, till, as the little stranger munched on in the full enjoyment of the wondrous novelty, the doctor said sharply, "Helen, come here." The boy stared, but went on eating, and the doctor's daughter crossed the room to where her father sat. _ |
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