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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 7. Taming The Wild |
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_ CHAPTER SEVEN. TAMING THE WILD "Ah!" said the doctor, laying down his pen and rubbing his hands. "That's better;" and he took off his spectacles, made his grey hair stand up all over his head like tongues of silver fire, and looked Dexter over from top to toe. Thanks to Helen's supervision, the boy looked very creditable. His hair was of course "cut almost to the bone," and his face had still the Union look--pale and saddened, but he was dressed in a neat suit which fitted him, and his turn-down collar and black tie seemed to give his well-cut features quite a different air. "What did I say, Helen!" said the doctor, with a chuckle. "You see what we have done already. Well, sir, how do you feel now!" "Not very jolly," said the boy, with a writhe. "Hem!" coughed the doctor; "not very comfortable you mean!" "Yes, that's it," said Dexter. "Boots hurts my feet, and when the trousers ain't rubbin' the skin o' my legs, this here collar feels as if it would saw my head off." "Humph!" ejaculated the doctor stiffly. "You had better put on the old things again." "Eh? No, thankye," cried Dexter eagerly. "I like these here ever so much. Please may I keep 'em!" "Of course," said the doctor; "and take care of them, like a good boy." "Yes. I'm going to be a very good boy now, sir. She says I am to." He nodded his head in the direction of Helen, and stood upon one leg to ease the foot which the shoe pinched. "That's right, but don't say _she_. You must look upon Miss Grayson now as if she were your sister." "Yes, that I will," said the boy warmly. Helen flushed a little at her father's words, and a serious look came into her sweet face; but at that moment she felt Dexter steal his hand into hers, and then it was lifted and held against the boy's cheek, as, in feline fashion, he rubbed his face against it, and a smile came into her eyes again, as she laid the hand at liberty upon the closely cropped head. "I say, ain't she pretty, and don't she look nice?" said Dexter suddenly; and his free and easy way made the doctor frown: but he looked at the boy's appearance, and in the belief that he would soon change the manners to match, he nodded, and said, "Yes." Helen looked at her father, as if asking him what next, but the doctor joined his finger-tips and frowned, as if thinking deeply. "Dexter and I have been filling his drawers with his new clothes and linen," she said. "Yes; such a lot of things," cried the boy; "and is that always to be my bedroom?" "Yes; that's to be your room," said the doctor. "And I've got three pairs of boots. I mean two pairs of boots, and one pair of shoes," cried Dexter. "One pair on, and two in the bedroom; and I shall get up at six o'clock every morning, and clean 'em, and I'll clean yours too." "Hem!" coughed the doctor. "No, my boy, your boots will be cleaned for you, and you will not have to dirty your hands now." The boy stared wonderingly, as the doctor enunciated a matter which was beyond his grasp. But all the time his eyes were as busy as those of a monkey, and wandering all over the study, and taking in everything he saw. "May I leave Dexter with you now!" said Helen, "as I have a few little matters to see to." "Yes, yes; of course, my dear. We are beginning capitally. Dexter, my boy; you can sit down on that chair, and amuse yourself with a book, while I go on writing." The boy looked at the chair, then at the doctor, and then at Helen. "I say, mayn't I go with you?" he said. "Not now, Dexter, I am going to be very busy. By and by I will take you for a walk." Helen nodded, and left the room. "You'll find some books on that shelf," said the doctor kindly; and he turned once more to his writing, while Dexter went to the bookcase, and, after taking down one or two works, found a large quarto containing pictures. He returned to the chair the doctor had pointed out, opened the book upon his knees, turned over a few leaves, and then raised his eyes to have a good long wondering stare at the doctor, as he sat frowning there very severely, and in the midst of a great deal of deep thought put down a sentence now and again. Dexter's eyes wandered from the doctor to a dark-looking bust upon the top of a book-shelf. From thence to a brown bust on the opposite shelf, at which he laughed, for though it was meant for Cicero, it put him greatly in mind of Mr Sibery, and he then fell a-wondering what the boys were doing at the workhouse school. Just then the black marble timepiece on the shelf chimed four quarters, and struck eleven. "No matter what may be the descent," wrote the doctor, "the human frame is composed of the same element." "I say," cried Dexter loudly. "Eh? Yes?" said the doctor, looking up. "What time are you going to have dinner!" "Dinner? One o'clock, sir. Why, it's not long since you had breakfast." "Seems a long time." "Go on looking at your book." Dexter obeyed, and the doctor went on writing, and became very interested in his work. So did not the boy, who yawned, fidgeted in his seat, rubbed his neck impatiently, and then bent down and tried to ease his boot, which evidently caused him pain. There was a pause during which Dexter closed the book and fidgeted about; now one leg went out, now the other. Then his arms moved about as if so full of life and energy that they must keep on the jerk. There was another yawn, but the doctor did not hear it, he was too much intent upon the chapter he was writing. Then a happy thought occurred to Dexter, and he raised the heavy quarto book he had upon his knees, placed it upon his head, and balanced it horizontally. That was too easy, there was no fun or excitement in the feat, so he placed it edgewise. That was better, but very easy--both topwise and bottomwise. Harder when tried with the front edges upon his crown, for the big book demonstrated a desire to open. But he dodged that, and felt happier. He glanced at the doctor, and smiled at his profile, for in his intentness the writer's thick bottom lip protruded far beyond the upper, and seemed to Dexter as if trying to reach the tip of his nose. What should he do next? Could he balance that book on its back? Dexter held it between his hands and cogitated. The back was round, therefore the feat would be more difficult, and all the more enjoyable, but would the book keep shut? He determined to try. Up went the book, his hands on either side keeping it close. Then there was a little scheming to get it exactly in equilibrium; this was attained, and as the boy sat there stiff-necked and rigid of spine, with his eyes turned upwards, there was nothing left to do now but to remove his hands. This he proceeded to do by slow degrees, a finger at a time, till the heavy work was supported only by the left and right forefingers, the rounded back exactly on the highest point of his cranium. "All right," said Dexter to himself, supremely happy in his success, and with a quick movement he let his hands drop to his lap. For one solitary moment the great quarto volume remained balanced exactly; then, as a matter of course, it opened all at once. _Flip! flop! bang_! The book had given him two boxes on the sides of the head, and then, consequent upon his sudden effort to save it, made a leap, and came heavily upon the floor. Dexter's face was scarlet as he dropped upon his knees to pick it up, and found the doctor gazing at him, or, as in his own mind he put it, threatening a similar caning to that which Mr Sibery gave him a year before, when he dropped the big Bible on the schoolroom floor. "Be careful, my boy, be careful," said the doctor dreamily, for he was half lost in thought. "That damages the bindings. Take a smaller book." Dexter felt better, and hastily replaced the work on the shelf, taking one of a smaller size, and returning to his seat to bend down and thrust a finger inside his boot. "How they do hurt!" he thought to himself; and he made a sudden movement. Then he checked himself. No; 'twas a pity. They were so new, and looked so nice. Yes, he would: they hurt so terribly; and, stooping down, he rapidly unlaced the new boots, and pushed them off, smiling with gratification at the relief. Then he had another good look round for something to amuse himself with, yawned, glanced at the doctor, dropped down on hands and knees, went softly to the other side of the centre table, and began to creep about with the agility of a quadruped or one of the monkey tribe. This was delightful, and the satisfied look on the boy's face was a study, till happening to raise his eyes, he saw that the doctor had risen, and was leaning over the writing-table, gazing down at him with a countenance full of wonder and astonishment combined. "What are you doing, sir?" said the doctor sternly. "Have you lost something?" Dexter might have said, "Yes, a button--a marble;" but he did not; he only rose slowly, and his late quadrupedal aspect was emphasised by a sheepish look. "Don't do that on the carpet, sir. You'll wear out the knees of your trousers. Why, where are your boots?" "On that chair, sir," said Dexter confusedly. "Then put them on again, and get another book." Dexter put on his boots slowly, laced them up, and then fetched himself another book. He returned to his seat, yawning, and glanced at the doctor again. _Booz, booz, booz, boom_--_'m_--_'m_. A bluebottle had flown in through the open window, bringing with it the suggestion of warm sunshine, fields, gardens, flowers, and the blue sky and waving trees. "_Booz_!" said the bluebottle, and it dashed away, leaving a profound silence, broken by the scratching of the doctor's pen. "I say," cried Dexter excitedly; "is that your garden?" "Yes, my boy, yes," said the doctor, without looking up from his writing. "May I go out in it?" "Certainly, my boy. Yes," said the doctor, without looking up, though there was the quick sound of footsteps, and, with a bound, Dexter was through the open French window, and out upon the lawn. The doctor did not heed the lapse of time, for he was intent upon his writing, and an hour had passed when the door opened and Helen returned. "Now I am at liberty, papa," she said; "and--where is Dexter?" "Eh? The boy? Bless me, I thought he was here!" _Smash! Tinkle_! The sound of breaking glass, and the doctor leaped to his feet, just as a loud gruff voice sounded-- "Here, you just come down." "Copestake!" cried the doctor. "Why, what is the matter out there!" _ |
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