Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel > This page
Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 14. Mr. Dengate Is Indignant, And Dexter Wants Some "Wums" |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. MR. DENGATE IS INDIGNANT, AND DEXTER WANTS SOME "WUMS" Mr Grayson was delighted when he heard the narrative from Helen. "There! what did I tell you!" he cried. "Proofs of my theory." "Do you think so, papa?" "Think, my dear? I'm sure. Why, there it all was; what could have been better? Young Danby has breed in him, and what did he do? Lay down like a girl, and fainted. No, my dear, you cannot get over it. Pick your subject if you will, but you may make what you like of a boy." "I hope so, papa." "That's right, my dear. Brave little fellow! Afraid I should scold him about his cap? Thoughtless young dog, but it was all chivalrous. Couldn't have been better. He shall have a hundred caps if he likes. Hah! I'm on the right track, I'm sure." The doctor rubbed his hands and chuckled, and Helen went to bed that night better pleased with her task. Sir James Danby, who was the magnate of Coleby, sent a very furious letter to Dengate the butcher, threatening proceedings against him for allowing a herd of dangerous bullocks to be at large in one of his fields, and ordering him to remove them at once. Dengate the butcher read the letter, grew red in the face, and, after buttoning up that letter in his breast-pocket, he put on his greasy cap, and went to Topley the barber to get shaved. Dengate's cap was greasy because, though he was a wealthy man, he worked hard at his trade, calling for orders, delivering meat, and always twice a week, to use his own words, "killing hisself." Topley lathered Dengate's red round face, and scraped it perfectly clean, feeling it all over with his soapy fingers, as well as carefully inspecting it with his eye, to make sure that none of the very bristly stubble was left. While Topley shaved, Dengate made plans, and as soon as the operation was over he went back home, and what he called "cleaned hisself." That is to say, he put on his best clothes, stuck a large showy flower in his button-hole, cocked his rather broad-brimmed hat on one side of his head, and went straight to Dr Grayson's. Maria opened the door, stared at the butcher, who generally came to the back entrance, admitted him, received his message, and went into the study, where the doctor was writing, and Dexter busily copying a letter in a fairly neat round hand, but could only on an average get one word and a half in a line, a fact which looked awkward, especially as Dexter cut his words anywhere without studying the syllables. Dexter had just left off at the end of a line, and finished the first letters of the word toothache, leaving "toot" as his division, and taking a fresh dip of ink ready for writing "hache." "Don't put your tongue out, Dexter, my boy." "All right," said Dexter. "And I would not suck the pen. Ink is not wholesome." "All right, I won't," said Dexter; and he put the nibs between his lips. "Mr Dengate, sir," said Maria. "Dengate? What does he want, Maria? Let him see Mrs Millett or Miss Helen." Maria looked scornfully at Dexter, as if he had injured her in some way. "Which is what I said to him, sir. 'Master's busy writing,' I says; but he says his dooty, sir, and if you would see him five minutes he would be greatly obligated." The doctor said, "Send him in." Maria left the room, and there was a tremendous sound of wiping shoes all over the mat, although it was a dry day without, and the butcher's boots were speckless. Then there was another burst of wiping on the mat by the study door as a finish off, a loud muttering of instructions to Maria, and the door was opened to admit the butcher, looking hot and red, with his hat in one hand, a glaring orange handkerchief in the other, with which he dabbed himself from time to time. "Good morning, Dengate," said the doctor; "what can I do for you?" "Good morning, sir; hope you're quite well, sir. If you wouldn't mind, sir, reading this letter, sir. Received this morning, sir. Sir James, sir." "Read it? ah, yes," said the doctor. He ran through the missive and frowned. "Well, Dengate," he said, "Sir James is a near neighbour and friend of mine, and I don't like to interfere in these matters." "No, sir, of course you wouldn't, sir, but as a gentleman, sir, as I holds in the highest respect--a gentleman as runs a heavy bill with me." "Hasn't your account been paid, Dengate!" said the doctor, frowning, while Dexter looked hard at the butcher, and wondered why his face was so red, and why little drops like beads formed all over his forehead. "No, sir, it hasn't, sir," said the butcher, with a chuckle, "and I'm glad of it. I never ask for your account, sir, till it gets lumpy. I always leave it till I want it, for it's good as the bank to me, and I know I've only to give you a hint like, and there it is." "Humph!" ejaculated the doctor. "What I have come about is them bullocks, sir, hearing as your young lady, sir, and young shaver here--" "Mr Dengate," said the doctor, frowning, "this young gentleman is my adopted son." "Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure," said the butcher obsequiously. "I had heared as you'd had taken a boy from the--" "Never mind that, Dengate," said the doctor shortly, as the butcher dabbed himself hurriedly,--"business." "Exactly, sir. Well, sir, it's like this here: I'm the last man in the world to put dangerous beasts in any one's way, and if I knowed that any one o' them was the least bit risky to a human being, he'd be bullock to-day and beef to-morrow. D'yer see?" "Yes, of course," said the doctor, "and very proper." "But what I holds is, sir, and my man too says is, that there ain't a bit o' danger in any on 'em, though if there was nobody ought to complain." "Well, there I don't agree with you, Dengate," said the doctor haughtily, as Dexter came and stood by him, having grown deeply interested. "Don't you, sir? Well, then, look here," said the butcher, rolling his yellow handkerchief into a cannon ball and ramming it into his hat, as if it were a cannon that he now held beneath his left arm. "There's a path certainly from stile to stile, but it only leads to my farrest medder, and though I never says nothing to nobody who thinks it's a nice walk down there by the river to fish or pick flowers or what not, though they often tramples my medder grass in a way as is sorrowful to see, they're my medders, and the writing's in my strong-box, and not a shilling on 'em. All freehold, seven-and-twenty acres, and everybody as goes on is a trespasser, so what do you say to that?" The butcher unloaded the imaginary cannon as he said this triumphantly, and dabbed his face with the ball. "Say?" said the doctor, smiling; "why, that I'm a trespasser sometimes, for I like to go down there for a walk. It's the prettiest bit out of the town." "Proud to hear you say so, sir," said the butcher eagerly. "It is, isn't it? and I'm proud to have you go for a walk there, sir. Honoured, I'm sure, and if the--er--the young gentleman likes to pick a spot out to keep ground baited for a bit o' fishing, why, he's hearty welcome, and my man shall save him as many maddicks for bait as ever he likes." "I'll come," cried Dexter eagerly. "May I go?" he added. "Yes, yes; we'll see," said the doctor; "and it's very kind of Mr Dengate to give you leave." "Oh, that's nothing, sir. He's welcome as the flowers in May; but what I wanted to say, sir, was that as they're my fields, and people who comes is only trespassers, I've a right to put anything I like there. I don't put danger for the public: they comes to the danger." "Yes; that's true," said the doctor. "Of course, now you mention it, there's no right of way." "Not a bit, sir, and I might turn out old Billy, if I liked." "I say, who is old Billy?" said Dexter. "Hush, my boy! Don't interpose when people are speaking." "Oh, let him talk, sir," said the butcher, good-naturedly. "I like to hear a boy want to know. It's what my boy won't do. He's asleep half his time, and I feed him well too." "Humph!" ejaculated the doctor. "Billy's my old bull, as I always keeps shut up close in my yard, because he is dangerous." "And very properly," said the doctor. "Quite right, sir, quite right; and I want to know then what right Sir James has to come ordering me about. He's no customer of mine. Took it all away and give it to Mossetts, because he said the mutton was woolly, when I give you my word, sir, that it was as good a bit o' mutton as I ever killed." "Yes, yes, Dengate, but what has all this to do with me?" said the doctor testily. "Well, sir, begging your pardon, only this: your young lady and young gentleman was there, and I want to know the rights of it all. My man says the beasts are quiet enough, only playful, and I say the same; but I may be making a mistake. I went in the medder this morning, with my boy Ezry, and he could drive 'em anywheres, and he's only ten. Did they trouble your young folks, sir?" "Well, Dexter: you can answer that," said the doctor. "Trouble us?--no!" said Dexter, laughing. "Miss Grayson was a bit afraid of 'em, but I ran the big one, and he galloped off across the fields." "There," said the butcher; "what did I say? Bit playful, that's all." "And when we heard a noise, and found one of 'em standing over that young Danby, he was only turning him over, that's all." "Yes; he was running away, and fell down, and the beasts came to look at him," said Dengate, laughing. "And Sir James was over on the stile calling for help. Why, as soon as I ran at the bullocks they all galloped off, all but the big one, and I give him a crack on the horn, and soon made him go." "Of course. Why, a child would make 'em run. That's all, sir, I only wanted to know whether they really was dangerous, because if they had been, as I said afore, bullock it is now, but beef it should be. Good morning, sir." "What are you going to do!" said the doctor. "Do, sir? I'm a-going to let Sir James do his worst. My beasts ain't dangerous, and they ain't on a public road, so there they stay till I want 'em for the shop. Morning, young--er--gentleman. You're not afraid of a bullock?" "No," said Dexter quietly, "I don't think I am." "I'm sure you ain't, my lad, if you'll 'scuse me calling you so. Morning, sir, morning." The butcher backed out, smiling triumphantly, but only to put his head in again-- "Beg pardon, sir, only to say that if he'd asked me polite like, I'd ha' done it directly; but he didn't, and I'll stand upon my medder like a man." "Humph!" said the doctor, as soon as they were alone; "and so you were not afraid of the bullocks, Dexter?" "There wasn't anything to be afraid of," said the boy. "I'm ever so much more afraid of you." "Afraid?" "Yes, when you look cross, sir, only then." "Well, you must not make me look cross, Dexter; and now get on with your copying. When you've done that you may go in the garden if you'll keep out of mischief." "And when may I go fishing?" "When you like." "Down the meadows!" "Why not fish down the garden; there's a capital place." "All right," said Dexter. "I'll go there. But I want a rod and line." "There is an old rod in the hall, and you can buy a line. No, Helen is going out, and she will buy you one." Dexter's eyes glistened at the idea of going fishing, and he set to work most industriously at the copying, which in due time he handed over to the Doctor, who expressed himself as highly satisfied: though if he really was, he was easily pleased. Helen had received her instructions, and she soon afterwards returned with the fishing-line, and a fair supply of extra hooks, and odds and ends, which the doctor, as an old angler, had suggested. "These--all for me!" cried the boy joyfully. The doctor nodded. "Recollect: no mischief, and don't tumble in." "All right, sir," cried the boy, who was gloating over the new silk line, with its cork float glistening in blue and white paint brought well up with varnish. "Do you know how to fish!" "Yes, I know all about it, sir." "How's that? You never went fishing at the workhouse." "No, sir; but old Dimsted in the House used to tell us boys all about it, and how he used to catch jack and eels, and roach and perch, in the river." "Very well, then," said the doctor. "Now you can go." Dexter went off in high glee, recalling divers instructions given by the venerable old pauper who had been a fishing idler all his life, the river always having more attractions for him than work. His son followed in his steps, and he again had a son with the imitative faculty, and spending every hour he could find at the river-side. It was a well-known fact in Coleby that the Dimsteds always knew where fish was to be found, and the baskets they made took the place of meat that other fathers and sons of families would have earned. Rod, line, and hooks are prime necessaries for fishing; but a fish rarely bites at a bare hook, so one of Dexter's first proceedings was to obtain some bait. Mr Dengate had said that his man should save plenty of gentles for him; but Dexter resolved not to wait for them that day, but to try what he could do with worms and paste. So his first proceeding was to appeal to Mrs Millett for a slice or two of bread. Mrs Millett was not in the kitchen, but Maria was, and on being appealed to, she said sharply that she was not the cook. Dexter looked puzzled, and he flushed a little as he wondered why it was that the maid looked so cross, and always answered him so snappishly. Just then Mrs Millett, who was a plump elderly female with a pleasant countenance and expression, appeared in the doorway, and to her Dexter appealed in turn. Mrs Millett had been disposed to look at Dexter from the point of view suggested by Maria, who had been making unpleasant allusions to the boy's birth and parentage, and above all to "Master's strange goings on," ever since Dexter's coming. Hence, then, the old lady, who looked upon herself as queen of the kitchen, had a sharp reproof on her tongue, and was about to ask the boy why he hadn't stopped in his own place, and rung for what he wanted. The frank happy expression on his face disarmed her, and she smiled and cut the required bread. "Well, I never!" said Maria. "Ah, my dear," said Mrs Millett; "I was young once, and I didn't like to be scolded. He isn't such a bad-looking boy after all, only he will keep apples in his bedroom, and make it smell." "What's looks!" said Maria tartly, as she gave a candlestick she was cleaning a fierce rub. "A deal, my dear, sometimes," said the old housekeeper. "Specially if they're sweet ones, and that's what yours are not now." Dexter was not yet armed with all he wanted, for he was off down the kitchen-garden in search of worms. His first idea was to get a spade and dig for himself; but the stern countenance of Dan'l Copestake rose up before him, and set him wondering what would be the consequences if he were to be found turning over some bed. On second thoughts he determined to find the gardener and ask for permission, the dread of not succeeding in his mission making him for the moment more thoughtful. Dan'l did not need much looking for. He had caught sight of Dexter as soon as he entered the garden, and gave vent to a grunt. "Now, what mischief's he up to now?" he grumbled; and he set to and watched the boy while making believe to be busy cutting the dead leaves and flowers off certain plants. He soon became aware of the fact that Dexter was searching for him, and this altered the case, for he changed his tactics, and kept on moving here and there, so as to avoid the boy. "Here! Hi! Mr Copestake!" cried Dexter; but the old man had been suddenly smitten with that worst form of deafness peculiar to those who will not hear; and it was not until Dexter had pursued him round three or four beds, during which he seemed to be blind as well as deaf, that the old man was able to see him. "Eh!" he said. "Master want me?" "No. I'm going fishing; and, please, I want some worms." "Wums? Did you say wums!" said Dan'l, affecting deafness, and holding his hand to his ear. "Yes." "Ay, you're right; they are," grumbled Dan'l. "Deal o' trouble, wums. Gets inter the flower-pots, and makes wum castesses all over the lawn, and they all has to be swept up." "Yes; but I want some for fishing." "'Ficient? Quite right, not sufficient help to get 'em swep' away." "Will you dig a few worms for me, please?" shouted Dexter in the old man's ear. "Dig wums? What for? Oh, I see, thou'rt going fishing. No; I can't stop." "May I dig some!" cried Dexter; but Dan'l affected not to hear him, and went hurriedly away. "He knew what I wanted all the time," said the boy to himself. "He don't like me no more than Maria does." Just then he caught sight of Peter Cribb, who, whenever he was not busy in the stable, seemed to be chained to a birch broom. "Will you dig a few worms for me, please?" said Dexter; "red ones." "No; I'm sweeping," said the groom gruffly; and then, in the most inconsistent way, he changed his tone, for he had a weakness for the rod and line himself. "Going fishing!" "Yes, if I can get some worms." "Where's old Copestake!" "Gone into the yard over there," said Dexter. "All right. I'll dig you some. Go behind the wall there, by the cucumber frames. Got a pot!" Dexter shook his head. "All right. I'll bring one." Dexter went to the appointed place, and in a few minutes Peter appeared, free from the broom now, and bearing a five-pronged fork and a small flower-pot; for the fact that the boy was a brother angler superseded the feeling of animosity against one who had so suddenly been raised from a lowly position and placed over his head. Peter winked one eye as he scraped away some of the dry straw, and then turned over a quantity of the moist, rotten soil, displaying plenty of the glistening red worms suitable for the capture of roach and perch. "There you are," he said, after putting an ample supply in the flower-pot, whose hole he had stopped with a piece of clay; "there's as many as you'll want; and now, you go and fish down in the deep hole, where the wall ends in the water, and I wish you luck." _ |
||