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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 27. Dexter Writes A Letter |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. DEXTER WRITES A LETTER Dexter watched his chance one afternoon when the study was empty, and stole in, looking very guilty. Maria saw him going in, and went into the kitchen and told Mrs Millett. "I don't care," she said, "you may say what you like, but it's in him." "What's in him!" said the old housekeeper, raising her tortoise-shell spectacles so as to get a good look at Maria, who seemed quite excited. "Master may have tutors as is clergymen to teach him, and Miss Helen may talk and try, but he's got it in him, and you can't get it out." "Who are you talking about, Maria," said the old lady testily. "That boy," said Maria, shaking her head. "It's of no good, he's got it in him, and nothing won't get it out." "Bless my heart!" cried Mrs Millett, thinking first of mustard and water, and then of castor-oil, "has the poor fellow swallowed something?" "No-o-o-o!" ejaculated Maria, drawing the word out to nearly a foot in length. "But you said he'd got something in him, Maria. Good gracious me, girl! what do you mean!" "Sin and wickedness, Mrs Millett. He comes of a bad lot, and Dan'l says he's always keeping bad company." "Dan'l's a chattering old woman, and had better mind his slugs and snails." "But the boy's always in mischief; see how he spoiled your silk dress." "Only spotted it, Maria, and it was clean water. I certainly thought it rained as I went under his window." "Yes, and you fetched your umbrella." "I did, Maria. But he's better now. Give him his physic regular, and it does him good." "Did you find out what was the matter with those salts and senny!" "No, Maria, I did not. I had to break the glass to get it out; set hard as a stone. It was a good job he did not take it." Mrs Millett never did find out that Dexter had poured in cement till the glass would hold no more, and his medicine became a solid lump. "Ah, you'll be tired of him soon," said Maria. "No, I don't think I shall, Maria. You see he's a boy, and he does behave better. Since I told him not, he hasn't taken my basting-spoon to melt lead for what he calls nickers; and then he hasn't repeated that wicked cruel trick of sitting on the wall." "Why, I see him striddling the ridge of the old stable, with his back to the weathercock, only yesterday." "Yes, Maria, but he wasn't fishing over the wall with worms to try and catch Mrs Biggins's ducks, a very cruel trick which he promised me he wouldn't do any more; and he hasn't pretended to be a cat on the roof, nor yet been to me to extract needles which he had stuck through his cheeks out of mischief; and I haven't seen him let himself down from the stable roof with a rope; and, as I told him, that clothes-line wasn't rope." "Ah, you always sided with the boy, Mrs Millett," said Maria; "but mark my words, some of these mornings we shall get up and find that he has let burglars into the house, and Master and Miss Helen will be robbed and murdered in their beds." "Maria, you're a goose," said the old housekeeper. "Don't talk such rubbish." "Ah, you may call it rubbish, Mrs Millett, but if you'd seen that boy just now stealing--" "Stealing, Maria?" "Yes 'm, stealing into Master's study like a thief in the night--and after no good, I'll be bound,--you wouldn't be so ready to take his part." "Gone in to write his lessons," said Mrs Millett. "There, you go and get about your work." Maria snorted, stuck out her chin, and left the kitchen. "Yes, she may talk, but I say he's after no good," muttered the housemaid; "and I'm going to see what he's about, or my name ain't what it is." Meanwhile Dexter was very busy in the study, but in a furtive way writing the following letter in a bold, clear hand, which was, however, rather shaky in the loops of the letters, while the capitals had an inclination to be independent, and to hang away from the small letters of the various words:-- Sir, Me and a friend have borrowed your boat, for we are going a long journey; but as we may keep it all together, I send to you fourteen shillings and a fourpny piece, which I have saved up, and if that isn't quite quite enough I shall send you some more. I hope you won't mind our taking your boat, but Bob Dimsted says we must have it, or we can't get on. Yours af--very truly, Obed Coleby, or To Sir Jhames Danby, Dexter Grayson. Dexter's spelling was a little shaky here and there, but the letter was pretty intelligible; and, as soon as it was done, he took out his money and made a packet of it, and doubled it up, a task he had nearly finished, when he became aware that the door was partly opened, and as he guiltily thrust the packet into his pocket the door opened widely, and Maria entered, with a sharp, short cough. "Did I leave my duster here, Master Dexter!" she said, looking round sharply. Before Dexter could reply, she continued-- "No, I must have left it upstairs." She whisked out and closed the door with a bang, the very opposite of the way in which she had opened it, and said to herself triumphantly-- "There, I knew he was doing of something wrong, and if I don't find him out, my name ain't Maria." Dexter hurriedly finished his packet, laying the money in it again after further consideration--in and out amongst the paper, so that the money should not chink, and then placing it in the enclosure with the letter, he tied it up with a piece of the red tape the doctor kept in a little drawer, sealed it, and directed it in his plainest hand to Sir James Danby. Dexter felt better after this was done, and the jacket-pocket a little bulgy in which his missive was stuffed. He had previously felt a little uneasy about the boat; but though not quite at rest now, he felt better satisfied, and as if this was a duty done. That same evening, just before it grew dusk, Dexter watched his opportunity, and stole off down the garden, after making sure that he was not watched. There was no one visible on the other side, and it seemed as if Bob Dimsted was not coming, so after waiting a few minutes Dexter was about to go back to the house, with the intention of visiting his pets, when there was a loud chirping whistle from across the river. Dexter looked sharply through the gathering gloom; but still no one was visible, and then the chirp came again. "Are you there, Bob?" "Why, course I am," said that young gentleman, rising up from where he had lain flat behind a patch of coarse herbage. "I'm not the sort of chap to stay away when I says I'll come. Nearly ready!" "Ye-es," said Dexter. "No gammon, you know," said Bob. "I mean it, so no shirking out." "I mean to come too," said Dexter with a sigh. "Well, you do sound jolly cheerful; you don't know what a game it's going to be." "No, not quite--yet," said Dexter. "But how are we going to manage!" "Well, if ever!" exclaimed Bob. "You are a rum chap, and no mistake. Of course we shall take the boat, and I've got that table-cloth ready for a sail, and a bit of rope to hoist it up." Dexter winced about that table-cloth, one which he had borrowed at Bob's wish from the housekeeper's room. "But must we take that boat?" "Why, of course, but we shall send it back some day as good as new, hanging behind a ship, and then have it sent up the river. I know lots of fellows who'll put it back for me if I ask 'em." Dexter felt a little better satisfied, and then listened to his companion's plans, which were very simple, but effective all the same, though common honesty did not come in. The conversation was carried on across the river, and to ensure its not being heard, Dexter lay down on the grass and put his lips close to the water, Bob Dimsted doing the same, when, it being quite a still evening, conversation became easy. "What are your people doing now?" said Bob, after they had been talking some time. "Dr Grayson is writing, and Miss Grayson reading." "Why, we might go now--easy." "No," said Dexter. "If we did, it would be found out directly, and we should be fetched back, and then, I dare say, they'd send me again to the school." "And yer don't want to go there again, do you!" "No," said Dexter, with a shudder. "Don't forget the ball of string I told you about?" "No, I've got that," replied Bob sharply. "And p'r'aps that won't be long enough. It's very deep in the sea. Now mind, you're here." "Yes, I'll mind." "If yer don't come, I won't never forgive you for making a fool of me." "I won't do that," said Dexter; and then after a little more hesitation as to something he particularly wanted to do, and which he saw no other way of doing, he whispered-- "Bob!" "Hullo!" "Will you do something for me before you come!" "Yes, if I can. But I say, don't you forget to bring a big bundle of your clothes and things, and if you don't want 'em all, I can wear some of 'em." Dexter was silent. "And as much money as you can; and, I say, the old un never give you a watch, did he?" "No." "You wouldn't like to borrow his, would you!" "No, of course not," said Dexter indignantly. "Oh, I don't want you to, unless you like. Only watches is useful at sea. Sailors find out where they are by their watches. I don't quite know how, but we could soon find out. Whatcher want me to do!" "I want you to take a little parcel to Sir James Danby's." "I ain't going to carry no parcels," said Bob importantly. "It's only a very little one, as big as your hand. You know the letter-box in Sir James's big door!" "I should just think I do," said Bob, with a hoarse laugh. "Me and two more boys put a lighted cracker in last fift' o' November." "I want you to go there last thing," said Dexter, as he could not help wondering whether the cracker made a great deal of noise in the letter-box; "and to drop the packet in just as if it was a letter. I mean just before you come." "But what for?" "Because it must be taken there. I want it taken." "O very well. Where is it?" "Here," said Dexter, taking out his carefully tied and sealed packet. "Chuck it across." "Get up, then, and be ready to catch it." "All right! Now then, shy away." Dexter drew back from the river, and aiming carefully at where he could see Bob's dim figure, he measured the distance with his eye, and threw. _Slap_! "Got it!" cried Bob. And then, "Oh!" There was a splash. "Just kitched on the top o' my finger, and bounced off," whispered the boy excitedly. "O Bob, what have you done!" "Well, I couldn't help it. I ain't a howl.--How could I see in the dark!" "Can't you see where it fell in!" "Why, ain't I a-trying. Don't be in such a fuss." Dexter felt as if their expedition was at an end, and he stood listening with a breast full of despair as Bob lay down at the edge of the river, and rolling up his sleeve began feeling about in the shallow water. "It's no good," he said. "It's gone." "O Bob!" "Well, what's the good of 'O Bobbing' a fellow? I couldn't help it. It's gone, and--Here: I got it!" Bob rose up and gave his arm a whirl to drive off some of the moisture. "It's all right," he said. "I'll wrap it in my hankychy, and it'll soon dry in my pocket, I say, what's inside?" "Something for Sir James." "Oh! S'pose you don't know!" "Is the paper undone?" said Dexter anxiously. "No, it's all right, I tell yer, and it'll soon get dry." "And you'll be sure and take it to Sir James's." "Now?" "No, no, last thing to-night, just before you come, and don't ring, only drop the thing in the letter-box." "All right. Didn't I get my arm wet! There, I'm going home to get it dry, and put the rest of my things ready. Mind you bring yours all right." Dexter did not answer, but his companion's words made him feel very low-spirited, for he had a good deal in his mind, and he stood listening to Bob, as that young worthy went off, whistling softly, to make his final preparations for the journey down the river to sea, and then to foreign lands, and the attempt seemed now to begin growing very rapidly, till it was like a dense dark cloud rising higher and higher, and something seemed to keep asking the boy whether he was doing right. He felt that he was not, but, at the same time, the idea that he was thoroughly misunderstood, and that he would never be happy at the doctor's, came back as strongly as ever. "They all look upon me as a workhouse boy," he muttered, "and Bob's right. I'd better go away." _ |
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