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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 43. The Right Place For A Backward Boy |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY THREE. THE RIGHT PLACE FOR A BACKWARD BOY "Where's Dexter?" said the doctor. "Down the garden," said Helen. "Humph! Hope he is not getting into fresh mischief." "I hope not, papa," said Helen; "and really I think he is trying very hard." "Yes," said the doctor, going on with his writing. "How are his knuckles now? can he hold a pen?" "I think I would let him wait another day or two. And, papa, have you given him a good talking to about that fight?" "No. Have you?" "Yes, two or three times; and he has promised never to fight again." "My dear Helen, how can you be so absurd?" cried the doctor testily. "That's just the way with a woman. You ask the boy to promise what he cannot perform. He is sure to get fighting again at school or somewhere." "But it seems such a pity, papa." "Pooh! pish! pooh! tchah!" ejaculated the doctor, at intervals. "He gave that young scoundrel a good thrashing, and quite right too. Don't tell him I said so." The doctor had laid down his pen to speak, but he took it up again and began writing, but only to lay it aside once more. "Dear me! dear me!" he muttered. "I don't seem to get on with my book as I should like." He put down his pen again, rose, took a turn or two up and down the room, and then picked up the newspaper. "Very awkward of that stupid fellow Limpney," he said, as he began running down the advertisements. "What did he say, papa, when you spoke to him?" "Say? Lot of stuff about losing _prestige_ with his other pupils. Was sure Lady Danby did not like him to be teaching a boy of Dexter's class and her son. Confound his impudence! Must have a tutor for the boy of some kind." Helen glanced uneasily at her father, and then out into the garden. "Plenty of schools; plenty of private tutors," muttered the doctor scanning the advertisements. "Hah!" "What is it, papa!" The doctor struck the paper in the middle, doubled it up, and then frowned severely as he thrust his gold spectacles up on to his forehead. "I've made a mistake, my dear,--a great mistake." "About Dexter!" "Yes: a very great mistake." "But I'm sure he will improve," said Helen anxiously. "So am I, my dear. But our mistake is this: we took the boy from the Union schools, and we kept him here at once, where every one knew him and his late position. We ought to have sent him away for two or three years, and he would have come back completely changed, and the past history forgotten." "Sent him to a boarding-school!" "Well--er! Hum! No, not exactly," said the doctor, pursing up his lips. "Listen here, my dear. The very thing! just as if fate had come to my help." The doctor rustled the paper a little, and then began to read-- "'Backward and disobedient boys.'" "But Dexter--" "Hush, my dear; hear it all. Dexter is backward, and he is disobedient; not wilfully perhaps, but disobedient decidedly. Now listen-- "'Backward and disobedient boys.--The Reverend Septimus Mastrum, MA Oxon, receives a limited number of pupils of neglected education. Firm and kindly treatment. Extensive grounds. Healthy situation. For terms apply to the Reverend Septimus Mastrum, Firlands, Longspruce Station.'" "There! What do you say to that?" said the doctor. "I don't know what to say, papa," said Helen rather sadly. "Perhaps you are right." "Right!" cried the doctor. "The very thing, my dear. I'll write to Mr Mastrum at once. Three or four years of special education will be the making of the boy." The doctor sat down and wrote. The answer resulted in a meeting in London, where the Reverend Septimus Mastrum greatly impressed the doctor. Terms were agreed upon, and the doctor came back. "Splendid fellow, my dear. Six feet high. Says Mrs Mastrum will act the part of a mother to the boy." "Does he seem very severe, papa?" "Severe, my dear? Man with a perpetual smile on his countenance." "I do not like men with perpetual smiles on their countenances, papa." "My dear Helen, do not be so prejudiced," said the doctor angrily. "I have seen Mr Mastrum: you have not. I have told him everything about Dexter; he applauds my plan, and assures me that in two or three years I shall hardly know the boy, he will be so improved." Helen sighed. "We had a long discussion about my book, and he agrees that I am quite right. So pray do not begin to throw obstacles in the way." Helen rose and kissed her father's forehead. "I am going to do everything I can to aid your plans, papa," she said, smiling. "Of course I do not like parting with Dexter, and I cannot help feeling that there is some truth in what you say about a change being beneficial for a time; but Dexter is a peculiar boy, and I would rather have had him under my own eye." "Yes, of course, my dear. Very good of you," said the doctor; "but this way is the best. Of course he will have holidays, and we shall go to see him, and so on." "When is he to go, papa?" "Directly." "Directly?" "Well, in a day or two." Helen was silent for a moment or two, and then she moved toward the door. "Where are you going!" said the doctor sharply. "To make preparations, and warn Mrs Millett. He must have a good box of clothes and linen." "To be sure, of course," said the doctor. "Get whatever is necessary. It is the right thing, my dear, and the boy shall go at once." The doctor was so energetic and determined that matters progressed very rapidly, and the clothes and other necessaries increased at such a rate in Dexter's room that most boys would have been in a state of intense excitement. Dexter was not, and he avoided the house as much as he could, spending a great deal of time in the garden and stables. "So they're going to send you off to school, eh, Master Dexter?" said Peter, pausing to rest on his broom-handle. "Yes, Peter." "And you don't want to go? No wonder! I never liked school. Never had much on it, neither; but I know all I want." "Hullo!" said a voice behind them; and, turning, Dexter saw Dan'l standing behind him, with the first dawn of a smile, on his face. Dexter nodded, and began to move away. "So you're going off, are yer!" said Dan'l. "Two floggings a day for a year. You're in for it, youngster." "Get out," said Dexter. "They don't flog boys at good schools." "Oh, don't they?" said Dan'l. "You'll see. Well, never mind! And, look here, I'll ask master to let me send you a basket o' apples and pears when they're ripe." "You will, Dan'l!" cried Dexter excitedly. "Ay: Peter and me'll do you up a basket, and take it to the station. Be a good boy, and no more Bob Dimsted's." Dan'l chuckled as if he had said something very funny, and walked away. "Here, don't look dumpy about it, my lad," said Peter kindly. "'Tain't for ever and a day." "No, Peter," said Dexter gloomily, "it isn't for ever." "Sorry you're going, though, my lad." "Are you, Peter!" "Am I? Course I am. A man can't help liking a boy as can fight like you." Matters were growing harder for Dexter indoors now that his departure was so near. Mrs Millett was particularly anxious about him; and so sure as the boy went up to his room in the middle of the day, it was to find the old housekeeper on her knees, and her spectacles carefully balanced, trying all his buttons to see if they were fast. "Now I'm going to put you up two bottles of camomile tea, and pack them in the bottom of your box, with an old coffee-cup without a handle. It just holds the right quantity, and you'll promise me, won't you, Master Dexter, to take a dose regularly twice a week!" "Yes; I'll promise you," said Dexter. "Now, that's a good boy," cried the old lady, getting up and patting his shoulder. "Look here," she continued, leading him to the box by the drawers, "I've put something else in as well." She lifted up a layer of linen, all scented with lavender, and showed him a flat, round, brown-paper parcel. "It's not a very rich cake," she said, "but there are plenty of currants and peel in, and I'm sure it's wholesome." Even Maria became very much interested in Master Dexter's boots and shoes, and the parting from the doctor's house for the second time promised to be very hard. It grew harder as the time approached, for, with the gentleness of an elder sister, Helen exercised plenty of supervision over the preparation. Books, a little well-filled writing-case and a purse, were among the things she added. "The writing-case is for me, Dexter," she said, with a smile. "For you?" he said wonderingly. "Yes, so that I may have, at least, two letters from you every week. You promise that?" "Oh yes," he said, "if you will not mind the writing." "And the purse is for you," she said. "If you want a little more money than papa is going to allow you weekly, you may write and ask me." It grew harder still on the morning of departure, and Dexter would have given anything to stay, but he went off manfully with the doctor in the station fly, passing Sir James Danby and Master Edgar on the road. "Humph!" grunted the doctor. "See that, Dexter!" "I saw Sir James laugh at you when he nodded." "Do you know why!" Dexter was silent for a few minutes. "Because he thinks you are foolish to take so much trouble over me." "That's it, Dexter," said the doctor eagerly. "So, now, I'll tell you what I want you to do." "Yes, sir?" "Show him that I'm right and he's wrong." Dexter looked a promise, for he could not speak just then, nor yet when they had passed through London that afternoon, reached Longspruce station, and been driven to the Reverend Septimus Mastrum's house, five miles away among the fir-trees and sand of that bleak region. Here the doctor bade him "Good-bye," and Dexter, as he was standing in the great cold hall, felt that he was commencing a new phase in his existence. _ |
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