Up The Hill And Over Part 20

"Isn't there such a thing as character?" bluntly.

"As distinct from the nervous system? Some say not. But we do not need to venture such a devastating belief to know, well, that a dyspeptic is usually disagreeable. In potential character he may be equal to the cheeriest man who ever ate a hearty dinner. Think of Carlyle."

"I don't like Carlyle."

"But don't you admire him?"

"No. Do you remember the story of the beggar who picked up his hat one day and instead of giving him sixpence, Carlyle said, 'Mon, ye may say ye hae picked up the hat of Thomas Carlyle.'"

The doctor laughed. "Oh he had a guid conceit o' himself--must you go?"

For Esther had risen.

"Yes, thank you. Oh, please do not come with me. It is only a step. I'd much rather not. Mrs. Sykes would conclude that the whole family were in danger of immediate extinction."

She was so evidently perturbed that the doctor laid down his hat, but for the first time it occurred to him that Mrs. Sykes was not an unmixed blessing.

Esther was holding out her hand.

"Then you think we can safely leave it until mother returns?"

"I think we shall have to, and if things have been going on as long as you think, a week more or less will make no very material difference. In any case we cannot examine a lady by force or prevent her from getting a prescription until one knows it to be dangerous."

"No, of course not. Good-night, and--thank you, Doctor!"

"And I am not to be allowed to walk home with you?"

"Truly, I would rather not."

"Then good-night, and don't worry."

He watched her flit down the dusky path, heard the click of the gate latch, and turned back into the office to wonder why it seemed suddenly bare and empty!

CHAPTER XII

Mrs. Coombe had been in the city a week when one morning Ann, who was feeling lonely without Jane, sat swinging upon the five-barred gate and whistling intermittently for Bubble. She had become very tired of waiting. She knew that Bubble could hear. The five-barred gate was within easy hearing distance of the house, and both doors and windows of the office were open. Therefore it became each moment more evident that the whistles were being deliberately ignored.

"Horrid, nasty boy!" exclaimed Ann, climbing to a precarious seat on the highest of the five bars. "Well, if he waits until I come to get him, he'll--just wait!"

It was very hot on the gate. The vacant field on the other side, where the Widow Peel pastured her cow, was hot, too, but if one cut across the field and circled the back of the Widow Peel's cottage one substantially lessened the distance between oneself and the cool deliciousness of the river. The Widow Peel was near-sighted and hardly ever noticed one rus.h.i.+ng over her beds of lettuce and carrots and onions, or if she did, she could not "fit a name to 'em."

Ann sighed and swung her brown legs. Should she or should she not go in search of Bubble? Going would mean a distasteful swallowing of proper pride; not going would mean--no Bubble. It would be a case of cutting off one's nose--Ann's small white teeth came together with a little click.

"I'll go. But I'll pay him out afterwards."

With this thoroughly feminine decision she tumbled off the gate, raced across the orchard and, having paused a moment to regain breath and poise, appeared casually at the office door. The office looked cool and empty; Bubble was not upon his official stool. Perhaps, after all, he had not heard the whistles! Perhaps--

"What d'ye want?" asked a gruff voice from behind the desk.

Ann jumped, and then tried to look as if she hadn't.

"I knew you were there!" she said. "But just you wait till the doctor catches you at it!" Mounting the step she frowned across at Bubble who, in the doctor's favourite att.i.tude, was reclining in the doctor's chair.

"I suppose you think you look like him, but you don't, nor act like him either. If he was sitting there and a lady came in, he'd be up too quick for anything. And if the lady was polite and stayed on the doorstep (just like I am) he would say, 'Pray come in, madam,' and then he'd set a chair and--"

"Oh, cut it out!" Bubble's dignity collapsed with his att.i.tude. The tilted chair came down with a bang and its occupant settled himself more naturally upon a corner of the desk. "Don't bother me! I can't come out.

Doctor's away. Some one's got to attend to business. See those medicines? Well, don't you go handling them! This here is for Lizzie Stephens (measles), and that there is for Mrs. Nixon (twins). If they got mixed I'd be responsible. Run away!"

"Where's the doctor?" asked Ann, ignoring.

"The doctor is out. You needn't wait. He won't be back all day."

"Where'd he go?"

"Little girls mustn't ask questions!"

Ann's small face wrinkled into an elfish grin. "I know where he's gone,"

she said slyly.

"Yes, you do!" This sarcastic comment was Bubble's most emphatic negative.

"Very well, then, I don't."

Not to be outdone, Ann volunteered no further information. She sat down on the step and waited.

Bubble busied himself with tying up the bottles. Presently he stepped out from behind the desk.

"Think you can mind the office while I run around with these medicines?"

he asked sternly.

"Sure!" Ann's a.s.sent was placid.

"What'll you say if any one comes and asks for the doctor--or me?"

"You're out delivering medicines and the doctor's been called away very sudden."

"What'll you tell them if they ask you what he's been called away to?"

"Oh, I'll just say they needn't worry, 'tisn't anything catching."

Bubble allowed his face to relax. He even displayed a grudging admiration for this feminine diplomacy.

"And you wouldn't be telling lies, either," he remarked approvingly.

"All the same," with a return to gloom, "we can't keep it a secret.

Folks are bound to find out. You can bet your eyes on that!"

Ann nodded. "I expect most of them know by now. Any one that wanted to could see them. _He_ didn't seem to care. They drove right down the main street and you could see the picnic basket sticking out at the side!"