The Rosery Folk Part 8

"Not going to be anything, is it?"

"Well," said the doctor, "I don't know, but a cold will settle sometimes upon the nerves."

"Oh! hang it, man, don't talk about one's nerves. Here, come along, I shall forget it. Let's go and have some tea."

Volume 1, Chapter VIII.

JACK SCALES MEETS HIS FATE.

"That's what I like in the country," said Jack Scales to himself, as he thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled down one of the garden paths. "Humph! Five o'clock, and people snoring in bed, when they might be up and out enjoying this lovely air, the sweet dewy scent of the flowers, and the clear suns.h.i.+ne, and be inhaling health with every breath they draw. Bah! I can't understand how people can lie in bed-- in the country. There is reason in stopping in peaceful thought upon one's pillow in town till nine.--Ah, gardener, nice morning."

"Beautiful morning, sir," said John Monnick, touching his hat, and then going on with his task of carefully whetting a scythe, and sending a pleasant ringing sound out upon the sweet silence of the time.

"Gra.s.s cuts well, eh?" said the doctor.

"Yes, sir; crisp, as if there was a white frost on."

"Ah, let's try," said the doctor. "I haven't handled a scythe for a good many years now."

"No, sir; I s'pose not," said Monnick, with a half-contemptuous smile.

"Mind you don't stick the pynte into the ground, sir, and don't ee cut too deep. I like to keep my lawns regular like."

"Why don't you have a machine?" said the doctor, taking the scythe, and sweeping it round with a slow measured _swish_ that took off the gra.s.s and the dewy daisies to leave a velvet pile.

"Machine, sir? Oh, there's two in the potting shed; but I don't want no machines, sir. Noo-fangled things, that breaks a man's back to push 'em along. You has to put yourself in a onnat'ral-like position to work 'em, and when you've done it, the gra.s.s don't look like as if it had been mowed.--Well, you do s'prise me, sir; I didn't know as you could mow."

"Didn't you, Monnick?" said the doctor, pausing to take the piece of carpet with which the old man wiped the blade, using it, and then reaching out his hand for the long gritty whetstone, with which he proceeded to sharpen the scythe in the most business-like way. "Ah, you never know what a man can do till you try him. You see, Monnick, when I was a young fellow, I often used to cut the Rectory lawns at home."

"He's a clever one," muttered the old man, watching intently the rubber, as it was pa.s.sed with quite a scientific touch up and down and from side to side of the long curved blade. "Man who can mow like that must, be a good doctor. I'll ask him about my 'bago."

"There, I'm going for a walk. I'm out of condition too, and mowing touches my back."

"Do it now, sir?" said the old man, smiling. "Hah! that's where it lays hold o' me in a rheumaticky sort o' way, sir. You couldn't tell me what'd be good for it, sir, could you? I've tried the iles, but it seems as if it was getting worse."

"Oh, I'll give you something, Monnick," said the doctor, laughing; "but, you know, there's a touch of old age in your complaint."

"Eh, but I'm afraid there is, sir; but thank you kindly, and you'll forgive me making so bold as to ask."

"Of course, of course. Come to me after breakfast.--And look here, I want to get on the open heathy part, among the gorse and fir-trees.

Which road had I better take?"

"Well, sir, if you don't mind the wet gra.s.s, you'd best go acrost the meadows out into the lane, turn to the left past the church, take the first turning to the right, and go straight on."

"Thanks; I shall find my way. Don't forget. I daresay I can set you right." And the doctor went off at a swinging pace, crossed the meadows, where the soft-eyed cows paused to look up at him, then leaped a gate, walked down the lane, had a look at the pretty old church, embowered in trees, and had nearly reached the open common-land, when the sharp cantering of a horse roused him from his pleasant morning reverie.

He looked round, to see that the cantering horse was ridden by a lady, whose long habit and natty felt hat set off what seemed in the distance to be a very graceful figure; while the oncoming group appeared to be advancing through an elongated telescopic frame of green leaves and drooping branches, splashed with gold and blue.

"Here's one sensible woman, at all events. What a splendid horse!" His glance was almost momentary. Then, feeling that he was staring rudely, he went on with his walk, continuing his way along the lane, and pa.s.sing a gate that opened at once upon the furzy common-land.

Suddenly the horse was checked a short distance behind him, and an imperious voice called out: "Here!--hi!--my man."

John Scales, M.D., felt amused. "This is one of the haughty aristocrats we read about in books," he said to himself, as he turned and saw a handsome, imperious-looking woman of eight-and-twenty or so, beckoning to him with the handle of her whip.

"The G.o.ddess Diana in a riding-habit by Poole, and superbly mounted,"

muttered the doctor as he stared wonderingly. He saw that the lady's hair was dark, her cheeks slightly flushed with exorcise; that there was a glint of very white teeth between two scarlet lips; that the figure was really what he had at the first glance imagined--well formed and graceful, if slightly too matured; and his first idea was to take off his hat and stand uncovered in the presence of so much beauty; his second, as he saw the curl of the lady's upper lip, and her imperious glance, to thrust his hands lower in his pockets and return the haughty stare.

"Here, my man, come and open this gate."

As she spoke. Scales saw her pa.s.s her whip into her bridle hand, draw off a tan-coloured gauntlet glove, and a white and jewelled set of taper fingers go towards the little pocket in her saddle.

"Why, confound her impudence! she takes me for a yokel, and is going to give me a pint of beer," said the doctor to himself; and he stood as if turned into stone.

"Do you hear!" she cried again sharply, and in the tones of one accustomed to the greatest deference. "Come and open this gate."

John Scales felt his dignity touched, for he too was accustomed to the greatest deference, such as a doctor generally receives. For a moment he felt disposed to turn upon his heel and walk away; but he did not, for he burst into a hearty laugh, and walked straight up to the speaker, the latter flus.h.i.+ng crimson with anger at the insolence, as she mentally called it, of this stranger.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed. "Open that gate;" and she retook her whip with her ungloved hand to point onward, while her highly bred horse pawed the ground, and snorted and tossed its mane, as if indignant too.

"How dare I, my dear?" said the doctor coolly, as he mentally determined not to be set down.

"Sir!" exclaimed the lady with a flash of her dark eyes that made the recipient think afterwards that here was the style of woman who, in the good old times, would have handed him over to her serfs. "Do you know whom you are addressing?"

"Not I," said the doctor; "unless you are some very beautiful edition in animated nature of the huntress Diana."

"Sir!"

"And if you were not such a handsome woman, I should leave you to open the gate yourself, or leap the hedge, which seems more in your way."

"How _dare_ you!" she cried, utterly astounded at the speaker's words.

"How dare I?" said the doctor, smiling. "Oh, I'd dare anything now, to see those eyes sparkle and those cheeks flush. There," he continued, unfastening the gate and throwing it back; "the gate's open. _Au revoir_."

The lady seemed petrified. Then, giving her horse a sharp cut, he bounded through on to the furzy heath, and went off over the rough ground like a swallow.

The doctor stood gazing after them, half expecting to see the lady turn her head; but she rode straight on till she pa.s.sed out of sight, when he refastened the gate.

"She might have given me the twopence for that pint of beer," he said mockingly. "Why, she has!" he cried, stooping and picking up a sixpence that lay upon the bare earth close to the gate-post. "Well, come, I'll keep you, my little friend, and give you back. We may meet again some day."

It was a trifling incident, but it seemed to affect the doctor a good deal, for he walked on amidst the furze and heath, seeing no golden bloom and hearing no bird-song, but giving vent every now and then to some short angry e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. For he was ruffled and annoyed. He hardly knew why, unless it was at having been treated with such contemptuous disdain.

"And by a woman, too," he cried at last, stopping short, "of all creatures in the world. Confound her impudence! I should just like to prescribe for her, upon my word."

Volume 1, Chapter IX.

AUNT SOPHIA ON BOATS.

The encounter completely spoiled the doctor's walk, and he turned back sooner than he had intended, meeting Aunt Sophia and Naomi Raleigh in the garden, and accompanying them in to the breakfast-table, where the incident was forgotten in the discussion that ensued respecting returns to town. Of these, Scarlett would hear nothing, for he had made his plans. He said they were to dine at five; and directly after, the boat would be ready, and they would pull up to the lock, and then float down home again by moonlight.

"Well," said Scales, with a shrug of the shoulders, "you are master here."