In the Roar of the Sea Part 32

Judith walked to Oth.e.l.lo Cottage, carrying the tobacco in her skirt, held up by both hands; and Jamie sauntered back to Polzeath, carrying his sister's basket of sh.e.l.ls, stopping at intervals to add to the collection, then ensconcing himself in a nook of the hedge to watch a finch, a goldhammer, or a blackbird, then stopped to observe and follow a beetle of gorgeous metallic hues that was running across the path.

Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish road; there was no main road in those parts maintained by toll-gates, and then observed a gig approach in which sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the other tall, but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former at once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. Scantlebray, who was driving, nudged his companion, and with the b.u.t.t-end of the whip pointed to the boy.

"Heigh! hi-up! Gaffer!" called Mr. Scantlebray, flapping his arms against his sides, much as does a c.o.c.k with his wings. "Come along; I have something of urgent importance to say to you--something so good that it will make you squeak; something so delicious that it will make your mouth water."

This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare leisurely trotted up to where the boy stood. Then Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at right angles to his trunk.

"Here's my brother thirsting, ravening to make your acquaintance--and, by George! you are in luck's way, young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah!

this here infant is an orphing. Orphing! this is Obadiah Scantlebray, whom I call Scanty because he is fat. Jump up, will y', into the gig."

Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea that he ought to wait for Judith or go directly home. But she had not forbidden him to have a ride, and a ride was what he dearly loved.

"Are you coming?" asked Scantlebray; "or do you need a more ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah, eh?"

"I've got a basket of sh.e.l.ls," said Jamie. "They belong to Ju."

"Well, put Ju's basket in--the sh.e.l.ls won't hurt--and then in with you. There's a nice little portmantle in front, on which you can sit and look us in the face, and if you don't tumble off with laughing, it will be because I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest fellow in Cornwall. It's a wonder I haven't died of laughter. I should have, but our paths diverged; he took up the medical line, and I the valuation and all that, so my life was saved. Are you comfortable there?"

"Yes, sir," said Jamie, seated himself where advised.

"Now for the strap round ye," said Scantlebray. "Don't be alarmed; it's to hold you together, lest you split your sides with merriment, and to hold you in, lest you tumble overboard convulsed with laughter. That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great Britain. Look at his face. Bless me! in church I should explode when I saw him, but that I am engrossed in my devotions. On with you, Juno!"

That to the gray mare, and a whip applied to make the gray mare trot along, which she did, with her head down lost in thought, or as if smelling the road, to make sure that she was on the right track.

"'Tisn't what he says," remarked Mr. Scantlebray, seeing a questioning expression on Jamie's innocent face, "it's the looks of him. And when he speaks--well, it's the way he says it more than what he says. I was at a Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the waiter, 'Cutlets, please!' The fellow dropped the dish, and I stuffed my napkin into my mouth, ran out, and went into a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young gentleman how to make a rabbit."

Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the lash of his whip, cast some objurgations at a horse-fly that was hovering and then darting at Juno.

Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled kerchief from his pocket, and proceeded to fold it on his lap.

"Just look at him," said the agent, "doing it in spite of the motion of the gig. It's wonderful. But his face is the butchery. I can't look at it for fear of letting go the reins."

The roads were unfrequented; not a person was pa.s.sing as the party jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray hissed to the mare between his front teeth, which were wide apart; then, turning his eye sideways, observed what his brother was about.

"That's his carcase," said he, in reference to the immature rabbit.

Then a man was sighted coming along the road, humming a tune. It was Mr. Menaida.

"How are you? Compliments to the young lady orphing, and say we're jolly--all three," shouted Scantlebray, urging his mare to a faster pace, and keeping her up to it till they had turned a corner, and Menaida was no more in sight.

"Just look at his face, as he's a folding of that there pockyhandkercher," said the appraiser. "It's exploding work."

Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah, and laughed--laughed heartily, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.

Not that he saw aught humorous there, but that he was told it was there, he ought to see it, and would be a fool if he were not convulsed by it.

Precisely the same thing happens with us. We look at and go into raptures over a picture, because it is by a Royal Academician who has been knighted on account of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at a cantata, stifling our yawns, because we are told by the art critics who are paid to puff it, that we are fools, and have no ears if we do not feel charmed by it. We rush to read a new novel, and find it vastly clever, because an eminent statesman has said on a postcard it has pleased him.

We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told to condemn, and would stand on our heads if informed that it was bad for us to walk on our feet.

"There!" said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. "Them's ears."

"Crrrh!" went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief, converted into a white bunny, shot from his hand up his sleeve.

"I can't drive, 'pon my honor; I'm too ill. You have done me for to-day," said Scantlebray the elder, the valuer. "Now, young hopeful, what say you? Will you make a rabbit, also? I'll give you a s.h.i.+lling if you will."

Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out, and began to fold it. Whenever he went wrong Mr. Obadiah made signs, either by elevation of his brows and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah was the drollest fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of mischief as an egg is full of meat. There was no trusting him for a minute when the eye was off him.

"Come, Scanty! I'll put you on your honor. Look the other way." But a moment after--"Ah, for shame! there you are at it again. Young hopeful, you see what a vicious brother I have; perfectly untrustworthy, but such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears.

You should see him make shadows on the wall. He can represent a pig eating out of a trough. You see the ears flap, the jaws move, the eye twinkle in appreciation of the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all done by the two hands--by one, I may say, for the other serves as trough. What! Done the rabbit! First rate! Splendid! Here is the s.h.i.+lling. But, honor bright, you don't deserve it; that naughty Scanty helped you."

"Please," said Jamie, timidly, "may I get out now and go home?"

"Go home! What for?"

"I want to show Ju my s.h.i.+lling."

"By ginger! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do you know Mistress Polgrean's sweetie shop?"

"But that's at Wadebridge."

"At Wadebridge; and why not? You will spend your s.h.i.+lling there. But look at my brother. It is distressing; his eyes are alight at the thoughts of the tartlets, and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and the almond rock. Are you partial to almond rock, orphin?"

Jamie's mind was at once engaged.

"Which is it to be? Gingerbreads or tartlets, almond rock or barley-sugar?"

"I think I'll have the peppermint," said Jamie.

"Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give me a little bit, and Scanty a bit, and take a little bit home to Ju, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"He'll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old man."

The funny brother nodded.

"And the basket of sh.e.l.ls?" asked the elder.

"Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell," said Jamie.

"I suppose I may have the privilege of buying some," said Mr.

Scantlebray, senior. "Oh, look at that brother of mine! How he is s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his nose about! I say, old man, are you ill? Upon my life, I believe he is laughing."

Presently Jamie got restless.

"Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be frightened at my being away so long."

"Poor Ju!" said Scantlebray, the elder. "But no--don't you worry your mind about that. We pa.s.sed Uncle Zachie, and he will tell her where you are, in good hands, or rather, nipped between most reliable knees--my brother's and mine. Sit still. I can't stop Juno; we're going down-hill now, and if I stopped Juno she would fall. You must wait--wait till we get to Mrs. Polgrean's." Then, after chuckling-to himself, Scantlebray, senior, said: "Obadiah, old man, I wonder what Missie Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will say, eh?" Again he chuckled. "No place in your establishment for that party, eh?"