Page images
PDF
EPUB

102

D

CHAPTER X.

R. KINGSBURY was busy in his study, in the morning of the next day, looking over some school accounts, when Mrs. Patty appeared, dragging rather than ushering in Myra, who looked pale, weary, and uncommonly shy.

'I have brought a young visitor to see you, Doctor; one you will be very glad to say 'How d' ye do' to. Sit down, dear child, and Faith shall bring you a glass of wine, and a bit of cake-nice plain seed-cake.'

'Oh no, thank you!' exclaimed Myra: 'I could not eat anything; but it is so hot, and I am afraid Mrs. Patty said she was sure I might come, sir; but I knew I should disturb you.'

The Doctor had been slowly preparing for the meeting, putting aside his pen and paper, and rising with some difficulty from his chair. As Myra came close to him, he put his hand upon her head, and said: 'God bless you, child! Patty tells me you have been very ill.' And then he bent down and kissed her forehead, and looking intently into her face, added kindly: 'Patty must look after you, and not let you be tired.'

'It was her own will to come,' said Mrs. Patty. 'I thought it might be almost too long a walk; but she did so want to see you.'

'An old man's study can have nothing very attractive to a young thing like you,' said the Doctor, reseating himself, and turning his chair so as to give Myra his full attention.

'I like it,' said Myra; 'and it seemed so long since I was here.'

'And you have been ill,' observed the Doctor; 'illness makes time seem long to us.'

'You see, Myra, that the notes to St. Augustine are going on still,' said Mrs. Patty.

'And are not much nearer the end, I am afraid,' observed the Doctor.

'I should like to understand it,' said Myra; 'if it was in English, might I read it?'

'Surely, my child; that is, some portions. But you would do better to read it in Latin-and you understand Latin?'

'Oh, no!' exclaimed Myra; 'I learnt the declensions, and I read the second chapter of St. Matthew in a Latin Bible once, but ' - and she blushed - ‘I think I cried when Mr. Cole, the schoolmaster, began giving me lessons, and so I was allowed to leave off. But I would learn now, if I might, if anyone would teach me.'

[ocr errors]

You may have other-better things to do now,' observed the Doctor; and he adjusted his spectacles, and moved so as to face the folio volume on his desk. 'St. Augustine is a most valuable writer, and the notes, I hope, may be useful; but they take time, and writing is a labour.'

'If I knew Latin, perhaps I might be able to help you in that,' said Myra, in a disappointed, almost fretful tone.

'The notes are English, my dear, for the most part; but you would find it troublesome work to make out my crabbed writing: and my hand has grown very shaky lately - rheumatic gout, I am afraid.'

'Might I try?' said Myra; 'I like making out strange writing.'

Dr. Kingsbury laid two or three bits of paper before her, scrawled over with what might as well have been Egyptian hieroglyphics, so far as regarded legibility.

'If I might take them home,' said Myra, 'I could make them out in time.'

The Doctor caught up the papers in terror. 'Patty, where is my note-case?' He thrust the papers into it, and tried to turn the conversation; but Myra was not to be daunted.

'I should like to copy something for you, if I might; would you only just let me try? Mrs. Patty, could n't I do something? You know I have nothing in the world to do that is useful to anyone.' 'Except to get well, my little woman,' said the Doctor.

Myra looked distressed; but it was more from physical weakness than anything else. She was just in that state when the least contradiction seems unkindness.

'Doctor, dear, if you have a bit of writing that you don't care about, you might just let her try,' said Mrs. Patty.

Myra was proud and perverse then, and observed, that 'she did not want to try for amusement; she wished to be of use.'

The Doctor had been looking at his school accounts, as though he would fain return to them; but now he glanced at Myra, with a look very unlike that absent, wandering inspection which was usual with him, and said, shortly: 'Patty, if the little girl likes to copy a letter for me, I should be glad for her to do it; and you can leave her here, and come for her presently.'

Myra could have found it in her heart to refuse; but she had no option. Mrs. Patty made her take off her bonnet, and cleared a space for her at the writing-table; and in a few seconds, Myra, whose request had been little more than the impulse of wayward weariness, found herself with a sheet of paper before her, engaged in deciphering an interlined letter to an inspector of schools, and afraid to ask for explanations of the Doctor, who was apparently unconscious of her presence.

Mrs. Patty left them to themselves, promising to return again in a quarter of an hour; but Myra had only succeeded in getting through the first sentence of the letter, when she appeared in the door-way again: 'Doctor, it really is too bad; here is Mr. Verney; he ought to have known better. tell him you can't see him before luncheon? ask him to luncheon?'

Shall I
Shall I

The Doctor finished a calculation before he spoke, and the delay was unfortunate. The dull servant girl, who had been sent from the kitchen dinnertable to answer the bell, had admitted Mr. Verney, and answered him that the Doctor was at home, and would be very glad to see him. Nothing was to be done but to admit him. The Doctor's wig was pushed and pulled in various ways, and some quick little coughs, approaching to grunts, escaped him. Myra thought she must go; but he put his hand upon her, and said: 'Won't you finish what you are doing, my child?' and then, nodding his head to Mrs. Patty, he added, 'Very good, Patty; I will see Mr. Verney;' and almost at the same moment Mr. Verney came in.

He was a better-looking man by the morning light; or, rather, perhaps he was feeling better, and so there was more animation in his face. But he was tall and stiff; and Myra, who, on being introduced, glanced at him for a moment, very earnestly wished herself with Mrs. Patty.

A few mutual inquiries about health began the conversation. Mr. Verney spoke of his own ailments, with the nonchalant air of one who submits to an evil which he is too indolent to attempt to remedy. Dr. Kingsbury talked of his as though he had faced them and meant to do battle with them; all the while feeling that they were only the necessary attendants of his age.

'One learns to be ill in India, as one learns to eat curry,' said Mr. Verney. It is all habit; I should n't know myself if I were to feel well again.'

« PreviousContinue »