Part 12 (1/2)
”You seemed to be thinking of something pretty deeply; and what business have you to be tired--a baby like you? I have been prescribing for her to-day, Mr Dudley. Have you noticed how thin she has grown? She hadn't discovered it herself until I told her, wonderful to relate.”
”I don't think she has thought of herself at all these last few months,”
said Will, quietly.
He only just gave one glance at me, and then looked away, and I was thankful, for every drop of blood in my body seemed to fly to my face in the joy of hearing him praise me like that. Vere did not speak for a moment or two, and then she just asked who the letter was from.
”Lorna Forbes. She writes every week. I haven't written to her for an age--nearly a month.”
They both knew about Lorna, and teased me about her when I quoted her opinion, and now, to my surprise, Will lifted his eyes from the carpet, and said, looking me full in the face--
”And she wants you to pay her a visit, and you think you ought not to go?”
How could he guess? I was so taken aback that at first I could only gasp and stare.
”How in the world did you know?” I asked at last, and he smiled and said--
”Your face was very eloquent. It was very easy to read, wasn't it, Miss Sackville?”
”I did not find it so transparent as you seem to have done; I suppose I am dense,” Vere replied, with a laugh that sounded a little bit strained. ”Is it true, Babs? Has Mr Dudley read the signs correctly?”
I had to confess, making as light of it as possible, but they weren't deceived a bit.
”You hardly looked as if you didn't 'care,'” Will remarked drily, and Vere said quite quickly and eagerly--
”You must go, Babs--of course you must go! It is the very thing you need. You have been a ministering angel to me, and I'm very grateful, but I don't want the responsibility of making you ill. Change and the beloved Lorna will soon bring back your roses, and it will be amusing to hear of your escapades when you return. Don't think of me! It is good for me to be quiet, and there are plenty of friends who will come in for an hour or two if I feel the need of society. You will take pity on me, won't you, Mr Dudley? You will come sometimes and have tea with mother and me?”
”I shall be delighted,” said Will, gravely. As for me, I didn't know whether to be most pleased or depressed. I should pay my visit to Lorna, that was practically settled from the moment Vere approved of the proposal, which was one nice thing; and another was her remark that I had been an angel; but it seemed as if I could be very easily spared, and I had grown to think myself indispensable these last few weeks. We talked a little more about it, and then Will and I went downstairs. He didn't speak until we were nearly at the drawing-room door, when he said abruptly--
”You are very eager to get away! Are you so tired of this neighbourhood and all the people it contains?”
”Oh, so tired! so utterly, utterly tired!” I cried earnestly.
It sounded rude, perhaps, but at the moment I really felt it. I had reached the stage of tiredness when I had a perfect craving for a change. He didn't say a word, but stalked straight forward, and never spoke to me again except to say good-night. It doesn't concern me, of course, but I do hope for Rachel's sake that he hasn't a sulky nature.
Heigh-ho for Lorna! I am going at the end of next week. I am positively bursting with delight!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
_October 4th_.
Here I am! It is not a bit as I imagined, but ever so much nicer.
Lorna looks sweet in grown-up things, and she thinks I look sweet in mine. She comes into my bed at nights, and we talk for hours. The house is right in the middle of the town, in a dingy old square, where the trees look more black than green. It is ugly and shabby, but there is plenty of room, which is a good thing, for I am sure it is needed.
The doctor sits in his consulting-room all the morning seeing patients, who wait their turn in the dining-room, and if there are a great many you have to be late for lunch, but, as Lorna says, ”That means another guinea, so we mustn't grumble!” They are not at all rich, because the six boys cost so much to educate. They are all away at school and college, except the oldest and the youngest, of whom more anon.
Dr Forbes is an old love. He has s.h.a.ggy grey hair, and merry eyes, and the funniest way of talking aloud to himself without knowing what he is saying. At lunch he will keep up a running conversation like this: ”Nasty case--yes, nasty case! Poor woman, poor woman! Very little chance--little chance--Very good steak, my dear--an admirable dinner you have given me! Am-pu-ta-tion at eleven--mustn't forget the medicine.
Three times a day. A little custard, if you please,” and so on, and so on, and the others never take any notice, but eat away as if no one were speaking.
Mrs Forbes is large and kind, and shakes when she laughs. I don't think she is clever, exactly, but she's an admirable mother, and lets them do exactly as they like.
Wallace isn't bad. He is twenty-four, and fairly good-looking, and not as conceited as men generally are at that age. Personally, I prefer them older, but he evidently approves of me, and that is soothing to the feelings. Julias, surnamed ”Midas,” is only twelve, and a most amusing character. I asked Lorna and Wallace how he got his nickname, as we sat together over a fire in the old schoolroom the first night. They laughed, and Wallace said--(of course, I call him Dr Wallace, really, but I can't be bothered to write it here)--
”Because everything he touches turns to gold, or, to speak more correctly, copper! He has a genius for acc.u.mulating money, and has what we consider quite a vast sum deposited in the savings bank. My father expects him to develop into a great financier, and we hope he may pension off all his brothers and sister, to keep them from the workhouse. To do Midas justice, he is not mean in a good cause, and I believe he will do the straight thing.”