Part 13 (1/2)
The boy gave the doctor a sharp glance, and then, in a very praiseworthy manner, tried to partake of the savoury joint in a decent way.
But it was hard work for him. The well-cooked succulent meat was so toothsome that he longed to get to the end of it; and whenever he was not watching the doctor and his daughter he kept glancing at the dish, wondering whether he would be asked to have any more.
”What's that rum-looking stuff?” he said, as the doctor helped himself from a small tureen.
”Mint sauce, sir. Will you have some?”
”I don't know. Let's taste it.”
The little sauce tureen was pa.s.sed to him, and he raised the silver ladle, but instead of emptying it upon his plate he raised it to his lips, and drank with a loud, unpleasant noise, suggestive of the word _soup_.
The doctor was going to utter a reproof, but the sight of Helen's mirth checked him, and he laughed heartily as he saw the boy's face full of disgust.
”I don't like that,” he said, pus.h.i.+ng the tureen away. ”It ain't good.”
”But you should--”
”Don't correct him now, papa; you will spoil the poor boy's dinner,”
remonstrated Helen.
”He said it was lunch,” said Dexter.
”Your dinner, sir, and our lunch,” said the doctor. ”There, try and behave as we do at the table, and keep your elbows off the cloth.”
Dexter obeyed so quickly that he knocked a gla.s.s from the table, and on leaving his seat to pick it up he found that the foot was broken off.
The doctor started, and uttered a sharp e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.
In an instant the boy shrank away into a corner, sobbing wildly.
”I couldn't help it. I couldn't help it, sir. Don't beat me, please.
Don't beat me this time. I'll never do so any more.”
”Bless my soul!” cried the doctor, jumping up hastily; and the boy uttered a wild cry, full of fear, and would have dashed out of the open window into the garden had not Helen caught him, the tears in her eyes, and her heart moved to pity as she read the boy's agony of spirit. In fact that one cry for mercy had done more for Dexter's future at the doctor's than a month's attempts at orderly conduct.
”Hush, hus.h.!.+” said Helen gently, as she took his hands; and, with a look of horror in his eyes, the boy clung to her.
”I don't mind the cane sometimes,” he whispered, ”but don't let him beat me very much.”
”Nonsense! nonsense!” said the doctor rather huskily. ”I was not going to beat you.”
”Please, sir, you looked as if you was,” sobbed the boy.
”I only looked a little cross, because you were clumsy and broke that gla.s.s. But it was an accident.”
”Yes, it was; it was,” cried the boy, in a voice full of pleading, for the breakage had brought up the memory of an ugly day in his young career. ”I wouldn't ha' done it, was it ever so; it's true as goodness I wouldn't.”
”No, no, Maria, not yet,” cried Helen hastily, as the door was opened.