Part 46 (1/2)
”Dan'l, sir,” said that young lady, who spoke very severely, as if she could hardly contain her feelings; ”and he'd be glad to know if you could see him a minute.”
”Send him in, Maria,” said the doctor; and then, as the housemaid left the room, ”Well, it can't be anything about Dexter now, because he is out there on the--”
The doctor's words were delivered more and more slowly as he rose and walked toward the open window, while Helen felt uneasy, and full of misgivings.
”Why, the young dog was here just now,” cried the doctor angrily. ”Now, really, Helen, if he has been at any tricks this time, I certainly will set up a cane.”
”O papa!”
”Yes, my dear, I certainly will, much as I object to corporal punishment. Well, Daniel, what is it!”
Old Dan'l had a straw hat in his hand--a hat that was rather ragged at the edge, and with which, as if it was to allay some irritation, he kept sawing one finger.
”Beg pardon, sir--pardon, Miss,” said Dan'l apologetically; ”but if I might speak and say a few words--”
”Certainly, Daniel; you may do both,” said the doctor.
”Thanky, sir--thanky kindly, Miss,” said the gardener, half-putting his hat on twice so as to have it in the proper position for making a bow; ”which I'm the last man in the world, sir, to make complaints.”
”Humph!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the doctor.
”Serving you as I have now for over twenty year, and remembering puffickly well, Miss, when you was only a pink bit of a baby, as like one o' my tender carnations as could be, only more like a Count dee Parish rose.”
”Well, what's the matter, Daniel?” said the doctor hastily, for he wanted to bring the old man's prosings to an end.
”Well, sir, heverythink, as you may say, is the matter. Look at me, sir; I've suffered more in that garden than mortal man would believe!”
”Oh, have you!” said the doctor, taking off his gla.s.ses. ”You don't look so very bad, Daniel, for a man of sixty-five.”
”Sixty-four and three-quarters, begging your pardon, sir; but I have suffered. I've laid awake nights and nights thinking of what was best for planting them borders with s'rubs, as is now a delight to the human eye; and I've walked that garden hundreds o' nights with a lanthorn in search o' slugs, as comes out o' they damp meadows in in counted millions; and I've had my cares in thrips and red spider and green fly, without saying a word about scale and them other blights as never had no name. But never in my life--never in all my born days--never since I was first made a gardener, have I suffered anythink like as I've suffered along o' that there boy.”
”Nonsense, Daniel! nonsense!” cried the doctor pettishly.
”Well, sir, I've served you faithful, and took such a pride in that there garden as never was, and you may call it nonsense, sir, but when I see things such as I see, I say it's time to speak.”
”Why, you are always coming to me with some petty complaint, sir, about that boy.”
”Petty complaint, sir!” cried Dan'l indignantly. ”Is Ribstons a petty complaint--my chycest Ribstons, as I want for dessert at Christmas? And is my Sturmer pippins a petty complaint--them as ought to succeed the Ribstons in Febbery and March?”
”Why, what about them?” cried the doctor.
”Oh, nothing, sir; only as half the town's t'other side o' the river, and my pippins is being shovelled over wholesale.”
The doctor walked out into the hall and put on his hat, with Dan'l following him; and, after a moment's hesitation, Helen took up a sunshade, and went down the garden after her father.
She overtook him as he was standing by a handsome espalier, dotted with the tawny red-streaked Ribstons, while Dan'l was pointing to a couple of newly-made footmarks.
”Humph! Not all gone, then?” said the doctor, frowning.
”Not yet!” growled Dan'l. ”And see there, Miss; there was four stunners on that there little branch this mornin', and they're all gone!”