Part 51 (1/2)

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE TROUBLE GROWS.

Dexter got down out of the willow-tree with a seed in his brain.

Bob Dimsted had dropped that seed into his young mind, and there it had struck root directly, and continued to grow. A hard fight now commenced.

So long as he was with Helen or the doctor, he could think of nothing but the fact that they were so kind to him, and took so much interest in his welfare, that it would be horribly ungrateful to go away without leave, and he vowed that he would not go.

But so sure as he was alone, a series of dissolving views began to float before his vivid imagination, and he saw Sir James Danby's boat managed by Bob Dimsted and himself, gliding rapidly along through river and along by sunlit sh.o.r.es, where, after catching wonderfully tinted fish, he and the boy landed to light a fire, cook their food, and partake of it in a delightful gipsy fas.h.i.+on. Then they put to sea again, and glided on past wondrous isles where cocoa-nut palms waved in the soft breeze.

Try how he would, Dexter could not keep these ideas out of his head, and the more he thought, the brighter and more attractive they became; and day after day found him, whenever he had an opportunity, waiting about by the river-side in the expectation of seeing Bob Dimsted.

Bob did not come, but as Dexter climbed up into his nest in the willow pollard his vivid imagination supplied the words he had said, and he seemed to see himself sailing away, with the boy for his companion, down the river, and out into the open sea; a portion of this globe which he formed out of his own fancy, the result being wonderfully unlike the truth.

Bob did not come, but Helen noticed how quiet and thoughtful the boy seemed, and also how he affected that portion of the garden.

”Why don't you fish, Dexter?” she said to him one day, as she saw him gazing disconsolately at the river.

He had not thought of this as an excuse for staying down by the river, but he s.n.a.t.c.hed at the idea now, and for the next week, whenever he could get away from his lessons or their preparation, he was down on the bank, dividing his time between watching his float and the opposite sh.o.r.e.

But still Bob Dimsted did not come; and at last Dexter began to settle down seriously to his fis.h.i.+ng, as the impressions made grew more faint.

Then all at once back they came; for as he sat watching his float one day, a voice said sharply--

”Now then! why don't you strike!”

But Dexter did not strike, and the fish went off with the bait as the holder of the rod exclaimed--

”Why haven't you been fis.h.i.+ng all this time!”

”What was the good?” said Bob, ”I was getting ready to go, and talking to my mate, who's going with me.”

”Your mate!” exclaimed Dexter, whose heart sank at those words.

”Yes, I know'd you wouldn't go, so. I began to look out for a chap who would.”

”But I didn't say that I really would not go,” said Dexter, as he laid his tackle under the bushes.

”Oh yes, you did; I could see what you meant. Do they bite to-day!”

”I don't know,” said Dexter dolefully. ”But, I say, you couldn't have that boat if you wanted to.”

”Oh yes, I could if I liked.”

”But it isn't yours.”

”Tchah! couldn't you borrow it!”