Part 60 (1/2)

”Found out!” thought the guilty conscience, which needs no accuser.

”Now just you look here, sir,” said the old housekeeper, in a loud voice, as she literally b.u.t.ton-holed the boy, by hooking one thin finger in his jacket, so that he could not get away, ”I know all.”

”You--you know everything,” faltered the boy.

”Yes, sir. Ah, you may well look 'mure. You little thought I knew.”

”How--how did you find out?” he stammered.

”Ah! how did I find out, indeed! Now, look here, am I to go straight to the doctor and tell him!”

”No, no, pray don't,” whispered Dexter, catching her arm.

”Well, then, I must tell Miss Helen.”

”No, no, not this time,” cried Dexter imploringly; and his tone softened the old lady, who shook the borders of her cap at him.

”Well, I don't know what to say,” said Mrs Millett softly. ”They certainly ought to know.”

Dexter gazed at her wildly. He knew that everything must come out, but it was to have been in a few hours' time, when he was far away, and deaf to the angry words and reproaches. To hear them now seemed more than he could bear. It could not be. Bob Dimsted must think and say what he liked, and be as angry and unforgiving as was possible. It could not be now. He must plead to the old housekeeper for pardon, and give up all idea of going away.

”Ah!” she said. ”I see you are sorry for it, then.”

”Yes, yes,” he whispered. ”So sorry, and--and--”

”You'll take it this time, like a good boy!”

”Take it?”

”Yes, sir. Ah! you can't deceive me. Last time I saw the empty gla.s.s I knew as well as could be that you hadn't taken it, for the outside of the gla.s.s wasn't sticky, and there were no marks of your mouth at the edge. I always put plenty of sugar in it for you, and that showed.”

”The camomile-tea!” thought Dexter, a dose of which the old lady expected him to take about once a week, and which never did him any harm, if it never did him any good.

”And you'll take it to-night, sir, like a good boy!”

”Yes, yes, I will indeed,” said Dexter, with the full intention of keeping his word out of grat.i.tude for his escape.

”Now, that's like being a good boy,” said the old lady, smiling, and extricating her fingers from his b.u.t.ton-hole, so as to stroke his hair.

”It will do you no end of good; and how you have improved since you have been here, my dear, your hair's grown so nicely, and you've got such a good pink colour in your cheeks. It's the camomile-tea done that.”

Mrs Millett leaned forward with her hands on the boy's shoulder, and kissed him in so motherly a way that Dexter felt a catching of the breath, and kissed her again.

”That's right,” said the old lady. ”You ain't half so bad as Maria pretends you are. 'It's only a bit of mischief now and then,' I says to her, 'and he's only a boy,' and that's what you are, ain't it, my dear?”

Dexter did not answer.

”I shall put your dose on your washstand, and you mind and take it the moment you get out of bed to-morrow morning.”

”Yes,” said Dexter dismally.