Part 27 (1/2)
”That's all!” Bigley said. But it was not.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
BACK TO SCHOOL.
I tried very hard not to meet Doctor Chowne when he next came over to our cottage, which was two days after the escape from drowning, for he was very frequently in confab with my father.
They went into the little parlour, and so as to be out of the way I went into the cliff garden to watch the sea seated astride of one of the gates; but, as luck would have it, my father and the doctor came out to talk in the garden, and as there was no way of escape without facing them, I had to remain where I was and put on the boldest front I could.
”Oh, you're there, are you, Mr Sep?” exclaimed the doctor grimly.
”Yes, sir,” I said.
”That's right; I only wanted to ask a favour of you.”
”What is it, sir?” I said.
”Oh, wait a minute and I'll tell you,” said the doctor in his grimmest way. ”It was only this. You see I'm a very busy man, twice as busy as I used to be since your father has taken to consulting me. What I want you to do is this--”
He stopped short and stared at me till I grew uncomfortable.
”This, my lad,” he continued. ”To save time, I want you to tell me when you are going to try next to kill my boy.”
”To kill Bob, sir?”
”Yes, I want to be ready, as I've so little time to spare. I want to order mourning from Exeter, and to give orders for the funeral.”
”I--I don't understand you, sir,” I stammered.
”Not understand me, my lad! Why, I spoke plainly enough. You've tried to kill my Bob twice; third time never fails.”
”Doctor Chowne!” I exclaimed.
”Your most humble servant, sir,” he continued sarcastically. ”I only wanted to add, that I should like you to do it as soon as you can, for he is costing me a great deal for clothes and boots.”
”There, there, Chowne,” said my father, taking pity upon me, ”boys will be boys. I daresay your chap was just as bad as mine, and old Uggleston's baby quite their equal.”
”They lead my Bob into all the mischief,” cried the Doctor sharply.
”Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” said my father in his driest way.
”And I should like to know as near as I can when it's to come to an end?”
”There, there, never mind,” said my father good-humouredly. ”Give them another chance, and if they spoil these clothes we'll send into Bristol for some sail-cloth, and have 'em rigged out in that.”
”Sail-cloth!” cried the doctor, ”old carpet you mean. That's the only thing for them.”
”Holidays will soon be over, Chowne, and we shall be rid of them.”