Quicksilver: The Boy With No Skid to His Wheel

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

  THE GROWING CLOUD.

  "Dexter, I want to talk to you," said Helen, a few weeks later. The boysighed.

  "Ah! you are afraid I am going to scold you," she said.

  "I don't mind you scolding me," he replied; "but I don't think I havedone anything this time, except--"

  "Except what?" said Helen, for the boy paused.

  "Except talk to Bob Dimsted."

  "Have you been out to meet him?"

  "No, that I haven't," cried Dexter. "He came to the bottom of the riverto fish, and he spoke to me; and if I had not answered, it would haveseemed so proud."

  Helen was silent for a few moments, not knowing what to say.

  "It was not about that," she said, at last, "but about your lessons.Mr Limpney has again been complaining very bitterly to papa about yourwant of progress."

  "Yes," said Dexter, "and he is always scolding me."

  "Then why don't you try harder?"

  "I do, but I am so stupid."

  "You are not, Dexter. You always learn easily enough with me."

  "Yes, with you," said the boy quickly, "but you don't want me to sayangle _ABC_ is equal to the angle _CBA_, and all such stuff as that."

  "Don't call it stuff," said Helen, smiling in spite of herself; "it isGeometry."

  "But it is rum stuff all the same. What's the use of my learning aboutstraight lines and squares and angles?"

  "But you are behind with your Algebra too."

  "Yes," sighed Dexter, "I'm just as stupid over that."

  "Now, Dexter!"

  "But I am, quite. Why can't I go on finding out things by Arithmetic,as we used at the schools? It was bother enough to learn that. Oh,what a lot of caning I had over nine times!"

  "Over nine times!" said Helen.

  "Over a hundred, I should say," cried Dexter. "I mean with strokes onthe hand, and taps on the head, and over the shoulders--counting 'emaltogether; and wasn't I glad when I knew it all, and twelve times too,and somebody else used to get it instead of me."

  "Dexter, papa wishes you to learn these things."

  "Do you?" said the boy.

  "Yes, very much. I should like to see you master them all."

  "Then I will. See if I don't," he cried.

  "That's right. Try and please Mr Limpney by being energetic."

  "Yes, I'll try," said Dexter; "but I don't think he'll be pleased."

  "I shall be. Now, get out your last lessons over which you failed sodismally, and I'll try and help you."

  "Will you?" cried the boy, in delighted tones, and he hurriedly obtainedhis folio, pens, and ink, feeling in such high spirits that if BobDimsted had been at hand to continue his temptations they would havebeen of no avail.

  The orange question was first debated, and tried in two or threedifferent ways without success. Then it was laid aside for the timebeing, while the stage-coaches were rolled out and started, one fromLondon to York, the other from York to London.

  "Look here," said Dexter, "I'll try the one that starts from London,while you try the one from York."

  That was only another simple equation, but in its novelty to HelenGrayson, as difficult as if it had been quadratic, and for a time nosound was heard but the busy scratching of two pens.

  "It's of no good," said Dexter suddenly, and with a look of despair uponhis face. "I'm so terribly stupid."

  "I'm afraid, Dexter," said Helen merrily, "if you are stupid, I am too."

  "What! can't you do it!"

  "No."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Dexter. Algebra is beyond me."

  "Hooray!" cried the boy, leaping from his seat, and dancing round theroom, ending by relieving his excitement by turning head over heels onthe hearthrug.

  "Is that to show your delight at my ignorance, Dexter?" said Helen,smiling.

  "No," he cried, colouring up, as he stood before her out of breath. "Itwas because I was glad, because I was not so stupid as I thought."

  "You are not stupid, Dexter," said Helen, smiling. "We must go back tothe beginning, and try and find out how to do these things. Does notMr Limpney explain them to you?"

  "Yes," said Dexter dismally, "but when he has done, I don't seem to seewhat he means, and it does make me so miserable."

  "Poor boy!" said Helen gently. "There, you must not make your studies atrouble. They ought to be a great pleasure."

  "They would be if you taught me," said Dexter eagerly. "I say, do askDr Grayson to send Mr Limpney away, and you help me. I will try sohard."

  "A pretty tutor I should make," cried Helen, laughing. "Why, Dexter, Iam as ignorant, you see, as you!"

  Dexter's face was a study. He seemed hurt and pleased at the same time,and his face was full of reproach as he said--

  "Ignorant as me! Oh!"

  "There, I'll speak to papa about your lessons, and he will, I have nodoubt, say a few words to Mr Limpney about trying to make your taskseasier, and explaining them a little more."

  "Will you!" cried the boy excitedly, and he caught her hands in his.

  "Certainly I will, Dexter."

  "Then I will try so hard, and I'll write down on pieces of paper all thethings you don't want me to do, and carry 'em in my pockets, and takethem out and look at them sometimes."

  "What!" cried Helen, laughing.

  "Well, that's what Mr Limpney told me to do, so that I should notforget the things he taught me. Look here!"

  He thrust his hand into his trousers-pocket, and brought out eagerly acrumpled-up piece of paper, but as he did so a number of oats flew outall over the room.

  "O Dexter! what a pocket! Now what could you do with oats?"

  "They were only for my rabbits," he said. "There, those are all nounsthat end in _us_, feminine nouns. Look, _tribus, acus, porticus_.Isn't it stupid?"

  "It is the construction of the language, Dexter."

  "Yes; that's what Mr Limpney said. There, I shall put down everythingyou don't like me to do on a piece of paper that way; and take it outand read it, so as to remember it."

  "Try another way, Dexter."

  "How?" he said wonderingly.

  "By fixing these things in your heart, and not on paper," Helen said,and she left the room.

  "Well, that's the way to learn them by heart," said the boy to himselfthoughtfully, as with brow knit he seated himself by a table, took asheet of paper, and began diligently to write in a fairly neat hand,making entry after entry; and the principal of these was--

  "Bob Dimsted: not to talk to him."

  The next day the doctor had a chat with Mr Limpney respecting Dexterand his progress.

  "You see," said the doctor, "the boy has not had the advantages ladshave at good schools; and he feels these lessons to be extremelydifficult. Give him time."

  "Oh, certainly, Doctor Grayson," said Mr Limpney. "I have only onewish, and that is to bring the boy on. He is behind to a terribleextent."

  "Yes, yes, of course," said the doctor; "but make it as easy for him asyou can--for the present, you know. After a time he will be stronger inthe brain."

  Mr Limpney, BA, looked very stern. He was naturally a good-hearted,gentlemanly, and scholarly man. He thoroughly understood the subjectshe professed to teach. In fact, the ordinary routine of classic andmathematical study had, by long practice, grown so simple to him, thathe was accustomed to look with astonishment upon a boy who stumbled oversome of the learned blocks.

  In addition, year upon year of imparting knowledge to reckless andill-tempered as well as stupid boys had soured him, and, in consequence,the well-intentioned words of the doctor did not fall on ground ready toreceive them quite as it should.

  "Complaining about my way of teaching, I suppose," he said to himself."Well, we shall see."

  The result was that Mr Limpney allowed the littleness of his nature tocome uppermost, and he laboriously explained the most insignificantportions of the lessons in a sarcastic manner which made Dexter writ
he,for he was not slow to find that the tutor was treating him withcontempt.

  To make matters worse, about that time Dan'l watched him more and more;Peter was unwell and very snappish; there was a little difficulty withMrs Millett over some very strong camomile-tea which Dexter did nottake; and on account of a broken soap-dish which Maria took it into herhead Dexter meant to lay to her charge,--that young lady refused even toanswer the boy when he spoke; lastly, the doctor seemed to be remarkablythoughtful and stern. Consequently Dexter began to mope in his den overthe old stable, and at times wished he was back at the Union Schools.

  The wish was momentary, but it left its impression, and the thoughtthat, with the exception of Helen, no one liked him at the doctor'shouse grew and grew and grew like the cloud that came out of thefisherman's pot when Solomon's seal was removed, and that cloudthreatened to become the evil genii that was to overshadow the boy'slife.