CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.
CONVALESCENCE.
"Get out," said Dan'l, some weeks later. "Tired? Why, I could pullthis here inv'lid-chair about the garden all day, my lad, and not knowit."
"But why not rest under one of the trees for a bit?" said Dexter.
"'Cause I don't want to rest; and if I did, it might give you a chill.Why, you're light as light, and this is nothing to the big roller."
"I'm afraid I'm a great deal of trouble to you all," said Dexter, as hesat back, supported by a pillow, and looking very white, while from timeto time he raised a bunch of Dan'l's choicest flowers to his nose.
"Trouble? Tchah! And, look here! master said you was to have as muchfruit as you liked. When'll you have another bunch o' grapes!"
"Oh, not yet," said Dexter smiling, and he looked at the grim face ofthe old gardener, who walked slowly backwards as he drew the chair.
"Well, look here," said Dan'l, after a pause. "You can do as you like,but you take my advice. Peter's gone 'most off his head since mastersaid as you might go out for a drive in a day or two; but don't you bein no hurry. I can draw you about here, where it's all nice and warmand sheltered, and what I say is this: if you can find a better placefor a inv'lid to get strong in than my garden, I should like to see it.Humph! There's Missus Millett working her arms about like a madwindmill. Got some more jelly or blammondge for you, I s'pose. Lookyehere, Master Dexter, just you pitch that sorter thing over, and take tobeef underdone with the gravy in it. That'll set you up better thanjelleries and slops."
Dan'l was right. Mrs Millett was waiting with a cup of calves'-feetjelly; and Maria had brought out a rug, because it seemed to be turningcold.
Two days later Dan'l was called away to visit a sick relative, andPeter's face was red with pleasure as he brought the invalid chair up tothe door after lunch, and helped deposit the convalescent in his place,Helen and the doctor superintending, and Mrs Millett giving additionalorders, as Maria formed herself into a flesh and blood crutch.
"There, Dexter," said the doctor; "we shall be back before it's time foryou to come in."
He nodded, and Helen bent down and kissed the boy. Then there was thecrushing of the wheels on the firm gravel, and Dexter lay back breathingin health.
"Thought I was never going to have a pull at the chair, Mas' Dexter,"said Peter. "Old Dan'l gets too bad to live with. Thinks nobody can'ttake care of you but him. Let's see, though; he said I was to cut you abunch of them white grapes in Number 1 house, and there was two greenfigs quite ripe if you liked to have them."
Peter pulled the carriage up and down the garden half a dozen times,listening the while till he heard the dull bang of the front door.
"They're gone," he said gleefully. "Come on!"
He went down the garden at a trot, and then carefully drew thewheeled-chair on to the grass at the bottom.
"Peter, did you feed the squirrel!" said Dexter suddenly.
Peter looked round very seriously, and shook his head.
"Oh!" ejaculated Dexter. "Why didn't you feed the poor thing?"
"Wait a minute and you'll see," said the groom; and, drawing the chair alittle further, until it was close to the brink of the bright river, heturned round--
"Thought you'd like to feed him yourself, so I brought him down."
There, on a willow branch, hung the old cage, with the squirrel inside,and Peter thrust his hand into his pocket to withdraw it full of nuts.
But Peter had not finished his surprise, for he left the chair for a fewmoments and returned with Dexter's rod and line, and a bag of worms.
"Going to fish?" said Dexter eagerly.
"No, but I thought you'd like to now you was better," said Peter."There, you can fish as you sit there, and I'll put on your bait, andtake 'em off the hook."
Dexter fished for half an hour, but he did not enjoy it, for he couldnot throw in his line without expecting to see Bob Dimsted on the otherside. So he soon pleaded fatigue, and was wheeled out into thesunshine, and to the door of the vinery, up which he had scrambled whenhe first came to the doctor's house.
A week later he was down at Chale, in the Isle of Wight, where thedoctor had taken a house; and here, upon the warm sands, Dexter sat andlay day after day, drinking in the soft sea air, and gaining strength,while the doctor sat under an umbrella to think out fresh chapters forhis book, and Helen either read to her invalid or worked.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
THE PROOF OF THE DOCTOR'S THEORY.
Three years, as every one knows, look like what they are--twenty-sixthousand two hundred and eighty long hours from one side, and they looklike nothing from the other. They had passed pleasantly and well, forthe doctor had been so much pleased with his Isle of Wight house that hehad taken it for three years, and transported there the whole of hishousehold, excepting Dan'l, who was left in charge at Coleby.
"You see, my dear," the doctor had said; "it's a mistake for Dexter tobe at Coleby until he has gone through what we may call his caterpillarstage. We'll take him back a perfect--"
"Insect, papa?" said Helen, smiling.
"No, no. You understand what I mean."
So Dexter did not see Coleby during those three years, in which hestayed his terms at a school where the principal did not break thespirit of backward and unruly boys. On the contrary, he managed tocombine excellent teaching with the possession of plenty of animalspirits, and his new pupil gained credit, both at home and at theschool.
"Now," said the doctor, on the day of their return to the old home, ashe ran his eye proudly over the sturdy manly-looking boy he was takingback; "I think I can show Sir James I'm right, eh, my dear?"
Old Dan'l smiled a wonderful smile as Dexter went down the gardendirectly he got home.
"Shake hands with you, my lad?" he said, in answer to an invitation;"why, I'm proud. What a fine un you have growed! But come and have alook round. I never had such a year for fruit before."
Chuckling with satisfaction, the doctor was not content until he hadbrought Sir James and Lady Danby to the house to dinner, in company withtheir son, who had grown up into an exceedingly tall, thin, pale boywith a very supercilious smile.
No allusion was made to the doctor's plan, but the dinner-party did notturn out a success, for the boys did not seem to get on together; andSir James said in confidence to Lady Danby that night, precisely whatDr Grayson said to Helen--
"They never shall be companions if I can help it. I don't like thatboy."
Over the dessert, too, Sir James managed to upset Dexter's equanimity byan unlucky speech, which brought the colour to the boy's cheeks.
"By the way, young fellow," he said, "I had that old friend of yours upbefore me, about a month ago, for the second time."
Dexter looked at him with a troubled look, and Sir James went on, as hesipped his claret.
"You know--Bob Dimsted. Terrible young blackguard. Always poaching.Good thing if they had a press-gang for the army, and such fellows as hewere forced to serve."
It was at breakfast the next morning that the doctor waited till Dexterhad left the table, and then turned to Helen--
"I shall not forgive Danby that unkind remark," he said. "I couldhonestly do it now, and say, `There, sir, I told you I could make agentleman out of any material that I liked to select; and I've done it.'But no: I'll wait till Dexter has passed all his examinations atSandhurst, and won his commission, and then--Yes, Maria--what is it!"
"Letter, sir, from the Union," said Maria.
"Humph! Dear me! What's this? Want me to turn guardian again, and Ishall not. Eh, bless my heart! Well, well, I suppose we must."
He passed the letter to Helen, and she read Mr Hippetts formal piece ofdiction, to the effect that one of the old inmates, a Mrs Curdley, wasin a dying state, and she had several times asked to see the boy she hadnursed--Obed Coleby. During the doctor's absence from the town themaster had not felt that he could apply; but as Dr Grayson hadreturned, if he
would not mind his adopted son visiting the poor oldwoman, who had been very kind to him as a child, it would be aChristian-like deed.
"Yes; yes, of course, of course," said the doctor; and he called Dexterin.
"Oh yes!" cried the lad, as he heard the request. "I remember all shedid for me so well, and--and--I have never been to see her since."
"My fault--my fault, my boy," said the doctor hastily. "There, we shallgo and see her now."
There were only two familiar faces for Dexter to encounter, first,namely, those of Mr Hippetts and the schoolmaster, both of whomexpressed themselves as being proud to shake their old pupil's hand.
Then they ascended to the infirmary, where the old nurse lay verycomfortable and well cared for, and looking as if she might last formonths.
Her eyes lit up as she saw Dexter; and, when he approached, she held outher hand, and made him sit down beside her.
"And growed such a fine chap!" she said, again and again.
She had little more to say, beyond exacting a promise that he would comeand see her once again, and when he was about to leave she put a small,dirty-looking, brown-paper packet in his hand.
"There," she said. "I'd no business to, and he'd ha' took it away ifhe'd ha' known; but he didn't; and it's yours, for it was in yourfather's pocket when he come here and died."
The "he" the poor old woman meant was the workhouse master, and thepacket was opened in his presence, and found to contain a child's linenunder-garment plainly marked--"Max Vanburgh, 12," and a child'shighly-coloured toy picture-book, frayed and torn, and furtherdisfigured by having been doubled in half and then doubled again, sothat it would easily go in a man's pocket.
It was the familiar old story of Little Red Riding-Hood, but theparticular feature was an inscription upon the cover written in adelicate feminine hand--
"For my darling Max on his birthday, June 30th, 18--. Alice Vanburgh, The Beeches, Daneton."
"But you told me the boy's father was a rough, drunken tramp, who diedin the infirmary."
"Yes, sir, I did," said Mr Hippetts, when he had a private interviewwith the doctor next day. "But it seems strange."
"Very," said the doctor.
Helen also agreed that it was very strange, and investigations followed,the result of which proved, beyond doubt, that Dexter Grayson, otherwiseObed Coleby, was really Maximilian Vanburgh, the son of Captain Vanburghand Alice, his wife, both of whom died within two years of the day when,through the carelessness of a servant, the little fellow strayed awayout through the gate and on to the high-road, where he was found farfrom home, crying, by the rough, tipsy scoundrel who passed that way.
The little fellow's trouble appealed to what heart there was left in theman's breast, and he carried him on, miles away, careless as to whom hebelonged to, and, day by day, further from the spot where the search wasgoing on. The child amused him; and in his way he was kind to it, whilethe little fellow was of an age to take to any one who played with andpetted him. Rewards and advertisements were vain, for they neverreached the man's eyes, and his journeyings were on and on through alittle-frequented part of the country, where it was nobody's business toask a rough tramp how he came by the neglected-looking, ragged child,who clung to him affectionately enough. The little fellow was happywith him for quite three months, as comparison of dates proved, and whatseemed strange became mere matter of fact--to wit, that Dexter was agentleman by birth.
All this took time to work out, but it was proved incontestably, the oldnurse having saved all that the rough fellow had left of his littlecompanion's belongings; and when everything was made plain, there wasthe fact that Dexter was an orphan, and that he had found a home thatwas all a boy could desire.
"There, papa! what have you to say now?" said Helen to the doctor oneday.
"Say?" he said testily. "Danby will laugh at me when he knows, anddeclare my theory is absurd. I shall never finish that book."
"But you will not try such an experiment again?" said Helen laughingly.
Just then Dexter came in sight, bright, frank, and manly, and merrilywhistling one of Helen's favourite airs.
"No," said the doctor sharply; and then--"God bless him! Yes: if it wasto be the making of such a boy as that!"
THE END.
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