The Star-Gazers Part 47

He glanced once more at his patient, and then followed the girl downstairs, where, in a rough but cleanly way, a cup of tea had been prepared and some bread and b.u.t.ter.

These proved to be so good that, feeling better for the refreshment, Oldroyd could not help noticing that, but for the traces of violent grief, Judith would have been extremely pretty.

"Will father get better, sir?" said the girl, pleadingly.

"Better? Yes, my girl," said Oldroyd, wondering at the rustic maiden's good looks. "There, there, don't be foolish," he continued, as the girl caught his hand to kiss it.

She shrank away, and coloured a little, when Oldroyd hastened to add more pleasantly,--

"I think he'll soon be better."

She gave him a bright, grateful look through her tears, and then hurriedly shrank away.

"Hah! that's better," he said to himself, as he went on with his simple meal. "A cup of tea, and a little suns.h.i.+ne, what a difference they do make in a man's sensations. Humph! past six. No bed for me till to-night," he exclaimed, as he glanced at his watch; and rising, he went softly upstairs once more, to find that his patient was still sleeping, with Judith watching by his pillow.

Oldroyd just nodded to her, and made a motion with one finger that she should come to his side.

"I'll ride over in the afternoon," he whispered; and then he went quietly down, said "good-morning" to the woman waiting, and with the sensation upon him that the night's work did not seem so horrible now that the sun had risen, he stepped out.

Volume 2, Chapter VIII.

WHY THE SLUGS ATE LUCY'S MUSHROOMS.

Three men, one of whom was the last night's messenger, Caleb Kent, a stranger to Oldroyd, were lounging about by the cottage gate as the doctor stepped out, and their looks asked the question they longed to have answered.

"I think he'll get over it, my men," said Oldroyd. "It's a narrow escape for him, though, if he does pull through."

The men exchanged glances.

"I suppose you'll have the police over before long, and--What's the matter?"

The men were looking sharply down the road.

"I mean they'll want to question him about the scoundrels who did this work."

"It warn't no scoundrels, did it, doctor," said Caleb Kent, with a vicious snarl.

"But I took it that the keeper had been shot by poachers."

"It were Cap'n Rolph shot him," said Caleb, fiercely.

"Dear me! What a sad accident."

"Accident?" cried Caleb Kent, with an ugly laugh. "Why, I see him lift his gun and take aim. It was just as I was going to hit at him."

"Nonsense, my lad: his own master."

"Arn't no master of his'n now. Sacked nigh three months ago."

Oldroyd stared.

"Here, I'm getting confused, my man. That poor fellow upstairs is a keeper, isn't he?"

"Was, sir," said Caleb Kent, with a grin; "but he arn't now. He was out with us after the fezzans last night."

"Hold your tongue," growled one of the other men.

"Sha'n't. What for? Doctor won't tell on us."

"Then it is as I thought. You are a gang of poachers, and the man upstairs is hand and glove with you."

"Well, why not, sir. They sacked him, and no one wouldn't have him, because he used once to do a bit o' nights hisself 'fore he turned keeper. Man can't starve when there's hares and fezzans about."

"Went a bit like out o' spite," said Caleb. "Hadn't been out with us before."

"Humph! and you come and fetch me and tell me this," said Oldroyd. "How do you know that I shall not go and give notice to the police?"

"Cause we know'd better. Caleb here was going to fetch old Blunt from the town; but I says if you fetch him, he'll go back and tell the police."

"And how do you know that I shall not?" said Oldroyd, tartly.

"Gent as goes out of his way to tent a poor labrer's wife when her chap's out o' work, and does so much for the old folks, arn't likely to do such a dirty trick as that. Eh, mates?"

"Humph! you seem to have a pretty good opinion of me," said Oldroyd.

"Yes, sir, we knows a gen'leman when we sees one. We'll pay you, sir, all right. You won't let out on us, seeing how bad the poor fellow is."

Oldroyd was silent and thoughtful for a few moments, and then he turned sharply upon Caleb Kent.

"Look here, sir," he said; "you've got a tongue and it runs rather too fast. You made an ugly charge against that man's late master."

"I said I see him shute him," said Caleb.

"And you did not see anything of the kind."

"You gents allus stick up for each other," muttered Caleb.

"You could not see what took place in the darkness and excitement of a fight, so hold your tongue. Such a charge would make endless mischief, and it must be a mistake."

"All right, sir," said Caleb.

"It would upset that poor girl, too, if she heard such a thing."

"Yes, it would upset her sure enough if she heard," said Caleb, with a peculiar smile, and he walked away.

"I ought to give you fellows a lecture on the danger of night poaching,"

continued Oldroyd.

"Don't, sir, please," said one of the men, with a laugh, "for it wouldn't do no good. 'Sides; we might want to hing a brace o' fezzans or a hare up agin your door now and then."