The Weathercock Part 22

"No, no, my dear, don't misunderstand me. I meant that people generally prefer to keep to the old-fas.h.i.+oned ways of doing things."

"But, my dear," retorted Aunt Hannah, who had been put out that morning by rebellious acts on the part of Martha, "you are as bad as anyone.

See how you threw away Vane's pen-holder that he invented, and in quite a pa.s.sion, too. I did think there was something in that, for it is very tiresome to have to keep on dipping your pen in the ink when you have a long letter to write."

"Oh, aunty, don't bring up that," said Vane, reproachfully.

But it was too late.

"Hang the thing!" cried the doctor, with a look of annoyance and perplexity on his countenance; "that was enough to put anyone out of temper. The idea was right enough, drawing the holder up full like a syringe, but then you couldn't use it for fear of pressing it by accident, and squirting the ink all over your paper, or on to your clothes. 'Member my new shepherd's-plaid trousers, Vane?"

"Yes, uncle; it was very unfortunate. You didn't quite know how to manage the holder. It wanted studying."

"Studying, boy! Who's going to learn to study a pen-holder.

Goose-quill's good enough for me. They don't want study."

Vane rubbed his ear, and looked furtively from one to the other, as Aunt Hannah rose, and put away her work.

"No, my dear," she said, rather decisively; "I'm quite sure that Martha would never approve of anyone meddling with her kitchen-boiler."

She left the room, and Vane sat staring at his uncle, who returned his gaze with droll perplexity in his eyes.

"Aunt doesn't take to it, boy," said the doctor.

"No, uncle, and I had worked it out so thoroughly on paper," cried Vane.

"I'm sure it would have been a great success. You see you couldn't do it anywhere, but you could here, because our greenhouse is all against the kitchen wall. You know how well that rose grows because it feels the heat from the fireplace through the bricks?"

"Got your plans--sketches--papers?" said the doctor.

"Yes, uncle," cried the boy, eagerly, taking some sheets of note-paper from his breast. "You can see it all here. This is where the pipe would come out of the top of the boiler, and run all round three sides of the house, and go back again and into the boiler, down at the bottom."

"And would that be enough to heat the greenhouse?"

"Plenty, uncle. I've worked it all out, and got a circular from London, and I can tell you exactly all it will cost--except the bricklayers'

work, and that can't be much."

"Can't it?" cried the doctor, laughing. "Let me tell you it just can be a very great deal. I know it of old. There's a game some people are very fond of playing at, Vane. It's called bricks and mortar. Don't you ever play at it much; it costs a good deal of money."

"Oh, but this couldn't cost above a pound or two."

"Humph! No. Not so much as building a new flue, of course. But, look here: how about cold, frosty nights? The kitchen-fire goes out when Martha is off to bed."

"It does now, uncle," said the lad; "but it mustn't when we want to heat the hot-water pipes."

"But that would mean keeping up the fire all night."

"Well, you would do that if you had a stove and flue, uncle."

"Humph, yes."

"And, in this case, the fire on cold winters' nights would be indoors, and help to warm the house."

"So it would," said the doctor, who went on examining the papers very thoughtfully.

"The pipes would be nicer and neater, too, than the brick flue, uncle."

"True, boy," said the doctor, still examining the plans very attentively. "But, look here. Are you pretty sure that this hot-water would run all along the pipes?"

"Quite, uncle, and I did so hope you would let me do it, if only to show old Bruff that he does not know everything."

"But you don't expect me to put my hand in my pocket and pay pounds on purpose to gratify your vanity, boy--not really?" said the doctor.

"No, uncle," cried Vane; "it's only because I want to succeed."

"Ah, well, I'll think it over," said the doctor; and with that promise the boy had to rest satisfied.

CHAPTER TEN.

VANE'S WORKSHOP.

But Vane went at once to the kitchen with the intention of making some business-like measurements of the opening about the range, and to see where a boiler could best be placed. A glance within was sufficient.

Martha was busy about the very spot; and Vane turned back, making up his mind to defer his visit till midnight, when the place would be solitary, and the fire out.

There was the greenhouse, though; and, fetching a rule, he went in there, and began measuring the walls once more, to arrive at the exact length of piping required, when he became conscious of a shadow cast from the open door; and, looking up, there stood Bruff, with a grin upon his face--a look so provocative that Vane turned upon him fiercely.

"Well, what are you laughing at?" he cried.

"You, Mester."

"Why?"

"I was thinking as you ought to hev been a bricklayer or carpenter, sir, instead of a scollard, and going up to rectory. Measuring for that there noo-fangle notion of yours?"

"Yes, I am," cried Vane; "and what then?"

"Oh, nowt, sir, nowt, only it wean't do. Only throwing away money."

"How do you know, Bruff?"

"How do I know, sir? Why, arn't I been a gardener ever since I was born amost, seeing as my father and granfa' was gardeners afore me. You tak'

my advice, sir, as one as knows. There's only two ways o' heating places, and one's wi' a proper fireplace an' a flue, and t'other's varmentin wi' hot manner."

"Varmentin with hot manner, as you call it. Why, don't they heat the vineries at Tremby Court with hot-water?"

"I've heered you say so, sir, but I niver see it. Tak' my advice, sir, and don't you meddle with things as you don't understand. Remember them taters?"

"Oh, yes, I remember the potatoes, Bruff; and I daresay, if the truth was known, you cut all the eyes out, instead of leaving the strongest, as I told you."