The Vicar's People Part 47

The lady did not seem to consider it a case of his and hers, but went on behaving as if she were a kind of upper servant or nursery governess, while he wanted a companion and help. Certainly she opened his clean pocket-handkerchiefs for him, for fear he should look dandified; and she taught his children well according to her lights, though her teachings certainly had the appearance of what Mrs Mullion called drilling, for she was very strict.

But somehow the doctor was not happy, and spent as little of his time as possible at home. When a wet day compelled him to stop in, as the streams were flooded, he amused himself by going over his fis.h.i.+ng-tackle, or making weather-c.o.c.ks to place out in his garden to scare away the birds, which were supposed to be tempted by the fruit.

On this particular morning, with her cap awry, and looking more unkempt than usual, Mrs Rumsey was very lachrymose and very busy, carving away at the bread and b.u.t.ter, and rocking the cradle with one foot, while at times she cast an occasional eye out of the open door at her twins, Billy and Dilly, two st.u.r.dy little boys a couple of years old, fair, fat, and so much alike that it required study to avoid mistakes. They were toddling up and down the pebble garden-path, each with a feeding bottle tied to his waist, the long india-rubber pipe reaching upwards, and the mouth-piece between his lips, the pair looking like a couple of young Turks enjoying a morning hookah in the open air.

The other children were already in their places, sniffing occasionally and looking longingly at the pile of bread-and-b.u.t.ter mounting high, what time mamma gave them torture lessons during the preparation for the meal.

"Why don't your father come?" she said, dolefully, as she looked impatiently at the door. "He always will stay with his patients so much longer than he need. Who's that coming?"

"Madge Mullion, ma," cried the eldest-born, a long, thin girl, whose face lit up as there was a bang of the garden gate and a rustling of skirts; and, after bending down to kiss the children, Madge, looking very pale and pretty, came in without ceremony.

"How are you?" she cried, kissing Mrs Rumsey.

"Very poorly, my dear," whined the doctor's wife. "These children will worrit me into my grave."

"No, no," cried Madge, as she faced round. "Have you any news?"

"No, my dear, there's never any news down in this lost out-of-the-way place. Dr Rumsey always would persist in leaving London, or he might have been having his guinea fee from every patient, and keeping his carriage by now."

"Then it isn't true!" said Madge, with a sigh of relief.

"What, my dear?--Priscilla, if you will persist in sniffing so, I certainly will slap you."

The young lady addressed immediately began tugging at a pocket-handkerchief, secured by one end to the waistband of some under-garment, and bent her young body like an arc to get a good blow.

"I have been to the shop, and heard that Mr Tregenna was taken ill in the night."

"Oh, yes, my dear, he was. Papa was called up at two o'clock, and he hasn't come back yet."

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Madge, turning paler.

"That he has, ma," cried the eldest boy. "I got up at five to see what time it was, and pa was just going out with his fis.h.i.+ng-rod; and he told me to go back quietly to bed and not wake anybody."

"Then you're a naughty, wicked boy, Bobby, for not saying so sooner,"

cried Mrs Rumsey, angrily. "Don't make that noise, or you shall have no breakfast."

Bobby was drawing a long breath for a furious howl, but he glanced hungrily at the bread and b.u.t.ter, smoothed his countenance, and put off the performance for the present.

"I declare it's too bad," continued mamma; "he knows how anxious I am when he's away, and yet he comes creeping back at daybreak, like a burglar, to steal his own fis.h.i.+ng-tackle, and goes, no one knows where, after a few nasty trout."

"Then Mr Tregenna must be better," said Madge.

"Oh, yes, my dear, he's better," said Mrs Rumsey, petulantly. "What a silly girl you are to think of such things. I'm sure I ought to be a framing to you. Look at me!"

Certainly, as an example against entering into the marriage state Mrs Rumsey was a warning; but, like most other such warnings, ineffectual.

"I couldn't help calling just to try and hear a few words," said Madge; "but you won't betray me, dear?"

"Oh, no, I won't tell, Madge," said Mrs Rumsey, a little less grimly, and evidently greatly delighted at being made the repository of the young girl's love affair. "But I do wonder at you, Madge," she said, in a whisper, with a slice of bread and b.u.t.ter half cut. "John Tregenna's all very well, and certainly he has a n.o.ble nose, but you've got somebody far nicer at home."

"Yes, isn't he nice?" whispered back Madge.

"I've only seen him once, dear, but I thought him far before John Tregenna."

"Yes," said Madge, sighing.

"Yes, I know, my dear. John Tregenna has such a way with him."

"He has indeed," said Madge, sighing again.

"Ah, well, my dear," said Mrs Rumsey, finis.h.i.+ng the slice, and laying it in its place upon the pile, "I ought not to say any thing against it, if you are set upon such a wilful course, for John Tregenna is papa's patient, and of course you would be; and what with measles, and chicken-pox, and scarlatina, your family would be a help."

"Oh, Charlotte dear!" exclaimed Madge.

"Ah, you may say, `Oh, Charlotte dear!' but it must come to that; and a good thing too, for I'm sure our income's limited enough, and--Oh, here he is at last, and his boots wet through. There, now: if there ever was an unreasonable man, it's my husband. He's bringing that Mr Trethick in to breakfast."

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Madge, to her companion. "Let me go without his seeing me."

"You can slip out at the back," said Mrs Rumsey, "and he won't see you."

But Madge thought it would look so cowardly, and, after a glance at the gla.s.s, determined to face Geoffrey, who was half pushed into the room by the doctor.

"Ma, dear, here's Mr Trethick. We've had a couple of hours up the stream."

"And there's nothing but bread and b.u.t.ter, papa," said Mrs Rumsey, in an injured tone. "I didn't know you were going to bring company."

"Company? I am not company," said Geoffrey, merrily. "I'm a patient in prospective, and the doctor prescribes bread and b.u.t.ter. I was brought up on that happy animal and vegetable combination. Ah, Miss Mullion, good-morning! Who'd have thought of seeing you here? I say, I want to have a good laugh at those two little Turks out in the front."

"Yes, Mr Trethick," said Mrs Rumsey, pitifully, "indeed they are young Turks; but won't you sit down?"

"Don't let me disturb you, Miss Mullion," he cried.

"Oh, I'm going, Mr Trethick," said Madge, giving Mrs Rumsey a wistful look, which she interpreted aright, and acted accordingly.

"How is Mr Tregenna?" she said to her husband.

"Tregenna? Oh, ah, yes, to be sure! I had forgotten him. He's all right again. Called me up in the middle of the night; said he was dying. Fit of indigestion; lives too well. I am always telling him so.

He's getting a liver as bad as old Paul. He works it too hard, and then it strikes, and telegraphs messages all over the body even to the toes, and then there's a riot, for all the other organs strike too."

"Then he was not seriously ill, papa?" said Mrs Rumsey, after another glance from Madge.

"Not he. Guilty conscience, perhaps. Sent for me for nothing. I told him he'd cry `Wolf!' once too often, and I shouldn't go."

As Madge heard this she glided out of the room, and made her way unperceived to the front, and out into the street, in sublime unconsciousness that Miss Pavey was at her window, with a a very shabby little tortoise-sh.e.l.l-covered opera-gla.s.s, by means of which she had been intently watching the doctor's house.

"Ah, me! Poor Rhoda!" she said to herself; "but it's not for me to say any thing, only to pity the poor deluded girl. Oh, these men, these men!"

Meanwhile, after a few words to his guest, Dr Rumsey turned an eye to business.