The Vicar's People Part 48

"Ah, Tregenna!" he said; "must not forget him. Prissy fetch me the day-book. I'll enter that while I remember it."

"No, papa," said Mrs Rumsey in an ill-used tone, as she frowned the little girl back in her place, "leave that till Mr Trethick has gone.

If you will expose our poverty by bringing visitors to breakfast, don't forget all the past, and let Mr Trethick go away thinking we have quite degenerated into Cornish fishermen and miners."

"Oh, Trethick won't think that," said the doctor heartily.

"Indeed I should not," said Geoffrey merrily. "How about the trout, doctor?"

"To be sure," cried the doctor, "we must have them."

"Don't, pray, say you have brought home any nasty trout to be cooked for breakfast, my dear," cried Mrs Rumsey imploringly. "I really could not get them cooked."

"Oh, never mind, my dear," said the doctor, rubbing his ear in rather a vexed way. "You won't mind, Trethick; you shall take them home with you."

"Mind? Not I," said Geoffrey.

"Of course if Mr Trethick particularly wishes trout for breakfast, I'll go and broil a brace myself," said Mrs Rumsey in an ill-used whine.

"I protest against any such proceeding," cried Geoffrey, who had been brought home by the doctor on purpose to partake of their spoil. "In fact, I rather dislike fish for breakfast," he added mendaciously.

"There, that's capital. I'll sit here between these two young rosy-cheeked rogues," he cried, "and we'll have a race and see who'll eat most slices of bread and b.u.t.ter."

Mrs Rumsey stood with the coffee-pot in one hand, looking at him aghast.

"And we'll cut for ourselves," said Geoffrey, smiling.

Mrs Rumsey was thawed, especially as papa fetched the loaf and b.u.t.ter, and placed them on the table.

"There, Trethick, make yourself at home," he said; "we can't afford ceremony here."

"Glad of it," said Geoffrey, making one of his little neighbours laugh.

"Why, Mrs Rumsey, you ought to be proud of your children. What a jolly, healthy little lot they are."

"Little?" cried Rumsey, pausing with his cup half-way to his lips.

"I mean in size, not number. Miss Prissy, if you look at me so hard with those blue eyes I shall think you are counting how many bites I take."

"Oh, I'm very proud of them," said Mrs Rumsey in a tone of voice that sounded like a preface to a flood of tears, "but it is a large family to care for and educate."

"Yes, it is," replied Geoffrey. "Mr Rumsey tells me that you educate them entirely yourself."

"Yes, quite," cried Mrs Rumsey, brightening a little. "Priscilla, say your bones."

To Geoffrey's astonishment Miss Priscilla put her hands behind, and began, with her mouth full of bread and b.u.t.ter--

"f.l.a.n.g.es and metacarpals, hands and feet; tibia, fibula, femur, scapular, clavicle, ulna, radius, costa--vertebra--maxillary--minimum-- Please, ma, I don't know any more;" and Miss Priscilla sat down suddenly and took another bite of her bread and b.u.t.ter.

"Bravo!" laughed Geoffrey. "Well, young lady, I don't think I could have remembered so many."

"She knows her muscles too," said Mrs Rumsey.

"Yes, but we won't have them now," said the doctor, quietly.

"Ah," sighed Mrs Rumsey, who felt injured, "but it is a very large family."

"Yes, but they look so healthy," continued Geoffrey. "Eh, coffee not strong enough, Mrs Rumsey? It's delicious. What beautiful b.u.t.ter?"

Mrs Rumsey seemed softened by her guest's homeliness.

"I wish I was as healthy," she sighed.

"So do I," said Geoffrey. "I'll be bound to say papa does not waste much medicine on them."

Dr Rumsey screwed up his face a little at this, and laughed.

"Dr Rumsey is very clever," said Mrs Rumsey, who--in her efforts to supply wants, cast an eye at the cradle, and see that the children behaved well before company--got into such a tangle that she besugared some cups twice, and some not at all. "I always say to him that he is throwing himself away down here."

"You do, my dear, always," said the doctor uneasily.

"There is so little to do," continued Mrs Rumsey, who got nothing to eat herself. "Priscilla, take your spoon in your right hand."

"Please, ma, my coffee's got no sugar," observed Bobby.

"There is no sugar in my coffee," said mamma correctively, as she gave her nose a twitch which sent it half an inch on one side. "Tom, sit up, sir. Yes, Mr Trethick, if my husband had his dues as a medical man, he would be in Harley Street, or in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square."

"As a specialist, eh?" said Geoffrey.

"Yes, Mr Trethick. Esther, my dear, why will you fill your mouth so full?"

"Still, life down here is very jolly, Mrs Rumsey," said Geoffrey, handing bread and b.u.t.ter to two or three hungry souls. "See how the little rascals eat."

"Yes," said the doctor, "that's just what they do do."

"Yes," said Mrs Rumsey, endorsing her husband's words, "their appet.i.tes are dreadful; and the doctor has so little business."

"Yes, there isn't much, only a mining accident now and then, or a half-drowned man or two to attend," said Rumsey.

"My pa brought a man to life again," said Bobby, gazing round-eyed at the visitor.

"Did he though?" said Geoffrey.

"Bobby, hold your tongue."

"Tom Jennen said he did," whispered the boy; "and my pa's very clever."

"Yes," sighed Mrs Rumsey, "he is clever."

"Hero wors.h.i.+p," said the doctor to Geoffrey, with his eyes twinkling.

"That's your great fault, dear," said Mrs Rumsey, giving her nose a twitch in the other direction. "It was that which kept you so back in London. You know you are very clever."