Burr Junior Part 61

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

There was a tremendous burst of cheering and a rush for the tent by the boys who had left their jackets within, and among them Burr major, disappointed, but at the same time justly proud of the splendid score he had made, walked up to the door, disappeared amongst plenty of clapping, and soon after came out again in his jacket and vest.

We had all cl.u.s.tered up round about the players, and two masters shook hands with the champion, who directly after caught sight of me.

"Hallo! How's the head?" he cried.

"Getting better now."

"I saw you watching the match," he continued. "Nice time you had of it lying about under that tree, while we fellows did all the work."

"I should have liked to be in it," I said rather drearily; "but I really was very bad."

His attention was called off soon after, and then there was a summons to the tent for the festive high tea, which was to come off directly, as the Hastings boys had a long drive back.

I was much better, but the thought of food in that crowded tent was nauseating, and, watching my opportunity, I slipped away, seeing Tom Mercer looking about as if in search of me before going into the tent.

"I know what I'll do," I thought. "I'll walk gently down along the lane to Bob Hopley's place, and ask Polly to make me a cup of tea and cut me some bread and b.u.t.ter."

The plan was simple enough, and I strolled out and along the road, and then entered a gate, to make a short cut along the hedge side of the fields.

The evening was glorious, and after a broiling day the soft moist odours that came from the copses dotted here and there seemed delightfully refreshing, and so I strolled on and on till I was only a short distance from the cottage, which was separated from me by a couple of fields, when I turned slowly toward a corner of the enclosure I was in, where there was a pond and a patch of moist land where weeds never noticed towered up in abundance, and, to my surprise, I caught sight of Magglin seated on the bank of the pond, with his feet hanging close to the water, and apparently engaged in his evening toilet. It seemed to me that he must have been washing his face, and that he was now wiping it upon some great leaves which he plucked from time to time.

"No, he isn't," I said to myself the next moment. "He has been poaching, and saw me coming. It's all a pretence to throw me off the scent;" and I went on, my way being close by him, and there he was rubbing away at his face with the leaves, while I glanced here and there in search of a wire set for rabbit or hare, though I shrewdly suspected that the wire he had been setting would be over in the copse beyond the pond, in the expectation of getting a pheasant.

He was so quick of hearing that he could detect a footstep some distance off, but this time he turned round sharply when I exclaimed,--

"Hallo, Magglin!"

"Eh--I--Oh, how de do, sir?"

"Better than you do," I said sharply. "What have you been doing to your face?"

"Face? Oh, rubbing it a bit, sir, that's all. Good as washing."

"Dock leaves," I said. "What, have you stung yourself?"

"Oh yes, I forgot that, sir. Just a little bit, sir. I was coming through the hedge down below there, and a 'ormous old nettle flew back and hit me acrost the cheek. But it aren't nothing."

More than I should like to have, I thought to myself, as I went on, for his face was spotted with white patches, and I knew how they must tingle.

Ten minutes after, I was in the lane, in time to meet Polly Hopley, in her best bonnet and with a key in her hand, going up to the cottage door.

She smiled as she saw me, hurried to the cottage, unlocked the door, and stood back for me to enter.

"Been out, Polly?" I said.

"Yes, sir, of course. Father took me to see the cricket match. Doctor Browne told father we might come into the field, and it were lovely.

But why didn't you play?"

I told her, and she expressed her sympathy. Then, in a very decided way,--

"Sweets and puffs aren't good for you, sir, and I won't sell you one to-day."

"I don't want any, Polly," I replied. "I was going to ask you to sell me a cup of tea."

"And I won't do that neither, sir; but I'm going to make myself some directly, and if you'll condescend to sit down in father's big chair and have some, I should be glad."

To the girl's great delight, I accepted her offer. The kettle hanging over the smouldering fire of wood ashes was soon boiling, and I partook of a delicious tea, with fresh water-cresses from the spring, and cream in my tea from the General's dairy, while Polly cut bread and b.u.t.ter, and chatted about "father's" troubles with the poachers, and about the baits he had been getting ready for our next fishing visit to the ponds.

Then again about the cricket match, and we were carrying on an animated conversation when the door was thrown quickly open, and Bob Hopley appeared.

"Oh, dad, how you startled me!" cried Polly, jumping up.

"Startled you, my la.s.s? I heerd loud talking and I'd been told young Magglin had come down this way, and I thought it was him."

"I saw him just before I came in, over by the pond there by the copse,"

I said.

"He wasn't likely to be in here, father," said Polly primly. "I should like to catch him trying to come in."

"So should I," said the keeper grimly. "I'd try oak that time 'stead o'

hazel."

"Hush, dad! do adone," whispered Polly. Then aloud--

"Master Burr's been poorly all day, and as they were all feasting and junketing at the school, he come down here to ask me to make him some tea, and he's very welcome, aren't he, father?"

"I should just think he is, my la.s.s. But fill up his cup again, and he's got no fresh b.u.t.ter."

"I've done," I said; "and oh, I do feel so much better now! Do you know what a bad sick headache is?"

"No, my lad, no. I aren't had one since--"

"Oh, father!"

"Come, Polly, don't be hard on a man. That was only the club feast."

"I haven't patience with such feasts," said Polly sharply. "I never go to feasts, and come back--"

"Poorly, my la.s.s, poorly," said Bob hastily.

"Yes, very poorly," said Polly sarcastically, "and say, 'My head's fit to split,' next day. Seems to me that's all such heads are fit for then--to split and burn."

"Nay, nay, my la.s.s, they burn quite enough, I can tell 'ee. Man does do stoopid things sometimes."

Bob was very apologetic about sitting down to tea, with me there. Then of course I apologised, and sat watching him drinking great draughts out of a basin and devouring huge slices of bread and b.u.t.ter.