Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 5

He put his objection very cleverly.

"I have to think of you, my dear madame," he said. "I don't want two patients on my hands in the same house. Talk him back into delirium!" he added to himself.

All these days Mrs. Lorton continued to "hush," Nell went about with a grave air of suspense, and d.i.c.k--it is not given to this historian to describe the state of mind into which incessant repression drove that youth.

On the sixth day, bored to death, and somewhat curious, he strolled into the sick room. Drake Vernon, propped up by pillows, was partaking of beef tea with every sign of distaste.

"How are you getting on, sir?" asked d.i.c.k.

The sick man looked at the boy, and nodded with a faint smile.

"I'm better, thanks; nearly well, I devoutly trust."

"That's all right," commented d.i.c.k cheerfully. "Thought I'd just look in. Shan't upset you, or disturb you, shall I, sir?"

"Not in the very least," was the reply. "I'm very glad to see you. Won't you sit down? Not there, but some place where I can see you."

d.i.c.k sat on the end of the bed and leaned against the rail, with his hands in his pockets.

"I ought to introduce myself, I suppose. I'm what is called in the novels 'the son of the house'; I'm Nell's brother, you know."

Mr. Vernon nodded.

"So I see, by the likeness."

"Rather rough on Nell, that, isn't it? I'll tell her," said d.i.c.k, with a spark of mischief in his eye. "Why, she's as black as a coal, and I'm fair."

"You are alike, all the same," said the invalid, rather indifferently.

"My name is d.i.c.k--d.i.c.k, as a rule; Richard, when my stepmother is more than usually riled with me."

"Permit me to call you by the shorter name," said Mr. Vernon. "I'm afraid I've been a terrible nuisance, and must continue to be for some days. The doctor tells me that I can't venture to move yet."

"That's all right," responded d.i.c.k cheerfully. "We shall be glad to see you about again, of course; but don't worry yourself on our account, sir. To tell you the truth, we rather enjoy--that is, some of us"--he corrected--"having 'an accident case' in the house. Mamma, for instance, hasn't been so happy for a long while."

"Mrs. Lorton must be extremely good-natured and charitable," commented Mr. Vernon.

d.i.c.k looked rather doubtful.

"Er--ye-s. You see, it's a little change and excitement, and we don't get much of that commodity in Shorne Mills. So we're rather grateful to you than otherwise for pitching yourself at our front gate. If you could have managed to break both arms and a leg, I verily believe that mamma would have wept tears of joy."

"I'm afraid I can't say I'm sorry I did not gratify her to that extent,"

said Mr. Vernon, with a grim smile; but it was a smile, and his dark eyes were scanning the boy's handsome face with something approaching interest. "Mrs. Lorton is your stepmother? Did I hear her say so, or did I dream it?"

"It's no dream; it's real enough," said d.i.c.k, with intense gravity. "My father"--he seated himself more comfortably--"was Lorton & Lorton, the Patent Coffee Roaster, you know--perhaps you've heard of it?"

Mr. Vernon shook his head.

"Ah, well! a great many other people must have done so; for the roaster made a pile of money, and my father was a rich man. Molly, you can take that beef tea downstairs and give it to Snaps. He won't eat it, because he's a most intelligent dog. Thought I'd get her out of the room, sir.

Molly's a good girl, but she's got ears and a tongue."

"So have I," said Drake Vernon, with a faint smile.

"Oh, I don't mind you. It's only right that you should know something about the people in whose house you are staying."

Drake Vernon frowned slightly, for there was the other side of the medal: surely, it was only right that the people in whose house he was staying should know something about himself.

"Father made a lot of money over a roaster; then my mother died. I was quite a kid when it happened; but Nell just remembers her. Then father married again; and, being rich, I suppose, wanted a fashionable wife. So he married mamma. I dare say that she's told you she's a Wolfer?"

Mr. Vernon nodded.

"There's not much in it," said d.i.c.k, with charming candor. "We've never set eyes on any of her swell connections, and I don't think she's ever heard from them since the smash."

"What smash?" asked Mr. Vernon, with only faint interest.

"Didn't I tell you? Left the part of _Hamlet_ out of the play! Why, father added a patent coffeepot to the roaster, and lost all his money--or nearly all. Then he died. And we came here, and----There you are, sir; that's the story; and the moral is, 'Let well alone'; or 'Be content with your roaster, and touch not the pot.' Sounds like the t.i.tle of a teetotal tract, doesn't it?"

"And you are at school, I suppose? No, you are too old for that."

"Thanks. I was trying not to feel offended," said d.i.c.k. "Nothing hurts a boy of my age like telling him he isn't a man. No; I've left school, and I'm supposed to be educated; but it's the thinnest kind of supposition.

I don't fancy they teach you much at most schools. They didn't teach me anything at mine except cricket and football."

"Oxford, Cambridge?" suggested the invalid, leaning on his elbow, and looking at the boy absently.

"Wouldn't run to it," said d.i.c.k. "Mamma said I must begin the world--sounds as if it were a loaf of bread or an orange. I should have 'begun it' long ago if it were. The difficulty seems to be where to begin. I'm supposed to have a taste for engineering--once made a steam engine out of an empty meat tin. It didn't work very well, and it blew up and burst the kitchen window; but that's a detail. So I'm waiting, like Mr. Micawber, for 'something to turn up' in the engineering line. I take in the engineering paper, and answer all the advertis.e.m.e.nts; but nothing comes of it. Quite comfortable? Shall I shake up the pillow, sir? I know how to do it, for I've seen Nell do 'em for mamma."

"No; thanks, very much. I'm quite comfortable. If you really are desirous of taking any trouble, you might get me a sheet of note paper and an envelope."

"To say nothing of a pen, some ink, and blotting paper," said d.i.c.k, rising leisurely.

He brought them and set them on the bed, and Mr. Drake Vernon wrote a letter.

"I'm sending for some clothes," he explained. "May I trouble you to post it? Any time will do."

"Post doesn't go out till five," said d.i.c.k. "And we've only one post in and out a day. This is the last place Providence thought of, and I don't think it would have mattered much if it had been forgotten altogether."

"It's pretty enough, too, what I saw of it," said Mr. Vernon.

"Oh, it's pretty enough," a.s.sented d.i.c.k casually; "but it's precious dull."

"What do you find to do?" asked the sick man, with an attempt at interest.

"Oh, I ride--when I can borrow a horse--and boat and fish--and fish and boat."

At that moment a girl's voice, singing in a soft and subdued tone, rose from below the window.

Mr. Drake Vernon listened for a moment or two, then he asked: