Quicksilver Part 13

The boy gave the doctor a sharp glance, and then, in a very praiseworthy manner, tried to partake of the savoury joint in a decent way.

But it was hard work for him. The well-cooked succulent meat was so toothsome that he longed to get to the end of it; and whenever he was not watching the doctor and his daughter he kept glancing at the dish, wondering whether he would be asked to have any more.

"What's that rum-looking stuff?" he said, as the doctor helped himself from a small tureen.

"Mint sauce, sir. Will you have some?"

"I don't know. Let's taste it."

The little sauce tureen was pa.s.sed to him, and he raised the silver ladle, but instead of emptying it upon his plate he raised it to his lips, and drank with a loud, unpleasant noise, suggestive of the word _soup_.

The doctor was going to utter a reproof, but the sight of Helen's mirth checked him, and he laughed heartily as he saw the boy's face full of disgust.

"I don't like that," he said, pushing the tureen away. "It ain't good."

"But you should--"

"Don't correct him now, papa; you will spoil the poor boy's dinner,"

remonstrated Helen.

"He said it was lunch," said Dexter.

"Your dinner, sir, and our lunch," said the doctor. "There, try and behave as we do at the table, and keep your elbows off the cloth."

Dexter obeyed so quickly that he knocked a gla.s.s from the table, and on leaving his seat to pick it up he found that the foot was broken off.

The doctor started, and uttered a sharp e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

In an instant the boy shrank away into a corner, sobbing wildly.

"I couldn't help it. I couldn't help it, sir. Don't beat me, please.

Don't beat me this time. I'll never do so any more."

"Bless my soul!" cried the doctor, jumping up hastily; and the boy uttered a wild cry, full of fear, and would have dashed out of the open window into the garden had not Helen caught him, the tears in her eyes, and her heart moved to pity as she read the boy's agony of spirit. In fact that one cry for mercy had done more for Dexter's future at the doctor's than a month's attempts at orderly conduct.

"Hush, hush!" said Helen gently, as she took his hands; and, with a look of horror in his eyes, the boy clung to her.

"I don't mind the cane sometimes," he whispered, "but don't let him beat me very much."

"Nonsense! nonsense!" said the doctor rather huskily. "I was not going to beat you."

"Please, sir, you looked as if you was," sobbed the boy.

"I only looked a little cross, because you were clumsy and broke that gla.s.s. But it was an accident."

"Yes, it was; it was," cried the boy, in a voice full of pleading, for the breakage had brought up the memory of an ugly day in his young career. "I wouldn't ha' done it, was it ever so; it's true as goodness I wouldn't."

"No, no, Maria, not yet," cried Helen hastily, as the door was opened.

"We will ring."

Maria walked out again, and the boy clung to Helen as he sobbed.

"There, there," she said. "Papa is not cross. You broke the gla.s.s, and you have apologised. Come: sit down again."

If some one had told Helen Grayson two hours before that she would have done such a thing, she would have smiled incredulously, but somehow she felt moved to pity just then, and leading the boy back to his chair, she bent down and kissed his forehead.

In a moment Dexter's arms were about her neck, and he was clinging to her with pa.s.sionate energy, sobbing now wildly, while the doctor got up and walked to the window for a few moments.

"There, there," said Helen gently, as she pressed the boy down into his seat, and kissed him once again, after seeing that her father's back was turned. "That's all over now. Come, papa."

The doctor came back, and as he was pa.s.sing the back of the boy's chair, he raised his hand quickly, intending to pat him on the head.

The boy flinched like a frightened animal antic.i.p.ating a blow.

"Why, bless my soul, Dexter! this will not do," he said huskily. "Here, give me your hand. There, there, my dear boy, you and I are to be the best of friends. Why, my dear Helen," he added in French, "they must have been terribly severe, for the little fellow to shrink like this."

The boy still sobbed as he laid his hand in the doctor's, and then the meal was resumed; but Dexter's appet.i.te was gone. He could not finish the lamb, and it was only with difficulty that he managed a little rhubarb tart and custard.

"Why, what are you thinking about, Dexter!" said Helen after the lunch; and somehow her tone of voice seemed to indicate that she had forgotten all about the workhouse clothes.

"Will he send me back to the House?" the boy whispered hoa.r.s.ely, but the doctor heard.

"No, no," he said quickly; and the boy seemed relieved.

That night about eleven, as she went up to bed, Helen Grayson went softly into a little white bedroom, where the boy's pale face lay in the full moonlight, and something sparkled.

"Poor child!" she said, in a voice full of pity; "he has been crying."

She was quite right, and as she bent over him, her presence must have influenced his dreams, for he uttered a low, soft sigh, and then smiled, while, forgetting everything now but the fact that this poor little waif of humanity had been stranded, as it were, at their home, she bent over him and kissed him.

Then she started, for she became aware of the fact that her father was at the door.

The next moment she was in his arms.

"Bless you, my darling!" he said. "This is like you. I took this up as a whim as well as a stubborn belief; but somehow that poor little ignorant fellow, with his rough ways, seems to be rousing warmer feelings towards him, and, please G.o.d, we'll make a man of him of whom we shall not be ashamed."

Poor Dexter had cried himself to sleep, feeling in his ignorant fashion that he had disgraced himself, and that the two harsh rulers were quite right,--that he was as bad as ever he could be; but circ.u.mstances were running in a way he little thought.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

TAMING THE WILD.

"Ah!" said the doctor, laying down his pen and rubbing his hands.

"That's better;" and he took off his spectacles, made his grey hair stand up all over his head like tongues of silver fire, and looked Dexter over from top to toe.

Thanks to Helen's supervision, the boy looked very creditable. His hair was of course "cut almost to the bone," and his face had still the Union look--pale and saddened, but he was dressed in a neat suit which fitted him, and his turn-down collar and black tie seemed to give his well-cut features quite a different air.