Sweethearts at Home Part 18

Then Hugh John loomed up, with that quiet gravity which deceives strangers sometimes, his finger still keeping the place in William's _Middle Kingdom_, and his eyes meeting those of the Doctor level as the metals on a straight run of the railway line.

The Doctor was ready to pa.s.s the lad in order to talk with Somebody--who, as usual, lay back looking amused. But that arresting something in Hugh John's eyes, a mixture of equality and authority, halted him, as it has done so many others.

"You are reading?" said the Doctor civilly.

"Oh, no," said Hugh John, "just picking out favorite bits. Do you know _The Middle Kingdom_?"

Now _The Middle Kingdom_ is an exceedingly fine book, highly technical in parts, and has to do with China. So it is no wonder that it was not so familiar to a man who for years has had to specialize on surgery as it was to the omnivorous Hugh John.

Dr. Weir Douglas shook his head as he glanced over the volume.

"It looks very stiff," he remarked; "are you getting it up for an exam.?"

Hugh John looked at him curiously. He did not approve of jests on such subjects. "I read it first when I was about ten," he said. "I only wish exams were as easy."

"Is it 'math'?" the Doctor inquired sympathetically.

"Yes," said Hugh John, "that--and the idiocies of English spelling!"

All this as from man to man, unsmiling, unwinking, each taking the measure of the other.

It came to an end in a mutual self-respect, neither yielding an inch.

But the boy knew how to make himself respected as well as the man of thirty. That night they took a long walk together in the crisp black frost, while Dr. Weir Douglas talked of "microbes," and Hugh John expounded Chinese transcendental medicine. But the real respect did not arrive till, pa.s.sing the darkened library as they returned, the Doctor said, "I hear you do something with the gloves. What do you say to a turn?"

"Step in!" said Hugh John.

What pa.s.sed I do not know, but when he went away the Doctor said, "I really think those gloves of yours are two or three ounces too light!"

It was the next day that Hugh John, summoned into solemn council by Butcher Donnan and his wife, was informed what was expected of him in the matter of Elizabeth Fortinbras. Luckily I was again present, and so can tell all about it.

Hugh John was not surprised. He was the Red Indian of the family. He took it as quite natural that he should be called in, quite natural that such good luck should befall Elizabeth Fortinbras, and entirely reasonable that he should be chosen as plenipotentiary.

Now and then he asked a question, unexpectedly acute, as to Nipper's financial position, and how the proposed arrangement with Elizabeth would affect him. You would have thought it was Nipper's case he was advocating. Only I know that he was anxious to keep clear of all injustice before taking the matter in hand.

"_And suppose Elizabeth gets married?_"

I saw the two Donnans look one at the other. I don't think either had yet considered the matter in this light. To adopt Elizabeth meant to adopt any possible husband Elizabeth might take to herself. I could tell from Butcher Donnan's twinkle that he was envisaging the possibility of having Hugh John as a son-in-law--by adoption. Hugh John was still an unknown quant.i.ty to the good pastry-cook. He would never understand the delicate detachment of the friendship of Elizabeth Fortinbras and my brother.

"We hope," said Butcher Donnan cunningly, "that you will let us keep Elizabeth for a long time, Mr. Hugh John?"

The boy took the words perfectly seriously and with no personal bearing.

"Elizabeth," he answered, "is a very pretty girl, but I shall do my best. At any rate she is sure to consult me before doing anything rash--like getting married, I mean!"

There was something about Hugh John which kept any one from laughing at him, and accordingly Butcher Donnan refrained.

"You are a confident young man," he said; "at your age I might have had an eye a little wider open for my own good fortune."

"Elizabeth trusts me, and I am her friend!" said Hugh John, as if that settled the whole matter.

"Well, may I be ... blessed!" cried Butcher Donnan. "Off with you, and let us hear what Elizabeth says."

"No," said Hugh John, "it must _happen_, not be dragged in by the collar. To-night, after shop-shutting, Elizabeth will go home to see that all is right with her people. I shall walk with her, and tell you what she says in the morning."

"We would rather hear to-night," cried Butcher Donnan, hotly impatient after the manner of his kind.

"No--to-morrow!" p.r.o.nounced Hugh John. "She ought to have the night to think it over. It wouldn't be fair unless!"

"No more it would, young fellow!" cried Butcher Donnan, clapping Hugh John on the shoulder. "You found us a new business. You are finding us a daughter--perhaps some day----"

"Hush now, Butcher," said his wife, anxious as to what he should say next.

But Hugh John, already deep in his mission, took no offense at Butcher Donnan's _innuendoes_. Elizabeth Fortinbras and he were the best of good friends. And when the time came he would stand by the right hand of the bridegroom of her choice and witness his joy.

So at least he thought at that moment.

XVII

THE LITTLE GREEN MAN

_Written the Summer we went abroad for the first time._

It was about then that Hugh John suddenly grew up. He had been threatening it for a long time, but had always put it off. This time, however, it was for keeps. We noticed it first when we made Father tell us stories. Hugh John had grown tired of the "Little Green Man"! Now this was a thing so terrible to us that we hardly dared to face it. For, you see, we had been, as it were, brought up on the Little Green Man, and this was like being false to the very salt we had eaten. And the crime was specially bad on Hugh John's part. For, you see, he ate such a lot of salt that the Doctor told him it was bad for his health. However, because there is no chance of Hugh John reading this book, I will try to tell the tale just as Father tells it even yet to Margaret the Maid--and the rest of us who have not grown too old to like such stories.

THE TALE OF THE LITTLE GREEN MAN.

"Of _course_ it is true," Father always began, "because you know yourselves that you have seen the very place and the Bogle Thorn and all. No doubt everything has shrunk a good deal since the time the story tells about. But that is only because you have grown out of all knowledge, and so everything seems smaller to you."

"I know," cried the Maid, "last year when we came back from the seaside, the Edam Water looked quite small and shallow, even at the first Torres Vedras!"

But Sir Toady nipped her good to make her "shut up"--yes, he had grown so rude in the use of words that that was what he said. But then, most boys are like that. It is school that does it, and, do you know, when they come back they even pervert us girls. That this is true was immediately proved by Maid Margaret giving a fierce kick under the table to Sir Toady, and whispering back, "Shut up yourself!"

But Father went on, never heeding in the least. A father who can be conveniently deaf at times is the best kind. Be sure and take no other!

The only genuine has a twinkle in his eye, and a dimple instead of smiling. You will know by that.

"Well, the Little Green Man," Father went on, "lived in the Bogle Thorn on the road between Laurieston and the Duchrae. I used to go that way to school long ago, and at first I was frightened of the Little Green Man.

I used to climb the d.y.k.e and go right up by the loch on the moor where the curlers played in winter, so as not to be compelled to pa.s.s that way. But after a while I got not to mind him a bit. For, you see, he was a good little man, all clad in green velvet tights, and with a broad green bonnet on his head like a peaky toadstool. Once or twice when I caught sight of him up among the branches, he popped into his little house just as quickly as a rabbit into its hole when you say "Scat!"

And, you see, when once I was sure that he was frightened of _me_, I used not to mind him a bit. Then by and by I used to sit down and swop currants and sugar which I had "found" at home for some of the nuts and lovely spicy fruits that the Little Green Man had stored away. He had the loveliest little parlor and bedrooms all in the inside of the tree, everything finished neat as cabinet-making, and the floor carpeted--you never saw the like--and there were little windows, too, with gla.s.s in them, and shutters that shut with the bark outside, so that you never could tell there was a window there at all."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I USED TO SWOP CURRANTS AND SUGAR FOR NUTS AND LOVELY SPICY FRUITS"]

"And how could you see all that, Father?" asked the Maid, who, as usual, was immensely interested, not having heard it above a thousand times before. So it stayed quite new to her.