The Rosery Folk Part 27

"Of course, then, not in social matters, Doctor Scales?"

"Will your Ladyship deign to notice the tints upon these peaches?" said the doctor evasively.--"Here is one," he said, lowering his voice, "that seems as if it had been mocking you, when your cheek is flushed with the exercise of riding, and you imperiously command the first poor wretch who pa.s.ses your way to open the gate."

"The peaches look very fine," said her Ladyship, refusing to notice the remark--"much finer than mine, dear Lady Scarlett. My head-gardener says that some disease has attacked the leaves."

"You should invite Doctor Scales over to treat the ailment," said Aunt Sophia archly.--"My dear James, what is the matter?"

"It is too bad--it is disgraceful!" cried Scarlett, stamping his foot.

"Because I am weak and ill, every one imposes on me. That old scoundrel has been neglecting everything."

"What! Monnick?" cried Aunt Sophia.

"Yes. No one else has the key. Ah! here you are," he said more angrily, "look, Kate, you ought to be more particular. These keys should be brought to you."

"What is wrong, dear?" said Lady Scarlett anxiously, as she came down that side of the peach-house, closely followed by Prayle.

"Everything is wrong," cried the unhappy man, gazing at her wildly. "I cannot bear it." He hurried from the peach-house, followed by the doctor, who calmed him by degrees.

"Some of the best peaches stolen," he cried. "It is too bad; I set such a store by them."

"And I set such store by your recovery, old fellow," said the doctor.

"That was a wretched fit of temper; but it's over now. Don't worry about it, man; and now go and lie down till dinner-time."

"No--no: I have no wish to--"

"Mind what I say.--Yes, you have, my dear boy. Come: a quiet nap till dinner-time, and then you will have forgotten this petty trouble, and be fresh and cool."

Scarlett sighed and walked slowly to the house, his companion seeing him lie down before going to his own room, and taking up a book which he read till it was time to get ready for the evening meal. Then he made his few simple preparations and strolled out into the garden again, to think out his plans and go over the events of the day and the possibility of his effecting a permanent cure. Item: to think a little about his own sore place, and how long it would take to heal up so thoroughly that he could always with impunity look Lady Martlett in the face.

Volume 2, Chapter IV.

MR SAXBY HAS ASPIRATIONS.

A couple of months had pa.s.sed.

"Mr Saxby wants to speak to you, ma'am," said f.a.n.n.y; and Aunt Sophia jumped up in a pet. "What does he want now? This is four times he has been down this month. Where is he?"

"In the study, ma'am. He wouldn't come in here."

Aunt Sophia entered the study to find quite a strong odour in the room.

It was something between lemon-scented verbena and magnolia; and as soon as she noticed it, she began to sniff, with the result that the busy City man, so strong in his office, so weak outside, began to turn red.

"Well, Mr Saxby," said Aunt Sophia, "have you sold those consols for me?"

"Yes, ma'am, as you insisted; but you'll excuse me, I'm sure, when I tell you that--"

"There, there, there, man! I know what you are going to say; but it is my own money, and I shall do with it what I please, and--" Sniff, sniff, sniff. "Whatever is it smells so strong?"

"Strong, ma'am, strong?" said Mr Saxby, wiping his brow, for Aunt Sophia had a peculiar effect upon him, causing him to grow moist about the palms of his hands and dew to form upon his temples.

"Why, it's that handkerchief, man: and you've been putting scent upon your hair!"

"Well, a little, ma'am, just a little," said Saxby, with a smile that was more indicative of feebleness than strength. "I was coming into the country, you see, and, ahem!--sweets to the sweet."

"Stuff!--How about that money."

"There's the cheque, ma'am," said Mr Saxby, taking out his pocket-book; "but I give it to you with regret; and--let me beg of you, my dear madam, to be guided by me."

"That will do, Saxby. I know what I am about; and now, I suppose, you have some eligible investment to propose?"

"Well, no, my dear madam; no. Things are very quiet. Money's cheap as dirt."

"May I ask, then, why you have come down?"

"The--er--the cheque, my dear madam."

"Might very well have come by post, Mr Saxby."

"Yes, but I was anxious to see and hear about how poor Sir James is getting on; to say a few words of condolence to Lady Scarlett. I esteem them both very highly, Miss Raleigh; I do indeed."

"Dear me! Ah!" said Aunt Sophia; "and--Shall I finish for you, Saxby?"

"Finish for me, my dear madam? I do not understand."

"Then I will, Saxby: you thought that if you came down and brought the cheque, you might perhaps see my niece."

"My dear madam! My dear Miss Raleigh! Really, my dear madam!"

"Don't be a sham, Saxby. Own it like a man."

Mr Saxby looked helplessly round the room, as if in search of help, even of an open door through which he could escape; but there was none; and whenever he looked straight before him, there was the unrelenting eye of the elderly maiden lady fixed upon him, and seeming to read him through and through. He wished that he had not come; he wished that he could bring his office effrontery down with him; he wished that he could make Aunt Sophia quail, as he could his clerks; but all in vain. Aunt Sophia, to use her own words, could turn him round her finger when she had him there, and at last he gasped out:

"Well, there, I'll be honest about it--I did."

"I didn't need telling," said Aunt Sophia. "I believe, Saxby, I could even tell you what you are thinking now."

"Oh nonsense, ma'am--nonsense!"

"Oh yes, I could," said Aunt Sophia sharply. "You were thinking that I was a wretched old griffin, and you wished I was dead."

"Wrong!" cried Saxby triumphantly, and speaking more like himself.

"I'll own to the griffin; but hang me if I will to the wishing you dead!"

"Why, you know you think she'll have my money, Saxby."

"Hang your money, ma'am!" cried the stockbroker sharply. "I've got plenty of my own, and can make more; and as to yours--why, if it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have a penny. It would be all gone in some swindling company. I--I beg your pardon, Miss Raleigh; I--ah--really-- ah--I'm afraid I rather forgot myself--I--"

"You're quite right, Saxby, quite right," said Aunt Sophia quietly.

"I'm afraid I am a very stupid, sanguine old woman over money matters, and you have saved me several times. But now about Naomi. Whatever is it you want?"