The Weathercock Part 35

Says Syme has no business to have you at the rectory to mix with gentlemen."

"Oh, he says that, does he?"

"Yes, and I told him you were more of a gentleman than he was, and he gave me a back-handed crack over the mouth."

"And what did you do--hit him back?"

"Not with my fist. With my tongue. Called him a n.i.g.g.e.r. That hits him hardest, for he's always fancying people think there's black blood in his veins, though, of course, there isn't, and it wouldn't matter if there were, if he was a good fellow. Let's get on. Where's the lane?"

"Just down there," said Vane; and they reached it directly after, but there were no signs of the gipsies, and Vane said nothing about them then, feeling that he must have been mistaken about their intentions, which could only have been to beg.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

TWO BUSY DAYS.

It is curious to study the different things which please boys.

Anything less likely to form a fortnight's amus.e.m.e.nt for a lad than the iron-pipes, crooks, bends, elbows, syphons and boiler delivered by waggon from the nearest railway, it would be hard to conceive. But to Vane they were a source of endless delight, and it thoroughly puzzled him to find Bruff, the gardener, muttering and grumbling about their weight.

"It arn't gardener's work, sir, that's why I grumbled," said the man.

"My work's flowers and vegetables and sech. I arn't used to such jobs as that."

"Why, what difference does it make?" cried Vane.

"A deal, sir. Don't seem respectful to a man whose dooty's flowers and vegetables and sech, to set him hauling and heaving a lot o' iron-pipes just got down for your pranks."

"Well, of all the ungrateful, grumbling fellows!" cried Vane. "Isn't it to save you from coming up here on cold, frosty nights to stoke the fire?"

"Nay, bud it wean't," said Bruff, with a grin. "Look here, Mester Vane, I've sin too many of your contraptions not to know better. You're going to have the greenhouse pulled all to pieces, and the wall half knocked down to try your bits o' tricks, and less than a month they'll all have to be pulled out again, and a plain, good, old English flue 'll have to be put up as ought to be done now."

"You're a stubborn old stick-in-the-way, Bruff. Why, if you could have done as you liked, there would never have been any railway down here.

Mind! don't break that. Cast-iron's brittle."

"Brittle! It's everything as is bad, sir. But you're right, theere.

Niver a bit o' railway would I hev hed. Coach and waggon was good enew for my feyther, and it was good enew for me."

"Come along," said Vane; "let's get all in their places, as they'll be in the greenhouse."

"Ay, we'll get 'em in, I suppose," grumbled the gardener, "bud you mark my words, Mester Vane; them water pipes 'll nivver get hot, and, when they do, they'll send out a nasty, pysonous steam as'll kill ivery plahnt in the greenhouse. Now, you see?"

"Grumble away," said Vane; and Bruff did grumble. He found fault at being taken away from his work to help in Master Vane's whims, murmured at having to help move the boiler, and sat down afterwards, declaring that he had hurt his back, and could do no more that day; whereupon Vane, who was much concerned, was about to fetch the doctor, but Bruff suddenly felt a little better, and gradually came round.

Matters had gone as far as this when voices were heard in the avenue, and Gilmore and Macey made their appearance.

Vane's first movement was to run and get his jacket to put on; but he stopped himself, and stood fast.

"I don't mind their seeing me," he muttered. But he did, and winced as the joking began, Gilmore taking a high tone, and asking Vane for an estimate for fitting up a vinery for him.

Gilmore and Macey both saw that their jokes gave annoyance; and, to turn them off, offered to help, Macey immediately taking off his coat, hanging it over the greenhouse door, and seizing the end of a pipe to move it where it was not wanted.

"Don't be jealous, Bruff," he cried, as he saw the gardener stare.

"I'll leave a little bit of work for you to do."

Bruff grinned and scratched his head.

"Oh, if it comes to that, Mester Macey," he said, "you come here any time, and I'll give you some sensible work to do, diggin' or sweeping."

"I say," whispered Vane, the next minute, when he had contrived to get Macey alone, "what made you take off your coat?"

"So as to help."

"No, it wasn't, or not alone for that. You were thinking about what Distin said about my not being fit to a.s.sociate with gentlemen."

Macey flushed a little, like a girl.

"Nonsense!" he said.

"Now, confess. The truth!"

"Oh, I don't know. Well, perhaps. Here, come along, or we shan't get done to-day."

They did not get done that day; in fact they had hardly begun when it was time to leave off; and though there was plenty of fun and joking and banging together of pieces of iron-pipe and noise which brought out the doctor to see, and Aunt Hannah in a state of nervousness to make sure that n.o.body was hurt, Vane did not enjoy his work, for he could not help glancing at his dirty hands, and asking himself whether Distin was not right. And at these times his fellow-pupil's fastidiously clean hands and unruffled, prim and dandified aspect came before him, making him feel resolved to be more particular as to the character of the hobbies he rode.

At parting, when Gilmore and Macey were taking leave after a visit to Vane's room and a plenteous application of soap and nail-brushes, in spite of their declaration that they had had a jolly day, their leader-- their foreman of the works, as Gilmore called him--had quite made up his mind that he would let the bricklayer and blacksmith finish the job. In consequence of his resolve, he was up by six o'clock next morning when the men came, meaning to superintend, but he soon lapsed, and was as busy as either of them.

Vane fully expected a severe encounter with Martha apropos of her kitchen-fire being left unlit, and the litter of brick and mortar rubbish made by the bricklayer; but to his surprise the cook did not come into the kitchen, and during breakfast Vane asked why this was.

"Aunt's diplomancy," said the doctor, merrily.

"No, no, my dear. Your uncle's," cried Aunt Hannah.

"Ah, well, halves," cried the doctor. "Martha wanted a holiday to visit her friends, and she started last night for two days. Can you get the boiler set and all right for Mrs Bruff to clean up before Martha comes back?"

"You must, my dear, really," cried Aunt Hannah. "You must."

"Oh, very well, aunt, if the bricklayer will only work well, it shall be done."

"Thank you, my dear, for really I should not dare to meet Martha if everything were not ready; and pray, pray, my dear, see that nothing is done to interfere with her kitchen-fire."

The doctor laughed. Vane promised, and forgetful entirely of appearances he deputed his uncle to go to the rectory and excuse him for two days, and worked like a slave. The result was that not only was the boiler set in the wall behind the kitchen-fire, and all put perfectly straight before the next night, but the iron-pipes, elbows, and syphons were joined together with their india-rubber rings, and supported on brick piers, the smith having screwed in a couple of taps for turning off the communication in hot weather, and the fitting of the boiler; and pipes through the little iron cistern at the highest point completing the work.

"Ought by rights, sir, to stand for a few days for the mortar to set,"

said the bricklayer on leaving; and this opinion being conveyed to Aunt Hannah, she undertook that Martha, should make shift in the back kitchen for a day or two--just as they had during her absence.

"She will not like it, my dear," said Aunt Hannah, "but as there is no muddle to clean up, and all looks right, I don't mind making her do that."

"Real tyrant of the household, Vane," said the doctor. "Don't you ever start housekeeping and have a cook."