The Vast Abyss Part 40

"Dear me!" said Mr Maxted dryly, "it never sounds comic to my ears, for there is so much sincerity in the simple act of praise. But we are homely country people down here, and very rustic no doubt to you."

"Confounded young prig!" said Mr Maxted, as he walked back to the Vicarage. "I felt as if I could kick him. Nice sentiments these for a clergyman on a Sunday," he added. "But he did make me feel so cross."

"What does he mean by calling me my dear young friend?" cried Sam, as soon as the Vicar was out of sight. "Nice time you must have of it down here, young fellow. But it serves you right for being so c.o.c.ky and obstinate when you had such chances along with us."

Tom was silent, but felt as if he could have said a great deal, and had the satisfaction of feeling that the gap between him and his cousin was growing wider and wider.

"I suppose he is a far superior fellow to what I am," the boy said to himself; "and perhaps it's my vanity, but I don't want to change."

It was the dreariest Sunday he had ever pa.s.sed, but he rose the next morning in the highest spirits, for Sam's father had told him to get off back to town directly after breakfast.

"If Uncle James would only get better and go too," he said to himself as he dressed, "how much pleasanter it would be!"

But Uncle James came down to breakfast moaning at every step, and murmuring at having to leave his bed so soon. For he had been compelled to rise on account of two or three business matters with which he wished to charge his son; and he told every one in turn that he was very much worse, and that he was sure Furzebrough did not agree with him; but he ate, as Tom observed, a very hearty breakfast all the same.

David had had his own, and had started off at six o'clock to fetch the fly, which arrived in good time, to take Sam off to meet the fast up-train, Tom thinking to himself that it would not have been much hards.h.i.+p to walk across the fields on such a glorious morning.

"Going to see your cousin off?" said Uncle Richard, just as breakfast was over. "You wouldn't mind the walk back, Tom?"

"Oh no, uncle," said the boy, who felt startled that such a remark should be made when he was thinking about the walk.

But Tom was not destined to go across to the station, for Uncle James interposed.

"No, no, don't send him away," he said. "I have not had an airing in my bath-chair for two days, and I fancy that is why I feel so exhausted this morning."

"Oh, I don't mind," said Sam; "and besides," he added importantly, "I shall be thinking of business all the time."

"At last," said Tom to himself, as his cousin stepped leisurely into the fly and lit a cigarette.

"On'y just time to ketch that there train, sir," said the driver, who, feeling no fear of his bony horse starting, was down out of his seat to hold open the fly-door.

"Then drive faster," said Sam coolly.

"Wish he'd show me how," muttered the driver, as he closed the door and began to mount to his seat, scowling at his slow-going horse.

"Good-bye, clodhopper," said Sam, toying with his cigarette, as he threw himself back in the fly without offering his hand.

"Good-bye, Sam," replied Tom. "All right, driver;" and the wheels began to revolve.

"He thinks Uncle Richard 'll leave him all his money," muttered Sam, as they pa.s.sed out of the swing-gate. "All that nice place too, and the old windmill; but he don't have it if I can do anything."

"There's something wrong about me, I suppose," said Tom to himself, as he turned down the garden, and then out into the lane, where he could look right away over the wild common-land, and inhale the fresh warm breeze. "Poor old chap though, I'm sorry for him!" he muttered. "Fancy having to go back to London on a day like this."

Then from the bubbling up of his spirits consequent upon that feeling of release as from a burden which had come over him, Tom set off running-- at first gently, then as hard as he could go, till at a turn of the lane he caught sight of Pete Warboys prowling along with his dog a couple of hundred yards away.

The dog caught sight of Tom running hard, uttered a yelp, tucked its tail between its legs, and began to run. Then Pete turned to see what had startled the dog, caught sight of Tom racing along, and, a guilty conscience needing no accuser, took it for granted that he was being chased; so away he ran, big stick in hand, his long arms flying, and his loose-jointed legs shambling over the ground at a pace which kept him well ahead.

This pleased Tom; there was something exhilarating in hunting his enemy, and besides, it was pleasant to feel that he was inspiring dread.

"Wonder what he has been doing," said the boy, laughing to himself, as Pete struck off at right angles through the wood and disappeared, leaving his pursuer breathless in the lane. "Well, I sha'n't run after him.--Hah! that has done me good."

Tom had another good look round where the lane curved away now, and ran downhill past the big sand-pit at the dip; and then on away down to where the little river gurgled along, sending flashes of suns.h.i.+ne in all directions, while the country rose on the other side in a beautiful slope of furzy common, hanging wood, and closely-cut coppice, pretty well filled with game.

"Better get back," thought Tom; and then he uttered a low whistle, and broke into a trot, with a new burden on his back in the shape of the bath-chair, for he had suddenly recollected Uncle James's complaint about not having been out for a ride.

Sure enough when he reached the garden David met him.

"Master's been a-shouting for you, sir. Yes, there he goes again."

"Coming, uncle," cried Tom; and he ran into the house, and encountered Uncle Richard.

"Oh, here you are at last. Get out the bath-chair quickly, my boy.

Your uncle has been complaining bitterly. Little things make him fret, and he had set his mind upon a ride."

"All right, uncle--round directly," cried Tom, running off to the coach-house. "Phew! how hot I've made myself."

In two minutes he was running the chair round to the front door, and as he pa.s.sed the study window a doleful moaning greeted his ear; but it ceased upon the wheels being heard.

"All right, uncle, here it is," cried Tom; and James Brandon came out resting upon a stick, and moaning piteously, while his brother came behind bearing a great plaid shawl.

"Here, take my arm, Jem," he said.

"I can walk by myself," was the pettish reply. "Then you've come back, sir. Tired of your job, I suppose. Oh dear! oh dear!"

"I really forgot it for a bit, uncle," said Tom humbly.

"Forgot! Yes, you boys do nothing else but forget. Ah! Oh! Oh! I'm a broken man," he groaned, as he sank back in the chair and took hold of the handle.

"I'll pull you, uncle," said Tom, looking at him wonderingly.

"You pull it so awkwardly.--Oh dear me! how short my breath is!--And you get in the way so when I want to see the country. Go behind."

"All right, uncle. Which way would you like to go? Through the village?"

"What! down there by the churchyard? Ugh! No; go along that upper lane which leads by the fir-wood and the sand-pits. The air is fit to breathe there."

"Yes, glorious," said Uncle Richard cheerily. "Off you go, donkey, and bring your uncle back with a good appet.i.te for dinner."

"All right, uncle. Now, Uncle James, hold tight."

"Be careful, sir, be careful," cried the invalid; and he kept up his regular moaning as Tom pushed the chair out into the lane, and then round past the mill, and on toward the woods.

"How much did your uncle spend over workpeople for that whim of his?"

said the invalid, suddenly leaving off moaning and looking round.

"Oh, I don't know, uncle; a good deal, I believe."

"Yes, yes; oh dear me! A good deal, no doubt. Keep out of the sand; it jolts me."