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The Weathercock: Being the Adventures of a Boy with a Bias, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 35. Mrs. Lee Is Incredulous |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. MRS. LEE IS INCREDULOUS "Help, help," cried Aunt Hannah, excitedly, as the lamp broke on the floor, and there was a flash of flame as the spirit exploded, some having splashed into the fire, and for a few minutes it seemed as if the fate of the Little Manor was sealed. But Vane only stared for a moment or two aghast at the mischief, and then seized one end of the blazing hearthrug. Mr Deering seized the other, and moved by the same impulse, they shot the lamp into the hearth, turned the rug over, and began trampling upon it to put out the flame. "Get Mrs Lee out," shouted Deering. "Here, Vane, the table cover; fetch mats." The fire was still blazing up round the outside of the rug; there was a rush of flame up the chimney from the broken lamp; and the room was filling fast with a dense black evil-smelling smoke. But Vane worked well as soon as the doctor had half carried out Mrs Lee, and kept running back with door-mats from the hall; and he was on his way with the dining-room hearthrug, when Martha's voice came from kitchen-ward, full of indignation: "Don't tell me," she said evidently to Eliza, "it's that boy been at his sperriments again, and it didn't ought to be allowed." Vane did not stop to listen, but bore in the great heavy hearthrug. "Here, Vane, here," cried the doctor; and the boy helped to spread it over a still blazing patch, and trampled it close just as Aunt Hannah and Eliza appeared with wash-hand jug of water and Martha with a pail. "No, no," cried the doctor; "no water. The fire is trampled out." The danger was over, and they all stood panting by the hall-door, which was opened to drive out the horrible black smoke. "Why, Vane, my boy," cried the doctor, as the lad stood nursing his hands, "not burned?" "Yes, uncle, a little," said Vane, who looked as if he had commenced training for a chimney-sweep; "just a little. I shan't want any excuse for not going to the rectory for a few days." "Humph!" muttered the doctor, as Mr Deering hurried into the smoke to fetch out his drawings and plans; "next guest who comes to my house had better not be an inventor." Then aloud: "But what does this mean, Vane, lad, are you right?" "Right?--yes," cried Deering, reappearing with his blackened plans, which he bore into the dining-room, and then, regardless of his sooty state, he caught the doctor's hands in his and shook them heartily before turning to Aunt Hannah, who was looking despondently at her ruined drawing-room. "Never mind the damage, Mrs Lee," he cried, as he seized her hands. "It's a trifle. I'll furnish your drawing-room again." "Oh, Mr Deering," she said, half-tearfully, half in anger, "I do wish you would stop in town." "Hannah, my dear!" cried the doctor. Then, turning to Deering: "But; look here, has Vane found out what was wrong?" "Found out?" cried Deering, excitedly; "why, his sharp young eyes detected the one little bit of grit in the wheel that stopped the whole of the works. Lee, my dear old friend, I can look you triumphantly in the face again, and say that your money is not lost, for I can return it, tenfold--Do you hear, Mrs Lee, tenfold, twentyfold, if you like; and as for you--You black-looking young rascal!" he cried, turning and seizing Vane's hand, "if you don't make haste and grow big enough to become my junior partner, why I must take you while you are small." "Oh, oh!" shouted Vane; "my hands, my hands!" "And mine too," said Deering, releasing Vane's hands to examine his own. "Yes, I thought I had burned my fingers before, but I really have this time. Doctor, I place myself and my future partner in your hands." Aunt Hannah forgot her blackened and singed hearthrugs and broken lamp as soon as she realised that there was real pain and suffering on the way, and busily aided the doctor as he bathed and bandaged the rather ugly burns on Vane's and Mr Deering's hands. And at last, the smoke having been driven out, all were seated once more, this time in the dining-room, listening to loud remarks from Martha on the stairs, as she declared that she was sure they would all be burned in their beds, and that she always knew how it would be--remarks which continued till Aunt Hannah went out, and then there was a low buzzing of voices, and all became still. And now, in spite of his burns, Deering spread out his plans once more, and compared them for a long time in silence, while Vane and the doctor looked on. "Yes," he said at last, "there can be no mistake. Vane is right. This speck was taken by the man who traced it for a stop-cock, and though this pipe shows so plainly here in the plan, in the engine itself it is right below here, and out of sight. You may say that I ought to have seen such a trifling thing myself; but I did not, for the simple reason that I knew every bit of mechanism by heart that ought to be there; but of this I had no knowledge whatever. Vane, my lad, you've added I don't know how many years to my life, and you'll never do a better day's work as long as you live. I came down here to-day a broken and a wretched man, but I felt that, painful as it would be, I must come and show my old friend that I was not the scoundrel he believed." The doctor uttered a sound like a low growl, and just then Aunt Hannah came back looking depressed, weary, and only half-convinced, to hear Deering's words. "There is not a doubt about it now, Mrs Lee," he cried, joyfully. "Vane has saved your little fortune." "And his inheritance," said the doctor, proudly. "No," cried Deering, clapping Vane on the shoulder, "he wants no inheritance, but the good education and training you have given him. Speak out, my lad, you mean to carve your own way through life?" "Oh, I don't know," cried Vane; "you almost take my breath away. I only found out that little mistake in your plans." "And that was the hole through which your uncle's fortune was running out. Now, then, answer my question, boy. You mean to fight your own way in life?" "Don't call it fighting," said Vane, raising one throbbing hand. "I've had fighting enough to last me for years." "Well, then, _carve_ your way, boy?" "Oh, yes, sir, I mean to try. I say, uncle, what time is it?" "One o'clock, my boy," said the doctor, heartily; "the commencement of another and I hope a brighter day." _ |
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