Doctor, cried the wheelwright, fiercely, I dont be There, sir, I beg your pardon, he continued, holding out his rough hand; but it seems too hard to believe that any one could speak like this. The poor little thing couldnt help it, sir; and we should have had it done next Sunday. Why, sir, the poor girl was only showing me the little dont take notice o me, sir, please; Im like a great girl now.
As he spoke, he sank down upon an upturned box, and, covering his face with his hands, remained silent; but with his heaving shoulders telling the story of his bitter emotion.
Be a man, Morrison be a man, said the doctor, kindly, as he laid his hand upon the stricken fellows shoulder.
Yes, doctor, he said, rising and dashing away the signs of his grief this is very childish, sir; but its a bit upset me, and now this news you bring me seems to make it worse. Ill go up and see parson. He wont refuse when he knows all.
Yes, go up and see him, said the doctor, kindly. Can I do anything for you?
No, sir, thanky, said the wheelwright, meekly; you couldnt do what I wanted, sir save that poor little things life. Theres nothing more.
No, said the doctor; our profession is powerless in such a case. The child was so young and tender that
Dont say any more, sir, please, said Morrison, with his lip quivering. And then he turned away from the house, so as to avoid Biggins the carpenter, who had just come in at the garden gate, and walked on tiptoe along the gravel walk, up to the door, where he was met by a neighbour, who led him up-stairs.
Biggins, the Lawford carpenter, was the newly-appointed sexton of the church, and between him and Tom Morrison there was supposed to exist a bitter hatred, because Biggins the carpenter had once undertaken to make a wheelbarrow for the rectory garden, and Morrison had made a coffin for one of the Searby children who died of a fit of measles.
The feud seemed to be a bitter one, for when he came out of the cottage five minutes later, he turned down the garden, seeing which, the doctor shook hands with Morrison, and at parting said
Let me give you something to do you good, Tom.
What, sir, doctors stuff? said the wheelwright, with a look of wonder. I want no physic.
Yes, you do, said the doctor, smiling, as he laid the silver knob of his stick on the stout fellows breast yes, you do. I can minister to a mind diseased as well as to a body. Look here, my lad, you must bear your suffering like a man; so, now go and do this
Tom made an impatient movement to go, but the doctor stayed him.
There is nothing like work at such a time as this, he said. Go and see the parson, and then set to and work harder than ever you worked before in your life. It will give you ease.
Youre right, Mr Vinnicombe, youre right, said Tom, bluntly. Thanky, sir thanky. Good-bye.
As the doctor walked out of the gate, Biggins the carpenter, a hard-faced man, who emitted a strong odour of glue from his garments, walked up, tucking
said the wheelwright, humbly. But, gentlemen, he continued, looking from one to the other, I was in such trouble my poor wife we thought of nothing but saving the poor childs life.
There is a life beyond the grave, Thomas Morrison, said the Rector, whose voice grew firmer as he found that his visitor seemed awed at what he said. The duty of man is to think of that before the world. I am sorry that you and your wife such respectable, well-educated people should have put off your duty to your offspring so long, neglecting it even at the very last, when I was but a few hundred yards from your door. I am grieved, deeply grieved. It has been to me a terrible shock, while you and your wife have incurred an awful responsibility by wilfully excluding your first-born from the pale of Christs Church.
The stricken man looked from one to the other the tall, portly, calm clergyman, standing behind his table, with one hand resting upon a large open book, the other upon his heart, his eyes half closed, his face stern and composed, and his words falling, when he spoke, in measured cadence, as if they had been studied for the time.
The Curate uncrossed his legs, and set his knees very wide apart, resting his elbows upon them, and joining his fingers very accurately, as he bent down his head, till Tom Morrison could see nothing but his broad, bald, shining crown.
Not wilfully, sir not wilfully, said the wheelwright, appealingly, and his voice grew very husky. The poor girl, sir, had set her mind on the christening Mr Paulby was to do it, sir, as he married us next Sunday; and now
The poor fellows voice shook, and his face grew convulsed for a moment; but he clenched his fists, set his teeth, and fought hard to control his grief. The Curate drew a long breath and bent down lower.
But, sir, said Morrison, after a few moments pause, during which the library, with its rows of books, looked dim and misty, while the clergyman before him stood as if of marble but, sir, I know I deserve it and I suppose I have neglected my duty; but the poor innocent little one dont say as its true that you wont bury it in the churchyard.