"I hope so, sir, I'm sure," answered Mrs. Preedy in a tone of virtuous injury.
"I hope so too. Do you forget what it says? 'Do unto others as you would others should do unto you.' Seth Dumbrick has gone into the country with the children, for the sake of the Duchess, who needs fresh air to bring her back to health. And here's the key of his place, which he left with me early this morning. Let me give you a piece of advice, Mrs. Preedy."
"I shall be very grateful, sir, I'm sure," murmured Mrs. Preedy, trembling, not knowing what trouble she might have brought upon herself.
"Go home, then," said the doctor in a grave tone, "and for the future attend more to your own affairs and less to other people's. In plainer words, mind your own business."
"Well, I'm sure!" gasped Mrs. Preedy, as Dr. Lyon stalked away. But she obtained no sympathy from her neighbours, who were only too ready to lay the blame on some one, and who, with justice--for she was the most zealous scandalmonger in Rosemary Lane--laid it upon Mrs. Preedy's shoulders. So that for once the right scapegoat suffered. Mrs. Preedy went home in an oppressed state of mind, a sadder if not a wiser woman; and the neighbours generally, to show how guiltless they were, became enthusiastic in their praises of Seth Dumbrick; though it must be confessed they bore him in their hearts a little grudge for having disappointed them of a grand and awful sensation.
In the meantime, unconscious of the excitement he had created, Seth Dumbrick, with the Duchess and Sally by his side, was sitting on the top of an empty wagon returning to the country, with the driver of which he had bargained for the ride.
It was a fine day, and the delight of the children was unbounded. The fresh air, the clear atmosphere, the dreamy clouds, the beautiful fields, were revelations to them. Occasionally they passed an estate, stone-walled from vulgar eyes, over which, being seated at such an elevation, they could see into the carefully-tended gardens and orchards; and more frequently they passed the prettiest of gardens belonging to humbler folk, the colour and beauty of which were as lovely and charming as Nature could produce, to gladden heart and eye. The driver of the wagon was in no hurry; he had some sixty miles to go, and he worked for no hard taskmaster; he was an old man, and merciful to his cattle, having a love for them, as could easily be seen--all of which circumstances were as precious as gold to the holiday-seekers, for it gave them leisure to see and enjoy. The wagon was a new wagon, of which Seth made joyous capital, saying it had been built especially for them to ride in on this brightest of all bright days. Overhearing the remark, the driver said that that was a likely thing, too, for things happened pretty much as they were ordained to happen--leastways, that was his experience; and said it as though he had high authority for the doctrine. The bells on the harness supplied the music, varying most delightfully according to the pace; for, to please the children, the old driver occasionally smartened the horses into a trot, which they appeared to enjoy as much as they enjoyed the leisurely amble with which they traversed the greater part of the road. He was a kindly old fellow, with a face like a ribstone pippin, and with hands as hard and brown as knotted oak--hands which could be soft and gentle, also, and were, when he pinched the cheek of the Duchess. She, always susceptible to fondling and caressing, looked into the old man's face and smiled, so winsomely as to make him pensive.
"Yours?" he inquired of Seth Dumbrick.
"No," replied Seth, in a low tone, so that the children should not hear; "not exactly. I've adopted her. An orphan."
"Ah!" said the driver; "then she's yours;" glancing at Sally.