“I don’t want no one to teach me my trade,” said the man, sulkily; and he shuffled away, leaving Vane wondering why he took so much trouble, only to meet with rebuffs from nearly everyone.
“I might just as well be fishing, or playing cricket, or lying on my back in the sun, like old Distin does. Nobody seems to understand me.”
He was standing just inside the door, moodily tapping the side-post with the rule, when he was startled by a step on the gravel, and, looking up sharply, he found himself face to face with a little, keen, dark, well-dressed man, who had entered the gate, seen him standing in the greenhouse, and walked across the lawn, whose mossy grass had silenced his footsteps till he reached the path.
“Morning,” he said. “Doctor at home?”
“Yes,” replied Vane, looking at the stranger searchingly, and wondering whether he was a visitor whom his uncle would be glad to see.
The stranger was looking searchingly at him, and he spoke at once:—
“You are the nephew, I suppose?”
Vane looked at him wonderingly.
“Yes, I thought so. Father and mother dead, and the doctor bringing you up. Lucky fellow! Here, what does this mean?” and he pointed to the rule.
“I was measuring,” said Vane, colouring.