“Oh, you needn’t do that! Ben will attend to any calls, and I daresay he won’t mind, if he knows you’re here to protect him.”
“Protect him from what?” demanded Mr. Babbacombe.
“Nothing—but he can’t be brought to believe that. Damn the brat, I wonder what mischief he’s up to? I must go up to attend to Beau. And, now I come to think of it, I never fed the hens, or the pig!”
With these conscience-stricken words, he seized a bucket, into which had been emptied various scraps of food, and went out into the garden. Mr. Babbacombe heard him at the pump a few minutes later, and he came in almost immediately, saying, as he dried his dripping hands on a towel: “I suppose the hens had picked up all they wanted in the garden, for they’ve gone to roost; but the pig always seems to be starving! You know, Bab, when I started gatekeeping here I’d no notion how much work there was to do! What with the gate, and Beau, and those curst hens, and the pig, and the brat, and keeping my clothes in order, I never seem to have a moment in which to be idle! Confound you, don’t laugh! If Ben don’t come in soon, you shall have a taste of gatekeeping, for I won’t neglect my horse just because you’re too high in the instep to take over my duties for me! Besides, I want Beau here, not half a mile away!”
But at this moment the errant Ben slid into the kitchen from the office, his sharp countenance schooled to an expression of almost angelic innocence. One stocking had descended in rucks about his ankle, and was generously smeared with blood from a badly grazed leg; a rent in his shirt allowed a glimpse of a skinny chest; and every portion of his anatomy, unprotected by clothing, seemed to have attracted grime.
“Disgusting!” said his mentor, after a brief but comprehensive survey. “Take that shirt off, and get under the pump! No, don’t go without the soap, woolly-crown! And if I see one speck of dirt on you when you come in, I’ll send you to bed in the pigsty!”
In any ordinary circumstances, so exquisitely humorous a threat would have drawn from Ben its meed of his broadest grin, but he had by this time perceived Mr. Babbacombe. His mouth fell open, and his eyes widened to their fullest extent. Having taken that elegant gentleman in thoroughly, he gave utterance to his feelings with brevity and simplicity. “Coo!” he said reverently.
The Captain’s lips twitched, but he said severely: “Just so!
Be off and make yourself tidy directly! This gentleman can’t bear dirty boys!”
“Coo, he is a swell cove!” said Ben, accepting reluctantly the bar of soap thrust into his hand. “What’s he come here for, gov’nor?”