“All gone,” repeated the doctor, a shade coming on his face. “Thank you; but did you say they were all gone?”
“All but me,” nodded Creepy, from where he sat under the big tree, sharing with wondering eyes and ears in the excitement of the doctor’s visit; but no one noticed him.
“Gone for a day in the woods, sir,” said Mrs. Ganderby apologetically; “it seems childish for people of the age and infirmities of most of them; but it’s a rare day, sir, which it’s also a way of the house to get away once or twice in the year.”
“You don’t mean to say that the lame child, the little cripple I have seen here, has gone for a walk like that?”
“What, Creepy! Dear heart, the poor crooked thing couldn’t make his feet serve him out of sight down the road, which it’s a strange thing I never can seem to recollect mentioning him with the rest, although it certainly isn’t from any want of pity for the child that Heaven hasn’t seen fit to give a body like other people.”
“Then he is at home,” said the doctor, quite himself again; “and where shall I find him, Mrs. Ganderby? It is rather early in the day to detain a housekeeper, and I presume he may be quite at leisure.”
“Why certainly, sir; it’s little else than leisure the poor thing has, sitting from morning till night in his chair, which, if you have leisure enough to spare him a few moments, it may be a great blessing to him, I am sure. He’s just there, sir, under the big butternut, and if you’ll have the goodness to come in, I’ll bring him in a moment.”
“No, no,” said the doctor, discovering Creepy for the first time; “I’ll go to him,” and with a few rapid steps down the gravel walk, he was at Creepy’s side, leaving Mrs. Ganderby to declare at her leisure that “wonders never would cease, though if the doctor had the goodness in his heart, and the time on his hands to look after the poor crooked thing, there was no one who needed it more; which it was not at all probable that any one could do anything for the like of him, however.”