They returned to the road and the vehicle soon approached, showing itself, as it came near, to be the little pony-cart of Dr. Raughty. The Doctor proved, as may be imagined, more than willing to give Nance a lift. She declared she was tired but wouldn’t ask him to take her further than the village.
“I’ll take you wherever you wish,” said Fingal Raughty, giving a nervous little cough and scrambling down to help her in.
“Ah! I forgot! Excuse me one minute. Hold the pony, please. I promised to get some water-mint for Mrs. Sodderly.”
He ran hurriedly into the field and Nance, sitting in the cart, looked helplessly at Sorio who, making a gesture as if all the world had gone mad, proceeded to stroke the pony’s forehead. They waited patiently and the Doctor let them wait. They could see him through the gap in the hedge running hither and thither and every now and then stooping down and fumbling in the grass. He seemed entirely oblivious of their discomfort.
“This water-mint business,” muttered Sorio, “is worse than the shrew-mouse hunt. I suppose he collects groundsel and feverfew for all the old women in Rodmoor.”
Nance soon reached the limit of her patience. “Dr. Raughty!” she cried, and then in feminine desperation, “Fingal! Fingal!” she shouted.
The Doctor came hurrying back at that and to Sorio’s astonishment it appeared he had secured his desired plants. As he clambered up into the little cart a delicious aromatic fragrance diffused itself around Nance.
“I’ve found them all right,” he said. “They’re under my hat. Sorry I’ve only got room for one of you. Get on, Elizabeth!”
They drove off, Sorio making a final, Pilate-like gesture of complete irresponsibility.
“A noble creature—that sow,” the Doctor observed, glancing nervously at his companion, “a noble, beautiful animal! I expect it likes to feed on watermelons as well as any one. Did you observe its eye? Like a small yellow daisy! A beautiful eye, but with something wicked in it—didn’t you think so?—something menacing and malicious.”