“I wonder where Scorpion can be?” said the good lady; “I want to give him his cream.”
“I fear he is under punishment,” said the Doctor. “If I judge of him aright, Scorpion is something of a coward, and is not likely to come into the same room where I am for some time.”
“What do you mean? Surely you have not been cruel to him?”
“Cruel to be kind. Once again he attempted to eat my legs, and I was obliged to administer one or two sharp slaps—nothing to hurt; you will find him under your bed. And now I really must go to look for my family.”
Dr. Maybright left the room, and Mrs. Cameron sat still, scarlet with annoyance and indignation.
“How could Helen have married such a man?” she said to herself. “I never can get on with him—never. How cowardly it was of him to hurt the little dog. If it was not for the memory of poor dear Helen I should leave here by the first train in the morning; but as it is, I will not stir until I have established Miss Grinsted over this poor, misguided household. Ah, well! duty is ever hard, but those who know Maria Cameron are well acquainted with the fact that she never shirked it. Yes, I will stay; it will be very unpleasant, but I must go through it. What very abrupt manners the Doctor has! I was just preparing to tell him all about that wicked Polly when he jumped up and left the room. Now, of course, he will get a wrong impression of the whole thing, for the other children all take her part. Very bad manners to jump up from the tea table like that. And where is Helen?—where are they all? Now that I come to think of it, I have seen nothing of any one of them since the early dinner. Well, well, if it were not for poor Helen I should wash my hands of the whole concern. But whoever suffers, dear little Scorpion must have his cream.”
Accordingly Mrs. Cameron slowly ascended the stairs, armed with a saucer and a little jug, and Scorpion forgot the indignities to which he had been subjected as he lapped up his dainty meal.
Meanwhile, the Doctor having explored the morning room and the schoolrooms, having peeped into the conservatory, and even peered with his rather failing sight into the darkness outside, took two or three strides upstairs, and found himself in the presence of Nurse and baby.
“Well, Pearl,” he said, taking the little pure white baby into his arms, looking into its wee face earnestly, and then giving it a kiss, which was sad, and yet partook of something of the nature of a blessing.
“Baby goes on well, Nurse,” he said, returning the little creature to the kind woman’s arms. Then he looked into her face, and his own expression changed.