On the day following the escape from the asylum, Judith sent Mr. Menaida to Wadebridge with the blanket that had been carried off round the shoulders of her brother, and with a request to have Jamie’s clothes surrendered. Uncle Zachie returned with the garments, they were not refused him, and Judith and her brother settled down into the routine of employment and amusement as before. The lad assisted Mr. Menaida with his bird skins, talking a little more childishly than before, and sticking less assiduously to his task; and Judith did her needlework and occasionally played on the piano the pieces of music at which Uncle Zachie had hammered ineffectually for many years, and she played them to the old man’s satisfaction.
At last the girl ventured to induce Jamie to recommence his lessons. He resisted at first, and when she did, on a rainy day, persuade him to set to his school tasks, she was careful not to hold him to them for more than a few minutes, and to select those lessons which made him least impatient.
There was a “Goldsmith’s Geography,” illustrated with copper-plates of Indians attacking Captain Cook, the geysers, Esquimaux fishing, etc., that always amused the boy. Accordingly, more geography was done during these first days of resumption of work than history, arithmetic, or reading. Latin had not yet been attempted, as that was Jamie’s particular aversion. However, the Eton Latin grammar was produced, and placed on the table, to familiarize his mind with the idea that it had to be tackled some day.
Judith had spread the table with lesson-books, ink, slate, and writing-copies, one morning, when she was surprised at the entry of four gentlemen, two of whom she recognized immediately as the Brothers Scantlebray. The other two she did not know. One was thin faced, with red hair, a high forehead extending to the crown, with the hair drawn over it, and well pomatumed, to keep it in place, and conceal the baldness; the other a short man, in knee-breeches and tan-boots, with a red face, and with breath that perfumed the whole room with spirits.
Mr. Scantlebray, senior, came up with both hands extended. “This is splendid! How are you? Never more charmed in my life, and ready to impart knowledge, as the sun diffuses light. Obadiah, old man, look at your pupil—better already for having passed through your hands. I can see it at a glance; there’s a brightness, a Je ne sais quoi about him that was not there before. Old man, I congratulate you. You have a gift—shake hands.”
The gentlemen seated themselves without invitation. Surprise and alarm made Judith forget her usual courtesy. She feared lest the sight of his gaolers might excite Jamie. But it was not so. Whether, in his confused mind, he did not associate Mr. Obadiah with his troubles on that night of distress, or whether his attention was distracted by the sight of so many, was doubtful, but Jamie did not seem to be disconcerted; rather, on the contrary, he was glad of some excuse for escape from lessons.
“We are come,” said the red-headed man, “at Miss Trevisa’s desire—but really, Mr. Scantlebray, for shame of you. Where are your manners? Introduce me.”
“Mr. Vokins,” said Scantlebray, “and the accomplished and charming Miss Judith Trevisa, orphing.”
“And now, dear young lady,” said the red-headed man, “now, positively, it is my turn—my friend, Mr. Jukes. Jukes, man! Miss Judith Trevisa.”
Then Mr. Vokins coughed into his thin white hand, and said, “We are come, naturally—and I am sure you wish what Miss Trevisa wishes—to just look at your brother, and give our opinion on his health.”