The Doctor's Foundling

by Arthur Quiller-Couch

　　From Noughts and Crosses: Stories, Studies and Sketches.

　　There are said to be many vipers on the Downs above the sea; but itwas so pleasant to find a breeze up there allaying the fervidafternoon, that I risked the consequences and stretched myself atfull length, tilting my straw hat well over my nose.Presently, above the tic-a-tic-tick of the grasshoppers, and thewail of a passing gull, a human sound seemed to start abruptly out ofthe solitude--the voice of a man singing. I rose on my elbow, andpushed the straw hat up a bit. Under its brim through the quiveringatmosphere, I saw the fellow, two hundred yards away, a darkobtrusive blot on the bronze landscape. He was coming along thetrack that would lead him down-hill to the port; and his voice felllouder on the still air--

　　"Ho! the prickly briar,It prickles my throat so sore--If I get out o' the prickly briar,I'll never get in any more.""Ho! just loosen the rope"--

　　At this point I must have come within his view, for he halted amoment, and then turned abruptly out of the track towards me,--a scare-crow of a figure, powdered white with dust. In spite of theweather, he wore his tattered coat buttoned at the throat, with thecollar turned up. Probably he possessed no shirt; certainly nosocks, for his toes protruded from the broken boots. He was quiteyoung.Without salutation he dropped on the turf two paces off andremarked--"It's bleedin' 'ot."There was just a pause while he cast his eyes back on the country hehad travelled; then, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in thedirection of the port, he inquired--"'Ow's the old lot?"Said I, "Look here; you're Dick Jago. How far have you walkedto-day?"He had turned on me as if ready with a sharp question, but changedhis mind and answered doggedly--"All the way from Drakeport.""Very well; then it's right-about-face with you and back to Drakeportbefore I let you go. Do you see this stick? If you attempt to walka step more towards the port, I'll crack your head with it."He gulped down something in his throat. "Is the old man ill?" heasked."He's dead," said I, simply.The fellow turned his eyes to the horizon, and began whistling theair of "The Prickly Briar" softly to himself. And while he whistled,my memory ran back to the day when he first came to trouble us, andplay the fiend's mischief with a couple of dear honest hearts.

　　* * * * * * *

　　The day I travelled back to was one in the prime of May, when thelilacs were out by Dr. Jago's green gate, and the General fromDrakeport Barracks, with the red and white feathers in hiscocked-hat, had just cantered up the street, followed by a dozenshouting urchins, on his way to the Downs. For it was the end of themilitia-training, when the review was always held; and all themorning the bugles had been sounding at the head of every street andlane where the men were billeted.When the gold-laced General disappeared, he left the streets all butempty; for the townspeople by this time had flocked to the Downs.Only by Dr. Jago's gate there stood a small group in the sunshine.Kitty, the doctor's mare that had pulled his gig for ten years, wasstanding saddled in the roadway, with a stable-boy at her head; justoutside the gate, the little doctor himself in regimentals and blackcocked-hat with black feathers, regarding her; behind, the pleasantold face of his wife, regarding him; and, behind again, the twomaid-servants regarding the group generally from behind theirmistress's shoulder."Maria, I shall never do it," said the doctor, measuring with his eyethe distance between the ground and the stirrup."Indeed, John, I don't think you will.""There was a time when I'd have vaulted it. I'm abominably late asit is, Maria.""Shall I give master a leg up?" suggested one of the maids."No, Susan, you will do nothing of the kind." Mrs. Jago paused, herbrow wrinkled beneath her white lace cap. Then an inspiration came--"The chair--a kitchen chair, Susan!"The maid flew; the chair was brought; and that is how the good olddoctor mounted for the review. Three minutes later he was trottingsoberly up the street, pausing twice to kiss his hand to his wife,who watched him proudly from the green gate, and took off herspectacles and wiped them, the better to see him out of sight.By the time Dr. Jago reached the Downs, the review was in full swing.The colonel shouted, the captains shouted, the regiment formed,re-formed, marched, charged at the double, and fired volleys of blankcartridges. The General and orderlies galloped from spot to spotwithout apparent object; and all was very martial. At last thedoctor grew tired of trotting up and down without being wanted.He thought with longing of some pools, half a mile away, in a hollowof the Downs, that contained certain freshwater shells about which heheld a theory. The afternoon was hot. He glanced round--no oneseemed to want him: so he turned Kitty into a grassy defile that ledto the pools, and walked her leisurely away.Half an hour later he stood, ankle-deep in water, groping for hisshells and oblivious of the review, the firing that echoed far away,the flight of time--everything. Kitty, with one fore-leg through thebridle, was cropping on the brink. Minutes passed, and the doctorraised his head, for the blood was running into it. At that momenthis eye was caught by a scarlet object under a gorse-bush on theopposite bank. He gave a second look, then waded across towards it.It was a baby: a baby not a week old, wrapped only in a redhandkerchief.The doctor bent over it. The infant opened its eyes and began towail. At this instant an orderly appeared on the ridge above,scanning the country. He caught sight of the doctor and descended tothe opposite shore of the pool, where he saluted and yelled hismessage. It appeared that some awkward militiaman had blown histhumb off in the blank cartridge practice and surgical help waswanted at once.Doctor Jago dropped the corner of the handkerchief, returned acrossthe pool, was helped on to Kitty's back and cantered away, theorderly after him.In an hour's time, having put on a tourniquet and bandaged the hand,he was back again by the pool. The baby was still there. He liftedit and found a scrap of paper underneath. . . .

　　* * * * * * *

　　The doctor returned by devious ways to his home, a full hour beforehe was expected. He rode in at the back gate, where to his secretsatisfaction he found no stable-boy. So he stabled Kitty himself,and crept into his own house like a thief. Nor was it like hishabits to pay, as he did, a visit to the little cupboard (where thebrandy-bottle was kept) underneath the stairs, before entering thedrawing-room, with his face full of guilt and diplomacy."Gracious, John!" cried out Mrs. Jago, dropping her knitting."Is the review over already?""No, I don't think it is--at least, I don't know," stammered thedoctor."John, you have had another attack of that vertigo.""Upon my honour I have not, Maria." The doctor was vehement; for thevertigo necessitated brandy, and a visit to the little cupboard belowthe stairs meant hideous detection.So he sat up and tried to describe the review to his wife, and madesuch an abject mess of it, that after twenty minutes she made up hermind that he must have a headache, and, leaving the room quietly,went to the little cupboard below the stairs. She found the doorajar. . . .When, after a long absence, she reappeared in the drawing-room, shehad forgotten to bring the brandy, and wore a look as guilty as herhusband's. So they sat together and talked in the twilight ontrivial matters; and each had a heart insufferably burdened, and eachwas waiting desperately for an opportunity to lighten it."John," said Mrs. Jago at last, "we are getting poor company for eachother."Maria!"The doctor leapt to his feet: and these old souls, who knew eachother so passing well, looked into each other's eyes, half in terror.At that instant a feeble wail smote on their ears. It came from thecupboard underneath the stairs."Maria! I put it there myself, two hours ago. I picked it up on thedowns. I've been--""You! I thought it was some beggar-woman's doing. John, John--whydidn't you say so before!"And she rushed out of the room.This seedy scamp who reclined beside me was the child that shebrought back with her from the little cupboard. They had adoptedhim, fed him, educated him, wrapped him round with love; and he hadlived to break their hearts. Possibly there was some gipsy blood inhim that defied their nurture. But the speculation is not worthgoing into. I only know that I felt the better that afternoon as Iwatched his figure diminishing on the road back to Drakeport. He hada crown of mine in his pocket, and was still singing--

　　"Ho! just loosen the rope,If it's only just for a while;I fancy I see my father comingAcross from yonder stile."

　　I had lied in telling him that the old doctor was dead. As a matterof fact he lay dying that afternoon. Half-way down the hill I sawthe small figure of Jacobs, the sexton, turn in at the church-gate.He was going to toll the passing-bell.

　　THE END.