Quicksilver | Page 6

ladyship grew worse, but
under the ministrations of Helen Grayson, suddenly becoming better,

drank a glass of water, and wiped her eyes.
"I am so weak," she said unnecessarily, as she rose from the
dessert-table and left the room with Helen Grayson, who had hard
work once more to keep her countenance, as she encountered her
father's eye.
"Spoils him, Grayson," said Sir James, as they settled down to their
port. "Noble boy, though, wonderful intellect. I shall make him a
statesman."
"Hah!" ejaculated the firm-looking grey-haired doctor, who had taken
high honours at his college, practised medicine for some years, and
since the death of his wife lived the calm life of a student in the old
Manor House of Coleby.
"Now, you couldn't make a statesman of some boys whom you took out
of the gutter."
"Oh yes, I could," said the doctor. "Oh yes, sir."
"Ah, well; we will not argue," said Sir James good-humouredly.
"No," said the doctor, "we will not argue."
But they did argue all the same, till they had had their coffee, when
they argued again, and then joined the ladies in the drawing-room,
where Master Edgar was eating cake, and dropping currants and
crumbs between the leaves of a valuable illustrated book, which he
turned over with fingers in a terrible state of stick,--the consequence
being that he added illustrations--prints of his fingers in brown.
"Have you settled your debate, Dr Grayson!" said Lady Danby,
smiling.
"No, madam; I shall have to prove my theory to your husband, and it
will take time."
"My dear James, what is the matter!" said her ladyship as a howl

arose.
"Pa says I'm to go to bed, ma, and it's only ten; and you promised me I
might sit up as long as I liked."
"How can you make such foolish promises, Maria?" said Sir James
petulantly. "There, hold your tongue, sir, and you may stay another
half-hour."
"But ma said I might stop up as long as I liked," howled Master Edgar.
"Then for goodness' sake stop up all night, sir," said Sir James
impatiently; and Master Edgar stayed till the visitors had gone.
"Enjoyed your evening, my dear?" said the doctor.
"Ye-es, papa," said his daughter; "I--"
"Might have enjoyed it more. Really, Helen, it is absurd. That man
opposed my theory tooth and nail, and all the time he kept on proving it
by indulging that boy. I say you can make what you like of a boy. Now
what's he making of that boy?"
"Sir James said he should make him a statesman," said Helen, smiling.
"But he is making him a nuisance instead. Good-night."
"Good-night, papa."
"Oh, by the way, my dear, I shall have to prove my theory."
"Indeed, papa!"
"Yes. Good-night."
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE CHOICE OF A BOY.

Next morning Dr Grayson took his gold-headed cane, and walked down
to the workhouse.
Upon dragging at the bell the porter opened the gate obsequiously, and
sent a messenger to tell the master Dr Grayson had called.
"Good morning, Hippetts," said the doctor, who being a Poor-Law
Guardian, and a wealthy inhabitant of the place, was received with
smiles by the important master.
"Good morning, sir. Called to look round."
"No, Hippetts, no," said the doctor, in the tone and manner of one
making an inquiry about some ordinary article of merchandise; "got
any boys?"
"Boys, sir; the house swarms with them."
"Ah, well, show me some."
"Show you some, sir?"
"Yes. I want a boy."
"Certainly, sir. This way, sir. About what age, sir!"
"Eleven or twelve--not particular," said the doctor. Then to himself:
"About the age of young Danby."
"I see, sir," said the master. "Stout, strong, useful boy for a buttons."
"Nonsense!" said the doctor testily, "I want a boy to adopt."
"Oh!" said the master staring, and wondering whether rich
philosophical Dr Grayson was in his right mind.
He led the way along some whitewashed passages, and across a gravel
yard, to a long, low building, from which came the well-known
humming hum of many voices, among which a kind of chorus could be

distinguished, and from time to time the sharp striking of a cane upon a
desk, followed by a penetrating "Hush! hush!"
As the master opened the door, a hot puff of stuffy, unpleasantly close
air came out, and the noise ceased as if by magic, though there were
about three hundred boys in the long, open-roofed room.
The doctor cast his eye round and saw a crowd of heads, the
schoolmaster, and besides these--whitewash. The walls, the ceiling, the
beams were all whitewashed. The floor was hearth-stoned, but it
seemed to be whitewashed, and even the boys' faces appeared to have
been touched over with a thin solution laid on with the whitewash
brush.
Every eye