However, it was done now.

He pushed open the gate, and walked up the little flagged path.

CHAPTER XII

CONCERNING MICHAEL FIELD

Antony, having seen a figure approaching the door, opened it, and confronted a big, rugged-faced man, who looked at him somewhat grimly.

"Michael Field?" demanded the big man briefly.

"Sure, 'tis my name," he replied cheerfully. "You'll be Doctor Hilary, I'm thinking. Won't you be coming in out of the wet." He flung wide the door on the words.

"George found you all right?" queried Doctor Hilary stepping across the threshold. He appeared totally oblivious of the fact that Antony's presence made the success of George's search fairly obvious.

"He did that," returned Antony pushing forward a chair, but making no attempt to sit down himself. The impulse had been upon him. Memory had awakened just in time.

Doctor Hilary was silent. The reality was so entirely different from his preconceived notions. The cheerful, clean-shaven young man, with the Irish accent, standing before him in an att.i.tude of quite respectful, but not in the least subservient attention, was at such complete variance with either of his two imaginary types, that he found his att.i.tude of grimness insensibly relaxing.

"Did George speak to you regarding your work?" he demanded suddenly. He couldn't for the life of him, think of anything else to say.

"Well," returned Antony thoughtfully considering, "he asked me about my last place, and I told him I'd been working on my own account. Thereupon he expressed surprise that I should now be taking an under post, but remarked with vast wisdom that every man knew his own business best."

"Hmm," said Doctor Hilary.

"He also," continued Antony, his eyes twinkling, "was for giving me advice on matrimony, and mentioned three 'vitty maids' he could produce for my inspection. I told him," continued Antony solemnly, though his eyes were still twinkling, "that I was not a marrying man at all."

Doctor Hilary found the twinkle in Antony's eyes gaining response in his own. He was such a remarkably cheerful young man, and so confiding.

"Hmm," he remarked again. "He said nothing else I suppose? Expressed no surprise at your being chosen for the post, instead of a local man?"

"He did not," responded Antony, replying to the last question. "It would seem that he thought any appointment to the post unnecessary, in view of the fact that the Hall was at present untenanted."

"And you replied--?" asked Doctor Hilary.

"Sure, I had no opinion to offer," said Antony. "It was not my affair at all. He talked, but I said little."

"A good principle," remarked Doctor Hilary approvingly, "and one I should advise you to adhere to. Your accent is all right, but your--your speech is a trifle fluent, if I may make the suggestion."

Antony laughed pleasantly. He was now made sure of the fact of which he had been already tolerably certain, namely, that this big, rugged-faced man was fully aware of the conditions of the will, and his own ident.i.ty.

"Sure, 'tis we Irish have the gift o' the gab," he returned apologetically, "but I'll be remembering your advice."

There was a little silence. It was broken by Antony.

"I was for making a cup of tea when you came up the path, sor. Will you be having one with me? It'll not take beyont ten minutes or so to get a fire going, and the water boiling. That is, if you'll be doing me the honour, sor," he concluded gravely.

Doctor Hilary laughed outright.

He watched Antony disappear into the scullery, to reappear with a bundle of sticks and a log. He watched him kneeling by the fire, manipulating them deftly. He watched him fill a kettle with water, and put it on the fire, set cups on the table, then open his bag, and produce bread, b.u.t.ter, a packet of tea, and a lemon.

It was extraordinary what an alteration his sentiments had undergone since entering Copse Cottage. Every trace of prejudice had vanished.

There was, in his mind, something pathetic in the skill, evidently born of long practice, with which this tall lean man made his preparations for the little meal.

From watching the man, Doctor Hilary turned his attention to the room. It was fairly comfortable, at all events, if not in the least luxurious. But the inevitable loneliness of the life that would be led within its walls, struck him with a curious forcefulness.

"Do you know anything of gardening?" he demanded suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Sure, it's little I don't know," returned Antony. "'Twas a bit of wild earth my garden was before I took it in hand. Now there's peach trees, and nectarines, and plum trees in it, and all the vegetables any man could be wanting, and flowers fit for a queen's drawing-room. There's roses as big as your fist. Oh, 'tis a fine garden it is out on--" he broke off, "out beyont," he concluded.

"On the veldt," suggested Doctor Hilary quietly.

"'Twas the veldt I was after meaning," responded Antony smiling, "but I thought 'twould be as well to get my tongue used to forgetting the sound of the word, lest it should slip out some fine day, when I wasn't meaning it to at all."

"Wise, anyhow," agreed Doctor Hilary, and he too smiled. "But you understand that I--well, I happen to know all the circ.u.mstances of this arrangement."

Antony laughed. "I was thinking as much," he confessed.

"I wonder--" began Doctor Hilary. And then he stopped. He had been about to wonder aloud as to why on earth Antony should have accepted the conditions, why he should have exchanged the freedom and untrammelled s.p.a.ces of the veldt for the conventional life of England, even with the Hall and a goodly income, at the end of the year, to the balance. He knew most a.s.suredly that nine hundred and ninety-nine men out of a thousand would have done so, and he knew that he himself was the thousandth who would not. His exceedingly brief acquaintance with Antony had given him the impression that he, also, was a thousandth man.

"You wonder--?" queried Antony.

"I wonder how you'll like the life," said Doctor Hilary, though it was not precisely what he had originally intended to say.

"'Tis England," said Antony briefly.

"Is that your sole reason for accepting the life?" asked Doctor Hilary curiously.

Antony looked him full in the eyes.

"It is not," he replied smiling. And then he turned to the kettle, which was on the point of boiling over.

Of course it was a rebuff. But it was a perfectly polite one. And oddly--or, perhaps, not oddly--Doctor Hilary did not resent it in the least. On the contrary, he respected the man who had administered it.

"There's no milk," said Antony presently, pouring tea into two cups. "Can you be putting up with a lemon?"

"I like it," Doctor Hilary a.s.sured him.

After the meal they smoked together, making remarks now and again, interspersed with little odd silences, which, however, appeared quite natural and friendly. Josephus, who at the outset had viewed the entry of the big man on the scene with something akin to disapproval, now walked solemnly over to him, stood on his hind legs, and put his fore paws on Doctor Hilary's knees.

"A token of approval," said Antony.

And then another of the odd little silences fell.

"You will report yourself to Golding at half-past seven on Monday morning," said Doctor Hilary some quarter of an hour later, as he rose to take his leave. "He lives at the lodge about five minutes' walk up the road. You'll find the place all right. You will take all instructions as to your work from him. If you should wish to see me personally at any time regarding anything, you will usually find me at home in the evening."