"Certainly not," said the doctor.

"And may I come out here to fish by and by!"

"Certainly," said the doctor. "If you are a good boy."

"No, I think not," said Helen, making a shadow cross the boy's countenance. "Dexter cannot come out fishing alone; I will come with him."

Dexter gave her a meaning look, as he understood why she had said that; and then walked quietly home with the doctor and his daughter to a far more agreeable meal than he would have enjoyed at the baronet's house.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A RECORD OF CARES.

"Hang his impudence!" said the doctor. "What do you think he told me?"

"Sir James?"

"Yes, my dear. Told me I was a regular modern Frankenstein, and that I had made a young monster to worry me to death. Such insolence!

Dexter's growing a very nice lad, and I feel as if I could make a n.o.bleman of him if I liked, but I think I'll send him to a good school for a bit. You see, he's full of promise, Helen."

"Yes, papa," said Helen, suppressing her mirth.

"Ah! now you are laughing at me. I mean full of the promise that will some day mean performance. But--yes, I will send him to a good school."

A good school was selected, and Dexter duly sent down to it, leaving Helen very unwillingly, but holding up manfully, and the doctor said he would come back at the holiday-time vastly improved.

In six weeks Dr Grayson received a letter asking him to fetch Dexter away to save him from being expelled.

The Doctor looked very angry as he went down to Cardley Willows, and the inquiries took a stern, rather bitter turn.

"Has the boy been a young blackguard?" he said.

"No," said the princ.i.p.al.

"Dishonest?"

"Oh dear no!"

"Well, what is it then--disobedient!"

"Oh dear no! He'll promise anything."

"Humph! yes," said the doctor to himself.

"I'm very sorry, Dr Grayson," continued the princ.i.p.al; "but the boy is incorrigible, and you must take him away."

The doctor took the boy away, and he had a very stern talking-to at home.

Two months pa.s.sed away.

"There, Helen," said the doctor one morning; "what do you say to him now? Wonderfully improved, has he not? Good natural boy's colour in his cheeks--better blood, you see, and nice curly hair. Really he is not like the same."

"No, papa; he is greatly changed," said Helen, as she followed the direction of her father's eyes to where Dexter was out on the lawn watching old Dan'l, while old Dan'l, in a furtive manner, was diligently watching him in return.

"Greatly changed," said the doctor thoughtfully, as he scratched the side of his nose with his penholder, "in personal appearance. Sir James seems very sore still about that little affair. Says I ought to have thrashed Dexter, for he behaved brutally to young Edgar."

"And what did you say, papa?"

"Well, not exactly all I thought. Dreadful young limb that Edgar.

Spoiled boy, but I could not tell Danby so with such a catalogue of offences as Master Dexter has to show on my black list. You see, Helen, we do not get any further with him."

Helen shook her head sadly.

"There's something wrong in his brain; or something wanting. He'll promise amendment one hour, and go and commit the same fault the very next."

"It is very sad," replied Helen thoughtfully; "but I'm sure he means well."

"Yes, my dear; of course," said the doctor, looking perplexed; "but it's a great drawback to one's success. But there: we must persevere. It seems to me that the first thing to do is to wean him from that terrible love of low companions."

"Say companion," said Helen, smiling.

"Well, a companion, then. I wish we could get that young fishing scoundrel sent away; but of course one cannot do that. Oh, by the way, what about Maria? Is she going away?"

"No," said Helen. "I had a long talk to her about her unreasoning dislike to Dexter, and she has consented to stay."

"Well, it's very kind of her," said the doctor testily. "I suppose Mrs Millett will be giving warning next."

"Oh no," said Helen; "she finds a good deal of fault, but I think, on the whole, she feels kindly toward the poor boy."

"Don't!" cried the doctor, giving the writing-table so angry a slap with his open hand that a jet of ink shot out of the stand and made half a dozen great splashes. "Now, look there, what you've made me do," he continued, as he began hastily to soak up the black marks with blotting-paper. "I will not have Dexter called 'the poor boy.' He is not a poor boy. He is a human waif thrown up on life's sh.o.r.e. No, no: and you are not to call him a human waif. I shall well educate him, and place him on the high-road toward making his way properly in life as a gentleman should, and I'll show the whole world that I'm right."

"You shall, papa," said Helen merrily; "and I will help you all I can."

"I know you will, my dear, and you are helping me," cried the doctor warmly; "and it's very good of you. But I do wish we could make him think before he does anything. His mischievous propensities are simply horrible. And now, my dear, about his education. We must do something more, if it is only for the sake of keeping him out of trouble. You are doing n.o.bly, but that is not enough. I did mean to read cla.s.sics with him myself, but I have no time. My book takes too much thought. Now, I will not send the poor boy--"

"'Poor boy,' papa!" said Helen merrily.

"Eh? Did I say 'poor boy'!" cried the doctor, scratching his nose again.

"Yes."

"Ah, well; I did not mean it. I was going to say I will not send him to another school. He would be under too many disadvantages, so I think we will decide upon a private tutor."

"Yes, papa; a very excellent arrangement."

"Yes, I think it is; and--well, Maria, what is it!"