Читать книгу Mary Wakefield - Mazo de la Roche - Страница 8

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“True,” agreed Philip. “Very true. It’s fine growing weather. We should have good crops.”

The doctor took him by the coat lapel. “This country,” he said, “is in for trouble, if prices continue to rise. I’ve been shopping this morning and what do you suppose I paid for bacon? Thirteen cents a pound! It’s ridiculous. Eggs fifteen cents a dozen instead of a cent a piece! Butter twenty cents a pound! Ruin lies ahead if——”

Philip interrupted. “Now, look here, sir, why will you buy those things when you know very well that they are produced right here on the farm and you’re welcome to all you need?”

“I didn’t buy any,” said the doctor. “I only priced them.”

He was quite willing to accept these favours, rightly feeling that the medical attention he gave the two children fully compensated for them. To the grown-ups at Jalna he sent his bill, which was moderate.

“I don’t want anything this morning, thank you. What I came in for was to see if the wee ones would like to accompany me on my rounds. ’Twould be a change for them.”

The children had got past the age when to go on his rounds with their grandfather was a treat. They had ponies of their own. And also he expected too much from them in sedateness of behaviour and was given to lecturing. Philip thanked Dr. Ramsey. “But they are busy at their lessons, sir. You see, the new governess arrived last night.”

“Well, is that so? And what like is she?”

“Very nice.”

“Verra nice,” repeated the doctor irritably. “That conveys nothing to me. I mean does she appear to be a woman of strong character and erudition? The last one was a fool.”

Philip stroked the mare’s neck. “I’ve scarcely had time to judge. I expect that my brother went into these things.”

“H’m. What age is she?”

“It’s so hard to tell. Youngish.”

“Under forty?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see eye to eye with you in bringing over an Englishwoman to train your children. Now, if she were Scottish it would be different.”

“It’s really my mother and Ernest. By the way, he’s made some amazingly good investments lately.”

“That’s fine. For they are usually quite the revairse, aren’t they?”

Philip looked after his father-in-law, sitting very upright as he rattled off in his dog-cart, and wondered what he would say when he beheld Miss Wakefield. Behold was the right word for a girl so stunning as she. Yes, she was stunning. You forgot what you were saying to her, for staring at her. That is, for trying not to stare at her. It wasn’t so much actual beauty perhaps, as that willowy graceful form, that smile that had something melancholy in it; her mouth went down at the corners rather than up when she smiled. He wasn’t sure. He must notice.

His three Clumber spaniels, Sport and Spot and their half-grown puppy, Jake, came leaping about his legs. He bent and distributed caresses as equally as he could, considering that Jake was determined to get more than his share. Philip had to cuff him gently away to give the parents a chance.

“Come along, then, we’ll go for a walk.” He turned in the direction of the orchard where the spraying of the apple trees was going on. A fine crop promised. All the land, the woods, the fields, shone this morning, as though in beneficent mood. The very house wore its mantle of Virginia creeper with a smiling air, as though conscious of its decoration. The myriad little leaves of the silver birch trees on the lawn trembled with life. Philip had in himself a feeling of almost creative achievement, as though he were a part of the secret purpose of the universe.