The Clever Woman of the Family [233]
from Rachel that she must go up to London to procure equipments for the baby to be presented in! "You know I can't go with you to-day." "Of course, but I must make him fit to be seen. You know he has been wearing little Una's things all this time, and that will not do out of the nursery." "A superior woman ought to know that his Lordship will never find out what his son has on." "Then it is all the more reason that I should not let the poor dear little fellow go about wrapped up in somebody's old shawl!" "What will you do then--take your maid?" "Certainly not. I can't have him left." "Then take him with you?" "What, Alick, a little unvaccinated baby! Where have you ever lived! I don't see the least reason why I should not go alone." "You need not begin beating about the world yet, Rachel. How many times did you say you had been in London?" "Three; once with my father when I was a child, once in the time of the Great Exhibition, and passing through it now with you. But any one of common sense can manage." "If you will wait till tive o'clock I will come with you," said Alick, wearily. "No, indeed, I had rather not go, than that you should, you are quite tired out enough at the end of the day." "Then do not go." "Alick, why will you have no proper feeling for that poor dear child!" said Rachel with tears in her eyes. If he winced he did not show it. "My proper feeling takes the direction of my wife," he said. "You don't really mean to forbid me to go," she exclaimed. "I don't mean it, for I do so, unless you find some one to go with you." It was the first real collision that had taken place, but Alick's quiet, almost languid tone had an absolute determination in it from the very absence of argument, and Rachel, though extremely annoyed, felt the uselessness of battling the point. She paused for a few moments, then said with an effort, "May I take the housekeeper?" "Yes, certainly," and then he added some advice about taking a brougham, and thus lightened her heart; so that she presently said humbly, "Have I been self-willed and overbearing, Alick?" He laughed. "Not at all; you have persevered just where you ought. I dare say this is all more essential than shows on the surface. And," he added, with a shaken voice, "if you were not myself, Rachel, you know how I should thank you for caring for my poor Bessie's child." He was gone almost as he spoke the words, but Rachel still felt the kiss and the hot tears that had fallen on her face. Mr. Clare readily consented to spare his housekeeper, but the housekeeper was untoward, she was "busied in her housewife skep," and would not stir. Alick was gone to Timber End, and Rachel was just talking of getting the schoolmaster's wife as an escort, when Mr. Clare said-- "Pray are you above accepting my services?" "You! Oh, uncle; thank you, but--" "What were your orders? Anybody with you, was it not? I flatter myself that I have some body, at least." "If Alick will not think I ought not!" "The boy will not presume to object to what I do with you." "I do wish it very much," said candid Rachel. "Of course you do, my dear. Alick is not cured of a young man's notion that babies are a sort of puppies. He is quite right not to let you run about London by yourself, but he will be quite satisfied if you find eyes and I find discretion." "But is it not very troublesome to you?" "It is a capital lark!" said Mr. Clare, with a zest that only the slang word could imply, removing all Rachel's scruples, and in effect Mr. Clare did enjoy the spice of adventure in a most amusing way. He knew perfectly well how to manage, laid out the plan of operations, gave orders to the driver, went into all the shops, and was an effective assistant in the choice of material and even of embroidery. His touch and ear seemed to do more for him than many men's eyes do for them; he heard odd scraps of conversation and retailed them with so much character; he had such pleasant colloquies with all in whose way he fell, and so thoroughly enjoyed the flow and