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Dickon, it appeared, had succeeded in inducing Gillian Greenford to accompany him in the expedition to Theobalds, and as the fair damsel could not of course go alone, she had cajoled her good-natured old grandsire into conveying her thither; and she was now seated behind him upon a pillion placed on the back of a strong, rough-coated, horse. Dick was in raptures at his success.
The notes gradually sank into a hum, while the major-domo threw down his load, and, turning to his interrogator with an air of earnestness, replied: Why, look you, Squire Dickon, mayhap theres a warm latitude round about the table there, thof its not the stuff to raise the heat in my body, neither; the raal Jamaiky being the only thing to do that, besides good wood, or some such matter as Newcastle coal.
A neighbour had surely done it; marked the hiding-place which he had deemed so safe, and made off with the prize; and i' faith 'twas easy carrying. There was but one piece, and Dickon minded how he had changed his petty hoard to gold scarce a month back at the fair.
No one must see the chair-carriage and Dickon and Mary after they turned a certain corner of the shrubbery and entered upon the walk outside the ivied walls. As each day passed, Colin had become more and more fixed in his feeling that the mystery surrounding the garden was one of its greatest charms. Nothing must spoil that. No one must ever suspect that they had a secret.
Every moment of the afternoon was full of new things and every hour the sunshine grew more golden. The wheeled chair had been drawn back under the canopy and Dickon had sat down on the grass and had just drawn out his pipe when Colin saw something he had not had time to notice before. "That's a very old tree over there, isn't it?" he said.
Those muffins look so nice and hot. Tell me about Rajahs." After another week of rain the high arch of blue sky appeared again and the sun which poured down was quite hot. Though there had been no chance to see either the secret garden or Dickon, Mistress Mary had enjoyed herself very much. The week had not seemed long.
The heavens were brass, food failed for man and beast, God and man alike had forsaken them. The forest lay one side, the river, now but a shallow sluggish stream, lay the other; 'twas a cleft stick and the springe tightened. No evil had as yet befallen Dickon. He stood with the rest and murmured, cursing. All at once he made for the ale-house.
"Tha'll see him often enow after a bit," answered Dickon. "When th' eggs hatches out th' little chap he'll be kep' so busy it'll make his head swim. Tha'll see him flyin' backward an' for'ard carryin' worms nigh as big as himsel' an' that much noise goin' on in th' nest when he gets there as fair flusters him so as he scarce knows which big mouth to drop th' first piece in.
"Tha' might sing th' Doxology," he suggested in his dryest grunt. He had no opinion of the Doxology and he did not make the suggestion with any particular reverence. But Colin was of an exploring mind and he knew nothing about the Doxology. "What is that?" he inquired. "Dickon can sing it for thee, I'll warrant," replied Ben Weatherstaff.
She had never made a long speech in Yorkshire before and she had remembered very well. "Tha' mun talk a bit o' Yorkshire like that to Mester Colin," Dickon chuckled. "Tha'll make him laugh an' there's nowt as good for ill folk as laughin' is. Mother says she believes as half a hour's good laugh every mornin' 'ud cure a chap as was makin' ready for typhus fever."
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