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Updated: May 19, 2025
The letter-carrier, having first excused himself for making arrangements for the evening meal while he talked, hereupon related the circumstances of his meeting with the child, and had only concluded when May Maylands came in, looking a little fagged, but sunny and bright as usual.
What shall I do? Help!" To which the learned doctor gave the matter-of-fact but inelegant reply: "Stick your feet in hot water. Go to bed at once. Prescription sent by post. Take it every hour." But May Maylands did not stick her feet in hot water; neither did she go to bed, or take any physic. Indeed there was no occasion to do so, for a clear complexion and pink cheeks told of robust health.
"To the law and to the testimony" used to be Mrs Maylands' watchword in all her battles with Doubt. "To whom shall we go," she was wont to say, "if we go not to the Word of God?" Phil therefore searched the Scripture. Not being a Greek scholar, he sought help of those who were learned both personally and through books.
We merely state the fact that Phil Maylands met it at this period of his career, and, instead of shelving it as perhaps too many do as a too difficult subject, which might lie over to a more convenient season, tackled it with all the energy of his nature. He went first to his closet and his knees, and then to his Bible.
Meanwhile the rotund maid-of-all-work having, as it were, hurled the crockery into her den, and the circle round the fire having been completed, as well as augmented, by the sudden entrance of Phil Maylands, the "good laddie" re-opened fire. "Yes, ma'am, as you well observe, it is a wonderful institution. More than that, it's a gigantic one, and it takes a big staff to do the duty too.
That same evening a gentleman called at the Post-Office, desiring to see Philip Maylands. It turned out to be George Aspel. "Why, George, what brings you here?" said Phil in surprise. "I chanced to be in the neighbourhood," answered Aspel, "and came to ask the address of that little creature who posted my letter the other night. I want to see her.
He refused even to see Phil Maylands, but met Pax, and seemed not to mind him. At all events he took no notice of him. Whether his conduct was owing to pride, shame, or recklessness, none could tell.
At this point Tottie, who had cast many anxious glances at a small clock which hung in the outer porch or vestibule of the hall, entreated Mrs Square to tell Pax that he was wanted very much indeed. "I durstn't," said Mrs Square; "it's as much as my sitooation's worth. I was told by Mr Maylands, the chairman, to allow of no interruptions nor anythink of the kind."
May was at home, and she talked the matter over with Phil in the boudoir with the small window, and the near prospect of brick wall, and the photographs of the Maylands, and the embroidered text that was its occupant's sheet-anchor.
The field she had invaded was the private preserve of an old bull with a sour temper. Beholding a female, he lowered his horrid head, cocked his tail, and made at her. This it was that drew from poor Miss Lillycrop a yell such as she had not uttered since the days of infancy. Phil Maylands was swift to act at all times of emergency.
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