Black, White and Gray: A Story of Three HomesWalton, Amy
General
Black, White and Gray: A Story of Three Homes
Walton, Amy
Cats -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
"But you're not a kitten--you're a boy," said Maisie despairingly, "and
that makes a great deal of difference."
"Dr Price is splendid, _I_ think," continued Dennis. "Just see how he
can ride, and how he cures people, and how kind he is to them about
their bills."
"Why do you suppose Aunt Katharine has Dr Smith over from Upwell to see
us when we're ill," asked Maisie, "when Dr Price is quite close, and so
clever?"
"Well," said Dennis gravely, "you mustn't say anything, but I
_believe_--that is, I've heard one or two of them say in the village--
that he sometimes--is--like Tuvvy, you know."
"Oh!" said Maisie, with her eyes very wide open.
"And that, you see," went on Dennis instructively, "is very bad for a
doctor, because he may mix up the wrong things together and kill people.
But for all that, they say they'd rather have him, even when he's a
little `nervous,' than any one else, because he's so clever and so kind.
Why, he sat up all night with Widow Hutchins's son, who had sergestion
of the lungs, and then he wouldn't take a penny because she's so poor."
"What a pity he's ever like Tuvvy," said Maisie.
"And then, you see," continued Dennis, who loved to repeat the gossip he
picked up in the village, "he's so dreadfully fond of horses and
hunting, that whenever there's a meet near, he _can't help_ going, and
if he goes, he _has_ to follow, and then he can't leave off. So
sometimes, when there is an accident, or anything, and he's wanted here
very badly, he's quite the other side of the county!"
Maisie nodded her head gravely as she heard of those little weaknesses;
and just then, reaching the foot of the hill which led down from the
vicarage, they came into the village again, and there was Dr Price
himself standing at his gate, facing them.
He was a broad, strongly-built man of about five-and-forty, with a
clean-shaven square face, and very fair hair and eyebrows. These looked
curiously light on his red-brown skin, which was of an even tint all
over, as though used to encounter wind and rough weather. He was so
constantly on horseback, that it seemed strange to see him standing on
his own legs, and more so to see him walk, which, indeed, he did with an
odd movement of the knees, as though it were some difficult exercise.
He wore riding-boots and breeches, and had a short pipe in his mouth.
At his heels were his two white terriers, Snip and Snap.
As Maisie's eye fell on the dogs, she stopped short, and caught hold of
Dennis by the arm.
"Oh!" she exclaimed; "I forgot."
"Forgot what?" he answered, with a pull forward. "Don't be stupid.
Come on."
"Why, Snip and Snap," said Maisie eagerly, still holding back. "It
wouldn't be a good home. They'd chase it. Don't let's speak to Dr
Price about it. It wouldn't be any use."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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