Dariel: A Romance of SurreyBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
Dariel: A Romance of Surrey
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Surrey (England) -- Fiction
This was a very pretty way to put it. I knew that he had plenty of work
for the men, but wanted to help us with our harvest labour, having
heard, no doubt, that we were short of hands. I thanked him warmly, for
these men would be of the greatest service to us. And then he turned
upon me severely, as if my health were under his superintendence, and I
was trying to elude it, by keeping my arm from his notice.
"You are doing a very stupid thing. You have a shocking wound in your
left arm, caused by the tooth or the claws of a dog; and instead of
having it treated properly, all you do is to pump upon it."
"Halloa!" cried Tom Erricker, "a dog. I wouldn't have that for a
thousand pounds. George, how could you play me such a trick? You told me
it was a pitchfork."
"I told you nothing of the kind. I simply said nothing whatever about
it. It can concern nobody but myself. And I will thank Mr. Stoneman, and
you, too, to attend to your own business."
"It may be no business of mine, perhaps," the stockbroker answered
severely; "but it is the undoubted business of any intimate friend of
yours, and most of all that of your family. Such behaviour of yours is
not true manliness, as I daresay you suppose, but foolhardy
recklessness, and want of consideration for your friends. And what does
that come to but selfishness, under one of its many disguises?"
Tom chimed in to the same effect, even going so far as to ask me what my
father and mother could do without me, even if they survived the trial
of seeing me smothered under a feather-bed. But when both my friends had
killed me of rabies to their entire satisfaction, I showed them in very
few words how little they knew about what they were talking of. For I
had done for myself all that could be done, as well as any doctor could
have managed it, and now there was nothing for it but cold water, and an
easy mind, and trust in Providence.
As soon as Tom Erricker heard of Providence, he began to yawn, as if he
were in church; so I begged him to go to bed, for which he was quite
ready, while I had a little talk with our tenant.
"How did you hear of this affair?" I asked, hoping for some light upon
other matters; "none of our people know it. They make such a fuss about
a dog-bite, that I was obliged to keep it close. I will beg you to do
the same, if you wish to oblige me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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