Chapter XXXIII

“Who’s that coming up the garden-walk, doctor?” said the old lady; “Ruth’s father, as true as the world. Ah! I understand, we shall see what we shall see; mind you keep a stiff upper lip, doctor.”

“Good morning, doctor,” said Mr. Ellet.

“Good morning, sir,” said the doctor, stiffly.

“Fine place you have here, doctor.”

“Very,” replied the doctor.

“I have just come from a visit to Ruth,” said Mr. Ellet.

The imperturbable doctor slightly nodded to his visitor, as he took a pinch of snuff.

“She seems to take her husband’s death very hard.”

“Does she?” replied the doctor.

“I’m sorry to hear,” remarked Mr. Ellet, fidgeting in his chair, “that there is nothing left for the support of the family.”

“So am I,” said the doctor.

“I suppose the world will talk about us, if nothing is done for her,” said the non-committal Mr. Ellet.

“Very likely,” replied the doctor.

“Harry was your child,” said Mr. Ellet, suggestively.

“Ruth is yours,” said the doctor.

“Yes, I know,” said Mr. Ellet; “but you are better off than I am, doctor.”

“I deny it—I deny it,” retorted the doctor, fairly roused; “you own the house you live in, and have a handsome income, or ought to have,” said he, sneeringly, “at the rate you live. If you have brought up your daughter in extravagance, so much the worse for her; you and Ruth must settle that between you. I wash my hands of her. I have no objection to take Harry’s children, and try to bring them up in a sensible manner; but, in that case, I’ll have none of the mother’s interference. Then her hands will be free to earn her own living, and she’s none too good for it, either. I don’t believe in your doll-baby women; she’s proud, you are all proud, all your family—that tells the whole story.”

This was rather plain Saxon, as the increased redness of Mr. Ellet’s ears testified; but pecuniary considerations helped him to swallow the bitter pill without making a wry face.

“I don’t suppose Ruth could be induced to part with her children,” said Mr. Ellet, meditatively.

“Let her try to support them then, till she gets starved out,” replied the doctor. “I suppose you know, if the mother’s inability to maintain them is proved, the law obliges each of the grand-parents to take one.”

This was a new view of the case, and one which immediately put to flight any reluctance Mr. Ellet might have had to force Ruth to part with her children; and remarking that he thought upon reflection, that the children would be better off with the doctor, Mr. Ellet took his leave.

“I thought that stroke would tell,” said the doctor, laughing, as Mr. Ellet closed the door.

“Yes, you hit the right nail on the head that time,” remarked the old lady; “but those children will be a sight of trouble. They never sat still five minutes at a time, since they were born; but I’ll soon cure them of that. I’m determined Ruth shan’t have them, if they fret me to fiddling-strings; but what an avaricious old man Mr. Ellet is. We ought to be thankful we have more of the gospel spirit. But the clock has struck nine, doctor. It is time to have prayers, and go to bed.”