Penelope and the Others by Amy Walton (top books of all time .TXT) 📖

be too difficult, no lesson too long. By the time they reached the doctor's gate Ambrose was master of the Latin tongue, and receiving praise and admiration from all his relations.

But now he had to come back to reality and to face his new master, who was a very solid fact, and he walked in by his father's side rather soberly. Everything was quite new and strange, for he had never been inside the cottage before.

They were shown straight into the study where the doctor sat at work. It was a long low room with a window at each end, one of which looked into the road and one into the little garden. The walls were lined with shelves, but there was not nearly enough room in them for the books, which had overflowed everywhere, on the table, on the chairs, on the window-seat, and on the floor, where they stood in great piles on each side of the doctor. He seemed to be quite built in with books as he sat at his writing, and rose from among them with difficulty to greet his visitors, stumbling as he advanced to shake hands.

Ambrose noticed with awe that he looked bigger indoors, and that his head almost touched the low ceiling when he stood upright.

"This is Ambrose," said the vicar, "your future pupil."

Ambrose held out his hand, but the doctor took no notice of it. He put one large finger under the boy's chin and turned his face upwards.

"Shall we make a scholar of you?" he asked in a deep voice.

Ambrose blinked helplessly up into the broad face so high above him, as much dazzled and confused as though he had been trying to stare at the sun.

His father laughed. "You will find him very ignorant, I fear," he said; "but I think he will be industrious."

"We shall see, we shall see," said the doctor, and his small eyes twinkled kindly. "By the way," he said, suddenly turning from Ambrose and lifting a great volume from the pile on the floor, "here is the passage I spoke of the other day."

They both bent over the book with such earnest attention that Ambrose knew they would say nothing more about him for some time. Much relieved, he edged himself on to the corner of a chair that was not quite covered with books and papers, and looked round him.

Many curious things caught his eye, huddled together without any order on the mantel-piece, and among the books on the window-seat--fossils and odd-looking shells, cobwebby bottles, in which floated strange objects without shape or make. Splendid things for a museum, thought Ambrose, as his eyes roved among them, but how dusty and untidy, and no labels. How careful he and David had been to keep their museum neat and well arranged! The poor museum! Since the unlucky venture with the crock there had not been one single curiosity added to it. Disgrace seemed to hang over it, and it was seldom spoken of among the children at all.

Dr Budge's curiosities brought all this back to Ambrose's mind, and he quite longed to dust and label them for him. He might be a very learned man, but he certainly was not an orderly one.

Coming to this conclusion, he turned his eyes to the window and discovered something there which interested him still more, for in a wicker cage above the doctor's head there was a lively little jackdaw. He was a smart active bird with glossy plumage, and looked strangely out of place amongst the quiet old brown books and dusty objects in the room. Ambrose gazed at him with satisfaction. He had a jackdaw at home, and when he saw this one he felt at once that he and his future master would have one thing in common if they both liked jackdaws. The bird's presence made him feel less shy and strange, so that Dr Budge was no longer quite such an awful person, and when he said good-bye he was able to look up at him of his own accord.

After this the day soon came when father, mother, Dickie, baby, and nurse were all driven off to the station with their boxes, and parcels, and bundles of shawls. Added to these, all sorts of toys were handed in at the last moment, which could not be packed, and which Dickie refused to leave behind. She had been allowed to have her own way more than ever since her illness, and now when she wanted to take all sorts of unreasonable things no one liked to oppose her. The black kitten was to go also, she had settled, but it was nowhere to be found when the party was starting, David having wisely shut it up in the museum. Andrew drove off quickly to catch the train, and the last to be seen of Dickie was a kicking struggling form in Nurse's arms, and a face heated with anger.

The house seemed strangely dull and empty when they were really gone, but perhaps Ambrose felt it least, for he had his new lessons to fill his thoughts, and his mind was firmly fixed on making wonderful progress before his father came back.

After one or two lessons, however, this did not seem such a very easy thing to do, for he soon began to find out how very little he knew, and to have a dim idea that there was an enormous quantity to learn.

What a wonderful lot Dr Budge must know, and he seemed to be always learning more! When he was not actually occupied with Ambrose's lessons he was so entirely taken up with his own writing that Nancy's remark was perhaps true--he had forgotten his pupil altogether!

And yet, when Ambrose said the lesson he had prepared, or ventured to ask some question about the exercise he was doing, Dr Budge's mind came back at once from its own pursuits. He gave the most earnest attention to Ambrose's little difficulties, and did not rest till he was sure that they were cleared away; then he took up his squeaking quill-pen again, gave a push to his wig, and scribbled away harder than ever.

During these hours of study the jackdaw's presence was a relief both to Ambrose and his master, though in a different way. As he sat opposite the cage, with one elbow on the table and his head resting on his hand, Ambrose would raise his eyes from his grammar to the wicker cage with a feeling of sympathy. He and Jack were both shut up in cages, only that Jack had no Latin to learn.

But the doctor went further than this. Sometimes he came to a stand-still in his writing, murmured to himself, frowned, walked heavily up and down the room, but found no way out of the difficulty. Then, as a last resource, he would open the door of Jack's cage and invite him to perch on his finger. Jack would step jauntily down, raising all the grey feathers on his head till it was twice its usual size. Absently, but with great tenderness, the doctor would scratch it with one large forefinger; then, suddenly, the word or sentence he sought returning to his mind, he would bundle Jack into his cage, snatch up his pen, and begin to write furiously. Jack never failed to repay him by a vicious dig at his hand, which was sometimes successful, but this the doctor never seemed to notice.

"Though," thought Ambrose as he watched all this in silence, "it must hurt him, because I know how hard jackdaws peck."

He would have liked a little conversation on the subject with his master, for he felt that though he did not know much Latin, he could hold his own about jackdaws. There had been many at the Vicarage, which had all come to unexpected or dreadful ends, and Ambrose was thoroughly acquainted with their ways and habits.

But he was still far too much in awe of Dr Budge to venture on any subject apart from his lessons, and he contented himself with watching him and his bird with the closest interest.

They were an odd pair of friends. One so trim and neat, with such slender legs and such a glossy black toilette; the other so crumpled and shabby, with no regard for appearances at all, and his clothes never properly brushed. As he held himself upright on the doctor's finger, the jackdaw had the air of considering himself far the superior being.

Things went on in this way for about a fortnight, and Ambrose felt quite as strange and far-away from Dr Budge as the day he had begun his lessons, when something happened which changed his ideas very much.

One morning, arriving at his usual hour with his books under his arm, and his exercise carefully written out, he was surprised to find the study empty. The doctor's chair was pushed back from the table as though he had risen hastily, and his pen was lying across his paper, where it had made a great blot of ink.

Lifting his eyes to the cage in the window, Ambrose saw that that was empty also; the little door was open, and there was no smart, active figure within. What did it all mean? While he was wondering, the doctor came slowly into the room with a troubled frown on his brow.

He greeted Ambrose, and sat down in his usual seat, but there was evidently something amiss with him, although he was as attentive as ever to his pupil's needs. Ambrose noticed, however, that when he had done saying his lessons, and had an exercise to write by himself, Dr Budge could not settle down as usual to his own work. After a short time he began to sigh and fidget, and then took his usual heavy walk up and down the room, stopping from force of habit at the jackdaw's cage, and half raising his hand as though to invite him to come out. When he had seen this several times, Ambrose longed to ask, "Is the jackdaw lost?" for he now began to feel sure this was the case. It was quite natural, he thought; jackdaws always did get lost, and he knew what a trouble it was sometimes to get them back. If the doctor would only talk about it he might be able to help him, but he had not the courage to open the subject himself.

So he went on with his lessons in silence, but by the time the hour came for him to go away, he had said the words over so often to himself that they seemed to come out without any effort of his own.

"Please, sir, have you lost the jackdaw?"

The doctor looked across the table. There was Ambrose's eager little face all aglow with sympathy and interest.

"I'm afraid so," he answered. "And what I fear is, that he has flown out of the window into the road. There is no trace of him in the garden."

"Was his wing cut?" inquired Ambrose, drawing nearer and looking up at the empty cage.

The doctor shook his head.

"Then, you see," said Ambrose gravely and instructively, "it'll be much more difficult to find him. He can fly ever so far, and even if he wanted to get back he might lose