Dicky saw her safe off, and groaned at his ease. Here was a prescription full of new chemicals, sovereign, no doubt, i.e., deadly when applied Jennerically; and the very directions for use were in Latin words he had encountered in no prescription before. A year ago Dicky would have counted the prescribed ingredients on his fingers, and then taken down an equal number of little articles, solid or liquid, mixed them, delivered them, and so to cricket, serene; but now, his mind, to apply the universal cant, was “in a transition state.” A year's practice had chilled the youthful valour which used to scatter Epsom salts or oxalic acid, magnesia or corrosive sublimate. An experiment or two by himself and his compeers, with comments by the coroner, had enlightened him as to the final result on the human body of potent chemicals fearlessly administered, leaving him dark as to their distinctive qualities applied remedially. What should he do? Run with the prescription to old Taylor in the next street, a chemist of forty years? Alas! at his tender age he had not omitted to chaff that reverend rival persistently and publicly. Humble his establishment before the King Street one? Sooner perish drugs, and come eternal cricket! And after all, why not? Drummer-boys, and powder-monkeys, and other imps of his age that dealt destruction, did not depopulate gratis; Mankind acknowledged their services in cash: but old Jenner, taught by Philosophy through its organ the newspapers that “knowledge is riches,” was above diluting with a few shillings a week the wealth a boy acquired behind his counter; so his apprentices got no salary. Then why not shut up the old rogue's shutters, and excite a little sympathy for him, to be followed by a powerful reaction on his return from walking; and go and offer his own services on the cricket-ground to field for the gentlemen by the hour, or bowl at a shilling on their balls?
“Bowling is the lay for me,” said he; “you get money for that, and you only bruise the gents a bit and break their thumbs: you can't put their vital sparks out as you can at this work.”
By a striking coincidence the most influential member of the cricket club passed while Dick was in this quandary.
“Oh, Mr. Halfred, you was always very good to me on the ground—you couldn't have me hired by the club, could ye? For I am sick of this trade; I wants to bowl.”
“You little duffer!” said Alfred, “cricket is a recreation, not a business. Besides, it only lasts five months. Unless you adjourn to the anitipodes. Stick to the shop like a man, and make your fortune.”
“Oh, Mr. Halfred,” said Dick sorrowfully, “how can I find fortune here? Jenner don't pay. And the crowner declares he will not have it; and the Barton Chronicle says us young gents ought all to be given a holiday to go and see one of us hanged by lot. But this is what have broke this camel's back at last; here's a dalled thing to come smiling and smirking in with, and put it across a counter in a poor boy's hand. Oh! oh! oh!”
“Dick,” said Alfred, “if you blubber, I'll give you a hiding. You have stumbled on a passage you can't construe. Well, who has not? But we don't shed the briny about it. Here, let me have a go at it.”
“Ah! I've heard you are a scholard,” said Dick, “but you won't make out this; there's some new preparation of mercury, and there's musk, and there's horehound, and there's a neutral salt: and dal his old head that wrote it!”
“Hold your jaw, and listen, while I construe it to you. 'Die Mercurii, on Wednesday—decima hora vespertina, at ten o'clock at night—eat in Musca:'' what does that mean? 'Eat in Musca?'' I see! this is modern Latin with a vengeance. 'Let him go in a fly to the Towns-hall. Saltet, let him jump—cum tredecim caniculis, with thirteen little dogs—praesertim meo, especially with my little dog.' Dicky, this prescription emanates from Bedlam direct. 'Domum reddita''—hallo! it is a woman, then. 'Let her go in a fly to the—Town-hall, eh?' 'Let her jump, no, dance, with thirteen whelps, especially mine.' Ha! ha! ha! And who is the woman that is to do all this I wonder?”
“Woman, indeed!” said a treble at the door! “no more than I am; it's for a young lady. O jiminy!”
This polite ejaculation was drawn out by the speaker's sudden recognition of Alfred, who had raised his head at her remonstrance, and now started in his turn; for it was the black-eyed servant of Albion Villa. They looked at one another in expressive silence.
“Yes, sir, it is for my young lady. Is it ready, young man?”
“No, it ain't: and never will,” squealed Dick angrily “It's a vile 'oax; and you ought to be ashamed of yourself bringing it into a respectable shop.”
Alfred silenced him, and told Sarah he thought Miss Dodd ought to know the nature of this prescription before it went round the chemists.
He borrowed paper of Dick and wrote:
“Mr. Alfred Hardie presents his compliments to Miss Dodd, and begs leave to inform her that he has, by the merest accident, intercepted the enclosed prescription. As it seems rather a sorry jest, and tends to attract attention to Miss Dodd and her movements, he has ventured with some misgivings to send it back with a literal translation, on reading which it will be for Miss Dodd to decide whether it is to circulate.
“'On Wednesday, at ten P.M., let her go in a fly to the Town-hall, and dance with thirteen little {little dogs, puppies, whelps,} especially with mine: return home at six A.M. and sleep till dinner, and repeat the folly as occasion serves.'”
“Suppose I could get it into Miss's hands when she's alone?” whispered Sarah.
“You would earn my warmest gratitude.”
“'Warmest gratitude!' Is that a warm gownd, or a warm clock, I wonder?”
“It is both, when the man is a gentleman, and a pretty, dark-eyed girl pities him and stands his friend.”
Sarah smiled, and whispered, “Give it me; I'll do my best.”
Alfred enclosed the prescription and his note in one cover, handed them to her, and slipped a sovereign into her hand. He whispered, “Be prudent.”
“I'm dark, sir,” said she: and went off briskly homewards, and Alfred stood rapt in dreamy joy, and so self-elated that, had he been furnished like a peacock, he would have instantly become a “thing all eyes,” and choked up Jenner's shop, and swept his counter. He had made a step towards familiarity, had written her a letter; and then, if this prescription came, as he suspected, from Dr. Sampson, she would perhaps be at the ball. This opened a delightful vista. Meantime, Mrs. Dodd had communicated Sampson's opinion to Julia, adding that there was a prescription besides, gone to be made up. “However, he insists on your going to this ball.”
Julia begged hard to be excused: said she was in no humour for balls: and Mrs. Dodd objecting that the tickets had actually been purchased, she asked leave to send them to the Dartons. “They will be a treat to Rose and Alice; they seldom go out: mamma, I do so fear they are poorer than people think. May I?”
“It would be but kind,” said Mrs. Dodd. “Though really why my child should always be sacrificed to other people's children——”
“Oh, a mighty sacrifice!” said Julia. She sat down and enclosed the tickets to Rose Darton, with a little sugared note. Sarah, being out, Elizabeth took it. Sarah met her at the gate, but did not announce her return: she lurked in ambush till Julia happened to go to her own room, then followed her, and handed Alfred's missive, and watched her slily, and being herself expeditious as the wind in matters of the heart, took it for granted the enclosure was something very warm indeed; so she said with feigned simplicity, “I suppose it is all right now, miss?” and retreated swelling with a secret, and tormented her fellow-servants all day with innuendoes dark as Erebus.
Julia read the note again and again: her heart beat at those few ceremonious lines. “He does not like me to be talked of,” she said to herself. “How good