"True," said Bawtree, emphatically. "And for my part I shall take my
custom from old Jones and go to this one directly I've anything the
matter with me. That last medicine old Jones gave me had no taste in
it at all."
Mr. Melbury, as became a well-informed man, did not listen to these
recitals, being moreover preoccupied with the business appointment
which had come into his head. He walked up and down, looking on the
floor--his usual custom when undecided. That stiffness about the arm,
hip, and knee-joint which was apparent when he walked was the net
product of the divers sprains and over-exertions that had been required
of him in handling trees and timber when a young man, for he was of the
sort called self-made, and had worked hard. He knew the origin of
every one of these cramps: that in his left shoulder had come of
carrying a pollard, unassisted, from Tutcombe Bottom home; that in one
leg was caused by the crash of an elm against it when they were
felling; that in the other was from lifting a bole. On many a morrow
after wearying himself by these prodigious muscular efforts, he had
risen from his bed fresh as usual; his lassitude had departed,
apparently forever; and confident in the recuperative power of his
youth, he had repeated the strains anew. But treacherous Time had been
only hiding ill results when they could be guarded against, for greater
accumulation when they could not. In his declining years the store had
been unfolded in the form of rheumatisms, pricks, and spasms, in every
one of which Melbury recognized some act which, had its consequence
been contemporaneously made known, he would wisely have abstained from
repeating.
On a summons by Grammer Oliver to breakfast, he left the shed. Reaching
the kitchen, where the family breakfasted in winter to save
house-labor, he sat down by the fire, and looked a long time at the
pair of dancing shadows cast by each fire-iron and dog-knob on the
whitewashed chimney-corner--a yellow one from the window, and a blue
one from the fire.
"I don't quite know what to do to-day," he said to his wife at last.
"I've recollected that I promised to meet Mrs. Charmond's steward in
Round Wood at twelve o'clock, and yet I want to go for Grace."
"Why not let Giles fetch her by himself? 'Twill bring 'em together all
the quicker."
"I could do that--but I should like to go myself. I always have gone,
without fail, every time hitherto. It has been a great pleasure to
drive into Sherton, and wait and see her arrive; and perhaps she'll be
disappointed if I stay away."