The Man with a Shadow

“Ah!” grunted Moredock.

“Then there was that old skull, gran’fa, that I had to play with. What became of that skull?”

“Up in the cupboard in your old bedroom,” grunted Moredock.

“How happy I used to be then!” sighed Dally, stroking a thin wisp off her grandfather’s hideous old forehead.

“Ah, you was a good little gel then, and thought about your poor old gran’fa, and didn’t come bothering him for money.”

“Yes, I did, gran’fa – for sweeties,” said Dally.

“Ay; but I wouldn’t give you none, gel.”

“Yes, you did sometimes, gran’fa; and so you would now to buy some nice things – a pretty bonnet – if I asked you.”

“Nay, I wouldn’t. And I knew it. You’ve come a-purpose to worry me out of some money.”

“No, I haven’t, gran’fa.”

“Ay, but you have. I know. Look here, how’s that going on? If it’s going to be my leddy, you shall have as much as you want; but not without. Is he courting of you?”

“No, gran’fa.”

“Whaaart?”

“Only sometimes, gran’fa; and that’s what made me come to you.”

“You – you haven’t come for the brass?”

“No, gran’fa, I want you to help me, for I’m such a miserable little girl.”

“What about? – what about?” cried the old man, smoking furiously, and staring with a peculiarly angry look at the girl.

“I wanted to tell you, gran’fa,” cried Dally, plumping herself down at the old man’s feet, and laying her rosy cheek upon his corduroy-covered knee, stained with the clay from many a grave. “It’s all such a muddle.”

“What is? – what is?”

“Why, everything,” cried Dally, with a petulant twitch; “but he’s not going to play with me. He’s told me many a time that he’d marry me, and make me Lady Candlish; and he shall, shan’t he, gran’fa?”

“Ay, that he shall,” cried the old man, patting Dally’s curly head. “That’s sperrit, that is. You keep him to it. But what’s all a muddle?”

“Why, everything, gran’fa,” cried Dally, bursting into tears, and speaking in an excited, passionate way. “But he shall marry me; and you’ll help me make him, won’t you, gran’fa?”

“Ay, that I will, my pretty. That’s the way. Don’t you be beat.”

“I won’t; and I won’t have him come courting Leo Salis.”

“Nay, you won’t,” said the old man, smoking away as he patted the fierce little creature’s head.

“He said it was all nonsense, and I believed him because he was so fond of me; but he courts her, too.”

“Nay, does he, Dally?”

“Yes, gran’fa; and he shan’t. He shall marry me. If he don’t, I’ll kill him!”

“So you shall, my pretty,” chuckled the old man; “and I’ll bury him. And then the doctor – ”

He checked himself and chuckled again. “What’s the use of the doctor when he’s dead?” cried Dally pettishly, as she tugged angrily at a fold of the old man’s trousers. “And Doctor North’s a fool!”

“Nay! nay! nay! Doctor’s a very clever man, Dally.”

“He isn’t; he’s a fool, gran’fa!”

“Tut, tut! Shoo, shoo!”

“I say he is, or he wouldn’t be courting and making love to Miss Leo.”

“Do he, Dally? – do he?”

“Why, yes, gran’fa, of course he does and she’s carrying on all the time with Tom. Oh, how I do hate her! Wish he’d let her die!”

“Ay, would ha’ been a good job for everybody – and for me, Dally. But doctor don’t know?”

“Know? Of course not. He’s too stupid. He’s a fool!”

“Nay, he’s not a fool,” said the old man, smoking rapidly. “Doctor’s head’s screwed on right way. He don’t know, or – ”

“Or what, gran’fa – or what?”

“He! he! he!” chuckled the old man, as Dally screwed herself round and gazed eagerly in his face. “Here, gently, gently! Don’t stick your little claws into my legs like that, pussy.”

“But what, gran’fa, what? – what would the doctor do?”

“Give him a nasty dose, I should say, Dally,” chuckled the old man. “Doctor don’t know – he arn’t no fool. Does Miss Leo know young squire courts you?”

“I don’t know,” cried Dally thoughtfully.

“She be a bad ’un,” grunted the old man.

“She’s a wretch, and I hate her! Oh, I wish master was the doctor instead of the parson!”

“Why, Dally, my lass?” said the old man, whose lips were drawn open to a terrible extension – a savage grin – as if he gloried in the display of fierce vindictive spite which the girl displayed.

“I’d get something out of the surgery and poison her!”

“Nay, nay, Dally, that wouldn’t do,” he chuckled. “They’d find you out and hang you.”

“I wouldn’t care if I killed her first,” said Dally fiercely. “She shouldn’t have him.”