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asparagus bed. She had once been afraid of this man’s judgment. Now she
saw clearly that he was nothing but a rather stupid little village
tin-god.
Roaring Abel turned with his great broad laugh.
“He’ll think of that for years when he wakes up in the night. The
Almighty made a mistake in making so many Stirlings. But since they are
made, we’ve got to reckon with them. Too many to kill out. But if they
come here bothering you I’ll shoo ’em off before a cat could lick its
ear.”
The next time they sent Dr. Stalling. Surely Roaring Abel would not
throw him into asparagus beds. Dr. Stalling was not so sure of this and
had no great liking for the task. He did not believe Valancy Stirling
was out of her mind. She had always been queer. He, Dr. Stalling, had
never been able to understand her. Therefore, beyond doubt, she was
queer. She was only just a little queerer than usual now. And Dr.
Stalling had his own reasons for disliking Roaring Abel. When Dr.
Stalling had first come to Deerwood he had had a liking for long hikes
around Mistawis and Muskoka. On one of these occasions he had got lost
and after much wandering had fallen in with Roaring Abel with his gun
over his shoulder.
Dr. Stalling had contrived to ask his question in about the most
idiotic manner possible. He said, “Can you tell me where I’m going?”
“How the devil should I know where you’re going, gosling?” retorted
Abel contemptuously.
Dr. Stalling was so enraged that he could not speak for a moment or two
and in that moment Abel had disappeared in the woods. Dr. Stalling had
eventually found his way home, but he had never hankered to encounter
Abel Gay again.
Nevertheless he came now to do his duty. Valancy greeted him with a
sinking heart. She had to own to herself that she was terribly afraid
of Dr. Stalling still. She had a miserable conviction that if he shook
his long, bony finger at her and told her to go home, she dared not
disobey.
“Mr. Gay,” said Dr. Stalling politely and condescendingly, “may I see
Miss Stirling alone for a few minutes?”
Roaring Abel was a little drunk—just drunk enough to be excessively
polite and very cunning. He had been on the point of going away when
Dr. Stalling arrived, but now he sat down in a corner of the parlour
and folded his arms.
“No, no, mister,” he said solemnly. “That wouldn’t do—wouldn’t do at
all. I’ve got the reputation of my household to keep up. I’ve got to
chaperone this young lady. Can’t have any sparkin’ going on here behind
my back.”
Outraged Dr. Stalling looked so terrible that Valancy wondered how Abel
could endure his aspect. But Abel was not worried at all.
“D’ye know anything about it, anyway?” he asked genially.
“About _what_?”
“Sparking,” said Abel coolly.
Poor Dr. Stalling, who had never married because he believed in a
celibate clergy, would not notice this ribald remark. He turned his
back on Abel and addressed himself to Valancy.
“Miss Stirling, I am here in response to your mother’s wishes. She
begged me to come. I am charged with some messages from her. Will
you”—he wagged his forefinger—“will you hear them?”
“Yes,” said Valancy faintly, eyeing the forefinger. It had a hypnotic
effect on her.
“The first is this. If you will leave this—this——”
“House,” interjected Roaring Abel. “H-o-u-s-e. Troubled with an
impediment in your speech, ain’t you, Mister?”
“—this _place_ and return to your home, Mr. James Stirling will himself
pay for a good nurse to come here and wait on Miss Gay.”
Back of her terror Valancy smiled in secret. Uncle James must indeed
regard the matter as desperate when he would loosen his purse-strings
like that. At any rate, her clan no longer despised her or ignored her.
She had become important to them.
“That’s _my_ business, Mister,” said Abel. “Miss Stirling can go if she
pleases, or stay if she pleases. I made a fair bargain with her, and
she’s free to conclude it when she likes. She gives me meals that stick
to my ribs. She don’t forget to put salt in the porridge. She never
slams doors, and when she has nothing to say she don’t talk. That’s
uncanny in a woman, you know, Mister. I’m satisfied. If she isn’t,
she’s free to go. But no woman comes here in Jim Stirling’s pay. If any
one does”—Abel’s voice was uncannily bland and polite—“I’ll spatter the
road with her brains. Tell him that with A. Gay’s compliments.”
“Dr. Stalling, a nurse is not what Cissy needs,” said Valancy
earnestly. “She isn’t so ill as that, yet. What she wants is
companionship—somebody she knows and likes just to live with her. You