Scales of Justice Read Free Page A

held by Dr. Lacklander. Dr. Lacklander blushed to the roots of his hair and said, “Good God! Good heavens! Good evening,” and Miss Cartarette said, “Oh, hullo, Nurse. Good evening.” She, too, blushed, but more delicately than Dr. Lacklander.
    Nurse Kettle said, “Good evening, Miss Rose. Good evening, Doctor. Hope it’s all right my taking the short cut.” She glanced with decorum at Dr. Lacklander. “The child with the abscess,” she said, in explanation of her own appearance.
    “Ah, yes,” Dr. Lacklander said. “I’ve had a look at her. It’s your gardener’s little girl, Rose.”
    They both began to talk to Nurse Kettle, who listened with an expression of good humour. She was a romantic woman and took pleasure in the look of excitement on Dr. Lacklander’s face and of shyness on Rose’s.
    “Nurse Kettle,” Dr. Lacklander said rapidly, “like a perfect angel, is going to look after my grandfather tonight. I don’t know what we should have done without her.”
    “
And
by that same token,” Nurse Kettle added, “I’d better go on me way rejoicing or I shall be late on duty.”
    They smiled and nodded at her. She squared her shoulders, glanced in a jocular manner at her bicycle and stumped off with it through the rose garden.
    “Well,” she thought, “if that’s not a case, I’ve never seen young love before. Blow me down flat, but I never guessed! Fancy!”
    As much refreshed by this incident as she would have been by a good strong cup of tea, she made her way to the gardener’s cottage, her last port of call before going up to Nunspardon.
    When her figure, stoutly clad in her District Nurse’s uniform, had bobbed its way out of the enclosed garden, Rose Cartarette and Mark Lacklander looked at each other and laughed nervously.
    Lacklander said, “She’s a fantastically good sort, old Kettle, but at that particular moment I could have done without her. I mustn’t stay, I suppose.”
    “Don’t you want to see my papa?”
    “Yes. But I shouldn’t wait. Not that one can do anything much for the grandparent, but they like me to be there.”
    “I’ll tell Daddy as soon as he comes in. He’ll go up at once, of course.”
    “We’d be very grateful. Grandfather sets great store by his coming.”
    Mark Lacklander looked at Rose over the basket he carried and said unsteadily, “Darling.”
    “Don’t,” she said. “Honestly; don’t.”
    “No? Are you warning me off, Rose? Is it all a dead loss?”
    She made a small ineloquent gesture, tried to speak and said nothing.
    “Well,” Lacklander said, “I may as well tell you that I was going to ask if you’d marry me. I love you very dearly, and I thought we seemed to sort of suit. Was I wrong about that?”
    “No,” Rose said.
    “Well, I know I wasn’t. Obviously, we suit. So for pity’s sake what’s up? Don’t tell me you love me like a brother, because I can’t believe it.”
    “You needn’t try to.”
    “Well, then?”
    “I can’t think of getting engaged, much less married.”
    “Ah!” Lacklander ejaculated. “Now, we’re coming to it! This is going to be what I suspected. O, for God’s sake let me get rid of this bloody basket! Here. Come over to the bench. I’m not going till I’ve cleared this up.”
    She followed him and they sat down together on a garden seat with the basket of roses at their feet. He took her by the wrist and stripped the heavy glove off her hand. “Now, tell me,” he demanded, “do you love me?”
    “You needn’t bellow it at me like that. Yes, I do.”
    “Rose, darling! I was so panicked you’d say you didn’t.”
    “Please listen, Mark. You’re not going to agree with a syllable of this, but please listen.”
    “All right. I know what it’s going to be but… all right.”
    “You can see what it’s like here. I mean the domestic set-up. You must have seen for yourself how much difference it makes to Daddy my being on tap.”
    “You are so funny when you use