Taken or Left by O.F. Walton

ONE morning in August, about six weeks after Salome's birthdays I went for the carriage, at eleven o'clock, and brought it round to the front door. I was looking forward to taking Master Reggie, as usual, to give his children their breakfast. But my mistress came to the door, which was standing open, with a letter in her hand.

"Peter," she said, "Master Reggie is not at all well; he seems to have taken cold; he will not be able to go out to-day. I want you, instead, to take this letter for me. You are a good walker, are you not?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, "very good."

"It is to the doctor, Peter," she said; "he lives, as you know, at Calvington. Have you ever seen his house?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said; "isn't it a large red house, standing among a number of trees, not far from the station?"

"That's it, Peter," she said. "I am sorry Bessie is laid up with her bad foot. Bagot says she must not go out for some days yet; but if you walk steadily on, you will have plenty of time to get to Calvington before one o'clock, when the doctor is always at home, to receive any messages that have been left for him. Ask to see him yourself, Peter, and give him the letter; I am very anxious that he should come before night."

I set off at once for my long walk. It was a very sultry day, and it was a long time since we had had any rain, so the road was covered with thick white dust.

It was anything but a pleasant day for a walk, and I soon got very hot and tired. Twelve miles of this would be very wearying, I thought. And I wished very much that Bessie had been all right, for I could have driven to Calvington in a very short time.

When I was about two miles on my way, I came to a part of the road which ran very near the sea, and here I overtook a lad who came sometimes to Grassbourne, when we wanted an extra hand to dig up potatoes, or to weed, or to do any odd job we might have on hand in the garden. His name was Jack Anderson, and Bagot did not like him much, and was always very short with him; but his mother was a widow who lived in one of the cottages near, and my mistress pitied her, and for her sake was willing to give Jack a little work now and again.

"Hullo! Peter," he said, "where are you off to?"

When I told him, he gave a great groan of horror.

"Wouldn't be you," he said, "for a good deal."

"It is hot," I said, stopping under a tree to take off my hat, and to wipe the perspiration from my forehead; "there is not a breath of air!"

"I'll tell you what," said Jack, suddenly, "Mike will be up directly. He'll take your letter for you; he's going to Calvington."

"Who is Mike? " I said.

"Don't you know Mike? " he said. "He's McTaggart's youngest lad; his father has Canrobin Farm, away up on the hills. He's driving into Calvington with some parcels for his father, which have to go off by the one o'clock train. I saw him a few minutes since, calling for something at Kilgreggan House, a bit down this road by the sea. Oh, here he is!"

At this moment a light cart drove up, and in it was young McTaggart, in the midst of sacks and bundles and parcels. Jack told him my errand, and he said at once he would take the letter.

"Oh! But, Jack," I said, "maybe I ought not to give it to him. My mistress told me to go myself, and to give it to the doctor."

"Stuff and nonsense! " said Jack, laughing heartily. "As if it mattered who took the letter, so long as the doctor gets it? and Mike will be there long before you would; so it's a good job, whichever way you look at it."

"Perhaps I had better go with Mike," I said, "if he'll be so good as to give me a lift."