“Mrs. Jessel did not stay at Myst Court for nothing,” said John, who, possibly, wished to give a turn to the conversation; “she had not waited on Mrs. Myers for more than three years, yet the old lady left her five hundred pounds, a nice little furnished house just outside the Myst woods, and all the cats and kittens, which she could not trust to the care of strangers.”
“It was made worth her while to live in a haunted house,” observed Ann.
“I thought at first,” continued John, who had taken up his knife and fork, and was using them to good purpose,—“I thought at first that I might as well put my best foot forward, for that it would be no bad thing to have a wife with five hundred pounds and a house to start with; and,” he added slyly, “with such a live-stock to boot, one might have done a little business in the furrier’s line. But—”
“But, but,—speak out!” cried Ann with impatience; “what comes after the ‘but’?”
“Somehow I didn’t take to Mrs. Jessel,” said John, “and shouldn’t have cared to have married her, had the five hundred pounds been five thousand instead.”
“What’s against her?” inquired the cook.
“Nothing that I know of,” said John; “but when you see her, you’ll understand what I mean.”
“I’ll not see her; I’m not going to Myst Court; I could not abide being so far from London,” observed the cook.
“I shall give miss warning to-morrow!” cried Ann.
“And what will you do?” inquired John of Susan.