CHAPTER II.
When the stranger was fairly settled down in the humble dwelling of Mrs. Sparks, he seemed well pleased with his quarters.
'He've been brought up hard, granny,' said John; 'that's how he's so contented.'
'I don't believe it, John; he's the rale gentleman, only he've got the sense to come down to his means.'
At this juncture their lodger appeared, and cut short the conference. He has been partially described. To finish the portrait, the reader must add to his penetrating grey eyes a mouth indicating great decision of character, a head finely formed, with hair changing to grey. In the vigour of his expression, carriage, and manner, you would read his age to be thirty; but the worn look of his cheek, his furrowed brow, and his changing hair put many years on him: he might be forty or forty-five. Leaning over the garden gate with a paper in his hand, he nodded pleasantly to John, who was gardening, while his grandmother kept watch lest he should slip from his work.
'This Parker's Due that you told me of,' he said, 'how shall I find it by walking?'
John and his granny, having almost quarrelled about the nearest way, gave him a direction at last, as plain as a Chinese puzzle.
'Bring me a jug of milk, Mrs. Sparks, and some of your good brown bread; I see I have a long walk before me, and must be fortified.' Wouldn't he have some bacon, or wait for her to make a pan pudding with two or three eggs? No, he would not; he drank the milk, and putting the bread in his knapsack, took his iron-ended staff, or spud, and was opening the gate when two young ladies rode up, and, dismounting, the younger, who was exceedingly handsome, threw the bridle with an air of condescension into his hands. The elder, less beautiful, but pleasant-looking, hesitated to follow her example, and regarded him inquiringly.
Biddy Sparks came out, calling, 'John, John;' but John, reckoning on her having a longer talk with her lodger, and being tired of digging, had escaped to the Brimble Arms.
'Oh, ladies, I'm never so sorry—please, sir—I beg a hundred pardons, miss—couldn't I hold the horses, sir?—where can John be gone? You seen him here this minute, sir?'