'Well, well, you served with him somewhere, didn't you? or saw him, or something; I don't remember exactly what it was. We've been over so much ground that I've forgotten half the things you told me.'
The stranger gave a brief but interesting account of his last interview with the general, whom he incidentally described so graphically as to leave no doubt of his acquaintance with him. When this had come to an end, the squire seemed rather nervous lest the conversation should flag, and trotted out his new friend with the most scientific jockeyism, plying him with questions as to the Levant, America, and every place on which they had touched during their morning conversation.
The stranger seemed to suffer this tax upon his conversational powers rather than to enjoy it; he saw Mr. Brimble's motive, which was to gain for him the favour of his family, and, appreciating his kindness, fell in with his wish. Charity and Flora exchanged glances; the former looked triumphant—she had been right in her conjecture. Flora listened to him for a little time, but very soon joined her mother and Miss Cruden in the discussion of some new crochet patterns, giving only an occasional exclamation when any circumstance of particular interest was narrated. Mr. Jobson seemed equally ignorant of the indifference of the trio, and of the deep interest with which Charity listened to him. The squire was the centre of his notice, and he was evidently pleased with the gratification he was affording him. Dame Sparks' criticism, that he knew everything, seemed nearer the truth than such criticisms generally are.
At the luncheon, of which he could not with courtesy refuse to partake, he delighted the squire by giving him the history of almost every known wine, and charmed the ladies, one and all, with descriptions of foreign fruits and flowers. Every object suggested some fresh ground on which to display his boundless information, and the ease with which the remarks passed from topic to topic, and the perfect simplicity of his manner, so free from conceit, gave a tenfold charm to all. When he had left,—for he declined positively to remain the day, sorely to Mr. Brimble's disappointment,—a discussion concerning him naturally arose among the ladies, while the squire accompanied him, as he said, off the grounds.
'Oh, mamma, what a man!' said Flora; 'isn't he worse than a dictionary? I should get a brain fever if I heard him talk every day.'
'Where does he come from?' asked Miss Cruden—a rather elderly lady, with grey hair and gold spectacles and thin, sharp features.
'That remains to be proved,' said Mrs. Brimble.
'Come from!' cried Flora; 'why, he's like the man in the fairy tale, that came in at a hundred doors at once.'
'Mr. Brimble,' said his wife impressively, and turning with a confidential air to Miss Cruden, 'is so exceedingly imprudent, so easily deceived, that any one might take him in—any one that can talk.'
'There's no question about this person being able to talk,' said Miss Cruden; 'but why do you suppose he has been taken in now?'