“It looks as if it had a history, or a law-suit,” remarked Mr. Usher, as he settled himself on a low window-sill, and produced his pipe.
“Well, then, no, yer honour, God be praised, it has not either wan or the other; but I could tell you—if yer in no hurry—a mighty queer tale of a child that was born there.”
“Oh, I’m in no hurry. It is not more than four o’clock,” said Mr. Usher, “and I’d like to hear the story,” offering his tobacco-pouch as he spoke.
“Well, then, hear it you shall, and so here goes!” rejoined the other, stuffing, as he spoke, a generous supply of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, and thrusting it down with a horny thumb.
“’Tis more nor twenty years ago, when there were no gentlemen’s lodges round the lake, nor no railroad or telegraphs, nor tourists, but terrible long journeys and great hardships on cars, and the best of shooting and fishing; now we have a power of quality coming to and fro, and admiring all this”—waving his hand,—“and bringing good money into the country. God knows it’s badly wanted; but when I was a young gossoon, a stranger hereabouts was as much of a curiosity as an elephant; so it made a notorious stir when this very place was took by the Earl of Mulgrave and his Countess.”
Mr. Usher started, and hastily pulled his pipe out of his mouth. “Mulgrave,” he repeated, “Mulgrave, did you say?”
“Yes, Mulgrave, sir. I learnt off the name by thinking of graves. They was not too long married, and come on a spree like, and without hardly any servants.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” assented Mr. Usher, “but how did they discover it?”
“I don’t rightly know,” he replied, “but they were highly delighted, I can tell ye—his lordship with the sport; for in those days ye couldn’t put down yer foot on the mountain without standing on a bird. The woodcock was just dying of old age; and as for the fish, they were waiting on ye.”
“More than they do now!” grunted Mr. Usher.