“Oh, he’s a tall dark swell, that looks as if the whole place belonged to him.”
“And so it does,” said Cox, his man, coming in and banging down his dressing-case. “If he is not master here, I’d like to know who is?”
“Lor’, Mr. Cox, what a start you have give us! And is it really Sir Reginald himself?” cried Mrs. Morris, rising.
“You can use your eyes, Mrs. Morris; there he goes down the steps.”
An immediate rush was made to the window to catch a glimpse.
Yes, sure enough there he was, walking towards the pleasure-grounds with Miss Saville.
“Thank God, he looks well and strong!” said Mrs. Morris with fervour, following his retreating figure with tears in her eyes.
“My! what a handsome gentleman!” exclaimed an enthusiastic housemaid. “If he does not suit her she is hard to please, isn’t she, Polly?”
“Brown, please to remember yourself,” said Mrs. Morris sharply.
“Not but that,” she added, relaxing, “all the Fairfaxes are good-looking. Many a time I carried him in my arms, the same as I do Master Maurice. Ay, it seems but the other day.”