“I have vivid recollections of Vane as a child,” Stuart remarked, more to himself than to the woman; “and certainly I can testify to her strength then, for she boxed my ears soundly.”
“Laws, Master Stuart!” ejaculated Mrs. Clark. “What a little vixen!”
“But these are tales out of school,” laughed the young man; “and I fancy I tormented her pretty freely in those days. Ta-ta, Mrs. Clark! Go back and have a nap—sleep is the best way to pass these hot days.”
“Now, if he ain’t the best and kind-heartedest boy in the whole world!” mused Mrs. Clark, watching him as he strode along the lane. “Just like his father, poor gentleman!”
Mr. Crosbie went along the road at a fast pace, and did not slacken his speed till he sighted a few cottages that denoted a village. Then he moderated his pace, and sauntered into the one street, hot and parched with thirst.
“Phew!” he exclaimed to himself, taking off his hat and waving it to and fro vigorously. “I must have something to drink. I wonder if Judy keeps soda-water?”
“Judy” was the owner of a small shop, the one window of which displayed a heterogeneous mass of articles—comestibles, wearing apparel, tops, and scissors. It did not look very inviting, but thirst must be quenched, and better things might be in store behind the counter. So Stuart raised the latch and entered the cottage.
“Soda-water, Master Stuart?” repeated Mrs. Judy, in amazement. “I scarce count on what you mean. There’s pump-water, if you like, or may be a glass of milk.”
Mr. Crosbie hesitated for a moment, then decided for the latter.
“It is a long time since I drank so innocent a beverage, Judy,” he observed, putting down the glass with a slight shudder.