Carleton raised his hand. “No, no,” he cried, “you don’t get me to listen to any of those yarns. I don’t know anything about motors, and I don’t want to. A horse is good enough for me. It isn’t your automobile troubles I want to hear about, Tom. It’s your own, if you’ve got any, only I don’t believe you have. As near as I can make out, you’re an infernally lucky man.”
The chauffeur nodded. “I am that, sir,” he answered, readily enough. “No man could have had better luck, or more of it, than I’ve had the last year. It seems sometimes to me, Mr. Jack, like it couldn’t really be so. It’s been most too much for one man.”
Jack nodded. “It was all a surprise to me,” he said. “Mr. Carleton never told me he’d built you the house; I didn’t even know you were married. I wouldn’t know it now if I hadn’t happened to stop in there on the way up from the train. I only did it out of curiosity, too. I wondered who on earth had built that house, so near the big one.”
Satterlee’s face lit up with pleasure. “I’m more than glad you did, sir,” he said. “It’s a neat little place, if I am saying so. And you were after seeing the Mrs., I suppose?”
Jack nodded again. “Yes, indeed I did. She’s prettier than ever, Tom. And she was telling me all about the house. So Mr. Carleton built it for you.”
Satterlee pushed the wagon back into place, removed his apron, and took his stand in front of Carleton. “Yes, sir,” he answered, “you see, it was like this. I always liked Jeanne fine—no one could help it, she’s got that way with her—but I always thought as how she was more than a cut above me, being, as you might say, a lady, almost. And she never’d have much to say to me, either, excepting to pass the time of day, and such like things, you know, just friendly like, and nothing more. But about a year ago, of a sudden she began to seem to take more notice of me, and at last, never dreaming I was doing anything more than settle all my hopes of ever getting her, once and for all, I got that crazy about her I up and asked her—and she said she would. And then I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to go to housekeeping, of course; I knew where I could rent a tidy little house down in the village, but I was feared of losing my job, if Mr. Carleton shouldn’t seem to take kindly to the idea of it.
“Well, at last I told him, and he seemed pleased enough, and asked me about my plans, and so on, and finally he said he’d like to think it over for a while. So I said all right, of course, and one evening he came down here, and talked a long time, about how fine a thing it was to be married—he spoke something beautiful about his poor dear lady—and said as how that I’d always done my work right, and been a faithful man to him, and as how he knew Jeanne was a fine girl, and so on, and finally that he’d hate to have me leave him—I got scared then—but he didn’t want me so far away as the village, and so, if I’d like it, partly for me, and partly for a good example to the rest of the house, he’d build me a cottage right here on the place, and set me up to housekeeping there. And that he did, and you’ve seen the cottage for yourself, so there’s no need of my saying what a neat little place it is, or how happy we are. I like it fine, and Jeanne even more than me, I believe; you know what it is for a woman to have her own home to fuss round with; flowers and a vegetable garden, and all such things. We couldn’t be better fixed in all the wide world.”
Carleton slowly nodded. “Well, I should say not,” he said at length. “And about the money, too. Jeanne was telling me of that.”
Satterlee’s face brightened. “Wasn’t that the greatest ever?” he said. “I never knew she had relatives so well fixed as that; I guess she didn’t, either; but Mr. Carleton looked after all the law part of it for her, and it seems she gets a steady income for the rest of her life. Not so much, of course, for some folks, but for her, you see, it’s just pin money, to do as she likes with. Of course I’d never touch a cent of it; I’m doing pretty well myself, and I live simple, anyway; but she likes her fine clothes, and her trip in town, same as all the women do, and I’m glad to let her have the fun. Sometimes I get let off, too, but I don’t like to go often; there’s plenty doing here with six horses, and that rascal of a car. And this summer she’s going off for two months to the mountains with some friends of hers. You see, the work gets slacker then; Mr. Carleton always goes away about that time, and it’s pretty hot here, of course, for a woman, anyway. Yes, Jeanne’s quite the lady now, and no one more glad than me.”
Carleton, again nodding thoughtfully, sat for some time in silence without looking up. At last he raised his eyes to the chauffeur’s. “Tom,” he said, speaking with unwonted gravity, “I’d like to ask you one question. What do you really think—” Abruptly he broke off. “Well, speaking of angels,” he muttered, and again was silent.