“Anyway, I must say it,” continued the lad gravely. “You know, Elizabeth, as there’s ladies coming here to-day. I’ve told you all about it, and how, though they’re my very own folk (Jim held his head proudly), they’ve been brought up different. I’m wanting, most of all, as they shall feel this cottage home-like, and so I’d not have them miss, more than I can help, all they’ve had to give up. You’ve always managed for grandfather and me, Elizabeth; and you’ve served us faithful, as I’ll never forget. But when my stepmother and my half-sister come (Jim was faithfully exact), they’ll be mistresses here. I want you to go to one of them every day for orders, and do your best to please them.”
Jim held his breath.
“Jist as ye please, sir,” was the sole response of Elizabeth; and thrusting one hand deeply into a serviceable pocket, she dragged out, with ostentatious indifference, a small bunch of keys, and flung them clatteringly on to the kitchen-table.
“Nay, Elizabeth,” said Jim kindly, “there’s no need for locking up, and I’m sure the ladies won’t wish it. Keep the keys, and give me your promise as you’ll help me all you can. I’m a bit worried and sore-hearted, Elizabeth.”
“There’s nae doot aboot that,” returned the old dame, though evidently mollified. “I hae watched ye ever since ye telt me o’ the happenings at the grand hoose yonder, where your fine leddy mither and sister wear their silks an’ satins; and I hae seen the speirit gang oot o’ ye. But I’ll dae your wull, maister.”
“That’ll be all right, then, Elizabeth,” said Jim, sighing in relief of spirit. “You’ve made the cottage beautiful clean and fresh-like, and I’m sure you’ll keep things nice.”
Then Mrs. Macbean uplifted her long person after a final dash at the coals, and emphasized her speech with her loaded shovel.
“I hae served gentlefolk afore,” she remarked grimly; “and I’m no needin’ tellin’ as to hoo I’ll serve them the noo. There’s ae thing mair. I hae kent, lang afore ye hae telt me onything, Maister Jim, that ye were come o’ gentle folk yersel. Ye hae a’ the look o’ it; and I’m thinkin’ it’s a peety.”
With these uncompromising words, Mrs. Macbean flung the contents of her shovel on the fire, snatched up a broom, and vanished through the back door. Jim sighed again, and went off to give the rooms a final inspection. His last visit was to the “den” of which Frances had told Miss Carlyon. Thence he emerged with a strange glimmer of a smile on his lips.
As he stepped to the threshold of the front door, which stood wide open to the warm August airs, he saw a sight which made him halt irresolutely, while his pulses throbbed in sheer nervous excitement.