“Just twice as much, sir, forty pound a year, and a good sound house over his head, and his livery and his beer. And left all that, sir, for ten pund more, and gold lace on his coat, and the honor of driving a duke. May the de’il fly away with him!—begging your pardon, sir.”
“Don’t mention it,” laughed Ran. “But you would not have left Haymore under the same circumstances?”
“Me!—why, sir, I never had the chance, so what would be the use of boasting? But, indeed, I don’t think I would.”
“Hobbs, can you drive?”
“None better in the world, sir, though I say it.”
“Then you shall be my coachman at the same wages that your predecessor now gets from his new master,” said Ran, smiling benignly down on the stupefied face of the man before him.
“Oh, sir! sir! but this is too much, too much for poor me! Such a permotion as to be coachman! I can hardly believe it, sir! I can’t, indeed! And at a rise of wages, too! I can’t hardly believe it!” droned Hobbs, fairly dazed by his good fortune.
“Go and tell your wife, then. And begin to see about your livery, and fix up the coachman’s cottage—at my cost, Hobbs. All that will help you to believe it. Good-day.”
With these words the gracious young master left the stable yard and walked back to the Hall, happy in the feeling of having made others so, yet grave and thoughtful in the recognition of his responsibilities for all who were dependent on him.