“That is what they call it for fun, because it is such a little matter to go across it. Why, people say to each other when they meet on the deck of a steamer: ‘Going across?’ And another will say: ‘Not to-day.’ So you see what a trifle it is.”
“So it must be, indeed, me little leddy. And your words ha’ comforted me more than the counsels of his reverence. Such a little thing! ‘Go across?’ ‘Not to-day.’ Yes, that is a comfort. And the good ’bacco is another comfort. The ’bacco was in the parcel you brought me, me leddy; and you couldn’t get such ’bacco as this—no, not for love, nor yet for money—not if you was a dying for ’t! Why, the Yarl o’ Middlemoor would be proud to smoke sich ’bacco—I know he would! It must ha’ cost a power o’ money! I reckon my lad be getting rich over yonder, to send his feyther sich ’bacco as this. And the duty on’t must a been staggering loike!”
Here Wynnette started. She had not seen any duty paid on that tobacco; nor, indeed, had the custom house officers at Liverpool seen the tobacco; but she had not even thought of this before.
“And yet I ha’ a greater comfort even than this ’bacco as is fit for the Turkey of All Constantinople to smoke. My lad writes as he is coming over with his missus to see me next autumn. Thet’s the crooning comfort, me leddy—thet’s the crooning comfort!”
Wynnete now took leave of the old man, and returned to her seat in the carriage.
He arose with difficulty and stood up, bowing to the party, while Mr. Force and Le raised their hats as the carriage drove off.
They returned upon their way, repassed the front of the old manor house, now again closed up and gloomy, turned into the oak avenue, and in a few minutes came to the great gate, which was opened by Mrs. Dillon, the keeper of the lodge.
She smiled and courtesied as the old carriage passed.
Le, who was nearest to her, reached out his hand and dropped a piece of silver in her palm.
She courtesied again. The carriage turned into the highroad and began the journey back to Angleton.