"And the mother has been at him for six years," added Jack.
They discussed the handy man, without a suspicion of a smile, for some minutes longer, and they continued to look up the road, and back at the clock in the station, and anywhere except at each other, until the welcome sound of wheels at last drew near, when they all flung themselves upon the handy man, without mercy, and robbed him of his few wits at once.
"How is your master, George?"
"Yes, how is Sir Marcus, George?" added Joan, anxiously.
"Aye, how be the Squire, for sure, poor gentleman?" chimed in the solitary porter from behind.
"And what on earth possessed you to bring the luggage cart, George?" added Digby, wrathfully.
The handy man slowly dismounted from his seat, and made a desperate effort to say what was required of him.
"He be proper bad, he be; leastways so the cook told me when I come by the larder window with the sprouts, or I should say the celery for dinner it was, an' Lady Raleigh, she would have it as it were too slippy to bring the dog-cart, notwithstandin' as it bain't the cart what falls down, but the animal for sure, an' he won't last till mornin', poor gentleman, though the best London doctor come down by the five-forty o' purpose to have a last look of him, what went far towards killin' of 'im off in my thinkin'. An' the luggage is to be sent on afterwards, if ye please, Mr. Jack; an' Tom Clarke he says as how he means to put off his visit to his sister, what's married into the grocery business at Reading, till he be sure how things means to turn out, cos he says he bain't a-goin' of to miss a choreal funeral, what hasn't been for nigh upon thirty—"
"Go to the horse's head, George," said Digby, sternly, and he turned to hand Lady Joan into the cart; "it is not very comfortable, I am afraid, but Jack and I will walk on, which will give you more room."
Lady Joan drew back and hesitated a little.