Although I had been over a fortnight at Burwain, Mr. Walter Monk was still absent from the old Jacobean mansion, and Gertrude lived there with one servant in nun-like seclusion. She read a great deal, and played the piano and attended to Puddles--a great stand-by against loneliness. Joseph also was frequently about the garden, but I don't think she ever gave him a word--on Mrs. Gilfin's authority I can say this--unless it had to do with his duties. But he hung round the place like a stray dog, satisfied if he could catch only a glimpse of Gertrude, and was in the seventh heaven if she addressed a word to him. Miss Destiny spoke to me of the gardener's infatuation, which was apparent to everyone.
"You have met Joseph?" she asked me one day in her mincing manner.
"At Mootley, when he was setting his aunt's house in order," I informed her genially. I was always genial with Miss Destiny, as for my own purposes I wished to keep on good terms with her.
"Ah, yes. He inherited Anne's savings. Quite a nice little sum, I believe. And the lease of the shop also," added Miss Destiny musingly, "Gertrude might do worse."
"What do you mean?" I asked sharply, and, I fear, angrily.
The little old lady raised her twinkling sharp eyes to my annoyed face. "I forgot," she said impishly, "you are the other one."
"The other what, Miss Destiny?"
"Lover--the second Prince Charming; though I think," she remarked in a very spiteful tone, "that the first Prince is the handsomer."
I went straight to the point. "Miss Destiny, I don't for one moment suppose that you would like to see Miss Monk become Striver's wife."
"Why not. He has looks, if not birth; and money, if not position."