CHAPTER XXII
Another delightful week elapsed, with yacht cruises and adventures by flood and field, and then Priscilla, never giving herself up with such complete abandonment to the intoxication of the first month of marriage as to be incapable of observing the changes of time and temper and temperature—the variations in the pulse of that little spiritual animal known by the pet name of Love, began to perceive that Jack was thinking about home; and that meant that she had been wholly successful in her treatment of that happiness of his which demanded the wisest nursing, with a mental chart of its variations from day to day. Women who are wise adopt the modern system of therapeutics, and devote all their thought to the nursing of that happiness which has been entrusted to their care when it is still in its cradle, and do not trouble about the Pharmacopoeia. It had been her aim to lead him to think about his home—their home—as that was where she meant him to spend most of his time; and the wife who can keep her husband’s attention most closely directed to home is the wisest as well as the happiest. The accountants who were going over the books of the estate, kept in a culpably slovenly way by Mr. Dunning, were, he was informed, approaching the end of their labours; and the new agent, who had been found with really only a reasonable amount of difficulty, was by the side of the accountants and the stewards and the bailiffs, mastering the details of the old system, which had been far from systematic, and, as Jack and Priscilla could see by his letters, instituting a new regime on a proper basis.
This was satisfactory; but Priscilla could see that the establishment of routine did not greatly interest her husband. He was imaginative, though no one but herself had suspected it, and she meant that he should have something to appeal to his imagination. Even before they had been married she had seen some splendid possibilities in connection with the trout stream that flowed through the glen, though at that time she had not so much as hinted at them; but now she felt that she could do so with good effect if the opportunity should arise; and when an imaginative young woman is on the look-out for an opportunity, the opportunity invariably presents itself. A letter from Mrs. Wingfield mentioned the services of a new footman who had succeeded in putting out a fire—the result of a lamp accident in the still-room and a housemaid’s carelessness. Owing to the exertions of the man and the training which he had received at his last place, the fire had done very little injury; but if it had not been dealt with in time the Manor House would certainly have been done for, said the letter.
“Confound those lamps! That’s the third fire within two years, and all through those antiquated abominations,” cried Jack.
“Sell them for scrap metal, and trust to electric light,” said Priscilla in a second.
“Who is to pay for a cable from Gallingham—nine miles?” he enquired.
“No one, my dear. There is no need to go so far or to spend so much money, when you have that lovely cascade going to waste in Primrose Dell.”
“What has the cascade to do with it, my girl? I wasn’t talking about a fire engine; though with these lamps——”
“With some elementary engineering and a simple dynamo you can make an electric installation for the house, and stables, and yard, and farm, and gardens, that will cost you little more than the wages of one man—say, twenty-five shillings a week.”