Slowly the care-taker moved aside, the hound shifting his position accordingly, and Mauville entered, 103 gazing around with some interest, for the interior of the manor realized the pretensions of its outward aspect. The floor of the hall was of satinwood and rosewood, and the mahogany wainscoting, extending almost to the ceiling, was black with age. With its rich carvings, the stairway suggested woody rioting in balustrades lifting up to the support of the heavy beams in the ceiling. The furnishings were in keeping, but dust obscured the mirror-like surface of the mahogany tables, the heavy draperies were in need of renovation, while a housewife would have viewed with despair the condition of brass and ebony inlaid cabinets, ancient tapestries, and pictures, well-nigh defaced, but worthy, even in their faded aspect, of the brush of Sir Godfrey Kneller, Benjamin West and the elder Peale.
Having casually surveyed his new home, the heir was reminded of the need for refreshment after his long journey, and, turning to the care-taker, asked him what there was in the house? The servant smoked silently as though deeply considering this momentous question, while the rear guard maintained unabated hostility between the man’s firmly-planted feet. Then abruptly, without removing his pipe, the guardian of the manor ejaculated:
“Short-cakes and oly-koeks.”
The other laughed, struck his knee with his light cane and demanded to be shown to the library, where he would have these outlandish dishes served.
“And bring with them, Mynheer Oly-koeks, a bottle 104 of wine,” he continued. “At the same time, chain up the dog. He eyes me with such hungry hostility that, gad! I believe he’s an anti-renter!”
Mauville was ushered into a large room, where great leather-bound volumes filled the oak shelves to the ceiling. The care-taker turned, and, with echoing footsteps, slowly departed, followed by his faithful four-footed retainer. It is true the latter paused, swung half-around and regarded the land-owner with the look of a sulky and rebellious tenant, but, summoned by a stern “Oloffe!” from his master, the dog reluctantly pattered across the hard-wood floor.
In surveying his surroundings, the land baron’s attention was attracted by a coat-of-arms deeply carved in the massive wood of the book-case––on a saltire sable, a fleur-de-lys or. This head of heraldic flowers appeared to interest Mauville, who smiled grimly. “From what I know of my worthy ancestors,” he muttered, “and their propensities to prey on their fellow-men, I should say a more fitting device would be that of Lovett of Astwell: Gules, three wolves passant sable, in pale.”
Pleased with his own humor, he threw himself upon a couch near the window, stretching himself luxuriously. Soon the man reappeared with the refreshments and a bottle of old-fashioned, substantial girth, which he uncorked with marked solicitude.
“Where are the oly-koeks?” exclaimed the heir.
The watchman pointed to a great dish of dark blue willow-ware pattern.