"Well, that's pleasant," answered the deformed boy. "It makes one very lightsome, mother, to feel that one has been able to do any thing to serve so good a gentleman; and so I shall go home quite gay."
"That you may, Bill," replied his mother; "but bring me up news of any thing you may hear; for you can't tell what may be of consequence, and what may not."
The boy promised to obey, and went away whistling one of the peculiar melodies, of which he was so fond; in which, though the air was gay, there was ever an occasional tone of sadness, perhaps proceeding from a profound, though concealed, impression of melancholy regarding his corporeal infirmities.
It was late in the evening before Stephen Gimlet returned; but then Widow Lamb entered into instant consultation with him upon what she had heard; and their conference lasted far on into the night.
The next morning early the gamekeeper got his breakfast, and then putting on his hat, said,
"Now, I'll go, Goody Lamb. I shall be very awkward about it, I dare say, but I don't mind; for he will find out in the end, that it is for his own good I talk to him about such disagreeable things. So, here goes."
"You had better wait awhile, Stephen," said the widow; "most likely he is not up yet; for it is not seven o'clock."
"It will be well nigh eight before I am there," answered Stephen Gimlet, "and I can wait at the house till he is ready."
Thus saying, he walked away, and trudged on over the fields till he came into Tarningham Park, by the road which leads over the hill just above the house. He did not follow the carriage-drive, however, but took the shorter path through the chestnut-trees, and in about ten minutes, after entering the gates, saw the house. There was a travelling-carriage standing before the hall-door, which was at the distance of a quarter of a mile, and hardly had Stephen Gimlet's eyes rested on it for an instant, when a servant got up behind, and the post-boy laid his whip light over his horses. The carriage rolled on, and the gamekeeper followed it with his eyes, with a feeling of misgiving; but he pursued his way to the house notwithstanding, and entering by the offices, asked the first servant he met, if he could speak for a moment with Lord Lenham.
"That you can't, Ste," answered the man, "for he has just gone off to London. He will not be down for a week either, they say; and then comes the wedding, my lad, so that you have a poor chance of talking with him till the honeymoon is over."