“Yes, sir. As soon as I have rubbed down the old horse, sir—bless him!”
“You’ll find me there.”
I went in, and, with my condition for an excuse, ordered something hot by the kitchen-fire. Several country people were sitting about it. They made room for me, and I took my place at a table on one side. I soon discovered the gardener, although time had done what he could to disguise him. Wood came in presently, and, loitering about, began to talk to him.
“What’s the last news at the Hall, William?” he said.
“News!” answered the old man, somewhat querulously. “There’s never nothing but news up there, and very new-fangled news, too. What do you think, now, John? They do talk of turning all them greenhouses into hothouses; for, to be sure, there’s nothing the new missus cares about but just the finest grapes in the country; and the flowers, purty creatures, may go to the devil for her. There’s a lady for ye!”
“But you’ll be glad to have her home, and see what she’s like, won’t you? It’s rather dull up there now, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you call dull,” replied the old man, as if half offended at the suggestion. “I don’t believe a soul missed his lordship when he died; and there’s always Mrs. Blakesley and me, as is the best friends in the world, besides the three maids and the stableman, who helps me in the garden, now there’s no horses. And then there’s Jacob and—”
“But you don’t mean,” said Wood, interrupting him, “that there’s none o’ the family at home now?”
“No. Who should there be? Least ways, only the poor lady. And she hardly counts now—bless her sweet face!”
“Do you ever see her?” interposed one of the by-sitters.