“Quite well, thank you, ma’am,” said the bailiff, hesitating, as he turned when half-way to the door.
“I am glad of it. Mind that Mary has what flowers she likes for her little greenhouse.”
“Thank you, ma’am, she will be very pleased, but—”
“Yes! What?”
“There was one other thing, ma’am. Daniel Barnett has been speaking to me about help, and there is one of Admiral Morgan’s men wants to leave to better himself. I know the young man well. An excellent gardener, who would thoroughly suit. His character is unexceptionable, and he is an excellent grower of orchids.”
“Oh!” said Mrs Mostyn sharply; “and you want me to engage him to take poor John Grange’s place?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the bailiff respectfully. “The Admiral will recommend him strongly, and I don’t think you could do better.”
“Then I do,” cried the lady, bringing down one hand so heavily upon the table that the water leaped out of the bowl on to the cloth. “James Ellis,” she said, rising, “come with me.”
The bailiff stared, and followed the rustling silk dress out through the French window, and along the tiled floors of the conservatory, to the angle where it turned suddenly and went along by the drawing-room.
There she stopped suddenly, with her eyes looking bright and tearful once more, as she pointed to the far end and whispered—