“I suppose not,” said Mrs Mostyn dryly. “I saw him in old Tummus’s garden yesterday, and I walked across and fetched him here this morning to see what he could do in the conservatory, and really, blind as he is, he seems more clever and careful than Daniel Barnett.”
James Ellis coughed a little, in a dry, nervous way.
“And now I repeat my question, what do you say to that?”
“Well, ma’am, I—er—that is—”
“You want me to engage one of Admiral Morgan’s men to take poor John Grange’s place?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the bailiff, recovering himself; “and I don’t think, you can do better.”
“But I don’t want another man.”
The bailiff shrugged his shoulders, and looked deprecatingly at his mistress.
“I know you like the garden and houses to look well, ma’am, and we’re two hands short.”
“No, we are not, James Ellis. Old Dunton has done nothing in the garden but look on for years. I only wished for my poor husband’s old servant to end his days in peace; and do you think I am going to supersede that poor fellow whom we have just been watching?”