“Didn’t you know?” said Mrs Lower. “Ah, yes, long enough ago!” and she stooped her head and whispered in her visitor’s ear. “But there, we needn’t talk about troubles now. How haggard and worn you do look! And how’s Mrs Septimus? I always think of her as Mrs Grey. But what’s it to be now? Isn’t it awful about poor master, whom I’d never have left if I’d known what was to happen? No, Master Sep, not to marry a dozen Lowers, and be the mistress of fifty County Arms; though, rest him! poor Lower was a good, kind husband, for all we were elderly folk to wed, and had forgotten how to make love. Now, say a hot cup of tea, Master Sep, or a hot steak with a little ketchup. If you’d been a bit sooner, there was a lovely sweetbread in the house; but there, it’s no use to talk of that; so say the steak and tea. I am glad to see you, my dear boy!”
Septimus signified his desire for the tea, and Charles was summoned, and dismissed with his orders, but not without making a tolerable investigation of the guest whom his mistress delighted to honour—an investigation apparently not very satisfactory, from the imperious way in which he gave his orders in the kitchen.
“Now, just a toothful of my orange cordial, Master Sep. Now, don’t say no, because you must. I make it myself, and the gentlemen take it on hunting-days. Now, tip it up like a good boy; and here’s a biscuit. See now; don’t it put you in mind of old times, when you were a naughty child, and wouldn’t take your physic? How time does go, to be sure; why, it’s only like yesterday. But there, I won’t bother you. Have a pair of slippers and a comfortable wash. Did you bring any luggage?”
Ten minutes passed, and then Septimus was again seated in the snug bar, with the kettle singing its song of welcome upon the hob; a savoury steak was before him; and the comely old dame, in her rustling black silk, smilingly pouring out the strong tea she had been brewing, taking a cup too herself, “just for sociability sake,” as she told her visitor.
“And so poor master’s gone, and you’re coming down to the old place again?” said Mrs Lower.
Septimus groaned.
“Ah, Master Sep, I can respect your feelings; but though poor master’s dead and gone, he had his failings, while he never did his duty either by you or your poor mother.”
Septimus Hardon nearly dropped his cup as he gazed blankly in his old nurse’s face.
“What—what do you mean?” he exclaimed.
“Why, he was always hard, and—But there, poor man, he’s dead and gone, and we all have our failings, and plenty of them. But come, my dear boy, pray do eat something.”