“In the breakfast-room. Come along.”
Van Heldre clapped the old man on the shoulder, and led him into the room where Mrs Van Heldre was seated at work.
“Ah, Mr Luke Vine,” she cried, “who’d have thought of seeing you?”
“Not you. How are you? Where’s the girl?”
“Gone up to your brother’s.”
“Humph! to gad about and idle with Louie. I suppose. Here, I’ve brought you some fish. Caught it at daylight this morning. Ring for a dish.”
“It’s very kind and thoughtful of you, Luke Vine,” said Mrs Van Heldre, with her pink face dimpling as she rang the bell, and then trotted to the door which she opened, and cried, “Bring in a large dish, Esther! I always like to save the servant’s legs if I can,” she continued as she returned to her seat, while Van Heldre stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting. He knew his visitor.
Just then a neat-looking maid-servant entered with a large blue dish, and stood holding it by the door, gazing at the quaint-looking old man, sitting with the basket between his legs, and his heavy stick resting across his knees.
“Put it down and go.”
The girl placed the dish on the table hurriedly, and left the room.