Saxby bought the pretty villa across the river that you can see from Lady Scarlett’s drawing-room. You can shoot an arrow from one garden into the other; but Aunt Sophia, who lives at the Scarletts’ now, when she does not live with the Saxbys, always goes round by the bridge—five miles—never once venturing in the boat.
Arthur Prayle has been heard of as a Company promoter in Australia, where, as he does not deserve, he is doing well.
“A rascal!” Aunt Sophia says; “and with the four hundred pounds he got out of me for that Society. But never mind; it was on the strength of my money that he tried to delude that foolish girl, and so we found out what a bad fellow he was.”
That foolish girl, by the way, has married a farmer, a friend of Brother William; and Aunt Sophia knits a great many little contrivances of wool for the results.
The last trouble that happened at the Rosery was when old John Monnick passed away.
“It’s quite nat’ral like, Master James,” he said, smiling. “Seventy-seven, you see. There isn’t the least o’ anything the matter with me, and I aren’t in a bit o’ pain. There’s only one thing as troubles me, and that is ’bout the opening and shutting o’ them glarss-houses. I hope you won’t be neglecting of ’em when I’m gone.”
“Oh, but you’ll be stronger soon, John, with the spring—and come and look after things again.”
The old man smiled, and shook his head slowly from side to side—“’Tain’t in natur’, Master James,” he said—“’Tain’t in natur’, my lady. I come up, and I growed up, and I blossomed, and the seed’s dead ripe now, ready for being garnered, if the heavenly Master thinks it fit. I’m only a gardener, Master James, and I’ve been a gardener all my life; and now, as I lie here, it’s to think and hope that he will say: ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.’”
It was Kate Scarlett’s lips that formed in an almost inaudible whisper the word “Amen!” as the old man fell asleep.