It was in the dusk of the late July evening that Allan and Kathleen came to Homewood.
It was the last day of Sir Josiah's reign, and never a sovereign gave up his sceptre with better grace. How he beamed, how he swelled with visible pride, how he dragged them from room to room to see this and to see that!
"There you are, my boy, what do you think of it? Wouldn't know the place, would you? You'd 'a fallen through this floor three months ago; look at it now!" And the old gentleman jumped up and down to prove the soundness of the joists and boards.
"Well, my dear, and what do you think of it? Pretty, ain't it? Davenham didn't let me down, there's nothing like going to the right man! Davenham ain't cheap, but—" He caught himself up, this was no time to talk of money and money matters. He had spent freely and willingly. Perhaps never before in his life had he spent quite so freely, quite so willingly. There was a heavy bill to meet, but what of that? He could meet it!
He had picked up a good deal from careful observations and from listening to Davenham's learned talk. The names Hepplewhite and Adam, Sheraton and Chippendale tripped glibly from his tongue. True, he confused Hepplewhite and Adam, but what did that matter? Allan and Kathleen did not mind, perhaps did not know, and the old fellow was happy and smiling, though there was just a little ache at his heart, for to-morrow his work would be done, to-morrow he would pack his traps, order the car, tip the servants and say good-bye. His reign would be ended! The villagers would give him their bobs and their smiles and perhaps a cheer, Dalabey would come from his shop and grovel for a moment as he passed and then—then life would of a sudden become strangely empty, strangely without aim and object.
"Can almost see 'em, can't you, Allan, my boy, those old Elmacotts; the place must have looked very like this in their time. Lord, it's a pity we've got into the way of dressing so plain and starchy like we do now! But bless my soul! What would I look like in a flowered waistcoat and powdered wig and silk stockings, eh? Ha, ha, ha! And how well she's looking, how pretty she is, prettier'n ever, Allan, and what a lucky fellow you are!"
"The luckiest in the world and the happiest I think, father!" Allan said very soberly.
The old man nodded, "That's right, that's right, that's what I hoped to hear. Now, take her and shew her round. It's a pity it's gone so dark, so you can't see the gardens to-night. I tell you, Allan, the gardens are even better than the house. You keep on that old Markabee, he knows his job and you won't get no better man for thirty-seven and six a week, cottage found!"
In the dawn of the summer morning Allan wakened, his sleep had been strangely disturbed. He had dreamed, yet now he was awake the dreams were all vague, half forgotten and meaningless. He rose and went to the open window and looked out into the garden.
He saw it as he had seen it that day in May, in his dream, all trim and fair, the weeds and the desolation gone, the flower beds all gay and bright with bloom, the lawns—and how old Markabee and his men had worked on these lawns! shaved and rolled and weeded.