"For me, Mr. Yellam?"
"I mean, if you marry your sailor-boy."
"But I can't marry my own dear brother."
And then Alfred laughed, Homerically.
Soon afterwards, he left her and a modest box at the Vicarage. She thanked him demurely, asking how much she owed him. Alfred was tempted to demand a kiss in payment, but a glance at a virginal face restrained him. He said, "One shilling, please, miss," and she slipped the coin into his ample palm, adding: "It's a new one. That brings luck, don't it?" Alfred indulged in no speculations on this point, but when he found himself alone, he examined the loose change in his pocket, and picking out a new shilling, transferred it to another pocket, wondering furtively if he were making a fool of himself. He whistled gaily as he drove on.
Fancy was shown to a small room, which pleased her immensely, because no other maid shared it with her. From a casemented window, she could see the park of Pomfret Court, with its clumps of fine trees and its herds of dappled deer. She felt that she would be happy in such a quiet place. The room was very simply but comfortably furnished, spotlessly clean and fresh. She admired the wall-paper, white with small sprigs of pink roses on it. What a lucky girl to have such a nice room! And, approaching the Vicarage, she had fallen in love with the many-gabled house standing amongst beeches, a warm-looking house of time-mellowed brick, built substantially, happily situated below the church and just above the village. As she was unpacking, the house-maid, Molly, brought her a cup of tea. Being her first day, Fancy was not expected to wait at dinner, but Molly told her that after dinner she would be sent for, and that she might expect a five-minute chat with her master.
"Is he masterful?" she asked.
Molly nodded, adding confidentially:
"Such a pair of eyes as never was. Gimlets! It ain't no fun lying to him, and no use either. He can look bang through a pore girl, and tell her what she's had for dinner."
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Fancy.