‘That’s a blessing,’ said Mr. Pepperdine, stretching his legs.
Miss Pepperdine put away her knitting, removed the spirit-case into the cupboard, locked the door and put the key in her pocket, and took up the little tray on which she had placed the tumblers intended for herself and her sister. But on the verge of leaving the room she paused and looked at her brother.
‘We were glad you got there in time, Simpson,’ she said. ‘And you did right to bring the child home—it was the right thing to do. I hope Damerel has made provision for him?’
Mr. Pepperdine was seized with a mighty yawning.
‘Oh ay!’ he said as soon as he could speak. ‘The lad’s all right, Keziah—all right. Everything’s in my hands—yes, it’s all right.’
‘You must tell me about it afterwards,’ said Miss Pepperdine. ‘I’ll go now—I just want to see that the boy has all he wants. Good-night, Simpson.’
‘Good-night, my lass, good-night,’ said the farmer. ‘I’ll just look round and be off to bed myself.’
Miss Pepperdine left the room and closed the door; her brother heard the ancient staircase creak as she climbed to the sleeping-chambers. He waited a few minutes, and then, rising from his chair, he produced a key from his pocket, walked over to the old bureau, unlocked a small cupboard, and brought forth a bottle of whisky. He drew the cork with a meditative air and added a liberal dose of spirit to that handed to him by his sister. He replaced the bottle and locked up the cupboard, poured a little more hot water into his glass, and sipped the strengthened mixture with approbation. Then he winked solemnly at his reflection in the old mirror above the chimney-piece, and sat down before the fire to enjoy his nightcap in privacy and comfort.
CHAPTER IV
Lucian went to sleep in a chamber smelling of lavender. He was very tired, and passed into a land of gentle dreams as soon as his head touched the pillow. Almost before he realised that he was falling asleep he was wide awake again and it was morning. Broad rays of sunlight flooded the room; he heard the notes of many birds singing outside the window; it was plain that another day was already hastening to noon. He glanced at his watch: it was eight o’clock. Lucian left his bed, drew up the blind, and looked out of the window.