"She was rubbing and polishing that old side-board that you paid such a dreadful price for,—down on her knees before it,—yes she was! and polishing, and rubbing, and—crying all the while. Oh dear heart! such great, big tears,—and so very quiet! When she heard my little stick come tapping along she tried to hide them,—I mean her tears, of course, Mr. Bellew, and when I drew her dear, beautiful head down into my arms, she—tried to smile. 'I'm so very silly, Aunt Priscilla,' she said, crying more than ever, 'but it is so hard to let the old things be taken away,—you see,—I do love them so! I tell you all this, Mr. Bellew, because I like you,—ever since you took the trouble to pick up a ball of worsted for a poor, old lame woman—in an orchard,—first impressions, you know. And secondly, I tell you all this to explain to you why I—hum!—"
"Threw a kiss—from a minstrel's gallery, to a most unworthy individual,
Aunt Priscilla?"
"Threw you a kiss, Mr. Bellew,—I had to,—the side-board you know,—on her knees—you understand?"
"I understand!"
"You see, Mr. Belloo sir," said Adam, at this juncture, speaking from beneath an inlaid table which he held balanced upon his head,—"it ain't as if this was jest ordinary furnitur' sir,—ye see she kind-er feels as it be all part o' Dapplemere Manor, as it used to be called, it's all been here so long, that them cheers an' tables has come to be part o' the 'ouse, sir. So when she comes, an' finds as it ain't all been took,—or, as you might say,—vanished away,—why the question as I ax's you is,—w'ot will she say? Oh Lord!" And here, Adam gave vent to his great laugh which necessitated an almost superhuman exertion of strength to keep the table from slipping from its precarious perch. Whereupon Miss Priscilla screamed, (a very small scream, like herself) and Prudence scolded, and the two rosy-cheeked maids tittered, and Adam went chuckling upon his way.
And when the hall was, once more, its old, familiar, comfortable self, when the floor had been swept of its litter, and every trace of the sale removed,—then Miss Priscilla sighed, and Bellew put on his coat.
"When do you expect—she will come home?" he enquired, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner.
"Well, if she drove straight back from Cranbrook she would be here now,—but I fancy she won't be so very anxious to get home to-day,—and may come the longest way round; yes, it's in my mind she will keep away from Dapplemere as long as ever she can."
"And I think," said Bellew, "Yes, I think I'll take a walk. I'll go and call upon the Sergeant."
"The Sergeant!" said Miss Priscilla, "let me see,—it is now a quarter to six, it should take you about fifteen minutes to the village, that will make it exactly six o'clock. You will find the Sergeant just sitting down in the chair on the left hand side of the fire-place,—in the corner,—at the 'King's Head,' you know. Not that I have ever seen him there,—good gracious no! but I—happen to be—acquainted with his habits, and he is as regular and precise as his great, big silver watch, and that is the most precise, and regular thing in all the world. I am glad you are going," she went on, "because to-day is—well, a day apart, Mr. Bellew. You will find the Sergeant at the 'King's Head,'—until half past seven."