“Thank you very much, if it’s no trouble,” replied Mrs Gilmour, hailing the offer with joy, “I certainly would like it.”
Hardly waiting to hear the termination of her reply, the thoughtful follow darted off along the winding path through the shrubbery by which they had gained the pleasant little dell; returning before they thought he could have reached the keeper’s lodge with a little packet of tea. This Miss Nell took from Hellyer and at once emptied into the teapot, while Bob attended to the kettle and poured the boiling water in; so that Mrs Gilmour was soon provided with the wished-for cup of her favourite beverage.
The good lady’s equanimity being now restored, she proceeded to question the Captain about the Roman villa at Brading.
“But, what did you see after all?” she asked; “you haven’t told us a word yet.”
“Oh, don’t speak about it, ma’am,” he replied grumpily. “It’s a regular swindle.”
“But, what did you see?” she repeated, knowing his manner, and that he was not put out with her, at all events. “I want to know.”
“See?” echoed the Captain, snorting out the word somehow with suppressed indignation. “Well, ma’am, to tell you the truth, we saw nothing but some fragments of old pottery—”
“Just like broken pieces of flower-pots, auntie,” interrupted Master Bob in his eagerness. “The same as you have at the bottom of the garden.”
“Yes,” continued the old sailor, “that’s exactly what these much exaggerated ‘remains’ resembled more than anything else, I assure you, ma’am. Of course, all these bits of earthenware were arranged in order and labelled and all that; but I couldn’t make head or tail of them.”
“Perhaps you do not understand archaeology?” suggested Mrs Gilmour, smiling at his description. “That’s the rayson they didn’t interest you, sure!”