“Well, sir,” said Shuffler, “it’s a secret as yet; but I don’t mind telling you, Mr Lorton, as I know you won’t let it out—Mr Mawley, the parsun, has took the villa!”
“Mr Mawley!” I exclaimed, with redoubled astonishment. “Why, what on earth does he want a house for?”
“I believe, sir,” said Shuffler, blinking his sound eye furiously the while, to give a facetious effect to his words, “he’s agoin’ to get married. So my missus says at least, sir; and she gen’rally knows wot’s agoin’ on. Wemmenfolk finds out them things somehow or other!”
“Mawley going to be married!” I repeated. “Nonsense, Shuffler! it is probably some mistake. You and your wife must have let your brains run wool-gathering, and made the story up between you!”
“No, sir,” he replied, “it’s as true as you are a standin’ there. We’ve no call to tell a lie about the matter, sir,” and he drew himself up with native dignity.
“And you have really heard it for a fact, Shuffler?”
“I ’ave so, sir; and I could tell you, too, the party as he is agoin’ to join!”
“Can you?” I asked. “Who is the favoured she?”
“Well, sir,” said he with a sly wink, screwing up his mouth tightly as if wild horses would not tear the information from him against his will, “that would be tellin’?”
“I know it would,” said I, “but as you have already told me so much, I think you might now let me know the lady’s name.”