To explain why this was a wonder it is necessary to state that the front rooms of the house were for the most part unoccupied; the family, especially since Mr Robson’s illness, inhabiting only a few apartments at the back, so that the village visitors, being well aware of this fact, were accustomed to approach by the great doors of the yard. To-day, however, the sound of the crunch of wheels drew all the household with one consent to the front—Mrs Robson, her daughter, and Molly, the man-of-all-work, and the boy. These five comprised the whole household that afternoon, for Tim had gone to the town, and Mr Robson was away.
The sound of hoofs and wheels came steadily round the drive—they belonged to a powerful horse and high dog-cart, within which were seated an elderly man, who was driving, and a companion who appeared to be a servant, though he was not in livery. The attention of the driver seemed to be occupied with every detail of the country round the house, with the brilliant flowers in the garden, and the geraniums in the porch. For the afternoon sunlight shone upon the flowers, the pink and white stocks, the roses, the red poppies, the tall white lilies that stood above the rest, and drooped fragrant heads of stainless purity—whilst this fore-ground of flowers was intensified by the wide country fields that stretched away into blue. The eyes of the driver were occupied with these things, whilst the wheels of his dog-cart went crunching round the drive; and then, with a sudden movement of a wrist that still was strong, he pulled up his powerful horse before the door.
He was an elderly man, as has been said, and there was no great appearance of refinement in his face, nor had the look of his vehicle and horse the assumption of any outward show or pride. But his features at any rate, if harsh and strong, had something in them to impress a gazer’s eyes; and he raised his hat with deferential courtesy, as Alice Robson came out into the porch. The slender girl in her neat, quiet working-dress was a figure not inharmonious with the flowers.
‘Good-day to ye, miss,’ cried the occupant of the dog-cart, in a voice like his face, harsh, strong, without refinement; ‘I’ve come to this place where I’ve never been before to ask for a boy and girl as lodges here. I don’t suppose you’re the lady, though you’re standing in the porch, it’s not in my mind as I’ll have such luck as that!’
‘I am afraid, sir,’ said Alice, after an instant of the confusion with which her modesty received an unexpected compliment, ‘as you’re askin’ after Mr Gillan an’ his sister, as have left us to-day to drive into the town. You’ll perhaps know the gentleman, sir, they’re going to see—he’s Mr Lee, at the top o’ Lindum Hill.’
‘Why, I’m Mr Lee,’ cried the stranger in an outburst, whose fit succession was the loud, rough laugh he gave; ‘an’ I’ve come over to see the girl and lad, without thinking as they would pay me honour first. Well, I’m not sorry, I want to hear about ’em, an’ I guess as I’ll do it now they are away; so I’ll send round my horse to the stables—I suppose there are some stables—and just come in an’ hear what there is to tell—Ha, this is the hall, I suppose, and left unfurnished; in these hard times we can’t get chairs for our halls!’
Alice had stepped out to give directions to the man, so Mrs Robson in her turn came forward, not offended by these observations on her house, which she considered to be jests befitting ‘quality.’ Mrs Robson was a big woman, firm and solid, with every capacity ripe for self-defence, but she had old-fashioned ideas on social questions, which imparted to her conduct some inconsistency. At the present moment she was so far from indignation that she was only anxious to improve the occasion.
‘I’m sure, sir,’ she said, ‘an’ it’s right enough you are—these be hard times, an’ we’re all on us sufferers—not as we haven’t money eno’ for chairs an’ tables, but we don’t take pleasure in such things as them. The sitting-room here it’s furnished smart enough, but the master’s not happy but by the kitchen fire—ye’ll be warm enough, sir, if ye please to step this way, for the air’s not hot, although it be summer-time. Or it’s happen ye’d like to see Miss Gillan’s room—we call it th’ owd kitchen, this room here, where she sits—Alice, take this gentleman to Miss Gillan’s room, being as he’s a relation or a friend of her’n.’
‘Ah, Miss,’ said Miss Gillan’s visitor, turning round to Alice, with the freedom of manner of one who does not fear to give offence, ‘I’m willing enough to see Miss Gillan’s room when I’ve such a quiet maid to show the way. You make me mind of the days when I went courting—I don’t want to tell ye how long that was ago—I’d set my eyes on just such another girl, an’ I made up my mind I’d have her or I’d die. Ye see I’d not spoken to her in my life, I saw her with old Mr Long, an’ made sure she belonged to him, so what do I do but write to him one mornin’ and offer his girl all the folly that I had. An’ then did I dress myself right down smart and beautiful, and go out a-courting like any fool of them all.’
He paused to laugh with his loud guffaw, his two entertainers remaining silent at his side.