‘And this—all this—rubbish—this belongs to her?’
‘Yes, sir,’ murmured Mrs Robson, after a pause of some alarm, for the grey eyebrows were threatening, and she did not know what would come next. The eyes of Mr Lee wandered over the yellow covers of the novels, the coloured ribbons and the sheets of music-paper.
‘And this young woman—my niece—tell me what you know about her? How she spends her time here, and all the rest of it?’
His glance wandered past Mrs Robson, and rested upon Alice, who stood near her ample mother like a sapling near a tree; but who hastened to answer with a gravity and precision which her mother would probably not have exhibited. Her manner, however, was not conciliating; she did not approve of her guest or the questions that he asked.
‘Miss Gillan has been here about a week, sir,’ she said, ‘and she has had this room to herself ever since she came. She came from London, we didn’t know nothing of her; the neighbours directed her here, and she has lodged here ever since. It isn’t likely we could tell you much of her; we’ve our work to do, an’ we leave her to herself.’
‘Ah! ah! you’re cautious,’ pronounced the old gentleman; ‘you don’t give more testimony than you are obliged—well, well, I don’t blame you, a loose tongue runs to mischief—and mischief is a thing you don’t deal in, I’ll be bound. Well, well, I won’t ask you for more than you like to say—my niece is an orphan, but she can take care of herself.’
‘She sings most beautiful, sir,’ said Mrs Robson, who thought it right to put in a word of praise. ‘There’s some songs she has about love, and parting, and spring-time—I assure you, sir, they ’ud make you cry to hear.’
‘About love! I don’t doubt it,’ said Mr Lee, very drily, ‘but I don’t cry easily, I never did!’ And then, turning suddenly, as if he would change the subject; ‘But there’s the lad; what have you to say of him?’ His question was so sudden, and came so unexpectedly, that Mrs Robson had not a word to say.
‘The boy, my nephew! you must know him by now; doesn’t he live here with his sister?’
‘He’s a well-looking young gentleman, sir,’ said Mrs Robson, with hesitation, yet with some satisfaction too; because she had been able to choose from the qualities of Mr James Gillan the one virtue at any rate that could not be denied. Her words, however, did not please her questioner; he drew down his eyebrows into a more decided frown.