"Now, Josey, don't talk nonsense!" said Maryllia, with a pretty little air of protective remonstrance; "Such a clever old person as you are ought to know better than to be morbid! 'Never see me no more' indeed! Why I'm coming to see you soon,—very soon! I shall find out where you live, and I shall pay you a visit! I'm a dreadful talker! You shall tell me all about the village and the people in it, and I'm sure I shall learn more from you in an hour than if I studied the place by myself for a week! Shan't I?"
Josey was decidedly flattered. The port wine had reddened his nose and had given an extra twinkle to his eyes.
"Well, I ain't goin' to deny but what I knows a thing or two—" he began, with a sly glance at her.
"Of course you do! Heaps of things! I shall coax them all out of you! And now, good-night!—No!—don't get up!" for Josey was making herculean efforts to rise from his chair again. "Just stay where you are, and let them carry you carefully home. Good-night!"
She gave a little salute which included all three of her rustic visitors, and moved away. Passing under the heavily-carved arched beams of oak which divided the hall from the rest of the house, she turned her head backward over her shoulder with a smile.
"Good-night, Ambassador Josey!"
Josey waved his old hat energetically.
"Good-night, my beauty! Good-night to Squire's gel! Good-night—"
But before he could pile on any more epithets, she was gone, and the butler Primmins stood in her place.
"I'll help give you a lift down to the gates," he said, surveying Josey with considerable interest; "You're a game old chap for your age!"