“Mr Talbot, I’ve been waiting to ask you a question. Do you know anybody called Vanburgh? The Grange is let at last, and the gentleman’s name is Vanburgh. We are simply aching to get to know something about them. The furniture has arrived, but nobody is in the house yet, except the servants. We made up our minds that there would be a family of daughters, but we begin to have qualms.” Chrissie was obviously pleased with the effect of that last expressive word, and repeated it once more with artistic relish. “Qualms, yes! Decided qualms. The furniture is so massive. We can’t see anything at all that would suit a girl’s room.”
“I can’t give you any help on that point, Chrissie. You can judge better than I; but Vanburgh is an uncommon name, so we ought to be able to find out something about them. Do you happen to know where they have been living till now?”
“Here, and there, and everywhere; wandering over the face of the globe! A great deal of the furniture comes from India and Egypt; and one of the workmen came over to ask cook for some hot water one day, and said he believed the master had been travelling abroad. I wanted cook to pump him to find out more, but she said mother had forbidden her to gossip about the neighbours. Such a nuisance! I love gossiping about my neighbours. I remember when I was a little girl, how I used to adore being in the drawing-room when callers came and discussed the affairs of the village. I knew I should be sent away if I appeared to listen, so I used to sit and pretend to play with a doll or a book, while my ears were fairly sticking out of my head with curiosity.”
“You little hypocrite! I wouldn’t have believed you could have been so deceitful. But do tell us if you know anything of the Vanburghs, Mr Talbot. Did you ever meet any one of the name?”
“I met a man once—a fellow about my own age. He was at Oxford with me, but not at the same college. I saw very little of him.”
“That could not be the father, of course. He would have to be a son, and we never arranged for boys. What sort of man was he?”
“Humph!”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Humph!”
“What does that mean? What sort of man is supposed to be represented by ‘Humph!’ may we ask?”