“Oh no, no, she was sweet and kind,” said the boy; “please send her furzer away and I’ll explain,” and so he did—most clearly and sensibly—when the grey-haired stranger had called to the nursemaid, who now made her appearance with a donkey and donkey-boy whom she had been to fetch, and Lily was safely escorted off.
“I was only strolling about with her till the donkey came. She is my grand-daughter. And it is very good of you, my little fellow, to be so thoughtful, though I shouldn’t think there’s much risk now. You’ve been here some days, I suppose, and the sea-breezes blow away infection finely.”
“But he’s been pretty ill,” he added to himself, “or else he’s very delicate.”
“Do you always live in London?” he went on, and feeling interested in the child, by one or two kindly questions he drew out a good deal of the Fortescue family history.
“Fortescue,” he repeated, “and ‘Fareham.’ Why, then I’m your father’s tenant now! I must see if we haven’t some Fareham grapes for you—or I’ll tell them to send you some direct. Tell me your whole name, my boy;” and Jasper, well pleased, replied—
“Jasper’s my first name. ‘Jasper Greville Fortescue,’ that’s it all.”
The look of interest deepened on the gentleman’s face.
“Jasper,” he said musingly; “a very uncommon name, to begin with. But Jasper Greville, the two together! It’s an extraordinary coincidence, if no more.”
“Greville,” said Jasper, “Greville was Mumsey’s name ’afore she married Daddy, and I was called it after her Daddy, you see; and oh, there’s Mumsey herself,” as he caught sight of his mother coming towards them.
She looked a little surprised at seeing her boy on such friendly terms with a stranger, but a few words explained the whole, after which Mr Maynard introduced himself as the present occupier of Fareham. Then Evans was told to move on again slowly, Mrs Fortescue and Lily’s grandfather following.