“I am obliged to catch the south express at Bexley Junction at four,” he said doubtfully.
“Time enough and plenty for that, sir,” said landlord and ostler in a breath, “even if you don’t start from here till half-past two; and it’s now only on the stroke of twelve.”
“There’s the grey and the bay, Tom,” added the landlord, “would think nothing of taking a trap like this that far in a hour and a quarter. It’ll give the gentleman time to lunch and look about him a bit,” he continued, as Ralph, on hearing his assurance, prepared to alight. “It’s thought worth coming a good bit to see, sir, is the Peacock. We’ve kep’ it among us, father and son, with now an’ then brothers and nephews to help like in the way of ostlers and bootses, we’ve kep’ it nigh on eighty years; and never without a bed to make up, sir—winter and summer alike, sir. Those as finds their way to the Peacock onst, generally finds it twice, not to say three times and fower. There’s a gentleman here, sir, at present, a real gentleman, not a artist, as comes for the fishin,’ says, sir, there’ll be few summers and far between as won’t see him and his lady at the Peacock. (Newly-married couple,” he inter-ejected.) “By reason of which it is that one of the pair has had to be shod this morning, sir——”
“The lady or the gentleman?” asked Ralph, but the landlord did not catch his words.
“Mr. Baldwin,” he continued, “took them a longish drive yesterday to show his lady some of the sights of the neighbourhood. He’s off again this morning to fetch the letters from Bexley village. A active gentleman, very. The young lady’s a trifle delicate in health, I fancy. She’s sittin’ reading in the arbour this morning. They’ve been a week and more at the Peacock, and there’s no word of them going as vet.”
“By-the-by,” said Ralph, who being in the possession of pleasant hopes, could listen with patience to the worthy landlord’s communications, even to his mention of the young couple who found the Peacock so charming. “By-the-by, what is the meaning of the name of your place? The Peacock you call it, but on the sign-board I saw something which looked more like a tree or bush as I glanced at it.”
They were by this time inside the house.
“Right enough, sir,” replied the man. “The Peacock is a bush, sir. One of the old-fashioned kind, sir, you know; cut for to look like a peacock. It stands in the middle of the grass plot at the side of the house, near the arbour. You can’t miss it if you take a turn that way. It’s all complete, standin’ somewhat to the right of the plot, sir, tail and all. It takes some trouble the cuttin’ and keepin’ it in shape. But it’s quite a cur’osity. Will you take a turn, sir, while we’re getting ready a little something in the way of lunch. Chops, veal cutlets, roast chicken—which you please, sir?”
Ralph was just the sort of man who could not for the life of him order his own dinner. He always, when put to it, as in the present instance, fell back, upon “a chop.” This the landlord undertook to have speedily prepared. It was ready a good while before Ralph returned to eat it!
As his host suggested, he sauntered out into the garden. A real garden of the good old-fashioned sort. Seen, too, to the greatest perfection on this hot, sweet, sunny day. What air there was, came laden with breath of roses and clover-pinks, mignonette, and wall-flower; all of which, with their less fragrant, but not less lovely companions—heart’s-ease, sweet-William, and all the dear old friends we see so seldom now-a-days, flourished in rare beauty and abundance in the neat little borders with their trim box edges, round all sides of the smooth, close-cut lawn, or grass plot, as its landlord had been content to call it.