Mrs. Margerum—“Oh, bless your sweet voice, my beloved. When shall you come again, indeed? I wish I could say very soon; but, dearest, it’s hardly safe, these nasty pollis fellers are always about, besides which, I question if old Nosey may be away again before the ball; and as he’ll be all on the screw for a while, to make up for past expense, I question it will be worth coming before then. So, my own dear Anthony Thom, s’pose we say the ball night, dear, about this time o’ night, and get a donkey to come on as far as the gates, if you can, for I dread the fatigue; and if you could get a pair of panniers, so much the better, you’d ride easier, and carry your things better, and might have a few fire-bricks or hearth-stones to put at the top, to pretend you were selling them, in case you were stopped—which, however, I hope won’t be the case, my own dear; but you can’t be too careful, for it’s a sad, sinful world, and people don’t care what they say of their neighbours. So now, my own dearest Anthony Thom, good night, and draw your worsted comforter close round your throat, for colds are the cause of half our complaints, and the night air is always to be dreaded; and take care that you don’t overheat yourself, but get a lift as soon as you can, only mind who it is with, and don’t say you’ve been here, and be back on the ball night. So good night, my own dearest Anthony Thom, and take care of yourself whatever you do, for——”
“Good night, mother,” now interrupted Anthony Thom, adjusting the bundle under his arm, and with repeated “Good night, my own dearest,” from her, he gave it a finishing jerk, and turning round, set off on his way rejoicing.
Sir Moses was too good a sportsman to holloa before his game was clear of the cover; and he not only let Anthony Thom’s footsteps die out on the gravel-walk, but the sash of Mrs. Margerum’s window descend ere he withdrew from his hiding-place and set off in pursuit. He then went tip-toeing along after him, and was soon within hearing of the heavily laden lad.
“Anthony Thom, my dear! Anthony Thom,” whispered he, coming hastily upon him as he now turned the corner of the house.
Anthony Thom stopped, and trembling violently exclaimed, “O Mr. Gallon, is it you?”
“Yes, my dear, it’s me,” replied Sir Moses, adding, “you’ve got a great parcel, my dear; let me carry it for you,” taking it from him as he spoke.
