Deep Moat Grange

by S. R. Crockett

And it was Miss Orrin—the elder one they call Aphra. You never saw such a change in any woman. She looked like a minister's widow, or some one of good family, living quietly and dressed in mourning. She had a black dress—fine silk, it was, quite real—of an old fashion, certainly, but no more so than you see at hydropathics and other places to which old solitary ladies come for the purpose of talking over their infirmities with one another. I was once at the Clifton one with mother—oh, so long ago, before leaving Wood Green! But I seem to remember these times better than things more recent. I really can't help telling about it, though I am wasting my paper, I know. I used to think there was nothing funnier in the world than to see two very deaf old ladies, neither taking the trouble to listen to the other, lecturing away to each other—only agreeing with the nods of each other's head. One would be talking about the Primrose League at her native Pudley-in-the-Hole, and the other—the learned one—about the internal state of South Nigeria, as illustrated by the fact that her grandson had not seen an ordained clergyman for four years!

"Think what his spiritual condition must be by this time, my dear! Such things ought not to be allowed in a Christian country, under the flag of England!"

"No, indeed," agreed the other, who had not heard a word. "Of course, it was all the doing of that Gladstone. Even one of the lecturers who came to speak to us, he was all for work among the lower classes. As if we could admit the like of them into our League—people who have strikes, wear red ties, and read Socialist papers! Really, dear, it was expecting too much, though he was an archbishop's son!"

"Yes; and my grandson wrote home for books to read—to be sent out by a friend, an officer on a river gunboat—I think his name was Judson. His life has been written by somebody whose books I don't consider at all suitable for James. And so I went down to the Curates' Aid and got a list of everything likely to be of service to one who for four years had been devoid of all means of grace. But I fear they never reached my poor James. For when he came home, and I asked him about them, he did not seem ever to have read any of them. But I dare say it was that Judson's fault. With these naval officer men you never can tell. I dare say the sailors divided them up among themselves on the voyage out!"

"Exactly. What we wanted, was, of course, to keep our League select. No one very swell, but well connected, and all most careful about appearances——"

"And my grandson in Nigeria brought home a lot of crocodiles and a rare postage stamp, or a rare crocodile and a lot of postage stamps—I am not sure which. Anyway, I would not have it. I said he could not keep both in my house. He must give either to the Zoo. But I don't know——"

And so on. It was fun, and now I like to remember it, though it does fill up the pages of my note-book even when I am writing very small. Still, it is always something to do.

Well, Miss Orrin was dressed just like these ancient hydropathickers. Only, she was as alert as a fox and as demure as a mouse, in spite of being in a kind of mourning, with a big jet crucifix on a thick jet chain. That was the only thing about her that was not as sober and serious as a fifty-year-old tombstone. She had such a lot of jet ornaments about her, all cut into symbolic shapes, that she moved with a clitter-clatter, just like a little dog walking on a chain with fal-de-rals on its collar.

But, withal, she had such a grave air that I never once thought of laughing. Miss Aphra was not a person to laugh at in the gayest of times.

"Miss Stennis," she said, "I know you have not been well received at the house of your nearest relative. I am acquainted with all the long-continued ill-usage so unjustly dealt out to your mother and yourself. Long have I tried my best to bring your grandfather to a better frame of mind. But he is a dour old man—indurated, impervious to good influence. But what I was unable to do all these years, the near approach of death has brought about. When the angel Israfel passes upon his wings of darkness, then the heart hears and is afraid!"