"I saw him when I was at the Hall the other day. A charmingly quaint old man, who put me so much in mind of the late Squire!--And, my dear," added Lady Maria, lowering her voice, lest the servants on the box in front of her should hear, "what do you think Dr. Downes told me--that the ghost which has been supposed to be haunting the north wing has turned out to be crazy Susan Keen."
"It is so," answered Maria.
"The poor half-witted girl has been in the habit of creeping into the Hall at night, to look for her sister, the Doctor tells me. The appearances that were set down to the dead girl, the mysterious noises, and all the rest of it, have been traced to her."
"Susan confessed it voluntarily," remarked Maria. "It is a sad thing--though of course it is well that it should have been discovered."
"Well, Maria, what I should do with the girl is this--put her into an asylum. Dr. Downes agreed with me that many a one has been confined for less cause: though he thinks there will be no further trouble of this sort with her in future."
"Never again in future," said Maria, shaking her head. "Her mother will take right good care of her. She has had a little bed put up for her beside her own, and does not trust her out of her sight."
"Here we are!" cried Lady Maria, as the coachman drove into Heron Dyke. "What a commotion the place seems in! What can be going on, I wonder?"
Mr. Denison found himself so comfortable under the old family roof-tree that he let Nunham Priors take care of itself for a while, and stayed on. Before a week had gone over his head, he was projecting no end of improvements: this must be done, and the other must be done: some for embellishment, some for use; and all, of course, for the convenience and benefit of his son and daughter-in-law, who would inhabit the place. Energetic as ever was the old Squire when once he took a thing into his head, Mr. Denison was not content with projecting: he set about doing. Calling Mr. Tiplady to his counsels, and after him a clever builder of reputation, the alterations were begun forthwith. Heron Dyke was, of course, his own, and he could do what he would.
The new conservatory, recently built by Miss Winter, was all very well, but not large enough; it was to be considerably lengthened and widened.
"I don't like walking down a greenhouse, my dear, where the space allowed for the paths is so narrow one's coat-tails must brush the plants on either side," he remarked to Ella.