“You’re a warm-hearted, good fellow, I know,” said Frank, wiping his eyes, “or you never could have made such a sacrifice on my account. But what do you mean to do with yourself? Have you got into any situation or employment?”
“Oh no, sir. I felt sure—that is to say, I hoped that I should find you out, for you’d be sure to be well-known in the colony, and that I might have the irresponsible happiness of serving you again, either as groom, or in some other capacity.”
It so happened that Frank was parting with his man, so Juniper at once stepped into the place. Had his master known how matters really were, he would not have been so ready to take his old tempter into his house. The fact was, that Juniper Graves had gone to such lengths of misbehaviour after Frank’s departure for Australia, that Sir Thomas had been compelled to dismiss him; feeling, however, sorry for the man, as the favourite servant of his absent son, the squire had not noised abroad his misdemeanours; so that when Juniper quitted Greymoor Park, he did so apparently of his own choice. He had contrived, while in the baronet’s service, to appropriate to himself many small valuables of a portable character. These he managed safely to dispose of, and with the money purchased an outfit and paid his passage to South Australia. His shallow brains had been fired with the idea of making his fortune at the diggings. He felt sure that, if he could find Frank Oldfield, he should soon ingratiate himself with him, and that he might then take advantage of his good-nature and of his intemperance to gather to himself sufficient funds to enable him to start as gold-digger. A wretched compound of vanity, selfishness, and shrewdness, where his own interests were concerned, he had no other view as regarded his young master than to use him as a ladder by which he might himself mount to fortune. A week later, and Juniper Graves was established as general man-servant at Frank Oldfield’s cottage in the hills.
“And pray, Mrs Watson,” he asked, on the evening of his arrival, “whereabouts is one to find the cellar in these outlandish premises?”
“Why, much in the same place as you’d look for it in England,” was the answer; “only here you’ll find nothing but cellar walls, for our master’s turned teetotaller.”
Juniper replied to this by opening his eyes very wide, and giving utterance to a prolonged whistle.
“Teetottaller!” at last he exclaimed; “and pray how long has he taken to this new fashion?”
“Not many weeks,” was the reply.
“And how many weeks do you think he’ll stick to it?”
“A great many, I hope,” replied the housekeeper; “for I’m sure there’s neither pleasure nor profit where the drink gets the master. It’s driven poor Jacob away.”