“Ay, ay, sir! That was my mother,” I said, my heart beating with pleasure to hear her so spoken of.
Then he told me that he was Mr Silas Gray, and asked if I remembered the visits he used to pay to our house. Of course I did. The young ladies and his son joined in the conversation, and very pleasant it was to hear them talk.
We were out the whole afternoon, and it was quite late when we got back to Portsea. Mr Gray said that he was going away the next morning with his family to London, but that when he returned he would pay Mary a visit, and hoped before the summer was over to take some more trips in my wherry. He paid us liberally, and he and the young people gave us kind smiles and nods as they stepped on shore.
While we were out I had not thought much about the fare we had brought across from Gosport in the morning, but now, recollecting what he had said, I hurried home, anxious to hear if he had found out the house. I had not to ask, for directly I appeared Nancy told me that while Mary was at school an impudent fellow had walked in and asked if old Tom Swatridge had once lived there, and when she said “Yes,” had taken a note of everything, and then sat down and lighted his pipe, and told her to run out and bring him a jug of ale.
“‘A likely thing, indeed!’ I answered him,” said Nancy; “‘what! When I come back to find whatever is worth taking carried off, or maybe the door locked and I unable to get in!’ The fellow laughed when I said this—a nasty sort of a laugh it was—and said, ‘Ay! Just so.’ I didn’t know exactly what he meant, but presently he sang out, ‘What! Are you not gone yet, gal?’ ‘No, and I shan’t,’ I answered; ‘and when Peter and Jim come in you’ll pretty quickly find who has to go.’ On this he thundered out, trying to frighten me, ‘Do you know that I am old Tom Swatridge’s nephew and heir-at-law,’ (I think that’s what he called himself), ‘and that this house and everything in it is mine, and the wherry, and any money the old chap left behind him? I’ll soon prove that you and your brother are swindlers, and you’ll be sent off to prison, let me tell you.’ He took me for Mary, do you see, Peter; and I was not going to undeceive him? I felt somewhat nonplussed when he said this, but without answering I walked to the window, working with my needle as I was doing when he came in, and looked out as if I was expecting you and Jim to be coming. I would give him no food, nor even a drink of water; so at last he grew tired, and, saying I should see him again soon, swinging his cane and whistling, he walked away.”
“What do you think, Peter? Can he really be old Tom’s nephew?” asked Mary, when Nancy ceased speaking.
“One thing is certain, that if he proves himself to be so we shall be bound to turn out of this house, and to give up the wherry,” I answered.
“Oh, Peter! What shall we do, then?” exclaimed Mary.
“The best we can, my sister,” I said. “Perhaps the man may not be able to prove that he is what he calls himself. I have heard of impostors playing all sorts of tricks. We’ll hope for the best. And now, Nancy, let us have some supper.”
Though I tried to keep up the spirits of Mary and Nancy, I felt very anxious, and could scarcely sleep for thinking on the subject. Whatever might happen for myself I did not care, but I was greatly troubled about what Mary and Nancy would do. I naturally thought of Commander Rogers, from whom all this time I had heard nothing, though he had promised to come and see after Mary and me. Mr Gray had said that he was going away again, so that I could not obtain advice from him. “I have God to trust to, that’s a comfort,” I thought, and I soon dropped off to sleep.