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[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] My Wife Or His.
BY CLEMENTINE MONTAGU.
Author of "The Lady of the Holm," "Ropes of Sand," "Life or
Honour," &c., &c.
Published by Special Arrangement with Cassell & Co. Ltd.,
London and Melbourne.
CHAPTER XXVII.—(Continued.)
Nanny Hobbs was a special pro-
tege of the worthy housekeeper. She
had spent many a weary hour in her
parlour, learning fine needlework—
chafing then, as children will, at the
particular fashion in which she was
taught—but very thankful for the
lessons now that Lady Helston had
resolved that whatever could be done
for her by her own people should be
done in the village.
'Yes, I'll call,' the butler said,
condescendingly. 'I shall pass her
place. I am going to Phillips to ask
him to come and tune that piano.
Her ladyship will not like it to be
left undone; and taking it upstairs
has not improved it.'
'You might ask Nanny to bring
some of her sweet lavender for Miss
Grayson's room. She likes it, and
she's a dear old lady—I like to try
and please her.'
We think we all do that. If ever
there was a real lady she's one. Do
you want the lavender fresh or
dried? Nanny has it both ways.'
'Fresh, please, and nice bundles,
tell Nanny.'
The butler went off on his errand
—a pompous-looking person, far
more like a lord than his master,
Lord Helston was wont to say; and,
indeed, he might easily have been
taken for a gentleman of birth and
position, so well had he studied the
manners and customs of the class he
acquired.
is turning out better than I
expected,' he said to himself, apro-
ving of his master's marriage and the
young mistress of Helston. 'When I
heard he was going to marry a ban-
ker's daughter—a nobody, as it
were—I said to myself we must iook
out for squalls. Those things so
seldom turn out well—but this has;
I will say that for her. She is a
sweet lady, and fits her place; and
her people are the right sort, too.
The banker is a gentleman that a
man might do anything for, and the
old lady's a real good-hearted one.
Hullo! I didn't see you. Did I
hurt you, old gentleman?'
He had been communing with
himself, and he had nearly fallen
headlong over the feet of a person
sitting underneath one of the trees.
He had to catch his hat which had
fallen off in his stumble, and rolled
a few paces before he turned to
speak to whoever it was that had
caused the mishap. It was an old
man—a very old man, indeed—
seated on the gnarled root of one of
the trees with his legs stretched out
before him, as if he had been asleep,
and who looked up with a startled
expression in his eyes, and stared
blankly at the butler.
'No, you didn't hurt me,' he said,
in a piping voice. 'Be you hurted,
matter? I humbly beg your par-
don if you be: I didn't see you com-
ing.'
'You must be blind, then, I
think,' the butler said, in a ruffled
tone, forgetting that he had not seen
the old man himself.
'No I'm not blind, thank God,'
the old fellow replied. 'I keep my
I do. I think I was napping.
I old and frail, I be.'
was an old mixture of ig-
and sharpness in his man-
and he looked keenly at the
as he spoke, as some very old
ll.
I was thinking, and not
where I was going,' the
paid, more good temperedly.
where are you going, and what are
you doing here?'
sing, be I master?'
avenue is free to all. It
g you alone that surprised
you say you are old.'
'Very old, master; nigh upon a
hundred, and that's what many
folks can't say nowadays.'
'No, indeed. Is it safe for you
to be out by yourself?'
'Quite safe master. I'm pretty
my daughter's house. She
just in the next parish ; not a
from the great house yonder.
She has lately moved there.'
'And can you walk as far ?'
'Bless you! I have walked from
Cumleigh town to-day. I was only
resting a bit. No offence, I hope'
'None in the least, my friend :
and if you call at the house as you
go by—you will have to pass quite
close to the stable entrance—they
will give you a mug of beer. You
can drink beer. I suppose? Not too
old for that, eh?'
'No. We must eat and drink
till we go under ground. That's
the house yonder, I suppose, where
the flag's flying?'
'Yes, that's the house.'
'And the flag's flying because—'
'Because his lordship and family
are coming home to-morrow.'
'Your master, eh?'
'Yes, if you like to put it so. I
am in his lordship's service,' the
butler replied, wondering at himself
for standing talking to this odd old
fellow; but he felt interested in
him somehow, and was rather curi-
ous about him. He was a clean-
looking old man, with long hair and
a beard as well, all white and care-
fully combed. Decidedly his friends
were careful of his appearance.
Proud of him, no doubt, as folks
are apt to be of their aged relations,
if there is anything pleasant left in
their looks.
'And he's a good master; your
looks tell me that. And her lady-
ship's young and very handsome.'
'Young and handsome. A pretty
wife and a fine heir, I'll warrant,'
and the old man rubbed his hands
and chukled as the thoughts were
pleasant to him.
'What an old goblin!' the bntler
said to himself. 'I must find out
who he is, and where he lives, and
tell my lord. I don't think he can
know of him, or he would have men-
tioned him. He's quite a curios-
ity.'
'Yes, there's an heir,' he replied
to the old man's question; 'a spleen-
did boy.'
'That's good hreaing,' the old fel-
low piped in his quavering voice.
'A bonny boy to inherit his father's
lands and fortune. But suppose
he shouldn't—suppose he should-
n't.'
'What do you mean ?'
'So many things happen. Babies
die and sometimes—'
'Why, what an old croaker you
are! This baby isn't at all likely
to die. It's too well taken care of.
You didn't tell me yonr name, after
all. What do they all you?'
'Well I be all sorts of names. The
boys call me "Methuselah" and
"Noah," and all sorts of things;
but I more generally get "Old
Daddy" than anything else. You
see, my son's a grandfather himself,
and we should get mixed up if they
call me grandfather, too.'
'No, I don't mean that sort of
name. What is your real name?
What were you christened?'
' 'Ell, that's a long time ago,
master,' the old man replied with
perfect gravity. 'I be too old to
recollect what they said, but I've
seen it written. I'm called "John
Scanlan.' "
'Ah, you belong to the Scanlans
of Beck parish, then?'
'Aye, master.'
'I never heard of anyone like you
about their house.'
'Like enough, master, like en-
ough. There was a split between
my son in this part of the country
and the one I have been living with,
and the one turned me over to the
other; that's how I have not been
here before. I suppose I shall come
to the workhouse at last, when this
one is tired of me, and then to the
churchyard, if they bury the poor
folks there. Maybe they'll dry me
as a specimen for the doctors. I've
heard say they do that sometimes.
I must get on the road again; I am
late.
He scrambled to his feet as well
as he could, and hobbled off just as
a carriage came up the avenue with
Mr. Grayson and his sister in it
They nodded to the butler as they
passed and looked curiously at the
old man.
'He's a stranger, I'm sure,' Miss
Grayson said. 'I know all Minnie's
poor people, and there isn't one as
old as that man looks. I've seen
his face somewhere before, too.'
'I don't suppose you have, old
lady,' Paul Gryson said. 'You are
always fancying likenesses.'
'I don't think it was fancy. He
looked straight at.me, and his eyes
were like—'
'Like whose?'
'Oh, no one's particularly. Like
lots of people I—ugh! I think the
day has turned chilly, Paul. I am
glad we are here. I wish they were
all safe at home.'
'My dear, what is the matter?'
the banker asked. 'you have grown
quite pale.'
'Have I? I was thinking. Some-
thing in that queer old man's face
set me remembering the old times;
those miserable days when poor
Minnie—'
'Hush, dear, we will not speak of
them; we will not think of them,'
Mr. Grayson said; 'we have buried
them and all their misery. I almost
wish that Mr. Hathaway were not
coming over from Jamaica; it will
rouse all sort of sleeping memories
in our darling's mind.'
'Must she see him, brother?'
'We cannot well prevent it; there
is so much to tell him—so many
things to explain. Besides, he says
so specially that his visit is to his
nephew's widow. Lord Helston
has intimated that he shall be v
glad to see him here.'
'When?'
'In about a fortnight from now.
I think that old fellow is a little
mad.'
The banker seemed to speak apro-
pos of nothing, but the carriage had
passed a gap in the trees, and he
had caught sight of the old beggar
or whatever he was, gesticulating
and talking to himself as he toiled
on towards the house. The avenue
took a bend in this spot, so that
they looked back on the road they
had seen the old man.
Mr. Grayson had received a letter
from the uncle of Arthur Clifford,
telling him that he was coming to
England at last, and expressing
great interest in Minnie, and wish-
ing to see her. . Lord Helston at
once invited him to his house, tell-
ing the banker that he had heard
a good deal about the old gentle-
man from a friend who had recently
returned from the West Indies, and
that he should he very happy to
make his acquaintance.
Miss Grayson thought a great deal
about the old man they had seen in
the park, and heard from the house-
keeper (who came to her room to
see if she was comfortable, and to
have a chat, which her lady's aunt
liked above all things) that he had
called at the north gate of the
stables and had some beer and some-
thing to eat, as the butler had told
her, and had talked to the lads and
helpers about the yard, and asked
all manner of question about the
family and their doings.
'I tell them they are too free in
talking to strangers,' the house-
keeper said to Miss Grayson. 'It
does not matter much to an old man
like that—they say he must be near
a hundred by the things he remem-
bers, but it is a bad habit to get
into. It does not matter to stran-
gers when my lord and lady are com-
ing home and how they travel, and
who they bring with them, but I
suppose young folks must chatter.'
'And old ones, too,' Miss Grayson
replied. 'I don't know why, but I
didn't like that old man. He gave
me a cold chill somehow.'
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