A Drake by George!

by John Trevena

  CHAPTER VII

  SCANDAL AND EXPOSURE

  Squinting Jack declared there were some things better than a murder. Hereferred to the mystery which surrounded the unnatural tenants of BlackAnchor Farm. They had received a visitor, who was neither honestgentleman, nor respectable lady; but a woman with bold red cheeks. Shehad driven through Highfield, staring at the inhabitants and smiling attheir dwelling places; her driver had inquired of the first gentleman inthe place--George being set up above the vicar because he did nowork--which of the lanes ahead would be most likely to lead towardsBlack Anchor; and a few days later this same red-cheeked lady had beendriven back through the village, staring and smiling as before. Herclothes where the saddest part about her; for she was dressed in theheight of fashion.

  So far the Dismal Gibcat had defended the Brocks because every otherperson was against them; he admired their poverty and loved theirhumility; he prophesied kindly concerning their future, and sent themsuperfluous vegetables. The three stages of manhood were at lastrepresented in Highfield parish by righteous men: old Brock, youngSidney, and his middle-aged self. But the vision and visit of thepainted lady caused two vacancies. The Dismal Gibcat drew the line atwell dressed women.

  The Yellow Leaf was consulted because of his knowledge of the world'shistory, and he gave it as his opinion that the atmosphere of Highfieldhad been deprived by the nameless visitor of a considerable amount ofmoral oxygen: in the first place she belonged to a higher class than theBrocks; in the second place she came upon a secret mission, and in thethird place she entered a house which it was notorious contained noother woman. She could not be a relation; while, if she had come as afriend, all he could say was heaven preserve Highfield from suchfriendships.

  "Some poor folk do have rich relations, though mine ain't come alongyet," said Squinting Jack.

  "What would you be saying about me, if I wur to receive a visit from ayoung lady wi' red-hot painted cheeks?" inquired the Yellow Leaf.

  "I should say you wur lucky," replied Squinting Jack.

  "Her cheeks wur warmish, I allow; but I wouldn't exactly call 'empainted," observed the Dumpy Philosopher.

  "You'm mixing it up wi' doorpost paint. Ask your missus if her cheekswarn't plastered wi' cosmetics," said the Yellow Leaf crossly.

  "I'd rather not," retorted the Dumpy Philosopher.

  "There be two ways of looking at pretty nigh everything, a gude way anda bad way," urged the Gentle Shepherd. "There be ladies who take akindly interest in young men, and try to help 'em along a bit. Us knowsthe Brocks ain't got much money, vor they ha' took the poorest farm inthe whole parish. Maybe this lady is helping young Sidney a bit, and hercome along to see how he wur doing."

  The others listened doubtfully, then turned to hear the oracle'sopinion.

  "I ha' heard tell o' such ladies, but I ain't seen one of 'em; and Iwants to see a thing avore I believes--ay, I wants to see it two or dreetimes," said the Yellow Leaf. Then he asked, "How old do you say herwur?"

  The Dumpy Philosopher fancied the region of twenty; the Gentle Shepherdthought the neighbourhood of forty; while Squinting Jack suggestedsecond childhood.

  "You can tell an old lady when you sees one," replied the Yellow Leaf,"and you can tell a young maid when you sees one; but when you can'ttell whether a woman be old or young, then you'm looking at somethingwhat ain't respectable. 'Tis old folk what be charitable, and shewarn't old; and when young ladies be charitable to young men, theircharity ain't far away from home, I reckon. They Brocks ha' no woman tomind vor 'em; 'tis because they don't dare to; 'tis because this ladywouldn't like it, and they can't tell when she may be coming. She'm ajealous lady vor certain, and she won't have no woman to Black Anchor'cept it be herself. And she couldn't come to the farm if they hadanother woman, vor her wouldn't have the face to do it."

  This was one of the longest, and quite the wisest, of all the opinionsstated by the Yellow Leaf. Although it could hardly add to hisreputation, it destroyed entirely the credit of the Brocks.

  "The old man don't hardly ever come into the village, 'cept it be tochurch, and he don't pass the time o' day to no one," said the DumpyPhilosopher.

  "Now I come to think of it, young Sidney has a funny, uneducated sort o'way of answering," added Squinting Jack.

  "They'm mysteries," concluded the Yellow Leaf, "and I hopes to live tosee 'em all exposed to the vull light o' day."

  Robert passed this scandal to Bessie, and she hurried it across toKezia, who carried it while still fresh into the parlour, and presentedit to both the ladies. Miss Yard expressed no interest, but Mrs. Drakewas painfully distressed. She was ageing rapidly, and beginning to loseher memory too; she had forgotten what a very favourable impression theboy had made upon her.

  "Are you quite sure she did go to Black Anchor?" Mrs. Drake inquired.

  "Yes, Aunt," said George, who was busy designing locomotives. "She askedme the way--at least the driver did. They were both strangers to me."

  "Quite a young gal, warn't she, Mr. George?" appealed Kezia.

  "Not more than eighteen, I should think. But she wore a wedding ring; Isaw it distinctly."

  "Yes, mum; I saw her drive past, so bold and staring. They say she's anactress, mum."

  "How awful! I suppose she's his wife."

  "Well, mum, us all hopes she is."

  "The wretched young man! How can he be so wicked!"

  "Is anybody wicked?" asked Miss Yard vacantly.

  "Never mind, Sophy. It's nobody you care about. Has she been told? Youknow who I mean."

  "Oh no, mum. We wouldn't like to say anything much to her. But of courseshe mustn't go out with him any more."

  "Of course not," said George vigorously.

  "I suppose I must break it to her," said Mrs. Drake. "And he sings inthe choir too--miserable wretch!"

  "I warned you, Aunt," said George.

  "He must never come into the house again. Ask Robert to tell him."

  "Oh no, mum! We couldn't drink coffee with him now. He seemed such anice young man too. Robert thought him almost like a gentleman."

  "It's often these nice young men who turn out the greatest humbugs,"said Mrs. Drake severely.

  "What is she saying? I do hope there are no such things in the house,"Miss Yard cried anxiously.

  Nellie was thoroughly well told. Kezia, Bessie, and Robert were alikeeager to play the part of candid friend because they liked her so much;indeed, they somewhat overwhelmed her with candid affection. Accordingto Bessie, the mysterious lady had been overheard imploring Sidney toreturn with her; while Robert declared the young man had confessed thewhole truth. Kezia could invent nothing, so contented herself withmoaning over life's tragedies like the chorus of a Greek play. Nellie,being a wise maid, argued with nobody, and smiled at everyone; but hereyes made people sorry for her; and because of their sympathy theybrought yet other charges against Sidney.

  Nellie waited for choir practice, when she hoped to hear a healthierstory. She expressed no gratitude when the heroic George offered toaccompany her to church, lest the dragon Sidney should abduct herforcibly and add her to his collection in the cupboard at home. Heexplained these references according to the best of his historicalinformation, quoting the story of Bluebeard at some length. He was stilltalking when Nellie escaped from the house, and went to church byherself.

  During practice the other members of the choir shrank from Sidney, as ifafraid he should make some evil communication; and they practised thehymns, which were of a penitential nature, at him. It was never thecustom in Highfield to allow even one sinner to go unpunished.

  "At last!" exclaimed Nellie, when they were out of the church and alonetogether in Dartmoor wind and darkness. "Of course you know what I amgoing to say?" she added.

  "You'm going to say this place be vull o' liars," suggested Sidney.

  "Oh no, indeed! Our friendship is quite over, and you are not to comenear Windward House again."

  "What's it all about, Nellie?"

 
"You know perfectly well. I'm walking with you this evening just to hearwhat you have to say."

  "You think I'm a bad lot?"

  "I'm getting dreadfully certain of it."

  "Because you've heard tales. I know you'm the prettiest maid in theworld, but if a stranger wur with us he wouldn't believe me if I saidso, vor 'tis too dark to see you. You can't be sure of anything you'mtold. I'm not the best chap in the world by a long way, but if you couldsee me 'just as I am,' as we wur singing in church just now, you mightfancy I b'ain't quite what folks make me out to be."

  Nellie was disturbed by this speech, and still more by the manner inwhich it was uttered. She had an uncomfortable feeling that Sidney wastrying to bring himself down to her level, although her birth andeducation were undoubtedly superior to his.

  "I suppose it's easy to sing like that, especially as you must have hadno end of practice," she said crossly.

  "Now you'm out o' tune, Nellie."

  "Miss Blisland has discovered you have made a fool of her. You asked herto--to--well, you know what, when all the time you are married--"

  "Here, I say, steady! I didn't know it had got to that," he broke insharply.

  "Then who was that girl who came to see you?"

  "She's not a girl. If you want to know her age, I'll tell you. She isforty-three--and I'm nineteen. Is it likely I'd be married to a lady oldenough to be my mother?"

  "Who is she?"

  "A very kind lady who has done a lot vor me. Her name is Mrs. Stanley."

  "Then she is married!"

  "Her husband's been very kind to me too."

  "And I suppose you are very fond of her?"

  "Well, that's natural, considering what she's done vor me."

  "You love her!" cried Nellie, getting out of patience with his coldness.

  "There's someone I love better."

  "And that's yourself," she snapped.

  "'Tis the pretty maid I'm going to marry, and that's you."

  "If you dare to say such a thing again," gasped Nellie, "I'll--I'll runaway."

  "You can run t'other end of the world, but I shall come and fetch yeback," declared the bold youth.

  "What's to prevent me from marrying someone else?"

  "Yourself, I fancy."

  "But I never did like you much, and now I hate you," she said, troubledagain by his accent, which recalled her own superior education.

  "If you won't hate me any more than what you do now, I shan't grumble,"replied the confident young man. Then he asked gently, "Won't you comeout Sunday afternoon?"

  "No, I will not."

  "I could tell you a tale what might make us sweethearts again," hecontinued.

  "I expect there is hardly any sort of tale that you don't know. But whydon't you?"

  "I'm going to make you believe in me and trust me."

  "Tell that to Mrs. Stanley--I'm sure she's a widow."

  "I trust her, and she knows it. I told her about you, and she wanted meto promise not to marry till I'm twenty-five."

  "By then, I suppose, she'll have become sick and tired of you," saidNellie, who was rapidly forming Highfield opinions about Mrs. Stanley.

  "She doesn't mind who I marry--"

  "How perfectly unselfish!"

  "So long as 'tis the right sort o' maid."

  "I hope you'll find her. Goodnight; I'm going now," said Nellie,standing beside the garden-gate of Windward House. Then she added ratherfaintly, "I'm sorry you ever came to Highfield."

  Sidney struck a match and, making a lantern of his hands, turned thelight upon her face.

  "Oh, Nellie darling! There's a tear upon your cheek!"

  "Don't be rude and wicked," she murmured, searching for the gate handle,which she generally found quite easily.

  "The beautifullest tear from the loveliest eye in the world!"

  "What's wrong with the other eye?" she asked trying to laugh.

  "It's still more lovely. Nellie, you are--just Nellie, and that meanseverything. You shall trust me, and I'll make you love me, if I have towork a thousand times harder than I do on the farm."

  "Will you have nothing more to do with Mrs. Stanley?"

  "I can't do that."

  "You mean she won't give you up!"

  "She's the best and kindest lady in the world. But you come first, andthat's where you'll be always."

  "I must be second too. It's no good, Sidney. I'm not going to be talkedabout and laughed at--no girl can stand it. Besides, Mrs. Drake hasforbidden me to speak to you, and my poor mistress would go crazy if sheknew what has happened. I have a good home, and I must think of myfuture. Leave me alone, please, and let me forget you. But I must giveup the choir and sit at the bottom of the church, for I--I can't singany more."

  "Is that you, Nellie?" called Kezia; and the faithful band of protectorsand consolers appeared, putting the false Sidney to flight.

  George was so pleased when Nellie did not go out upon Sunday afternoon,that he presented her with a picture of his latest locomotive, veryhandsomely designed, but without cylinders. He began about this time totake an interest in his personal appearance, with the result that Mrs.Drake, who was not at all prejudiced in his favour, remarked to Keziathat Mr. George was undoubtedly the best looking man in the place,which, after all, was not much of a compliment. Kezia, who was a Drakein everything but surname, and contemplated assuming that to supply herown deficiency, agreed, and went on to mention Mr. George was regardedas the perfect pattern of an English gentleman by Highfield, where allgeese were swans.

  Mrs. Drake was simple enough to believe George was preparing himself forthe duties of station-master, and he more than suggested this was indeedthe case; having the impudence to hint at negotiations for variousstations where it would be his business to receive all manner ofroyalties; but the letters he received were of such a confidentialnature that he was not at liberty to show them to his aunt. He convincedher they were all typewritten, and this was quite sufficient for hispurpose, because the old-fashioned woman supposed letters written bymachinery could emanate only from departments under the immediatecontrol of Ministers of State.

  The cold-blooded George had drawn up a programme of his career undersuch items as Courtship of Nellie, Annihilation of Sidney, Conciliationof Aunt, Guarding of the Furniture, Departure of Aunt Sophy, Contractwith Nellie, Departure of Aunt, Marriage and Retirement. With fineprophetic instinct a date was appended to each one of these events: MissYard had but a single year of life remaining, while three more yearswere allotted to Mrs. Drake. So far the programme was well ahead oftime, owing to the visit of Mrs. Stanley.

  The careful mind of George was troubled concerning his forthcomingmarriage and subsequent retirement. He asked himself frequently whetherit could be prudent to enter into a matrimonial alliance with Nellie, orindeed with any girl; was a wife preferable on the whole to ahousekeeper? George sought the opinion of the Dismal Gibcat, who repliedthat the house presided over by a wife was bound to be respectable,while the house ruled by spinster or widow was not; besides, ahousekeeper could not be scowled at with impunity, whereas a wife mighteasily be taught all the accomplishments of her husband: that was tosay, if the husband found it necessary to slander another man, or todeprive some woman of her character, the partner of his joys and sorrowswould slander these persons too; whereas a housekeeper might find it herduty to defend them.

  Then George consulted the Yellow Leaf, who was of the decidedly robustopinion that men and women should not only marry as early as possible,but should keep on doing it as often as the law allowed; and even ifthey did offend against the law sometimes it was better to err upon theright side. He alluded to his own brilliant example of marrying ateighteen, with the happy result that the entire population of thevillage were more or less related to him; and he went on to declare hehad already appointed a successor to his present wife, who had beenbedridden for some years.

  Although George had some doubts remaining, he arrived sorrowfully at theconclusion that it would be his duty t
o make Nellie happy, if the ladiesof Windward House should respect his programme and depart from the worldaccording to scheduled time. The question of his retirement remained theonly point to be disposed of. Should he conclude a life of usefulness asthe most respected parishioner of Highfield, or favour a wider circle?Certainly it would be more agreeable to retire in a village, whererespect came automatically, than to run the risk of being dishonoured insome town, where standing at corners or musing beside lamp posts mightbe wrongly construed as revealing instability of character.

  It might, he feared, become necessary to commence his retirement withinthe next few months, for Mrs. Drake was clearly in a restless frame ofmind, and the impending failure of his negotiations with the railwaycompany might induce her to issue the expulsion order which Percy wouldbe called upon to execute. In such case George decided his health wouldbe forced to suffer a breakdown, although it might be possible, now Mrs.Drake's powers were growing defective, to assure her his career upon therailway was finished; but, unfortunately, owing to his inability toserve full time, he enjoyed no pension.

  A wet day assisted George in making a discovery which, although notaltering his programme, seemed to promise an extension of the indefinitetime limit.

  "I want to go to the sea. Aunt Sophy worries so about her friends, and Ican't make her believe she hasn't got any. She will forget all aboutthem if we go away. When are you going to your station?" asked Mrs.Drake, while Miss Yard looked up plaintively and wanted to know what shehad done now.

  "Oh, nothing. I'm telling George we are going to the seaside directly heis ready to leave."

  "I think you had better not wait," said George warningly.

  "You promised to go this month," his aunt said fretfully.

  "Changes have occurred, with the result that I have now broken off thenegotiations."

  "Then I have done with you!"

  "I'm so glad somebody else has broken something," said Miss Yardhappily.

  George left the room, and returned presently with an armful of plans anddiagrams.

  "I knew they existed, and at last I have found them," he remarkedtriumphantly.

  "Take away your rubbish!" said Mrs. Drake.

  "My uncle made these plans. These diagrams were the solace of hisclosing years," said George; and directly he had spoken his aunt's facesoftened, and she fumbled for her spectacles.

  "My dear uncle charged me to carry out the work if he should not live tocomplete it. These are his plans for a railway to link up the scatteredparishes of this moorland region. It is my earnest hope," said George,"that I may be permitted to undertake the work which is to give Dartmoora railway and Highfield a station."

  "I had forgotten all about it," Mrs. Drake murmured.

  "I did not forget," said George reprovingly. "I should have acted longago, if I could have found these precious plans. Here is the prospectusin dear uncle's writing. He shows how simple and inexpensive it would beto build a railway across the Dartmoor, without a single viaduct,tunnel, embankment, or cutting. It was his intention to make HighfieldStation a terminus, as he could not see his way to surmount the steepdrop into the valley without going to considerable expense. Now you canunderstand why it is no longer my intention to occupy the poorly paidposition of station-master. I aim at higher things. I mean to be arailway magnate."

  "What can you do?" asked Mrs. Drake, much impressed by those relics ofher husband.

  "I shall communicate with my railway friends; I shall float a company,and appoint a Board of Directors; I shall pass a Bill throughParliament."

  "Whatever is George doing?" inquired Miss Yard.

  "Making a railway," replied her sister.

  "I wish I could do something half as useful," sighed Miss Yard.

  George borrowed five pounds for postage stamps, converted his bedroominto an office, and fed the village with false news which percolatedinto the ears of Mrs. Drake by means of Robert the dripping tap andKezia the filter. George had anticipated this, and, knowing the truthfulways of the village, was not greatly astonished when Robert informed himin confidence how engineers had already been seen taking the level ofthe Dartmoor heights; while the parishioners had sworn to tear up therailway as fast as it was made, unless they received ample compensationfor this cynical infringement of their rights.

  What he had not anticipated was the action taken by his aunt. Left toherself she would have remained credulous to the end; but Kezia declaredMr. George was not spending his days letter writing; while Bessie statedthe postmistress had told her Mr. George had bought no stamps lately.

  "I have looked into his room and seen him writing," said Mrs. Drakedespairingly.

  "He wur doing poetry, mum," said Kezia sadly.

  "Oh, I'm sure he's not so bad as that," cried the lady.

  "I don't want to say too much, mum, and I ain't going to say anythingagainst Mr. George, whom you might call a member of the family,"continued Kezia in the voice of doom, "but I saw a lot of the paper hehad wrote some of his poetry on."

  "I saw it too, mum," chimed in Bessie.

  "And, mum, at the end of the first line wur six kisses."

  "Crosses, mum," exclaimed Bessie, as an expert in this form ofliterature.

  "And the second line--oh, mum, I don't know as how I can say it."

  "Shall I do it vor ye?" asked Bessie eagerly.

  "No, Bess, I'll do it. He said, mum, his heart wur all jelly."

  "Think of that, mum!" gasped Bessie.

  "Oh no! Not jelly again. We had yesterday," cried Miss Yard, who likedto be consulted concerning the bill of fare.

  "I do hope the poor creature isn't going off his head," said Mrs. Drake.

  "Don't you see, mum, that word wur meant to sound like the word at theend of the first line what he wrote in crosses. And you know, mum,there's someone in this house whose name do have the same sort of soundas jelly."

  "Ah, but she b'ain't so soft," added Bessie. "And he wrote she was sobewitching, drinking cocoa in the kitchen. That was a rhyme, mum."

  "I have heard quite enough," said Mrs. Drake wearily. "I wish togoodness I had never seen the fellow," she murmured.

  The following week she visited the Captain's grave, staying longer thanusual, and scribbling industriously on scraps of paper the wholeevening. Next day the exodus took place, Kezia and Nellie accompanyingthe ladies to the seaside, while George remained in solitary possession.As any pretence of industry was no longer necessary, he settled down toenjoy a honeymoon with indolence, until a letter arrived to waken himcompletely.

  It appeared that Mrs. Drake had written to Percy, informing him of allGeorge had said and not done; also asking for information about thefloating of companies and the construction of railways, as, sheexplained, George had decided to build one across Dartmoor, and wasinviting Miss Yard and herself to become debenture holders.

  Percy's answer had crushed the poor lady entirely. He explained that, asGeorge of course was perfectly well aware, to obtain a position asstation-master it would be necessary to enter the service of the railwaycompany as a clerk, and work upwards gradually. As for building arailway, that was not the recreation of a single individual, but asuperhuman undertaking, which in the first place would require to bediscussed by some of the greatest financial magnates upon earth for halfa century--at least such was his own impression--before Parliament couldeven be approached; and then another half century would probably bedemanded for the arrangement of preliminary details; and after that anew generation would have to begin the work all over again. While thesuggestion of a railway across Dartmoor could appeal only to aParliament with a sense of humour.

  Accordingly Mrs. Drake disowned her nephew. She ordered him to departfrom Highfield, declaring also her intention of not returning toWindward House while he remained there. For his maintenance she wasprepared to allow the sum of ten shillings weekly so long as she mightlive. Should he delay in taking his departure, Percy would instructsome gentleman learned in the law to hasten the eviction. And if hetook anythi
ng in the house away with him, he would thereby forfeit allbenefits under her will.

  This letter made the world seem cold to George, who strongly suspectedPercy had dictated the punitory clauses. It was clear that his reign asfirst gentleman of Highfield was over. Not being of that faint-hearteddisposition which abdicates without a struggle, George wrote a touchingletter which was also, he considered, a complete vindication of hisconduct; for, as Mrs. Drake must have been aware, he had suffered fromhis spine since childhood.

  Then he packed his belongings and travelled an hour's journey into thenext parish, where he arranged with the landlord of a wayside inn, whichbore the hospitable title of "Drink and be Thankful," to accommodate himwith board and lodging upon especially reduced terms; and from thisalcoholic address he despatched a daily apology for his existence toMrs. Drake, each document more poignant than the one preceding it. Hisaunt sent a cheque for a quarter's allowance, which George cashedgratefully; but she did not write. That business was entrusted to Percy,who sent an ultimatum, giving George forty-eight hours to retire fromthe "Drink and be Thankful," and warning him that, if at any future timehe should be discovered within twenty miles of Highfield villagewithout obtaining a permit, his prospects would be marred considerably.

  George pronounced a malediction against Percy and all his tomatoes.Then, as compliance seemed necessary--for he was terribly afraid hisaunt might destroy her will--he decided to make a farewell visit toHighfield, in order that he might muse amid the scenes of his formerslothfulness, and inform the villagers he was going away to oppose ontheir behalf the promoters of the Dartmoor Railway Company.

  George was not surprised to discover the door of Windward House standingopen, as he supposed Bessie would be cleaning; but he was considerablyastonished to behold Miss Yard nodding in the parlour, with Nellie onher knees hard by extracting the indifferent lady from a web of woolwhich, with amazing thoroughness, she had wound about herself. Georgemade a sign to the girl not to disturb her mistress, but to follow himas soon as possible into the garden.

  "What's the meaning of this?" he asked, hastily, adding that he was notat all sorry to see her.

  "Miss Sophy was so miserable I had to bring her back. When we went awayshe thought she was going back to her old home; and then, when shecouldn't recognise anybody she kept on saying she was forsaken. Shewould stop people in the street and ask them where she lived, and ifthey didn't remember her. As she got worse every day I had to bring herback. Aren't you living here now?" asked Nellie.

  "No," said George sadly. "You gave me no encouragement."

  "So you waited until I was out of the house, and then you ran away!"

  "My aunt and I have now agreed to differ. How did you leave her?" askedGeorge pompously.

  "Oh, very well. In fact, Kezia said she had not seen her in such goodhealth for years."

  "Miss Yard is breaking up, I think," said George, thinking of hisprogramme, which was suffering sadly from interference.

  "Indeed she's not. She is just mazed after the journey, as they sayabout here. Then you are really not going to live here again?"

  "Not for the present. But I shall write to you, Nellie, at least once aweek, and I shall think of you nearly every day."

  "Thank you. Are you going to turn blacksmith?"

  "Why do you ask a ridiculous question?"

  "We have been playing at rhymes lately; and the only rhyme I can findfor your name is forge."

  "Nellie," said George heavily, "it is frivolous conduct like this whichbreaks a man up completely."

  "I'll be serious then. When are you coming back?"

  "Not until the place becomes my own. My aunt has injured me; she hasupset all my plans. I do not intend to speak to her again until she hasasked for my forgiveness."

  "There goes the gate!" cried Nellie. "It's sure to be Bessie. If youdon't want to be seen here--run!" she laughed.

  "I do not stir for Elizabeth Mudge."

  "Or budge for any man," sang teasing Nellie. Then her note changed, forthe postmistress appeared from behind the rhododendrons.

  "Why, it's Mrs. Cann! And she's got a telegram!"

  "Vor you, Miss Blisland. Very bad news, miss. Terrible news. But she wuran old lady, and 'tis better to be took avore you knows where you bethan to see it coming. I hopes and prays as how I'll be took the likeway--selling a penny stamp, or licking a label, or doing some poor soula gude turn by giving her an old-age pension."

  She went rambling on, while Nellie tore open the telegram and read,"Mistress passed away in her sleep. Kezia."

  She shivered slightly, then handed it to George.

  "Cruel bad news vor you, sir, especially as we'm all so sorry to hearyou be a leaving us," said the postmistress.

  "I had meant to go away," replied the self-sacrificing and sorrowfulreprobate. "But I'm afraid I shall have to change my plans now."