CHAPTER VIII
_Which tells of Miss Priscilla, of peaches, and of Sergeant Appleby lateof the 19th Hussars_
Small Porges was at his lessons. He was perched at the great oak tablebeside the window, pen in hand, and within easy reach of Anthea who satbusied with her daily letters and accounts. Small Porges was laboriouslyinscribing in a somewhat splashed and besmeared copy-book the rathersurprising facts that:
A stitch in time, saves nine. 9.
That:
The Tagus, a river in Spain. R.
and that:
Artaxerxes was a king of the Persians. A.
and the like surprising, curious, and interesting items of news, his penmaking not half so many curls, and twists as did his small, red tongue.As he wrote, he frowned terrifically, and sighed oft betwixt whiles; andBellew watching, where he stood outside the window, noticed that Antheafrowned also, as she bent over her accounts, and sighed wearily morethan once.
It was after a sigh rather more hopeless than usual that, chancing toraise her eyes they encountered those of the watcher outside, who,seeing himself discovered, smiled, and came to lean in at theopen window.
"Won't they balance?" he enquired, with a nod toward the heap of bills,and papers before her.
"Oh yes," she answered with a rueful little smile, "but--on the wrongside, if you know what I mean."
"I know," he nodded, watching how her lashes curled against her cheek.
"If only we had done better with our first crop of wheat!" she sighed.
"Job Jagway said it was mouldy, you know,--that's why Adam punched himin the--"
"Georgy,--go on with your work, sir!"
"Yes, Auntie!" And immediately Small Porges' pen began to scratch, andhis tongue to writhe and twist as before.
"I'm building all my hopes, this year, on the hops," said Anthea,sinking her head upon her hand, "if they should fail--"
"Well?" enquired Bellew, with his gaze upon the soft curve of herthroat.
"I--daren't think of it!"
"Then don't--let us talk of something else--"
"Yes,--of Aunt Priscilla!" nodded Anthea, "she is in the garden."
"And pray who is Aunt Priscilla?"
"Go and meet her."
"But--"
"Go and find her--in the orchard!" repeated Anthea, "Oh do go, and leaveus to our work."
Thus it was that turning obediently into the orchard, and looking about,Bellew presently espied a little, bright-eyed old lady who sat beneaththe shadow of "King Arthur" with a rustic table beside her upon whichstood a basket of sewing. Now, as he went, he chanced to spy a ball ofworsted that had fallen by the way, and stooping, therefore, he pickedit up, while she watched him with her quick, bright eyes.
"Good morning, Mr. Bellew!" she said in response to his salutation, "itwas nice of you to trouble to pick up an old woman's ball of worsted."As she spoke, she rose, and dropped him a courtesy, and then, as helooked at her again, he saw that despite her words, and despite herwhite hair, she was much younger, and prettier than he had thought.
"I am Miss Anthea's house-keeper," she went on, "I was away when youarrived, looking after one of Miss Anthea's old ladies,--pray be seated.Miss Anthea,--bless her dear heart!--calls me her aunt, but I'm notreally--Oh dear no! I'm no relation at all! But I've lived with her longenough to feel as if I was her aunt, and her uncle, and her father, andher mother--all rolled into one,--though I should be rather small to beso many,--shouldn't I?" and she laughed so gaily, and unaffectedly, thatBellew laughed too.
"I tell you all this," she went on, keeping pace to her flying needle,"because I have taken a fancy to you--on the spot! I always like, ordislike a person--on the spot,--first impressions you know! Y-e-e-s,"she continued, glancing up at him side-ways, "I like you just as much asI dislike Mr. Cassilis,--heigho! how I do--detest that man! There, nowthat's off my mind!"
"And why?" enquired Bellew, smiling.
"Dear me, Mr. Bellew I--how should I know, only I do,--and what'smore--he knows it too! And how," she enquired, changing the subjectabruptly, "how is your bed,--comfortable, mm?"
"Very!"
"You sleep well?"
"Like a top!"
"Any complaints, so far?"
"None whatever," laughed Bellew, shaking his head.
"That is very well. We have never had a boarder before, and MissAnthea,--bless her dear soul! was a little nervous about it. And here'sthe Sergeant!"
"I--er--beg your pardon--?" said Bellew.
"The Sergeant!" repeated Miss Priscilla, with a prim little nod,"Sergeant Appleby, late of the Nineteenth Hussars,--a soldier every inchof him, Mr. Bellew,--with one arm--over there by the peaches." Glancingin the direction she indicated, Bellew observed a tall figure, verystraight and upright, clad in a tight-fitting blue coat, with extremelytight trousers strapped beneath the insteps, and with a hat balancedupon his close-cropped, grizzled head at a perfectly impossible anglefor any save an ex-cavalry-man. Now as he stood examining a peach-treethat flourished against the opposite wall, Bellew saw that his rightsleeve was empty, sure enough, and was looped across his broad chest.
"The very first thing he will say will be that 'it is a very fine day,'"nodded Miss Priscilla, stitching away faster than ever, "and the next,that 'the peaches are doing remarkably well,'--now mark my words, Mr.Bellew." As she spoke, the Sergeant wheeled suddenly right about face,and came striding down towards them, jingling imaginary spurs, and withhis stick tucked up under his remaining arm, very much as if it hadbeen a sabre.
Being come up to them, the Sergeant raised a stiff arm as though aboutto salute them, military fashion, but, apparently changing his mind,took off the straw hat instead, and put it on again, more over one earthan ever.
"A particular fine day, Miss Priscilla, for the time o' the year," saidhe.
"Indeed I quite agree with you Sergeant," returned little Miss Priscillawith a bright nod, and a sly glance at Bellew, as much as to say, "Itold you so!" "And the peaches, mam," continued the Sergeant, "thepeaches--never looked--better, mam." Having said which, he stood lookingat nothing in particular, with his one hand resting lightly uponhis hip.
"Yes, to be sure, Sergeant," nodded Miss Priscilla, with another slylook. "But let me introduce you to Mr. Bellew who is staying atDapplemere." The Sergeant stiffened, once more began a salute, changedhis mind, took off his hat instead, and, after looking at it as thoughnot quite sure what to do with it next, clapped it back upon his ear, inimminent danger of falling off, and was done with it.
"Proud to know you, sir,--your servant, sir!"
"How do you do!" said Bellew, and held out his hand with his franksmile. The Sergeant hesitated, then put out his remaining hand.
"My left, sir," said he apologetically, "can't be helped--left myright--out in India--a good many years ago. Good place for soldiering,India, sir--plenty of active service--chances of promotion--thoughsun bad!"
"Sergeant," said Miss Priscilla, without seeming to glance up from hersewing, "Sergeant,--your hat!" Hereupon, the Sergeant gave a sudden,sideways jerk of the head, and, in the very nick of time, saved thearticle in question from tumbling off, and very dexterously brought itto the top of his close-cropped head, whence it immediately began,slowly, and by scarcely perceptible degrees to slide down to hisear again.
"Sergeant," said Miss Priscilla again, "sit down,--do."
"Thank you mam," said he, and proceeded to seat himself at the other endof the rustic bench, where he remained, bolt upright, and with his longlegs stretched out straight before him, as is, and has been, the mannerof cavalrymen since they first wore straps.
"And now," said he, staring straight in front of him, "how might MissAnthea be?"
"Oh, very well, thank you," nodded Miss Priscilla.
"Good!" exclaimed the Sergeant, with his eyes still fixed, "very good!"Here he passed his hand two or three times across his shaven chin,regarding an apple-tree, nearby, with an expression of the mostprofound interest:
"And h
ow," said he again, "how might Master Georgy be?"
"Master Georgy is as well as ever," answered Miss Priscilla, stitchingaway faster than before, and Bellew thought she kept her rosy cheeksstooped a little lower over her work. Meanwhile the Sergeant continuedto regard the tree with the same degree of lively interest, and to rasphis fingers to and fro across his chin. Suddenly, he coughed behindhand, whereupon Miss Priscilla raised her head, and looked at him.
"Well?" she enquired, very softly:
"And pray, mam," said the Sergeant, removing his gaze from the tree witha jerk, "how might--you be feeling, mam?"
"Much the same as usual, thank you," she answered, smiling like a girl,for all her white hair, as the Sergeant's eyes met hers.
"You look," said he, pausing to cough behind his hand again, "youlook--blooming, mam,--if you'll allow the expression,--blooming,--as youever do, mam."
"I'm an old woman, Sergeant, as well you know!" sighed Miss Priscilla,shaking her head.
"Old, mam!" repeated the Sergeant, "old, mam!--nothing of the sort,mam!--Age has nothing to do with it.--'Tisn't the years as count.--Wearen't any older than we feel,--eh, sir?"
"Of course not!" answered Bellew.
"Nor than we look,--eh sir?"
"Certainly not, Sergeant!" answered Bellew.
"And she, sir,--she don't look--a day older than--"
"Thirty five!" said Bellew.
"Exactly, sir, very true! My own opinion,--thirty five exactly, sir."
"Sergeant," said Miss Priscilla, bending over her work again,"Sergeant,--your hat!" The Sergeant, hereupon, removed the distractinghead-gear altogether, and sat with it upon his knee, staring hard at thetree again. Then, all at once, with a sudden gesture he drew a large,silver watch from his pocket,--rather as if it were some weapon ofoffence,--looked at it, listened to it, and then nodding his head, roseto his feet.
"Must be going," he said, standing very straight, and looking down atlittle Miss Priscilla, "though sorry, as ever,--must be going,mam,--Miss Priscilla mam--good day to you!" And he stretched out hishand to her with a sudden, jerky movement. Miss Priscilla paused in hersewing, and looked up at him with her youthful smile:
"Must you go--so soon, Sergeant? Then Good-bye,--until to-morrow," andshe laid her very small hand in his big palm. The Sergeant stared downat it as though he were greatly minded to raise it to his lips, insteadof doing which, he dropped it, suddenly, and turned to Bellew:
"Sir, I am--proud to have met you. Sir, there is a poor crippled soldieras I know,--My cottage is very small, and humble sir, but if you everfeel like--dropping in on him, sir,--by day or night, he willbe--honoured, sir, honoured! And that's me--Sergeant RichardAppleby--late of the Nineteenth Hussars--at your service, sir!" sayingwhich, he put on his hat, stiff-armed, wheeled, and strode away throughthe orchard, jingling his imaginary spurs louder than ever.
"Well?" enquired Miss Priscilla in her quick, bright way, "Well Mr.Bellew, what do you think of him?--first impressions are alwaysbest,--at least, I think so,--what do you think of Sergeant Appleby?"
"I think he's a splendid fellow," said Bellew, looking after theSergeant's upright figure.
"A very foolish old fellow, I think, and as stiff as one of the ram-rodsof one of his own guns!" said Miss Priscilla, but her clear, blue eyeswere very soft, and tender as she spoke.
"And as fine a soldier as a man, I'm sure," said Bellew.
"Why yes, he _was_ a good soldier, once upon a time, I believe,--he wonthe Victoria Cross for doing something or other that was very brave, andhe wears it with all his other medals, pinned on the inside of his coat.Oh yes, he was a fine soldier, once, but he's a very foolish oldsoldier, now,--I think, and as stiff as the ram-rod of one of his ownguns. But I'm glad you like him, Mr. Bellew, and he will be proud, andhappy for you to call and see him at his cottage. And now, I suppose, itis half past eleven, isn't it?"
"Yes, just half past!" nodded Bellew, glancing at his watch.
"Exact to time, as usual!" said Miss Priscilla, "I don't think theSergeant has missed a minute, or varied a minute in the last fiveyears,--you see, he is such a very methodical man, Mr. Bellew!"
"Why then, does he come every day, at the same hour?"
"Every day!" nodded Miss Priscilla, "it has become a matter of habitwith him."
"Ah?" said Bellew, smiling.
"If you were to ask me why he comes, I should answer that I fancy it isto--look at the peaches. Dear me, Mr. Bellew! what a very foolish oldsoldier he is, to be sure!" Saying which, pretty, bright-eyed MissPriscilla, laughed again, folded up her work, settled it in the basketwith a deft little pat, and, rising, took a small, crutch stick fromwhere it had lain concealed, and then, Bellew saw that she was lame.
"Oh yes,--I'm a cripple, you see," she nodded,--"Oh very, very lame! myankle, you know. That is why I came here, the big world didn't want apoor, lame, old woman,--that is why Miss Anthea made me her Aunt, Godbless her! No thank you,--I can carry my basket. So you see,--he--haslost an arm,--his right one, and I--am lame in my foot. Perhaps that iswhy--Heigho! how beautifully the black birds are singing this morning,to be sure!"
The Money Moon: A Romance Page 8