A RESPONSE TO THE ADVERTISEMENT
"I BEGIN to think that the money I have spent on advertisements is just
money thrown away," said Aunt Patty, rather ruefully one morning as we
sat in the breakfast-room at the close of our early meal.
I looked up from the letter which had absorbed my attention. It was a
lively and lengthy epistle from Peggy, giving me all the home news, and
I had been so delighted to get it that I failed to observe that the
post had brought my aunt nothing. It was very disappointing. During the
whole of the past week, the advertisement to which we had given so much
thought had appealed to people from the columns of London newspapers,
and not a single person had been moved to respond to it. To be sure,
the weather had not been such as to make the idea of visiting the
country attractive. The March winds had been sharp and boisterous, and
sudden squalls were often accompanied by sleet.
"People are waiting till the weather becomes more spring-like," I said.
"It is a pity that it continues so cold, and Easter falling next week."
"Yes," said Aunt Patty with a sigh. "I am afraid I have been in too
great a hurry. It would have been better to have waited a few weeks
before advertising."
The past week had been a trying time for Aunt Patty. Certain business
transactions had taken place. The greater part of the land which had
belonged to Uncle George, and his father before him, was now the
property of Squire Canfield. He had also purchased a good deal of the
farm stock, and the rest had been sold by auction at Chelmsford. I
hardly realised all that this meant to Aunt Patty. It did not seem to
me to make much difference to her, since the house and garden and the
grounds immediately adjoining still belonged to her. But I knew she had
felt it deeply, and now, as I saw her troubled air, I tried to comfort
her.
"It seems rather warmer this morning," I said. "I believe the weather
is going to change. We shall have some applications soon, auntie, I
feel sure. Would you like me to go into Chelmsford this afternoon, and
inquire at the post-office?"
We had only one postal delivery a day at "Gay Bowers," so if we went
into town we never failed to visit the post-office, that we might
obtain any letters that might have arrived by a later post.
"I am afraid it would only be another disappointment," said Aunt Patty,
"and it is hardly worth while to have the horse and trap out for that."
"How I wish I had a bicycle!" I said. "Now that the winds have dried
the roads, I could spin into Chelmsford and back in no time."
"Then you can ride?" aunt said.
"Oh, yes; Olive taught me, and she often lends me her bicycle—she is
very good-natured about it. You know Mrs. Smythe gave her one because
she thought she did not take sufficient exercise."
"I wish I could give you one, my dear," said Aunt Patty gently.
"Oh, auntie, don't say that!" I replied. "I don't care so much about
it, only I thought it would be convenient just now if I had one."
"I tell you what you could do if you liked, dear," said my aunt, "not
that I think it will make any difference as far as the advertisement is
concerned, but there is a business letter I am anxious to receive which
may come in by the second post. You might step over to the Vicarage,
and ask Jack to call at the post-office for us as he comes back from
Chelmsford."
"That I will," I said as I rose from the table, "and I must go at once
or Jack will have started. He has to be at his tutor's by ten."
I put on my hat and coat, and went out. The breeze which met me and
blew out my skirts was fresh and strong, but its keen edge had gone.
The sun was breaking through the ragged grey clouds that were scudding
across the sky. Its rays glorified a bed of crocuses, and by the gate,
sheltered by the high garden wall, I found the first daffodil. I had
been watching for days the green, swelling buds, but not till now had I
seen the gleam of gold. Stooping to lift the drooping head, I gazed at
it with exquisite delight. How different it was in its dainty freshness
from any daffodil I had ever bought in London!
"I shall learn to love gardening if I stay here long enough!" I said to
myself as I went on my way.
Turning to the right and following the winding of the lane, I came in
a few minutes to Greentree Church, a picturesque, red-bricked building
with a pointed steeple. A peaceful churchyard lay about it, with many
old tombstones, grey and defaced by age, some bearing curiously worded
epitaphs. A little beyond the church was the Vicarage, a beautiful old
house, built of red brick, which had long taken on the rich, mellow
hue of age. A magnificent cedar adorned the lawn, and an almond tree,
breaking into blossom, overhung the gate. The trees and shrubs which
grew within were rather too luxuriant, a sign of bad gardening, for
flowers could not flourish beneath their heavy shade, and the garden
had rather a neglected appearance. The Vicar cared nothing for flowers,
nor did Jack concern himself about their culture, though he always
evinced what I believed to be an unfeigned interest in Aunt Patty's
garden.
The phaeton stood before the door of the house as I approached. Jack's
dogs ran barking to meet me, and he came quickly from the house to see
why they were making such a commotion.
"Oh, Nan, you are an early visitor—but only just in time!" he
exclaimed, looking as pleased as if he had not seen me for a year,
whereas he had been at "Gay Bowers" on the previous day. Jack was the
most friendly and sociable of beings. It was a striking instance of
the irony of fate that such a one should share this quiet home with a
father who was always immersed in his books. Aunt Patty's guests, when
they came, would have a welcome from Jack.
"Oh, are you going to drive?" I said. "I thought you would cycle to
Chelmsford this morning."
"What—with this wind in my teeth all the way?" he replied. "That would
be rather too much for me. I might have ridden Bess, only, you see, the
pater is going up to town to-day, so I shall drive him to the station
before going to Medley's."
As he spoke, the Vicar came out of the house. He was an elderly man,
tall, with bowed shoulders, which bore witness to the habits of a
scholar. He greeted me kindly, but in an absent-minded fashion. He
rarely seemed to give his whole mind to the person he addressed, an
unfortunate defect in a clergyman. He did, however, so far recognise
my individuality as to inquire for Aunt Patty. It was Jack who asked
whether we had had any response to the advertisement.
"Any bites?" was his concise way of putting it.
I shook my head, then hastened to make my request that he would call
for us at the post-office on his way home.
"Of course I will," he said promptly, "and I will bring you good luck,
too, in the face of an offer from a most desirable 'paying guest.'"
"That is more than you possibly can promise," I replied.
"Oh, you don't know. I have a presentiment that I shall find something
good for you at the post-office," he returned. "Come and meet me, Nan,
and see if I am not right. I shall walk back, for the trap will have to
remain in Chelmsford for father. Meet me half-way."
"I dare say," I said, "that would mean a walk of five miles. I should
have thought nothing of it a year ago, but now—although I am ever so
much stronger than when I came down—"
"Of course! How thoughtless of me!" he broke in. "Come as far as the
Wood End Oaks then; but no farther by the road, for I shall take the
short cut."
"Perhaps," I said, "I do not promise," but I meant to go all the same.
Meanwhile the Vicar had climbed into the phaeton.
"The air is milder to-day," he said as he arranged his muffler about
his throat.
"Oh, it is spring at last," I said joyfully; "I have found a daffodil
in bloom."
"Ah!" he said vacantly, and I saw that a golden daffodil was no more to
him than a yellow primrose was to Peter Bell.
I bade them good-morning and turned homeward, for I could see that the
Vicar was in a fidget to be off. As I went up the lane the phaeton
overtook me. Jack lifted his cap and cried rashly, "I'll bring you one,
I promise you, Nan."
Jack usually lunched in town and got home some time in the afternoon.
When I started about half-past three for the rendezvous, auntie told me
to be sure to bring him in to take tea with us.
"There will be no one looking for him at home," she said.
Not till then did it strike me that Jack was perhaps walking back on
purpose to gratify us, and that, if I had not asked him to call for our
letters, he would have awaited in Chelmsford his father's return by the
six o'clock train. It was just like Jack to give himself that trouble
on our behalf, for he was the most good-natured fellow in the world;
but I was vexed that I had not thought to tell him that the letters
were of no consequence, and that very likely there would be none. When
I remarked this to aunt, all she said was:
"Oh, the walk will do him good, and you too, Nan, if you do not go too
far."
It was a lovely afternoon for a walk. The fresh breeze was most
exhilarating, though it blew almost too strongly for me as I crossed
the common. A little beyond this the road dipped suddenly, and to the
left a wood bordered it for about a hundred yards. The old, gnarled
trees which overhung the road were known as the "Wood End Oaks." A
stile gave access to the wood, and a path running through it and across
two meadows beyond was a short cut, which for pedestrians considerably
shortened the way from Chelmsford.
I was not ill-pleased to find that I had reached the stile before Jack,
for I was glad to seat myself upon it. I had not sat there many minutes
when I saw Jack coming towards me through the wood. He gave a shout as
he caught sight of me, and waved on high a letter.
"I was right, Nan," he cried, coming up. "I told you I should be sure
to find a reply, and here it is! There can be no mistake about this."
And he laid on my knee a letter directed in a small but clear hand to
the "Proprietress, Gay Bowers, Greentree, near Chelmsford."
"Oh, yes, this is one at last," I said eagerly. "No ordinary
correspondent would address auntie in that way; but of course the
advertisement does not give her name. The handwriting looks like a
man's."
"Oh, I don't know," said Jack; "many girls affect that style of
writing."
"This is not a girl's writing," I said. "I like it. It is strong and
original, and betokens intellectual tastes."
"Nonsense, Nan," said Jack; "you surely don't believe in telling
people's characters by their handwriting and all that rubbish."
"It is not rubbish," I replied calmly. "I have often judged unknown
persons by their handwriting, and I have seldom found myself mistaken
in my conclusions."
"It is all pure imagination," said Jack, who had seated himself beside
me on the stile in order to examine the envelope at his ease. "I may
not be a genius—I rather think I am not—but at any rate I can make
better G's and B's than that fellow, if it is a fellow. Where are you
off to in such a hurry, Nan?"
"Why, home, of course," I said, as I sprang down, "to take Aunt Patty
this letter and hear what it says."
"Ah! I guessed curiosity was moving you," he said.
"You have none, of course," I retorted. "If you had, it might soon be
gratified, for auntie told me to invite you to take tea with us."
"I shall be most happy," said Jack, and he looked so pleased that I
felt sure he was as curious concerning the contents of that envelope as
I was.
We found Aunt Patty in the drawing-room. Our eager faces told her we
brought news ere I gave her the letter.
It was not long, and she quickly scanned it; then said as she handed it
to me:
"A nice letter, but not at all the kind of application I expected. The
writer is a gentleman."
"I knew it," I said with a glance at Jack, and proceeded to read the
following:
"Dear Madam,—I have recently returned from India, ill-health having
compelled me to resign the professorship in an Anglo-Indian college
which I have held for nearly five years. I am still somewhat of an
invalid and find London life far too exhausting for my nerves. My
physician advises me to live in the country for some months. Your
advertisement seems to offer me the kind of home I desire, where I
could pursue my studies in quiet and enjoy the advantages of a country
life while keeping in touch with London. Will you kindly let me know
whether you can give me a large and airy bedroom which I could also use
to some extent as a study? Please state exactly on what terms you could
offer it. A reply at your earliest convenience will greatly oblige."
"Yours faithfully,"
"ALAN FAULKNER."
"Oh, auntie!" I exclaimed as I put down the letter. "To think of our
having a professor here! It seems to me rather alarming."
"I should not have thought you would have found it so," said Jack. "I
expect he is quite harmless."
"I dare say he will be absorbed in his studies and won't expect much
from us in the way of entertainment," said Aunt Patty. "He is human, if
he is a professor, and I believe I can make him comfortable. The room
above this is large and airy enough, I should think. We could easily
screen off the bed and make it look like a sitting-room."
"You thought of putting two beds there," I said. "Yes, but I may have
no application for a double-bedded room," she replied, "and he ought to
have a large room if he is going to spend so much of his time in it.
He will be a man to suit your father, Jack. I dare say they will draw
together."
"I do hope for your sakes that he may not be so absent-minded as my
dear progenitor," said Jack. "I am anxious as to what escapade he may
commit when he is out of my sight. Did I ever tell you, Nan, how he
once appeared wearing a girl's hat?"
"Jack, what can you mean?" I cried.
"It is a fact," he said. "It happened two years ago last summer. He had
been taking a little holiday and visiting a cousin in Wales. I came up
from school and met him at Paddington, that we might go home together.
Imagine my astonishment when I saw him step out of the train wearing a
round straw hat with long ribbon streamers at the back! How the people
did stare!" "'Why, dad,' I said, 'whatever have you on your head? Is
that the latest style for clerics?'"
"If you'll believe me, till I spoke, he had no idea there was anything
wrong. He had donned a straw hat with his holiday garb. The day being
hot, he took off his hat in the train, and a young girl seated in the
same compartment also removed hers. He had to change trains rather
hurriedly at a certain junction, and in his haste put on her hat in
mistake for his own. I was thankful none of the school chaps were with
me. You may be sure I hustled him into a cab pretty quickly."
"Oh, how ridiculous!" I cried, laughing heartily; "but, oh, that poor
girl! What must have been her state of mind when she discovered what
had happened, and found herself in possession of your father's hat?"
"Oh, that did not matter," said Jack. "Girls can wear anything."
Aunt was laughing too, although she had heard the story before.
"Well," she said merrily, "if Professor Faulkner is as absent-minded as
that we shall not lack amusement."
We discussed the unknown Professor pretty thoroughly as we took our
tea. I have often smiled since to think how wide of the mark were most
of our conjectures. Aunt Patty lost no time in replying to his letter.
The result was satisfactory. He wrote again giving excellent references
and asking to be allowed to spend Easter with us. He would then be able
to judge whether the place would suit him for a longer sojourn.
"A canny Scotsman," was aunt's comment, as she read this. "He is not
going to commit himself to the unknown. Well, I do not blame him for
that."
With considerable excitement and some perturbation, we looked forward
to the stranger's arrival. On the very day we expected him, we had our
second "bite," to use Jack's expressive metaphor.