"Ah, good-morning, Mr Trimmer," said Lady Lisle. "Don't go, Sydney, my
dear. It is as well that you should be present. You cannot do better
than begin to learn the duties of a person of position--the connection
between the owner of property and his, or her, dependants."
"All right, auntie," said Syd, returning, with a quick nod and a keen
look, the obsequious bow of the gaunt-looking man in white cravat and
pepper-and-salt garb.
"Sit down, Mr Trimmer."
"Thank you, my lady."
The steward drew a chair to the table, and placed a particularly neat
bag before him, which he proceeded to open, and brought out a packet of
papers neatly docketed and tied up with green silk ferret in quite legal
fashion.
"What are those, Mr Trimmer?" said the lady, assuming a gold-framed
pince-nez.
"The reports upon the Parliamentary canvass, my lady. Ditto those in
connection with the village charities and your donations in town. If
your ladyship will glance over them I think you will find them perfectly
correct."
"Of course, Mr Trimmer. I will read the latter over at my leisure."
At that moment the merry notes of a well-blown post-horn were heard, and
Lady Lisle started, while Syd ran to the window.
"What is that?"
"I fancy it comes from a coach, my lady, passing the lodge gates."
"Yes, auntie. Drag going over to Tilborough," cried the boy, screwing
his head on one side so as to follow the handsome four-in-hand with its
well-driven team.
"Tut--tut!" ejaculated Lady Lisle. "These degrading meetings! Come
away, Sydney, my dear."
"Yes, auntie," said the boy; and as he was not observed he leant
forward, pressed one hand over the other as if taking a shorter hold of
double reins, gave his right hand a twist to unwind an imaginary
whiplash, followed by a wave something like the throwing of a fly with a
rod, and then smiled to himself as he tickled up an imaginary
off-leader, ending by holding himself up rigidly.
"That's the way to tool 'em along," he said to himself.
"Is there any fresh news in the village, Mr Trimmer?"
"No, my lady, nothing particular, except--er--a little report about
Daniel Smart's daughter."
"Maria, Mr Trimmer. She has not returned?"
"No, my lady."
"Surely she has settled down in her new place?"
The steward coughed, a little hesitating cough.
"Nothing--"
Lady Lisle stopped and glanced at Sydney, who turned away and became
very much interested in one of the pictures, but with his ears twitching
the while.
"Oh, no, my lady," said the steward, quickly; "only I fear that your
ladyship has been imposed upon?"
Syd moved to the mantelpiece and began to examine the mechanism of a
magnificent skeleton clock.
"Imposed upon? But the girl has gone to the situation in town?"
"Ahem! No, my lady; the report I hear is that she has gone to fulfil an
engagement with some dramatic agent who trains young people for--"
"The theatre?"
"No, my lady, for the music-halls."
"Oh!" ejaculated Lady Lisle. "Dreadful--dreadful!"
Syd's face was a study in the mirror behind the clock, as he placed one
foot on the polished kerb and screwed up his mouth, listening with all
his might.
"Yes, my lady, it is very sad. But I'm afraid that several of the
better-looking girls in the neighbourhood have had their heads turned by
the great success which has attended a Miss Mary Ann Simpkins in
London."
_Crash_!
"Good gracious me!" cried Lady Lisle, starting up at the noise.
"It's nothing, auntie," cried Syd, excitedly. "Foot slipped on the
fender--nothing broken."
The boy turned, with his face flushed, and his voice sounded husky.
"But that vase you knocked over, my dear?"
"It was trying to save myself, auntie. It isn't even cracked."
"But you've hurt yourself, my child?"
"Oh, no, auntie, not a bit," said the boy, with a forced laugh.
"Pray be careful, my dear."
"All right, auntie," said the boy, and he stooped down to begin
rearranging the poker and shovel, which he had kicked off the fire-dog
to clatter on the encaustic tiles.
"Pray go on, Mr Trimmer. How grievous that such a scandal should befall
our peaceful village. A Miss--er--Miss--"
"Mary Ann Simpkins, my lady."
"Simpkins, Simpkins? Surely I know the name?"
"Yes, my lady, and I daresay you've seen her at Tilborough. Very pretty
girl--daughter of Sam Simpkins."
"What, at the hotel?"
"Yes, my lady," said the agent, with sad deference. "He is the trainer
and keeper of racing stables--Tilborough Arms."
"Yes, yes, I know. Ah! what a home for the poor girl! No wonder. But
you said something about turning the girls' heads."
"Yes, my lady. She went into training in town."
"Ran away from home, of course?"
"Oh, no, my lady. Simpkins had her educated in London for that sort of
thing--singing and dancing."
"Shocking! Shocking!"
"Yes, my lady. Her father has shares in one of the great music-halls,
the Orphoean. I am told that she is quite the rage. You see, some of
the young people here knew her at school. Such things quite spoil them
for service."
"And all originating in this dreadful racing, Mr Trimmer. If it had not
been for this, Mr Simpkins--"
"Exactly, my lady; but I beg your pardon for introducing so unpleasant a
subject."
"Do not apologise, Mr Trimmer; it was quite right. I must see the
parents of any of the girls who have tendencies in that direction, and
Daniel Smart's daughter must certainly be brought back."
"Yes, my lady," said the agent. "Now let us change the subject. How is
Sir Hilton's canvass progressing?"
"Admirably, my lady. You see, we have all the influence upon our side;
but I think it is about time now for Sir Hilton to show a little--just a
little--more interest in the matter."
"Of course, Mr Trimmer; he shall."
"He need not do much, my lady, beyond a little visiting amongst the
voters, and, say, addressing three or four meetings. Our Parliamentary
agent has prepared the heads of a very telling speech for him, a summary
of which, my lady, you will find in that packet marked `b' and endorsed
`Address.'"
"Certainly! Will go into the matter with Sir Hilton. His election will
follow in due course."
"Yes, my lady--it is a certainty. Lord Beltower has withdrawn."
"Very wise of him."
"There is that Mr Watcombe, the big brewer, still in the field, and he
has some influence, especially at Tilborough amongst the racing people;
but, of course, he has not a chance."
"A brewer? Faugh!"
"Yes, my lady; the man's pretensions are absurd. Will you go through
the estate accounts this morning?"
"Impossible now, Mr Trimmer; the news you have given me is too
disturbing, and besides, Sir Hilton will be down here to breakfast.
That will do now."
"Thank you, my lady--er--er--"
"Yes, Mr Trimmer?" said the lady, looking up inquiringly.
"I am very sorry to make a request, my lady, at such a time, especially
as there is a good deal requires looking over at the farm just now; but
I should be greatly obliged if your ladyship could spare me for the rest
of the day."
"Oh, certainly, Mr Trimmer," said Lady Lisle, looking at her sedate
steward so wonderingly that he felt it necessary to make some
explanation.
"I regret to say that I have had a telegram from London, my lady--an
aged relative--very ill, and expressing a desire to see me."
"Hullo!" said Sydney to himself; "the old humbug smells a legacy."
"Pray go at once, Mr Trimmer."
"Oh, thank you, my lady. You always are so sympathetic in a case of
trouble."
"I hope so, Mr Trimmer. Can I do anything for her, or for you?"
"Oh, no, my lady. Your permission is all I want. I am in hopes that my
presence will be of some benefit to her. I am her favourite nephew."
"Then pray go at once. You will return to-night, of course?"
"Oh, yes, my lady; but I fear that I shall have to make it the last
train."
"Of course. Give Sir Hilton's man orders to meet you with the dogcart
at the station. I would say stop as long as is necessary with the poor
old invalid were it not that I wish you to be on the spot to watch over
the progress of Sir Hilton's Parliamentary affairs. Just now they are
vital."
"Exactly, my lady. Good-morning, my lady, and thank you for your
kindness."