"You'll p'r'aps see my old 'ooman, sir. If you do, just give her my
respects, an' say the last pair o' divin' drawers she knitted for me was
fust-rate. Tightish, if anything, round the waist, but a bit o'
rope-yarn putt that all right--they're warm an' comfortable. Good-bye,
I wish you joy again, sir."
"Good-bye," replied Edgar.
It was impossible that our hero could follow his inclination, and nod
with his stiff-necked iron head-piece at parting. He therefore made the
motion of kissing his hand to his trusty man, and giving the requisite
signal, spread his arms like a pair of wings, and flew up to the realms
of light!
Joe grinned broadly, and made the motion of kissing his hand to the
ponderous soles of his employer's leaden boots as they passed him, then,
turning to the granite masonry at his side, he bent down and resumed his
work.
Arrived at the region of atmospheric air, Edgar Berrington clambered on
board the attending vessel, took off his amphibious clothing, and
arrayed himself in the ordinary habiliments of a gentleman, after which
he went ashore, gave some instructions to the keeper of his lodgings,
ordered his horse, galloped to the nearest railway station, flashed a
telegraphic message to Miss Pritty to expect to see him that evening,
and soon found himself rushing at forty miles an hour, away from the
scene of his recent labours.
Receiving a telegraph envelope half-an-hour later, Miss Pritty turned
pale, laid it on the table, sank on the sofa, shut her eyes, and
attempted to reduce the violent beating of her heart, by pressing her
left side tightly with both hands.
"It _must_ be death!--or accident!" she murmured faintly to herself, for
she happened to be alone at the time.
Poor Miss Pritty had no near relations in the world except Edgar, and
therefore there was little or no probability that any one would
telegraph to her in connection with accident or death, nevertheless she
entertained such an unconquerable horror of a telegram, that the mere
sight of the well-known envelope, with its large-type title, gave her a
little shock; the reception of one was almost too much for her.
After suffering tortures for about as long a time as the telegram had
taken to reach her, she at last summoned courage to open the envelope.
The first words, "Edgar Berrington," induced a little scream of alarm.
The next, "to Miss Pritty," quieted her a little. When, however, she
learned that instead of being visited by news of death and disaster, she
was merely to be visited by her nephew that same evening, all anxiety
vanished from her speaking countenance, and was replaced by a mixture of
surprise and amusement. Then she sat down on the sofa--from which, in
her agitation, she had risen--and fell into a state of perplexity.
"Now I _do_ wish," she said, aloud, "that Eddy had had the sense to tell
me whether I am to let his friends the Hazlits know of his impending
visit. Perhaps he telegraphed to me on purpose to give me time to call
and prepare them for his arrival. On the other hand, perhaps he wishes
to take them by surprise. It may be that he is not on good terms with
Mr Hazlit, and intends to use me as a go-between. What _shall_ I do?"
As her conscience was not appealed to in the matter, it gave no reply to
the question; having little or no common sense to speak of, she could
scarcely expect much of an answer from that part of her being. At last
she made up her mind, and, according to a habit induced by a life of
solitude, expressed it to the fireplace.
"Yes, that's what I'll do. I shall wait till near the time of the
arrival of the last train, and then go straight off to Sea Cottage to
spend the evening, leaving a message that if any one should call in my
absence I am to be found there. This will give him an excuse, if he
wants one, for calling, and if he does not want an excuse he can remain
here till my return. I'll have the fire made up, and tell my domestic
to offer tea to any one who should chance to call."
Miss Pritty thought it best, on the whole, to give an ambiguous order
about the tea to her small domestic, for she knew that lively creature
to be a compound of inquisitiveness and impudence, and did not choose to
tell her who it was that she expected to call. She was very emphatic,
however, in impressing on the small domestic the importance of being
very civil and attentive, and of offering tea, insomuch that the child
protested with much fervour that she would be _sure_ to attend to
orders.
This resulted in quite an evening's amusement to the small domestic.
After Miss Pritty had gone out, the first person who chanced to call was
the spouse of Mr Timms, the green-grocer, who had obviously recovered
from her illness.
"Is Miss Pritty at 'ome?" she asked.
"No, ma'am, she ain't, she's hout," answered the small domestic.
"Ah! Well, it don't much matter. I on'y called to leave this 'ere
little present of cabbidges an' cawliflowers--with Mr Timms' kind
compliments and mine. She's been wery kind to us, 'as Miss Pritty, an'
we wishes to acknowledge it."
"Please, ma'am," said the domestic with a broad smile, as she took the
basket of vegetables, "would you like a cup of tea?"
"What d'you mean, girl?" asked the green-grocer's wife in surprise.
"Please, ma'am, Miss Pritty told me to be sure to offer you a cup of
tea."
"Did she, indeed? That's was wery kind of her, wery kind, though 'ow
she come for to know I was a-goin' to call beats my comprehension.
'Owever, tell her I'm greatly obleeged to her, but 'avin 'ad tea just
afore comin' out, an' bein' chock-full as I can 'old, I'd rather not.
Best thanks, all the same."
Mrs Timms went away deeply impressed with Miss Pritty's thoughtful
kindness, and the small domestic, shutting the door, indulged in a fit
of that species of suppressed laughter which is usually indicated by a
series of spurts through the top of the nose and the compressed lips.
She was suddenly interrupted by a tap at the knocker.
Allowing as many minutes to elapse as she thought would have sufficed
for her ascent from the kitchen, she once more opened the door. It was
only a beggar--a ragged disreputable man--and she was about to shut the
door in his face, with that summary politeness so well understood by
servant girls, when a thought struck her.
"Oh, sir," she said, "would you like a cup of tea?"
The man evidently thought he was being made game of, for his face
assumed such a threatening aspect that the small domestic incontinently
shut the door with a sudden bang. The beggar amused himself by
battering it with his stick for five minutes and then went away.
The next visitor was a lady.
"Is Miss Pritty at home, child?" she asked, regarding the domestic with
a half-patronising, half-pitying air.
"No, ma'am, she's hout."
"Oh! That's a pity," said the lady, taking a book out of her pocket.
"Will you tell her that I called for her subscription to the new
hospital that is about to be built in the town? Your mistress does not
know me personally, but she knows all about the hospital, and this book,
which I shall call for to-morrow, will speak for itself. Be sure you
give it to her, child."
"Yes, ma'am. And, please, ma'am, would you like a cup of tea?"
The lady, who happened to possess a majestic pair of eyes, looked so
astonished that the small domestic could scarcely contain herself.
"Are you deranged, child?" asked the lady.
"No, ma'am, if you please; but Miss Pritty told me to be sure to offer
you a cup."
"To offer _me_ a cup, child!"
"Yes, ma'am. At least to offer a cup to any one who should call."
It need scarcely be added that the lady declined the tea, and went away,
observing to herself in an undertone, that "she _must_ be deranged."
The small domestic again shut the door and spurted.
It was in her estimation quite a rare, delicious, and novel species of
fun. To one whose monotonous life was spent underground, with a
prospect of bricks at two feet from her window, and in company with
pots, pans, potato-peelings, and black-beetles, it was as good as a
scene in a play.
The next visitor was the butcher's boy, who came round to take "orders"
for the following day. This boy had a tendency to chaff.
"Well, my lady, has your ladyship any orders?"
"Nothink to-day," answered the domestic, curtly.
"What! Nothink at all? Goin' to fast to-morrow, eh? Or to live on
stooed hatmospheric hair with your own sauce for gravey--hey?"
"No, we doesn't want nothink," repeated the domestic, stoutly. "Missus
said so, an' she bid me ask you if you'd like a cup of tea?"
The butcher's boy opened his mouth and eyes in amazement. To have his
own weapons thus turned, as he thought, against him by one who was
usually rather soft and somewhat shy of him, took him quite aback. He
recovered, however, quickly, and made a rush at the girl, who, as
before, attempted to shut the door with a bang, but the boy was too
sharp for her. His foot prevented her succeeding, and there is no doubt
that in another moment he would have forcibly entered the house, if he
had not been seized from behind by the collar in the powerful grasp of
Edgar Berrington, who sent him staggering into the street. The boy did
not wait for more. With a wild-Indian war-whoop he turned and fled.
Excited, and, to some extent, exasperated by this last visit, the small
domestic received Edgar with a one-third timid, one-third gleeful, and
one-third reckless spirit.
"What did the boy mean?" asked Edgar, as he turned towards her.
"Please, sir, 'e wouldn't 'ave a cup of tea, sir," she replied meekly,
then, with a gleam of hope in her eyes--"Will _you_ 'ave one, sir?"
"You're a curious creature," answered Edgar, with a smile. "Is Miss
Pritty at home?"
"No, sir, she ain't."
This answer appeared to surprise and annoy him.
"Very odd," he said, with a little frown. "Did she not expect me?"
"No, sir, I think she didn't. Leastways she didn't say as she did, but
she was very partikler in tellin' me to be sure to hoffer you a cup of
tea."
Edgar looked at the small domestic, and, as he looked, his mouth
expanded. _Her_ mouth followed suit, and they both burst into a fit of
laughter. After a moment or two the former recovered.
"This is all very pleasant, no doubt," he said, "but it is uncommonly
awkward. Did she say when she would be home?"
"No, sir, she didn't, but she bid me say if any one wanted her, that
they'd find her at Sea Cottage."
"At Sea Cottage--who lives there?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Where is it?"
"On the sea-shore, sir."
"Which way--_this_ way or _that_ way?" asked Edgar, pointing right and
left.
"_That_ way," answered the girl, pointing left.
The impatient youth turned hastily to leave.
"Please, sir--" said the domestic.
"Well," said Edgar, stopping.
"You're sure, sir--" she stopped.
"Well?--go on."
"That you wouldn't like to 'ave a cup of tea?"
"Child," said Edgar, as he turned finally away, "you're mad--as mad as a
March hare."
"Thank you, sir."
The small domestic shut the door and retired to the regions below,
where, taking the pots and pans and black-beetles into her confidence,
she shrieked with delight for full ten minutes, and hugged herself.