Cursed by a Fortune Part 32

"Well?"

"Hey?"

"What then?"

"What then? Nothin' as I knows on. Yes, there weer; he puts his arm round her waist, and she give him a dowse in the faace."

"Humph! Which way did they go then?"

"Up road."

"Did you follow them?"

"What'd I got to follow 'em for? Shouldn't want n.o.body to follow me when I went out wi' a gal."

Wilton frowned.

"Did you see any carriage about, waiting?"

"Naw."

"What did you do then?"

"Waited till they was out o' sight."

"Yes, and what then?"

"Ketched sparrers, and they arn't game."

The lout looked round, grinning at all present, as if he had posed the magistrate in whose presence he was standing, till his eyes lit on Mrs Wilton, who was listening to him intently, and to her he raised his hand, pa.s.sing the open palm upward past his face till it was as high as he could reach, and then descending the arc of a circle, a movement supposed in rustic schools to represent a most respectful bow.

"Ah, Barker, Barker!" said the recipient, shaking her head at him; "you never come to the Sunday school now."

"Grow'd too big, missus," said the lad, grinning, and then noisily using his cuff for the pocket-handkerchief he lacked.

"We are never too big to learn to be good, Barker," continued Mrs Wilton, "and I'm afraid you are growing a bad boy now."

"Oh, I don't know, missus; I shouldn't be a bad 'un if there was no game."

"That will do, that will do," said the Squire, impatiently. "That's all you know, then, sir?"

"Oh, no; I knows a lot more than that," said the lad, grinning.

"Then why the deuce don't you speak?"

"What say?"

"Tell me what more you know about Mr Claud and the lady, and I'll give you another s.h.i.+lling."

"Will yer?" cried the lad, eagerly. "Well, I've seed'd 'em five or six times afore going along by the copse and down the narrow lane, and I sin him put his arm round her oncet, and I was close by, lying clost to a rabbud hole; and she says, 'How dare you, sir! how dare you!' just like that I dunno any more, and that makes two s.h.i.+llin'."

"There; be off. Take him away, Samuel, and give him a horn of beer."

"Yes sir--Now, then, come on."

But the lad stood and grinned, first at the Squire and then at Mrs Wilton, rubbing his hands down his sides the while.

"D'yer hear?" whispered the footman, as the groom opened the door.

"Come on."

"Sheeawn't."

"Come on. Beer."

"But he arn't give me the two s.h.i.+llings yet."

"Eh? Oh, forgot," said the Squire.

"Gahn. None o' your games. Couldn't ha' forgetted it so soon."

"There--Take him away."

Wilton held out a couple of s.h.i.+llings, and the fellow s.n.a.t.c.hed them, bit both between his big white teeth, stuffed one in each pocket, made Mrs Wilton another bow, and turned to go; but his wardrobe had been sadly neglected, and at the first step one of the s.h.i.+llings trickled down the leg of his trousers, escaped the opening into his ill-laced boot, rattled on the polished oaken floor, and then ran along, after the fas.h.i.+on of coins, to hide itself in the darkest corner of the room. But Barker was too sharp for it, and forgetting entirely the lessons he had learned at school about ordering "himself lowly and reverently to all his betters," he shouted: "Loo, loo, loo!" pounced upon it like a cat does upon a mouse, picked it up, and thrust it where it could join its fellow, and turned to Mrs Wilton.

"Hole in the pocket," he said, confidentially, and went off to get the beer.

"Bah! Savage!" growled Wilton, as the door closed. "There, Maria, no doubt about it now."

"No, my dear, and we can sleep in peace."

But Mrs Wilton was wrong save and except the little nap she had after dinner while her husband was smoking his pipe; for that night, just before the last light was out--that last light being in the Squire's room where certain arrangements connected with hair and pieces of paper had detained Mrs Wilton nearly half an hour after her husband had announced in regular cadence that he was fast asleep--there came a long ringing at the hall door bell.

It was so utterly unexpected in the silence and solitude of the country place that Mrs Wilton sprang from her seat in front of the dressing-gla.s.s, jarring the table so that a scent-bottle fell with a crash, and injuring her knees.

"James--James!" she cried.

"Eh, what's the matter?" came from the bed, as the Squire sat up suddenly.

"Fire! Fire! Another stack burning, I'm sure."

Wilton sprang out of bed, ran to the window, tore aside the blind, flung open the cas.e.m.e.nt, and looked down.

"Where is it?" he shouted, for he had more than once been summoned from his bed to rick fires.

"Where's what?" came in a familiar voice.

Wilton darted back, letting fall the blind.

"Slip on your dressing gown," he said, hastily, "and pull out those confounded things from your hair. They've come back."