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"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 canva.s.s 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 Lord Beltower has withdrawn."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 ladys.h.i.+p 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."
Lady Lisle smiled and bowed, raising her hand in a queenly way, as if
to hold it out for her retainer to kiss, but contenting herself by giving it a slight wave towards the door.
"Good-morning, Mr Sydney. A delicious morning, sir; a nice breeze."
"Oh, was it?" said the boy, rather surlily.
"Yes, sir; the trout were rising freely as I pa.s.sed over the bridge in the lower meadows."
"Humph!"
"I thought I would mention it, sir. I fancy the May-fly are up."
Sydney nodded, and the steward reached the door, but returned, taking out his pocket-book, after placing the black bag upon a chair.
"I beg your ladys.h.i.+p's pardon, but I omitted to show your ladys.h.i.+p a paragraph I cut out of this morning's county paper."
Lady Lisle took the sc.r.a.p handed to her respectfully. "Thank you, Mr Trimmer. Oh! Yes. Listen, Sydney, my dear. Listen. This will interest you. Electioneering!" and she read aloud--