A Drake by George! Part 8

"They'm the new folk to Black Anchor," explained Bessie. "Mr. Brock used to keep a post office, they ses, but it failed, and now he'm farming wi'

Sidney, and they ha' got no woman, and they took Black Anchor because 'twas to be had vor nothing nearly, and 'tis wonderful, Robert ses, what a lot they ha' done already."

"The post office failed!" exclaimed Miss Yard, who had been listening intently with a hand behind her ear. "What a pity! Now I shan't be able to write any more letters."

"Mr. Brock's post office, miss," cried Bessie. "It was a shop as well, but it didn't pay."

"How much does he want?" asked Miss Yard, searching for her reticule.

"Nothing, miss."

"What's he come for then? I hope he hasn't brought a telegram."

"He's one of the choirmen, Sophy," exclaimed Mrs. Drake, adding, "But I don't know why he should come here."

"He's just brought your Nellie home," said Kezia.

"Oh, I am so thankful!" cried Miss Yard. "I knew Nellie would be lost, going out these dreadful dark nights."

"She only went to choir practice, miss. Sidney is her young man now, and they'll make the best looking couple in Highfield," said Bessie.

"How silly of you to tell her that!" said Mrs. Drake crossly.

Miss Yard said nothing for a few moments. She stared at the mummy, then at the grandfather clock, which was no longer in working order; and presently her poor old face began to twitch and tears rolled down her cheeks. She tried to rise, but Kezia restrained her with kindly hands, saying, "Don't worry, miss. Sidney is a very nice young man, and I'm sure Nellie couldn't do much better."

"She never told me," sobbed Miss Yard.

"Perhaps she did, but you know you don't remember anything," said Mrs.

Drake soothingly.

"My memory is as good as yours. I can remember you eating a lot of chocolate on your fifth birthday, and being suddenly sick in the fender.

Nellie has run away and got married--and I never gave her a wedding present--and I can't get on without her. You know, Maria, I never did like that fat woman at the post office."

"What has she got to do with Nellie?"

"You told me Nellie had to marry the man because the post office failed--and that woman opens my letters and reads them."

"Call Nellie and tell her to put Miss Sophy to bed," ordered Mrs. Drake.

"The young man's waiting outside," Kezia reminded her.

"Ask him in, and give him a cup of coffee. And, when she has gone to bed, tell him to come in here. I want to see what he is like. Get Nellie, quick!" cried the lady; for Miss Yard had got away from her chair and was knocking things over.

Nellie appeared in full flower, to scold her mistress for not remaining dormant until her usual bedtime; but on this occasion Miss Yard rebelled against discipline.

"You have deceived me," she said bitterly. "You have been a little viper. Everybody in this house deceives me, and keeps things from me, except George. He is the only gentleman here. He's the only one who knows how to behave properly. When I hit my head upon the door, he was sorry for me; but you laughed, and my sister laughed, and everybody's laughing now except George. He knows how hard it is to walk out of a room without hurting yourself."

"It's so easy to laugh somehow," said Nellie.

"Why did you marry the postman without telling me?"

"I have not married the postman, and I'm not thinking of getting married; and what's more I won't marry while I have you to look after,"

Nellie promised.

"But you went out and got lost, and some man found you, and they all say you married him."

"There wasn't time," said Nellie. "Now come away to bed, and we'll talk about it in the morning."

"I hope we shall be able to forget all the malice and wickedness. Maria, do let us try to begin all over again," said Miss Yard earnestly. "This evil speaking and slandering is so dreadful. You tried to take away poor Nellie's character; you heard Kezia say she was a regular bad girl; and that horrid Bessie, who will _not_ stop growing, said it was because the woman at the post office couldn't sell her stamps, and then the postman tempted her to run off with him."

"But he didn't succeed," said the laughing girl, as she conveyed Miss Yard towards the stairs.

As they disappeared George entered the house, and observed to his aunt that the night was warm. Mrs. Drake felt cold towards her nephew, whose letter of appointment had not yet arrived, but she thawed sufficiently to inquire whether he knew anything about the Brocks. George became suspicious, and answered guardedly:

"The old man is a marvel. He cooks the food and keeps the house tidy, and puts in a good day's work as well upon the worst farm in the parish.

But the people don't like him much."

"Why not?" demanded Mrs. Drake.

"They think it's queer a man should do a woman's work; and some of them say it's not quite decent."

His voice died away into a gasp of amazement, for that moment Kezia announced Sidney, and that young fellow appeared upon the carpet. George had been about to give him a remarkably good character, but was now disposed to reconsider his decision; especially when Mrs. Drake, after a few preliminary remarks, introduced the name of Nellie. George immediately withdrew to a back window and began to search for flies.

"She is a very good girl, and my sister is wonderfully attached to her,"

Mrs. Drake resumed.

"Same here," said Sidney promptly.

"I don't know whether you are engaged to her," said Mrs. Drake.

"Well, we don't exactly get engaged. We just walk together until we can get married, and then we do it," exclaimed Sidney.

"I hope you won't ask her to marry you while my sister is alive."

"Nellie wouldn't leave Miss Yard, and 'twould be no gude my asking her."

"Do you think the farm will pay?" was Mrs. Drake's next question.

"We'll get a living out of it, sure enough," replied Sidney cheerfully.

"The last folk left it in a pretty bad state--they let the bog get into the best field, and the whole place is vull of verm--but there's plenty of gude soil. 'Twill take a year to get straight, and after that we shall go ahead. Grandfather's past seventy, but he's vor ten hours a day yet."

"An example for some men," commented the lady, with a shrug of her shoulders towards the fly killer. "The finest man in the world--that's grandfather. There ain't hardly a job he can't do, whether 'tis man's work or woman's work."

"How old are you?"

"Past nineteen."

"Would you marry a girl older than yourself?"