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 passed 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 ladyship’s pardon, but I omitted to show your ladyship a paragraph I cut out of this morning’s county paper.”
Lady Lisle took the scrap handed to her respectfully. “Thank you, Mr Trimmer. Oh! Yes. Listen, Sydney, my dear. Listen. This will interest you. Electioneering!” and she read aloud —
“‘We understand that Mr Watcombe, the well-known London brewer – ’” Her ladyship stopped and frowned.
“Yes, auntie; I hear,” cried the boy – “brewer – ?”
“‘Is making strenuous efforts to gain the seat for the Tilborough division of the county. He is now in Paris, but upon his return he will commence his campaign by delivering a series of addresses to the voters. The first, we understand, will be given at the Tilborough Arms Hotel.’”
“Pah!” ejaculated Lady Lisle, making as if to throw down the fragment of paper.
“Pray read on, my lady.” Her ladyship rearranged her pince-nez and continued, beginning in a contemptuous tone of voice, which changed as she went on —
“‘But the gallant brewer, whose beer finds but little favour in this district, will learn that he has an extremely dangerous rival in our popular resident squire of the Denes – Sir Hilton Lisle, of sporting fame, who, to deal in vaticinations, we consider will be the right man in the right place.’”
“He-ah, he-ah!” cried Sydney. “So he will.”
“Yes, my dear,” said his aunt, smiling at the boy’s enthusiasm; “the editor means well, but it is very vulgarly written, ‘of sporting fame.’ Bah!”
“But that’s right, auntie. Uncle used to be very famous. Wasn’t he Master of the Hounds six years ago?”
“Yes, my dear, to his sorrow,” said Lady Lisle, reprovingly.
The steward shook his head, and looked up as he passed out, with studied deliberation, as if to let the lady see how marked was the resemblance between his action and that of the steward in Hogarth’s picture “Marriage à la Mode,” while the lady portion of his audience moved towards the other door.
“Going out, auntie?”
“Yes, my dear, for a short drive down the village. The pony-carriage will be round in a few minutes. I was going to the vicarage, but my first call will be at the Smarts’. I should like you to go with me.”
“Go with you, auntie?” said the boy, in a hesitating voice.
“Yes, my dear. Do you not wish to go?”
“I did, auntie, but after what Mr Trimmer said about the trout rising, and the May-fly – you see, they only come once a year.”
“Oh, very well, my darling; I suppose I must not object to your liking to fish. Isaac Walton was quite a poet.”
“Regular, auntie; and the Prince says fishing begets a love of Nature.”
“Who does, my dear?”
“The Prince – the Principal, auntie. He’s a regular dab at throwing a fly.”
Lady Lisle winced again but screwed up a smile, and made no allusion to the dab, which seemed to strike her in the face like a cold frog – tree frog – and made her wince. “You will be back to lunch, my dear?”
“Well, no, auntie. You see, the May-fly only rise once a year, and I thought I’d make a long day of it.”
“Then tell Jane to cut you some sandwiches, and pray be careful not to fall in. You will bring us a dish of trout for dinner?”
“Oh, yes, of course, auntie, if they rise.”
“Oh, Hilton, how late you are!” sighed the lady, and her stiff dress rustled over the carpet as she moved forward in a stately way, frowning, and then smiling with satisfaction, for her nephew darted to the door to throw it open, catching directly at the soft white hand extended to him and kissing it. Then, closing the door, he indulged in a frantic kind of dance, expressive of the most extreme delight, one, however, which came to a sudden end, the boy stopping short in a most absurd position as if suddenly turned to stone, for the door was quickly opened and a head was thrust into the room.
Chapter Three.
Four People’s Skeletons
“Hi! You, Jane, what are you always listening at the door for?”
“So as to be ready to see you coming your games,” said the maid, laughing, “Ha, ha, ha! He thought it was his aunt, ketching him on the hop!”
“That I didn’t, old saucy one.”
“Yes, you did, and I’ve a good mind to tell her what a beauty you are – there!”
“Do; and I’ll tell her what I saw in the shrubbery last week. Mark my words; see if I don’t I will; mark my words.”
“You tell if you dare!” cried the maid, with flaming face.
“Oh, I dare.”
“But you won’t. You wouldn’t be such a coward. I say, going out?”
“Yes, I want some sandwiches – a good lot. And, look here, get uncle’s flask and half fill it with milk, and then fill it up with sherry.”
“What for? What are you going to do?”
“The May-fly’s up.”
“Up
