Lady Sweetapple; or, Three to One, Chapter XXX [pp. 511-514]

1872.] LADY S WEETAPPLE; OR, THREE TO ONE. 511
'find me, yesterday. He missed me, and came
into possession of the letter which I had writ ten to him. By a curious accident he is now
returned under my notice, and I will answer
for him henceforth. The man is free."
Several voices loudly demurred.
"You will find the true culprit outside the
door," said the justice, quietly; "he was ar rested while we have been examining Martin."
The justice crossed over to the prisoner.
HIe was weeping. He produced two coins.
' There was nine cents, sir, and I return'em
safe. You've got the fivepenny piece and
the twopenny;'ere's the rest."
The restitution completed the comedy.
The man took his hat and staff and lumbered
,down to the floor. The little girl gave him
her hand. His sister kissed him. The crowd
made a lane for the three. They met the
barn-burner coming in.
ALBERT WEBSTER, JR.
LADY SWEETAPPLE; OR,
THREE TO ONE.
CHAPTER XXX.
IN THE SHADE BY THE RIVER'S BANK.
THAT was Friday morning, you know, and
the great question to be settled in the draw ing-room was, What was to be done during
the day? You know Mr. Sonderling was com ing to luncheon; but what was to be done be tween breakfast and that meal? It was too
fine to stay at home, that was certain. Even
Count Pantouffles and Mr. Beeswing gave up
their billiards, and there was a longing for
the open air in the whole party, which was
quite refreshing.
Sir Thomas Carlton, on account of Lord
Pennyroyal, for once gave up going to town
to superintend the issue of the Timbuctoo
Loan. It was soon settled that he should
drive Lord Pennyroyal over to his model farm;
where, what with draining works, and shorthorns, and chaff-cutters, and clod-crushers,
and scarifiers, they might spend the time
profitably till luncheon. Lord Pennyroyal,
like a wise man, never killed his time; he
spent it, and got interest out of it. True to
his character, he had spent many thousand
pounds in draining and improving his estates
:and building good cottages for his tenantry.
Not fine, uncomfortable, architectural cottages, full of smoke and draughts, but solid,
well - planned, well - drained square cottages,
very plain outside, and very nice inside.
He had scarcely ever made a speech in his
life; and on one of these rare occasions he
had expended eloquence which, if reported, would have filled two columns of the
Times, in denouncing to his face the iniquity
of a pretender who had built him a dozen
cottages, every one of which smoked. We
need hardly say that builder never had another chance of suffocating Lord Pennyroyal's
peasantry by smoke. "A smoky chimney,"
-said Lord Pennyrotal, "is worse than a scolding wife. A man may do without his wife,
but, in this climate at least, he must have a
roof over his head; and, if the rooms under
that roof are to be filled with smoke from
morning till night, what can a poor man do
but go to the beer-shop?"
Lord Pennyroyal, therefore, was as glad
to go with Sir Thomas Carlton as Sir Thomas
to show him his improvements, and the two
started in high spirits.
"Dear Lady Pennyroyal," said Lady Carl ton, "I should so like to drive you down to
the river at the bottom of the chase." And
turning to Florry-" Don't you think, Florry,
you might persuade some of the party to walk
down to the river? there's shade, you know,
here and there all across the park, and down
on the bank there are lovely trees."
"I'll try and persuade them," said Florry.
-" Who's ready to follow me to the river?
Hold up your hands."
The result of this was, that every one but
Mrs. Marjoram and Count Pantouffies held up
their hands.
"Why don't you hold your hand up,
count?" said Amicia.
"Because it is too hot," said the count
"Too hot! too hot to hold up your
hand?"
"Oh, no," said the count; "too hot to
walk. I am not a good walker."
"Perhaps mamma will take you in the
pony-carriage," said Florry. Then, turning
to Mrs. Marjoram, she said, "Perhaps Mrs.
Marjoram would like to go, and then there
would be no room for you."
"Oh, pray do not think of me," said Mrs.
Marjoram. "I seldom go out before luncheon;
and, besides, I have my diary to fill up and
letters to write. My time will be fully occupied."
"In that case," said Lady Carlton, "we
can find room for you, count; but I am sure
it would do you a deal of good to walk a little more."
"I do walk so much in town," said the
count; "in the country I try to rest."
So the ponies were ordered, and before
they came to the door the rest of the party
assembled on the terrace, like swallows gathering for a migration. Florry and Alice and
Amicia were among the first. They dressed
as it were by steam, fearing that Harry Fortescue might be snapped up by the other
side. Then came Colonel and Mrs. Barker,
and Mr. Marjoram, and last of all, in a group,
Harry and Edward and Mr. Beeswing and
Count Pantouffles.
"Are we all ready?" said Mr. Beeswing.
"Then start fair, and pray see how slow we
can go. Let it be a donkey-race to the river,
in which the last in wins."
Then they plunged into the sunshine,
though it fortunately was not nearly so hot
as it had been the day before. They made
straight for the river, which was about a
mile off, and could be seen winding round the
park like a silver snake; and every now and
then they stopped for shade under a huge
oak, or chestnut, or beech. At the very first
of these Harry Fortescue threw himself on
the ground, and said they ought to make a
long halt, it was so hot.
"I quite agree with you," said Amicia,
sitting down by his side. Mr. Beeswing and
the rest were for going on, and leaving the
lazy pair by themselves.
"They are like over-driven cattle," said
Mr. Beeswing, "which you see lying so de murely in the middle of a London street.
There they must lie till they are rested, for
no power on earth can make them get up."
"Do you know, I feel very much like a
cow myself," said Florry, throwing herself
down on the grass. "And, Alice, I am sure
you look quite white with fatigue. You had
better sit down; and you too, Mr. Vernon;
and let the rest go on to the river."
"What stuff! " said Colonel Barker.
"Why, we have only marched - I mean
walked-two hundred yards; how can any
one be tired?"
"That depends upon constitution," said
Florry. "Fatigue comes on some people so
suddenly. I felt strong enough till we got
into the heat of the sun, and all at once I felt
so tired, just like Lady Sweetapple; I felt I
could not stir a step till I had some rest."
"I don't understand it," said Colonel
Barker; "our men marched right across the
Runn of Cutch without turning a hair."
"Oh, pray run down to the river with
your Runn of Cutch!" cried Harry; "it
makes me hotter than ever to hear of it."
"Well, if they won't they won't," said
Mr. Beeswing, "and we must leave them as
they are; but I call it very wilful, Miss
Florry."
"Now do go along," said Florry, "and
mind you walk as slowly as a tortoise, as you
said-I won't name the animal you named,
because I don't want to hurt your feelingsbut mind and walk very slowly, and then, as
soon as Lady Sweetapple is rested and I am
rested, we will jump up and run on and catch
you up, and be qt the river's brink before
you. Now do be off, there's a good man."
So the five younger ones were left sitting
on the grass in the shade. When they were
gone, Lady Sweetapple said:
"Why don't you say something, Mr. For.
tescue?"
"Madam," said Harry, mimicking Mr. Son.
derling, "I reflect."
They all laughed at that, and even Amicia
laughed, though she felt the very mention of
Mr. Sonderling brought her on dangerous
ground.
"Yes," said Florry, "capitally imitated,
Mr. Fortescue. What a strange man Mr.
Sonderling is!-Have you known him a very
long time, Lady Sweetapple?"
"A very long time," said Amicia.
"Before you were what you are now?"
said Florry.
"Of course," said Amicia; "how could it
be otherwise?"
"But I mean before you were Lady Sweetapple?"
"Before I was Lady Sweetapple," said
Amicia, nodding assent.
"And if it is not very rude," said Florry,
"might I ask what your name was before it
was Sweetapple?"
This, we know, was very rude of Florry,
but you must forgive her, for she was only
rude because she was so fond of Harry Fortescue. She was cruel, as all women are
when they have their rivals, as they think,
on the hip.
"My name," said Amicia, in her lowest
and sweetest of voices, "was Smith."
1872.]
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511