"There she be!" he exclaimed; "There be the little gel wot I used to
know when she was a babby, God bless 'er! Jes' the same eyes and
'air and purty face of 'er! Welcome 'ome to th' owld Squire's
daughter, mates! D'ye 'ear me!" And he turned a dim rolling eye of
command on Spruce and Bainton--"I sez welcome 'ome! And when I sez
it I'spect it to be said arter me by the both of ye,--welcome 'ome!"
Spruce, unable to hear a word of this exordium, smiled sheepishly,--
and twirling the cap he held, put his coloured handkerchief into it
and squeezed it tightly within the lining. Bainton, with the
impending fate of the Five Sisters in view, judged it advisable not
to irritate or disobey the old gentleman whom he had brought forward
as special pleader in the case, and gathering his wits together he
spoke out bravely.
"Welcome 'ome, it is, Josey!" he said; "We both sez it, and we both
means it! And we 'opes the young lady will not take it amiss as 'ow
we've come to see 'er on the first night of 'er return, and wish 'er
'appy in the old 'ouse and long may she remain in it!"
Here he broke off, his eloquence being greatly disturbed by the
gracious smile Maryllia gave him.
"Thank you so much!" she murmured sweetly; and then going up to
Josey Letherbarrow, she patted the brown wrinkled hand that grasped
the stick. "How kind and good of you to come and see me! And so you
knew me when I was a little girl? I hope I was nice to you! Was I?"
Josey waved his straw hat speechlessly. His first burst of
enthusiasm over, he was somewhat dazed, and a little uncertain as to
how he should next proceed with his mission,
"Tell 'er as 'ow the Five Sisters be chalked;" growled Bainton in an
undertone.
But Josey's mind had gone wandering far afield, groping amid
memories of the past, and his aged eyes were fixed on Maryllia with
a strange look of wonder and remembrance commingled.
"Th' owld Squire! Th' owld Squire!" he muttered; "I see 'im now--as
broad an' tall and well-set up a gentleman as ever lived--and sez
he: 'Josey, that little white thing is all I've got left of the wife
I was bringin' 'ome to be the sunshine of the old Manor.' Ay, he
said that! 'Its eyes are like those of my Dearest!' Ay, he said
that, too! The little white thing! She's 'ere,--and th' owld
Squire's gone!"
The pathos of his voice struck Maryllia to the heart,--and for the
moment she could not keep back a few tears that gathered, despite
herself, and glistened on her long lashes. Furtively she dashed them
away, but not before Bainton had seen them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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