England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; River life -- Fiction
During the next day or two his appetite failed, and other well-known
symptoms set in. Miss Rose, diagnosing them all, prescribed by stealth
some bitter remedies. The farmer regarded his change of manner with
disapproval, and, concluding that it was due to his own complaints,
sought to reassure him. He also pointed out that his daughter’s opinion
of the aristocracy was hardly likely to increase if the only member she
knew went about the house as though he had just lost his grandmother.
“You are longing for the gayeties of town, my lord,” he remarked one
morning at breakfast.
His lordship shook his head. The gayeties comprised, amongst other
things, a stool and a desk.
“I don’t like town,” he said, with a glance at Jane. “If I had my
choice I would live here always. I would sooner live here in this
charming spot with this charming society than anywhere.”
Mr. Rose coughed and, having caught his eye, shook his head at him and
glanced significantly over at the unconscious Jane. The young man
ignored his action and, having got an opening, gave utterance in the
course of the next ten minutes to Radical heresies of so violent a type
that the farmer could hardly keep his seat. Social distinctions were
condemned utterly, and the House of Lords referred to as a human
dust-bin. The farmer gazed open-mouthed at this snake he had nourished.
“Your lordship will alter your mind when you get to town,” said Jane,
demurely.
“Never!” declared the other, impressively.
The girl sighed, and gazing first with much interest at her parent, who
seemed to be doing his best to ward off a fit, turned her lustrous eyes
upon the guest.
“We shall all miss you,” she said, softly. “You’ve been a lesson to all
of us.”
“Lesson?” he repeated, flushing.
“It has improved our behavior so, having a lord in the house,” said
Miss Rose, with painful humility. “I’m sure father hasn’t been like the
same man since you’ve been here.”
“What d’ye mean Miss?” demanded the farmer, hotly.
“Don’t speak like that before his lordship, father,” said his daughter,
hastily. “I’m not blaming you; you’re no worse than the other men about
here. You haven’t had an opportunity of learning before, that’s all. It
isn’t your fault.”
“Learning?” bellowed the farmer, turning an inflamed visage upon his
apprehensive guest. “Have you noticed anything wrong about my
behavior?”
“Certainly not,” said his lordship, hastily.
“All I know is,” continued Miss Rose, positively, “I wish you were
going to stay here another six months for father’s sake.”
“Look here—” began Mr. Rose, smiting the table.
“And Annie’s,” said Jane, raising her voice above the din. “I don’t
know which has improved the most. I’m sure the way they both drink
their tea now—”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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