The Laird's Luck and Other Fireside TalesQuiller-Couch, Arthur
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The Laird's Luck and Other Fireside Tales
Quiller-Couch, Arthur
Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction; Short stories, English
If she wished, or struggled, to say more he did not seem to observe
it, but rose from his chair, stooped and kissed her on the forehead,
and resolutely marched out to his garden. He worked that afternoon in
a small patch which commanded a view of the ferry and also of the road
leading up to Hall: and at half-past three, or a few minutes later,
dropped his spade and strolled down to the edge of his property, a low
cliff overhanging the ferry-slip.
"Hullo, Zeke!"
Zeke, as he stepped out of the ferry-boat, looked with some confusion
on his face. He wore his best suit, with a bunch of sweet-william in
his button-hole.
"Come to bid us good-bye, I s'pose? We've heard of your luck. Here,
scramble up this way if you can manage, and shake hands on your
fortune."
Zeke obeyed. The climb seemed to fluster him; but the afternoon was a
hot one, in spite of a light westerly breeze. The two men moved side
by side across the garden-slope, and as they did so John caught sight
of a twinkle of sunshine on Captain Tangye's brass telescope across
the harbour.
They paused beside one of the heaps of rubbish. "This is a fine thing
for you, Zeke."
"Ay, pretty fair."
"I s'pose we sha'n't be seein' much of you now. 'Tis like an end of
old times. I reckoned we'd have a pipe together afore partin'." John
pulled out a stumpy clay and filled it. "Got a match about you?"
Zeke passed him one, and he struck it on his boot. "There, now," he
went on, "I meant to set a light to these here heaps of rubbish this
afternoon, and now I've come out without my matches." He waited for
the sulphur to finish bubbling, and then began to puff.
Zeke handed him half-a-dozen matches.
"I dunno how many 'twill take," said John. "S'pose we go round together
and light up. 'Twont' take us a quarter of an hour, an' we can talk by
the way."
Ten minutes later, Captain Tangye, across the harbour, shut his
telescope with an angry snap. The smoke of five-and-twenty bonfires
crawled up the hillside and completely hid John Penaluna's garden--hid
the two figures standing there, hid the little summer-house at the top
of the slope. It was enough to make a man swear, and Captain Tangye
swore.
John Penaluna drew a long breath.
"Well, good-bye and bless 'ee, Zeke. Hester's up in the summer-house.
I won't go up with 'ee; my back's too stiff. Go an' make your adoos to
her; she's cleverer than I be, and maybe will tell 'ee what we've both
got in our minds."
This was the third rash thing that John Penaluna did.
He watched Zeke up the hill, till the smoke hid him. Then he picked up
his spade. "Shall I find her, when I step home this evening? Please
God, yes."
And he did. She was there by the supper-table? waiting for him. Her
eyes were red. John pretended to have dropped something, and went back
for a moment to look for it. When he returned, neither spoke.
VI
Years passed--many years. Their life ran on in its old groove.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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