Part 2 (2/2)
”Lor' no, Sir,” answered Lubin. ”Don't know as I'm over anxious to, either. The garden's a sight, it's true--but it seems there's something queer about the house. Can't make out what it can be, unless the drains are a bit out of order. But it ain't that neither. Sort o'
frightening--so folks say. But lor', some folks'll say anything. I never knew anybody as ever _saw_ anything there. It's only some old woman's yarn, I reckon.”
”Oh, is it haunted? Are there any ghosts?” cried Austin, in great excitement. ”I'd give anything in this world to see a ghost!”
”I don't know as I'd care to sleep in a haunted house myself,” said Lubin, beginning to sweep the lawn. ”Some folks don't mind that sort o' thing, I s'pose; must have got accustomed to it somehow. Then there's those as is born ghost-seers, and others as couldn't see one, not if it was to walk arm-in-arm with 'em to church. Let's hope Mr St Aubyn's one o' that sort, seeing as he's got to live there. It's poor work being a baker if your head's made of b.u.t.ter, I've heard say.”
”Then it _is_ haunted!” exclaimed Austin. ”What a bit of luck. You see, Lubin, I know Mr St Aubyn just a little, and soon I'm going to lunch with him. How I shall be on the look-out! I wonder how it feels to see a ghost. You've never seen one, have you?”
”Oh no, Sir,” replied Lubin, shaking his head. ”I doubt I'm not put together that way. A blind man may shoot a crow by mistake, but he ain't no judge o' colours. Though ghosts are mostly white, they say.
Well, it may be different with you, and when you go to lunch at the Court, I'm sure I hope you'll see all the ghosts on the premises if you've a fancy for that kind of wild fowl. Let ghosts leave me alone and I'll leave them alone--that's all I've got to say. I never had no hankering after gentry as go flopping around without their bodies.
'Tain't commonly decent, to my thinking. Don't hold with such goings on myself.”
”Oh, but you must make allowances for their circ.u.mstances,” answered Austin. ”If they've got no bodies of course they can't put them on, you know. Besides, there are ghosts and ghosts. Some are mischievous, and some are very, very unhappy, and others come to do us good and help us to find wills, and treasures, and all sorts of pleasant things. I'd love to talk with one, and have it out with him. What wonderful things one might learn!”
”Ay, there's more in the world than what's taught in the catechism,”
said Lubin. ”Let's hope you'll have picked up a few crumbs when you've been to lunch at the Court. Every little helps, as the sow said when she swallowed the gnat. I confess I'm not curious myself.”
”Well, I'm awfully curious,” replied Austin, as he began to get up.
”But now I must stir about a bit. You know my wooden leg gets horribly lazy sometimes, and I've got to exercise it every now and then for its own good. I know Aunt Charlotte wants me to go into the town with her to buy provender for this bun-trouble of hers to-morrow. It's very curious what different ideas of pleasure different people have.”
”He's a rare sort o' boy, the young master,” soliloquised Lubin as Austin went pegging along towards the house. ”Game for no end of mischief when the fit takes him, for all he's only got one leg. One'd think he was half daft to hear him talk sometimes, too. Seems like as if it galled him a bit to rub along with the old auntie, and I shouldn't wonder if the old auntie herself felt about as snug as a bell-wether tied to a frisky colt. However, I s'pose the A'mighty knows what He's about, and it's always the old cow's notion as she never was a calf herself.”
With which philosophical reflection Lubin slipped on his green corduroy jacket, shouldered his broom, and trudged cheerfully home to tea.
Chapter the Fourth
The next day the great heat had moderated, and the sky was covered with a thin pearly veil of gossamer greyness which afforded a delightful relief after the glare of the past week. A smart shower had fallen during the night, and the parched earth, refreshed after its bath, appeared more fragrant and more beautiful than ever. Aunt Charlotte busied herself all the morning with various household diversions, while Austin, swaying lazily to and fro in a hammock under an old apple tree, read 'Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight.' At last he looked at his watch, and found that it was about time to go and dress.
”Well, you _have_ made yourself smart,” commented Aunt Charlotte complacently, as Austin, sprucely attired in a pale flannel suit, with a lilac tie and a dark-red rose in his b.u.t.ton-hole, came into the morning-room to say good-bye. ”But why need you have dressed so early?
Our friends aren't coming till three o'clock at the very earliest, and it's not much more than twelve--at least, so says my watch. You needn't have changed till after lunch, at any rate.”
”My dear auntie, have you forgotten?” asked Austin, in innocent surprise. ”To-day's Thursday, and I'm engaged to lunch and spend the afternoon with Mr St Aubyn. You know I told you all about it the very day he asked me.”
”Mr St Aubyn?--I don't understand,” said Aunt Charlotte, with a bewildered air. ”I have a recollection of your telling me a few days ago that you were lunching out some day or other, but----”
”On Thursday, you know, I said.”
”Did you? Well, but--but our friends are coming _here_ to-day! You must have been dreaming, Austin,” cried Aunt Charlotte, sitting bolt upright. ”How can you have made such a blunder? Of course you can't possibly go!”
”Do you really propose, auntie, that I should break my engagement with Mr St Aubyn for the sake of entertaining people like the MacTavishes and the Cobbled.i.c.ks?” replied Austin, quite unmoved.
”But why did you fix on the same day?” exclaimed Aunt Charlotte desperately. ”I cannot understand it. I left the date to you, you know I did--I told you I didn't care what day it was, and said you might choose whichever suited yourself best. What on earth induced you to pitch on the very day when you were invited out?”
”For the very reason you yourself a.s.sign--that you let me choose any day that suited me best. For the very reason that I _was_ invited out.
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