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.
"Well, arter all, Josey's nothin' but a meanderin' old idgit!" he thought angrily: "'Ere 'ave I been an' took 'im for a wise man wot would know exackly 'ow to begin and ask for the sparin' of the old trees, and if he ain't gone on the wrong tack altogether and made the poor little lady cry! I think I'll do a bit of this business myself while I've got the chance--for if I don't, ten to one he'll be tellin' the story of the wopses' nest next, and a fine oncommon show we'll make of ourselves 'ere with our manners." And he coughed loudly--"Ahem! Josey, will you tell Miss Vancourt about the Five Sisters, or shall I?"
Maryllia glanced from one to the other in bewilderment.
"The Five Sisters!" she echoed; "Who are they?"
Here Spruce imagined, as he often did, that he had been asked a question.