Our Admirable Betty

Chapter 24

"Mrs. Agatha, mam," said the Sergeant, rubbing his square chin with the handle of the shears he had just been using, "he aren't been the same since that there night in the orchard! He be a-fading, mam, a-fading and perishing away afore my very eyes. He aren't ate this day so much as would keep a babe alive let alone a man like him, six foot and one inch, mam. Consequently, this morning I did feel called upon to re-monstrate as in dooty bound mam, and he said-so meek, so mild-so gentle as any bleating lamb, he says to me, says he--"

The Sergeant paused to heave a sigh and shake gloomy head.

"What did he say, Sergeant?"

"Mam, he says, says he-'Damn your eyes, Sergeant Zeb!' says he-but so mild and meek as any sucking dove--"

"Doves don't suck, Sergeant-at least I don't think so, and they never swear, I'm sure!"

"But, Mrs. Agatha mam, so meek he said it, so soft and mournful as my 'eart did bleed for him-his honour as could curse and swear so gay and hearty when needful! He says to me 'Zeb,' says he 'damn your eyes!' he says so sweet as any piping finch, mam." Here the Sergeant sighed heavily. "What's more, mam, he do talk o' marching off campaigning again."

"You mean to fight in more wars and battles?" she enquired with a catch in her voice.

"Aye mam, I do, and if he goes-I go as in dooty bound." Here fell a silence wherein Mrs. Agatha stared down at her basketful of roses and the Sergeant stared at her and rubbed his chin with the shears again. "Mam," said he suddenly, "a fortnight ago, being the thirtieth ultimo, towards three o'clock in the arternoon you did give me a little gold cross which is with me now and shall be hereafter living and dead Amen!"

"O Sergeant!" she said softly; and then "I'm glad you haven't lost it!"

"A fortnight ago mam," continued the Sergeant, "also towards three o'clock in the arternoon I-kissed you and the-the memory o' that kiss is never a-going to fade mam. You'll mind as I kissed you, mam?"

"Did you, Sergeant?"

"Ha' you forgot, mam?"

"Almost!" she answered softly, whereupon the Sergeant took a swift pace nearer, halted suddenly and turning away again, went on speaking:

"I kissed you for three reasons, same being as hereunder namely and viz. to wit, first because I wanted to, second because your pretty red lips was too near and too rosy to resist and third because I did mean to beg o' you to-to be-my wife."

"Did you-Zebedee?"

"I did so-then, but now I-I can't--"

"Why not-Zebedee?"

"Dooty mam, dooty forbids."

"You mean 'duty,' Sergeant," she corrected him gently.

"Dooty mam, pre-cisely! 'Tis his honour the Major, I thought as he were set on matrimony 'stead o' which I now find he's set on campaigning again, he talks o' nothing else o' late-and if he goes-I go. And if I go I can't ask you to wed-'twouldn't be fair."

"And why does he want to go?"

"Witchcraft, mam, devils, sorcery, black magic, and damned spells. Mrs. Agatha I do tell you he are not been his own man since he saw-what he saw i' the orchard t'other night."

"And what was that?" enquired Mrs. Agatha, glancing up bright-eyed from her fragrant basketful of roses.

"A apparation in form o' the dev-no, the devil in form of a apparation, mam."

"Fiddlededee!" exclaimed Mrs. Agatha. The Sergeant jumped and stared.

"Mam!" said he in gentle reproach, "don't say that-ghosts is serious and--"

"A fiddle-stick for your ghost! 'Twould take more than a shade to put his honour off his food, Sergeant Zebedee Tring! The question is, who was your ghost? What was he like?"

"Why since you're for cross-examinating me, I'll confess I caught but a glimpse of same, same having vanished itself away afore my very eyes."

"Where to?"

"Into my Lady Carlyon's garden, mam, and it dissolved itself so quick--"

"Tut!" exclaimed Mrs. Agatha,

"Tut is very well, mam, and-vastly fetching as you say it but none the less--"

"Ha' done Sergeant and let me think! Tell me, the night you went ghost-seeking did you catch ever a one-a man, say?"

"Aye, I did so, mam-one o' these London sparks and very fierce he were too!"

"Which one? What like was he!" With the aid of the shears Sergeant Zebedee described the trespasser very fully as regards face, costume and behaviour.

"That," said Mrs. Agatha, nodding her pretty head, "that should be Mr. Dalroyd-

"Zounds!" exclaimed the Sergeant, "how d'ye know this, mam?"

"Well, Sergeant, I do chance to have eyes, also ears and I do use 'em. This fine gentleman was your ghost t'other night, I'll swear."

"But what o' the hoofs and horns, mam, what o' the stink o' brimstone?"

"Have you seen ever a one yourself, Sergeant, or smelt the brimstone?"

"No mam, but Roger Bent has."

"Fiddlededee again, Sergeant!"

"Eh mam?"

"Roger Bent would see or smell anything. The question is what was Mr. Dalroyd after? Since you can't find out-I will."

"As how, mam?"

"By wagging my tongue, Sergeant."

"At-who, mam?"

"Well, to begin with there is his solemn servant, Mr. Joseph--"

The Sergeant swore fiercely.

"No mam," said he frowning, "not him nor any like him. He aren't fit for you to walk on-'twould dirty your pretty shoes--"

"But I don't mean to walk on him, nor spoil my shoes."

"Then don't hold no truck with him, mam-if you do--" the Sergeant set his grim jaw fiercely.

"Well-what?"

"I shall be compelled to-out with his liver mam, that's all!"

"Lud, Sergeant Tring."

"Bound to do it, Mrs. Agatha, so-keep away from same--"

"Sergeant, don't be a fool! I must use him to find out and why do you think I want to find out?"

"Being a woman-curiosity belike?"

"Being a blockhead you must be told!" cried Mrs. Agatha, her eyes flashing, "I want to find out the Major's trouble to make an end of the Major's trouble because I would keep him here at home. And I would keep him at home because then he won't go a-marching off to the wars, and if he don't go marching to the wars, why then-then--"

"Yes, yes mam-then?"

"Then-find out!" cried Mrs. Agatha her cheeks very red all at once; and she sped away into the house leaving the Sergeant to stare after her and rub his chin with the shears harder than ever. He was so engaged when he was aware of the approach of rapid hoofs and, glancing down the drive, beheld a cavalier swing in at the open gates and come thundering towards him.

The Viscount rode at his usual speed, a stretching gallop; on he came beneath the long avenue of chestnuts, horse hoofs pounding, curls flying, coat-skirts fluttering, nor checked his pace until he was almost upon the Sergeant, then he reined up in full career and was himself on terra firma almost in the same instant.

"Ha, Zeb," he sighed, drooping in modish languor, "split me, but I'm glad to see that square phiz o' thine, 'tis positive tanic after London, I vow! How goeth rusticity, Zeb?"

"As well as can be expected, my lord!"

"And the Major?"

"As well as can be hoped, sir, what with devils, apparations, witchcraft, magic, sorcery and hocus-pocus, m' lud!"

"Gad save my perishing soul!" exclaimed the Viscount, "What's it all mean, Zeb?"

"Well, Master Pancras sir, it do mean-nay, yonder cometh his honour to tell you himself, mayhap." Saying which, Sergeant Zebedee led the Viscount's horse away to the stables while his lordship, knocking dust from his slender person, went to greet the Major.

"Sir," said he as they clasped hands, "'tis real joy to see you again, but pray discover me the why and wherefore of the gruesome nightmare?" and he shook reproachful head at the Ramillie coat.

"'Tis easy, Tom, old and comfortable, d'ye see, while my new ones are so-so plaguy fine and overpowering as 'twere, so to speak, that I feel scarce worthy of 'em. So I-I treasure 'em, Tom, for-for great occasions and the like--"

"A grave fallacy, nunk! Modish garments must be worn whiles the prevailing fashion holds-to-day they are the mode, to-morrow, the devil! Fashion, sir, is coquettish as woman or weathercock, 'tis for ever a-veering, already there is a new button-hole."

"Indeed, Tom! Egad you stagger me!"

"Cansequently sir, being a dutiful nephew, I took thought to order you three more new suits-

"The devil you did!"

"Having special regard to this new button-hole, sir--"

"These will make nine o' them!" sighed the Major.

"Your pardon, sir, exactly thirty-one, neither more or less!"

"Good God, Tom!" ejaculated the Major, halting on the terrace-steps to stare h is amazement, "Thirty-one of 'em? How the deuce--"

"Cut aslant, d'ye see, nunky, and arabesqued with lace of gold or silver--"

"But, nephew-a Gad's name, what am I to do with so many-d'ye take me for a regiment? 'Tis 'gainst all reason for a man to wear thirty-one suits of--"

"Sir, I allude to button-holes!"

"Thank heaven!" murmured the Major.

"Moreover sir, there is, late come in, a new cravat-a poorish thing with nought to commend it save simplicity. It seems you throw it round your neck, get your fellow to twist it behind till you're well-nigh choked to death, bring the ends over your shoulders, loop 'em through a brooch and 'tis done. I propose to show you after supper."

"Hum!" said the Major dubiously. "Meantime a bottle won't be amiss after your long ride, I judge? Come in, Tom, come in and tell me of your adventures."

"Thank'ee, sir, though t' be sure I drapped in at the "George" on my way hither-left my two rogues there with my baggage. Which reminds me I have a letter for you." Diving into his coat-pocket he brought forth the missive in question and tendered it to the Major who took it, broke the seal and read.