LITMIR.BIZ

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said the widow. “He tells me that he must be on duty ten or twelve hours a day. Poor fellow!”

      “It’s a deuced good thing for him, and he ought to be very much obliged to me for putting him in the way of getting it. But he told me to tell you that if he didn’t call, you were not to be angry with him.”

      “Oh, no;—I shall remember, of course.”

      “You see, if he don’t work now he must come to grief. He hasn’t got a shilling that he can call his own.”

      “Hasn’t he really?”

      “Not a shilling, Mrs Greenow;—and then he’s awfully in debt. He isn’t a bad fellow, you know, only there’s no trusting him for anything.” Then after a few further inquiries that were almost tender, and a promise of further supplies from the dairy, Mr Cheesacre took his leave, almost forgetting to ask after Miss Vavasor.

      But as he left the house he had a word to say to Jeannette. “He hasn’t been here, has he, Jenny?” “We haven’t seen a sight of him yet, sir,—and I have thought it a little odd.” Then Mr Cheesacre gave the girl half-a-crown, and went his way. Jeannette, I think, must have forgotten that the Captain had looked in after leaving his military duties on the preceding evening.

      The Captain’s ten or twelve hours of daily work was performed, no doubt, at irregular intervals,—some days late and some days early,—for he might be seen about Norwich almost at all times, during the early part of that November;—and he might be very often seen going into the Close. In Norwich there are two weekly market-days, but on those days the Captain was no doubt kept more entirely to his military employment, for at such times he never was seen near the Close. Now Mr Cheesacre’s visits to the town were generally made on market-days, and so it happened that they did not meet. On such occasions Mr Cheesacre always was driven to Mrs Greenow’s door in a cab,—for he would come into town by railway,—and he would deposit a basket bearing the rich produce of his dairy. It was in vain that Mrs Greenow protested against these gifts,—for she did protest and declared that if they were continued, they would be sent back. They were, however, continued, and Mrs Greenow was at her wits’ end about them. Cheesacre would not come up with them; but leaving them, would go about his business, and would return to see the ladies. On such occasions he would be very particular in getting his basket from Jeannette. As he did so he would generally ask some question about the Captain, and Jeannette would give him answers confidentially,—so that there was a strong friendship between these two.

      “What am I to do about it?” said Mrs Greenow, as Kate came into the sitting-room one morning, and saw on the table a small hamper lined with a clean cloth. “It’s as much as Jeannette has been able to carry.”

      “So it is, ma’am,—quite; and I’m strong in the arm, too, ma’am.”

      “What am I to do, Kate? He is such a good creature.”

      “And he do admire you both so much,” said Jeannette.

      “Of course I don’t want to offend him for many reasons,” said the aunt, looking knowingly at her niece.

      “I don’t know anything about your reasons, aunt, but if I were you, I should leave the basket just as it is till he comes in the afternoon.”

      “Would you mind seeing him yourself, Kate, and explaining to him that it won’t do to get on in this way. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling him that if he’ll promise not to bring any more, you won’t object to take this one.”

      “Indeed, aunt, I can’t do that. They’re not brought to me.”

      “Oh, Kate!”

      “Nonsense, aunt;—I won’t have you say so;—before Jeannette, too.”

      “I think it’s for both, ma’am; I do indeed. And there certainly ain’t any cream to be bought like it in Norwich:—nor yet eggs.”

      “I wonder what there is in the basket.” And the widow lifted up the corner of the cloth. “I declare if there isn’t a turkey poult already.”

      “My!” said Jeannette. “A turkey poult! Why, that’s worth ten and sixpence in the market if it’s worth a penny.”

      “It’s out of the question that I should take upon myself to say anything to him about it,” said Kate.

      “Upon my word I don’t see why you shouldn’t, as well as I,” said Mrs Greenow.

      “I’ll tell you what, ma’am,” said Jeannette: “let me just ask him who they’re for;—he’ll tell me anything.”

      “Don’t do anything of the kind, Jeannette,” said Kate. “Of course, aunt, they’re brought for you. There’s no doubt about that. A gentleman doesn’t bring cream and turkeys to— I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

      “I don’t see why a gentleman shouldn’t bring cream and turkeys to you just as well as to me. Indeed, he told me once as much himself.”

      “Then, if they’re for me, I’ll leave them down outside the front door, and he may find his provisions there.” And Kate proceeded to lift the basket off the table.

      “Leave it alone, Kate,” said Mrs Greenow, with a voice that was rather solemn; and which had, too, something of sadness in its tone. “Leave it alone. I’ll see Mr Cheesacre myself.”

      “And I do hope you won’t mention my name. It’s the most absurd thing in the world. The man never spoke two dozen words to me in his life.”

      “He speaks to me, though,” said Mrs Greenow.

      “I dare say he does,” said Kate.

      “And about you, too, my dear.”

      “He doesn’t come here with those big flowers in his buttonhole for nothing,” said Jeannette,—”not if I knows what a gentleman means.”

      “Of course he doesn’t,” said Mrs Greenow.

      “If you don’t object, aunt,” said Kate, “I will write to grandpapa and tell him that I will return home at once.”

      “What!—because of Mr Cheesacre?” said Mrs Greenow. “I don’t think you’ll be so silly as that, my dear.”

      On the present occasion Mrs Greenow undertook that she would see the generous gentleman, and endeavour to stop the supplies from his farmyard. It was well understood that he would call about four o’clock, when his business in the town would be over; and that he would bring with him a little boy, who would carry away the basket. At that hour Kate of course was absent, and the widow received Mr Cheesacre alone. The basket and cloth were there, in the sitting-room, and on the table were laid out the rich things which it had contained;—the turkey poult first, on a dish provided in the lodging-house, then a dozen fresh eggs in a soup plate, then the cream in a little tin can, which, for the last fortnight, had passed regularly between Oileymead and the house in the Close, and as to which Mr Cheesacre was very pointed in his inquiries with Jeannette. Then behind the cream there were two or three heads of broccoli, and a stick of celery as thick as a man’s wrist. Altogether the tribute was a very comfortable assistance to the housekeeping of a lady living in a small way in lodgings.

      Mr Cheesacre, when he saw the array on the long sofa-table, knew that he was to prepare himself for some resistance; but that resistance would give him, he thought, an opportunity of saying a few words that he was desirous of speaking, and he did not altogether regret it. “I just called in,” he said, “to see how you were.”

      “We are not likely to starve,” said Mrs Greenow, pointing to the delicacies from Oileymead.

      “Just a few trifles that my old woman asked me to bring in,” said Cheesacre. “She insisted on putting them up.”

      “But your old woman is by far too magnificent,” said Mrs Greenow. “She really frightens Kate and me out of our wits.”

      Mr

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