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 A RAILWAY FOUNDLING. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
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 A RAILWAY FOUNDLING. 
 
 (IN THREE VOLUMES.) 
 
 BY 
 
 NOMAD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF » THE MILROYS," ' ; OWLSCROFt/' ETC. 
 
 There's something in this world amiss 
 
 Shall be unriddled by-and-by; 
 There's somewhat flows to us in life, 
 
 But more is taken quite away."— Tenttyson. 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 £ avtoan : 
 
 TRISCHLElT AND COMPANY, 
 1 8, NEW BRIDGE STREET, E.C. 
 
 1890. 
 AH Rights Reserved.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/railwayfoundling01noma
 
 W-3 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 3' 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. Why Little Marsdox? 
 
 II. Philip Henry Dyketox 
 
 III. "Of course, my dear, of course" 
 
 * IV. A Strange Ixcidext 
 
 V. A Womanly Ixstixct 
 
 VI. The Elf 
 
 VII. A Difference of Serving 
 
 VIII. At Church 
 
 IX. Unconscious Rivalry 
 
 X. Sisterly Talk 
 
 XI. Fresh Life 
 
 XII. In the Toils 
 
 XIII. "A RUGGED FRAME, A SOUL SINCERE 
 
 XIV. "I DREAM OF THEE" 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 38 
 56 
 
 74 
 90 
 112 
 133 
 151 
 172 
 192 
 212 
 241 
 266 

 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 It is with sincere pleasure that I commend to the perusal 
 of that happily increasing class of readers who wish 
 to combine the instructive with the entertaining, a story 
 which, while it fulfils all the requirements of picturesque 
 fiction, and dwells upon the joys and sorrows, the hopes 
 and fears of humanity, possesses additional and excep- 
 tional value, inasmuch as it presents a graphic picture, 
 drawn by the hand of an expert, of the habits and 
 manners, the lights and shadows, and the peculiar 
 characteristics of railway life in England. 
 
 That life has been created, so to speak, within the 
 memory of persons still living; and it is half with 
 amusement and half with astonishment that the younger 
 generation will read the account given by Henry Crabb 
 Robinson, in his diary, so recently as 1833, °f his fi fSt 
 railway journey from Liverpool. " There were five car- 
 riages," says the diarist, "in which were placed open 
 seats for the traveller, four and four facing each other ; 
 and, besides, there was a close carriage and also ' a 
 machine' for luggage. The fare was four shillings for 
 thirty-one miles. On setting forth, there was a slight 
 jolt, arising from the chain catching each carriage ; but, 
 once in motion, the train proceeded as smoothly as 
 possible. The engine produced little smoke or steam.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 First in order was the tall chimney ; then the boiler, a 
 barrel-like vessel ; then a vehicle for coals ; and then of 
 a length indefinitely extendable the train of carriages." 
 Mr. Robinson was told that Bills had been passed for 
 making railroads between London and Birmingham, and 
 Birmingham and Liverpool. "What a change," he 
 naively remarks, " will it produce in the intercourse ! " 
 Finally, he arrives at the conclusion that, stoppages 
 included, railway journeys might certainly be made at the 
 rate of twenty miles an hour. The "intercourse" has been 
 changed with a vengeance since Mr. H. C. Robinson 
 wrote, only fifty-seven years ago. Railways have proved 
 to be the mainspring which has developed to an almost 
 incredible extent the trade, the commerce, the manu- 
 factures, and the financial power of Great Britain, of 
 India, and of the Colonies. The extension and perfect- 
 ing of our railway system, in order to meet the increased 
 requirements of a steadily increasing population, are 
 among the principal means by which the puissance and 
 influence of the Empire can and must be preserved. It 
 is as vitally essential for us to keep our railways in a 
 proper state of efficiency as it is to preserve our naval 
 supremacy. At home, railways extend and encourage 
 every industry, and prove a social boon to every class 
 in the community; abroad, railways are the nursing 
 mother of trade ; and everywhere the railway is the 
 herald of progress and the pioneer of civilisation. 
 
 JOHN AIRD. 
 
 Great George Street, 
 
 Westminster, S.W. 
 February, 1890.
 
 A RAILWAY FOUNDLING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHY LITTLE MARSDON ? 
 
 It was from Marsdon proper to Nincleton 
 that the proposed new line of railway was to 
 run. Little Marsdon was situated exactly 
 half-way between the two towns, so it was 
 there, and there only, Mr. James Ellaby and 
 his family must live during its construction, 
 he being the contractor's agent for the entire 
 length of work. 
 
 It was not perhaps an imposing "entire 
 length," reckoned merely by the actual dis- 
 tance — fifteen miles — but fifteen miles of 
 tough country, with several big tunnels, two 
 or three stiffish bridges, requiring some con- 
 siderable road diversions, and avalley spanned 
 
 VOL. T. B
 
 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 by a high viaduct of seventy-three arches, 
 demand both brain power and practical 
 experience to ensure successful completion. 
 
 Of these James Ellaby was amply pos- 
 sessed, as any one inclined to look below the 
 surface of a somewhat unpolished exterior 
 could readily perceive. 
 
 The firm of contractors in whose interest 
 he worked had done this, and well knew they 
 were not risking their reputation by intro- 
 ducing him to this specially arduous under- 
 taking, nor were they putting a " round peg " 
 in a "square hole." 
 
 Nothing escaped the quick eye or keen 
 judgment of James Ellaby, a man widely re- 
 spected and thoroughly trusted by those 
 above and those under him, and although 
 somewhat feared by the latter — no matter — 
 his reputation did not suffer in their eyes on 
 that account. 
 
 I have spoken of his want of polish, not 
 that the man was unhandsome in person or 
 slovenly in habit, far from it ; but it was in a 
 great degree owing to his intolerance of any
 
 Why Little Mars don ? 
 
 u mode " or dictate of fashion. The shape of 
 a shirt collar, the colour of a neck-tie, the 
 worth of a carriage rug, or the merits of a 
 walking-stick were scouted by him in certain 
 forcible terms I need not recapitulate here, 
 as savouring of the ornamental rather than of 
 that stern utility which only merited his 
 approbation. 
 
 Picture to yourself a head turned out of 
 Nature's finest mould, with deep-set, pene- 
 trating eyes that looked unflinchingly into 
 those of his fellow-men, a massive chest, and 
 sturdy frame, with capable, well-shaped hands 
 and feet ; over and through all a kindly per- 
 sonality, coupled with a certain quizzical 
 pleasantry, and you have James Ellaby as 
 nearly as I can put him before you. 
 
 Honest — sturdy — fearless — are the three 
 words I should choose (were I limited in 
 number) with which to sum up this man ; 
 qualities not to be despised in this age of 
 shams and counter-shams — qualities that 
 promised well for the rough work which 
 often fell to his share. "To tackle,"
 
 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 was a favourite verb of his ; perhaps the 
 power and the humour of it pleased him. 
 
 So much for the outdoor man, and this 
 James Ellaby essentially was ; his pet verb 
 did not come into active use within the 
 house, there he left everything for others to 
 tackle. His home must be ho7ne to him, and 
 was so in his heart of hearts ; yet, after all, 
 it was only a stopping-place in his busy 
 bustling life, even there rest must not inter- 
 fere with his work. 
 
 The Ellabys were universally popular, 
 individually and as a family. Their friends 
 thought it hard they should have to immure 
 themselves in such an out-of-the-way place as 
 Little Marsdon, but when it was further as- 
 certained that there was a scarcity of suitable 
 accommodation, the idea became still more 
 preposterous. 
 
 " How," they asked, " can such a family as 
 the Ellabys stuff themselves into one of those 
 miserable houses, or exist in such a hole-and- 
 corner place ? " 
 
 All the same, the Ellabys themselves knew
 
 Why Little Mar scion? 
 
 it was their inevitable lot, and very wisely 
 remarked nothing remained but to make the 
 best of it. 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby, ever ready in expedient, and 
 having the happy knack of making the best of 
 most things — a habit acquired, no doubt, by 
 the exigencies of her constantly roving life — 
 had gone down with her husband "just to see 
 the place," and had returned disconsolate. 
 
 Probably she had started on the expe- 
 dition with her usual brightness under a 
 cloud, for it cannot be denied that she was 
 sorry to leave their present bright home so 
 near town, and where they had made so many 
 friends. 
 
 True, in it they had experienced troubles 
 
 as well as joys, but these had proved so many 
 
 trusty friends that, as the girls said, "it was 
 
 very trying to leave them all." Mrs. Ellaby 
 
 had wiped away a tear of regret from her 
 
 fine dark eyes when Nora read aloud : — 
 
 " There's something in this world amiss 
 
 Shall be unriddled by-and-by ; 
 
 There's somewhat flows to us in life, 
 
 But more is taken quite away."
 
 6 A Railway Foundling, 
 
 She felt keenly the searching truth these 
 lines contain, their vague hope, their deep 
 sadness. 
 
 There come moments in the most prosaic 
 lives wherein such words will start tears of 
 "regret" that must be put away to make 
 room for the freshly stirring present. 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby was a very matter-of-fact 
 woman, and she had already cast aside much 
 of this feeling when she found herself once 
 more in Little Marsdon on that most detest- 
 able of occupations, save to some peculiarly 
 constituted minds, house-hunting. 
 
 She looked around her and wondered what 
 the society of such a place might be. Not 
 that she cared so much for herself as for the 
 girls and Alec ; it was not well for them that 
 their accustomed recreations should be far to 
 seek. " Poor things ! " she said to herself, as 
 the last of the uninviting houses was lost to 
 sight, and the queer vehicle — the best, indeed 
 the only " fly " obtainable at the " Blue Lion," 
 Marsdon — rattled and clattered with its tired 
 and dispirited occupant along a dreary country
 
 Why Little Mars don? 
 
 road that, so far as she could see, might lead 
 to — nowhere. She lifted from her lap a 
 bunch of rusty keys, and rather listlessly 
 deciphered the almost illegible letters on the 
 label, Pendleton Grange. These had been 
 given to her in the morning by Mr. Trench, 
 the lawyer at Marsdon, who had advised her 
 to look over this property, supposing no other 
 residence in Little Marsdon itself suited her. 
 None had been, from her point of view, at all 
 likely, and she sighed as she laid the rusty, 
 unfriendly-looking bunch of keys on the 
 opposite seat of faded Utrecht velvet, out of 
 which all distinct colour had long since been 
 fairly extracted by the action of the sun and 
 hard wear and tear. Had they been bright 
 and new, with a brisk jingle about them, it 
 would have been a trifle more hopeful, but 
 as she dropped these they clanked harshly 
 together with a cheerless thud that was any- 
 thing but business-like or inspiriting. The 
 front of the ''Blue Lion" fly was composed 
 principally of glass, and her outlook was 
 bounded by the figure of her charioteer, who
 
 8 A Raikuay Foundling. 
 
 was fairly wedged in among manifold rugs 
 and coats of more or less dinginess. 
 
 This man her husband had introduced to 
 her as John Datchet, a ruling power in the 
 neighbourhood of the " Blue Lion," and he 
 had been very helpful and civil to her in 
 looking over those dwellings in Little 
 Marsdon, although he seemed to hold that 
 place itself in supreme contempt. 
 
 On and on jolted the fly, and Mrs. Ellaby 
 tried to lie back in it at ease, but quickly 
 found the upright position the more desirable 
 of the two. Presently they turned into a by- 
 road, then round a sharp corner, and in 
 through some high gates, beside which 
 stood a tiny lodge that had about it a 
 smothered look of overgrowth of vegetable 
 matter. 
 
 So far as Mrs. Ellaby could see, the trees 
 of the avenue were fine and very high, while 
 the road was overgrown with rank weeds and 
 deep-green mossy substance. The house lay 
 low, amidst a wilderness of shrubbery and 
 garden — if indeed, such tangled wastes could
 
 Why Little Mars don f 
 
 be so called. Before the central door, of 
 heavily-panelled wood, studded with spiky 
 nails, John Datchet pulled up with a kind of 
 shattering full-stop. 
 
 " Like a prison," murmured Mrs. Ellaby, 
 glancing out, and wishing she had brought 
 one of the girls with her. 
 
 She stood on the moss-grown steps while 
 John Datchet adjusted a nosebag on his 
 horse's head, and asked, "On which side 
 of the house do the people live who are 
 in charge ?" 
 
 " Lor, my lady, nobody teks no charge 
 o' noght 'ere," he answered, " nary a sowl 
 'ereabouts ; nobbut lawyer Trench have 
 a' guv' yer the kayes, ye'll not git in, 
 'twould be onpossible." As he spoke he 
 gave a final twitch to the shaggy old nose- 
 bag, and came up to where she waited, 
 still holding the bunch of keys. 
 
 " Don't look as if they'd ondo much," 
 said the man, glancing curiously at them, as 
 he passed to a low window, to peer through 
 some broken panes. "Why, I expect the
 
 io A Railway Foundling. 
 
 werry 'inges be rusted in like — not a mortial 
 sowl have a' bin inside t'old place for hages. 
 I guess, now," rubbing the glass with his coat- 
 sleeve, " the rots and the black-beadles 'aves 
 it to theirselves — they and the ghostes-es 
 likely teks turns o' nights." 
 
 So saying, he laughed jollily at his own 
 conceit — a laugh that fell with a dead blank- 
 ness in the silent place. 
 
 "Will he stand?" asked Mrs. Ellaby, 
 looking at the horse. 
 
 "Aye, for sure lady; onct git 'is nozzle 
 inter that 'ere bag, and time and place is 
 no manner o' count to 'im." 
 
 Together they went round the deserted old 
 mansion, for any company was better than 
 none, Mrs. Ellaby felt. She noted the 
 pools of stagnant water in close proximity to 
 some of the lower rooms — that in itself, she 
 promptly considered, would deter James from 
 taking this house. But she shuddered again, 
 and felt all at once a strange sensation of 
 repugnance to the place, and half anger that 
 it should have been lying empty thus, when
 
 Why Little Marsdon ? 1 1 
 
 they so much needed to find a house in the 
 near vicinity of Little Marsdon, but scarcely 
 such a one as this, she determined. 
 
 Did some prevision seize her that those 
 rusty hinges would be unfastened, those 
 dingy shutters unclosed, and that heavy, 
 gloomy door opened to draw her and her 
 brightness of healthy family within its grim- 
 ness ? 
 
 " Oh," she said quite briskly at last, return- 
 ing to the fly, " it would not do for us at all. 
 I shall not waste time by trying to get inside." 
 
 At which her companion stared as if in 
 surprise that she should have even come on 
 such an errand. " Coorse, it won't, lady," 
 he made answer ; " 'twon't never suit nobody, 
 Pendleton Grange won't." 
 
 As she passed through Little Marsdon, 
 on her way back, she gazed out of that 
 frontal development of glass chariot dis- 
 mally enough — at the high brick house she 
 had gone over by the aggressive-looking 
 chapel ; at two others standing back from 
 the road in depressing little gardens ; at
 
 12 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 another in the distance, set in a field, with 
 crazy outbuildings surrounding it, and felt 
 that even these were preferable to the one 
 she had just left in that still hollow. 
 
 A half-formed idea took shape within her 
 that she would make no mention of this 
 place to them at home — "this moated old 
 grange," as she called it. Certainly they 
 wanted a reasonably large house, but not 
 one so large as that. Why, it would cost 
 a small fortune to put it in repair, and would 
 require an army of servants to keep it in 
 order. Some of the rooms might well be 
 
 shut off, as they had done before at 
 
 But no ; it would not do at any price. Of 
 course, the firm would not give such a big 
 rambling old place a second thought for them. 
 
 With this came to her a sort of stifled 
 hope that neither they nor her husband 
 might have the chance of giving it consider- 
 ation, lest they should discover in it capa- 
 bilities for use, and so relegate to it that 
 "second thought" said to be "the best," 
 and finally secure it.
 
 Why Little Mar s don f 
 
 She was sorry to go back to her bright 
 home and handsome girls with nothing more 
 cheering to tell them. Mr. Ellaby was away, 
 so she only had them to face, and this to her 
 was in some measure a reprieve, owing to 
 that half-formed idea on her conscience of 
 saying nothing of Pendleton Grange. 
 
 She frankly owned, as they all crowded 
 eagerly round her, that she was dispirited 
 and at her wit's end to know what they 
 should do this time. 
 
 " I told you it was a hole — a downright 
 hole," said pretty Mab. " Didn't the Kings 
 say so ? " 
 
 " Now, mother," said Nora, " come and 
 have a sort of tea-supper ; you look tired 
 out. We can talk just as well, and you will 
 be refreshed at the same time." 
 
 "Of course," observed Dorothy, "we are 
 dying to know what your very latest news 
 is — if anything more hopeful ? " 
 
 " I fear not hopeful," answered the mother, 
 taking some tea from Nora's hand. 
 
 The faces of the three girls fell visibly,
 
 14 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 and Alec gave vent to a suppressed whistle, 
 and mentally concluded it must be a beast of 
 a place if mother could find nothing to praise 
 in it. While Mabel cut her some ham, 
 Dorothy chipped her egg, and Alec pressed 
 on her the most dainty plate of bread-and- 
 butter, she proceeded to enumerate the 
 houses she had seen. 
 
 " One contained only seven rooms, all 
 told." 
 
 " Out of the question, of course," was 
 voted unanimously. 
 
 " The next, dears, has eleven, besides the 
 kitchen and " 
 
 " Yes," quite hopefully. 
 
 " It is fearfully ugly, not a scrap of garden, 
 is set close on to the roadside, and," with 
 some effort, " is next door to the Methodist 
 chapel." 
 
 " Don't say any more, for goodness' sake ! 
 We'd rather split up into ' sects,' as they do, 
 live in separate small houses, and call upon 
 each other," shrieked Mab, the youngest 
 and most energetic of the Ellaby girls.
 
 Why Little Marsdon? 
 
 " Yes, that we would," said Dorothy, who 
 as a rule echoed quick-witted Mab. 
 
 " And the other?" inquired Nora and 
 Alec almost in one breath. 
 
 " Is an old farm-house, children, in a very- 
 lonely position, dreadfully out of repair, rat- 
 ridden, and they say " 
 
 Here Mrs. Ellaby stopped, and Mab cried 
 out, " Haunted — eh, mother?" 
 
 " Exactly so, dears ; but this is, of course, 
 mere nonsense." 
 
 " Naturally," said Mab, "as we are 
 superstition - proof ; otherwise, would it 
 do?" 
 
 " Oh dear, no. The two fields by which it 
 is approached are, they tell me, mostly under 
 water in winter; besides, it is too far out of 
 the way to suit your father." 
 
 "That's a real mercy," observed Mab, 
 piously, as she helped herself to some more 
 ham; " for dad can't get over that. As to the 
 water, I suppose he could have drained off 
 that somewhere, as he always does, and rather 
 enjoys the operation."
 
 1 6 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Then, my dears, there is only the big 
 house by the chapel to fall back upon." 
 
 " No, no, no," shrieked the three in chorus. 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby took some more bread-and- 
 butter, folded it, and then let it drop on her 
 plate untasted as she looked at them, while a 
 little swift pink colour flushed her clear, fair 
 complexion. 
 
 Mab looked sharply from her to Nora, then 
 at Dol, and finally winked at Alec. 
 
 All four surmised at once there was some- 
 thing to be divulged, and they were well 
 aware that to remain quiet was the speediest 
 way of having their curiosity gratified. 
 
 "There is " their mother commenced, 
 
 in a little flurried manner. 
 
 "Yes," assented Mab, whose interest was 
 far too lively to admit of utter silence. 
 
 " A dreadfully gloomy old grange in which 
 nobody has lived for many years. Oh," she 
 shuddered, pushing her plate away, " it would 
 not do for us at all ; it lies too low, is covered 
 with ivy, and must be fearfully damp and 
 unhealthy."
 
 Why Little Mars don ? 
 
 " Don't be tragic," commented Mab, 
 demurely ; " tell us some more, it becomes 
 exciting." 
 
 " My dear children, there is stagnant water 
 on two sides of it," looking appealingly at 
 Nora, who cannot help laughing. 
 
 " Dad will soon tackle that," interpolated 
 Alec. 
 
 "And the ivy — you know how I dislike 
 ivy. 
 
 " Can be ripped off in a brace of shakes,' 
 rejoined Alec, planting his feet against the 
 mantel sides, American fashion. 
 
 "How many rooms?" asked Xora, still 
 smiling. 
 
 " Yes, how many rooms ? " echoed Mab 
 and Dorothy. 
 
 " My dears," startled, " I did not even go 
 inside ; it is an immense, rambling old place, 
 out of repair to an alarming extent. Of 
 course the firm would never think of it for us." 
 
 " I bet they will," from Alec. 
 
 "It must be depressing and unhealthy to a 
 degree," finished Mrs. Ellaby, rising from the 
 vol. i. c
 
 1 8 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 table almost nervously ; she, the least fanciful 
 of women, could not understand why she had 
 taken this unconquerable aversion, or why she 
 so much dreaded that Alec might be right in 
 his supposition. 
 
 " Any amount of that would be better than 
 the nearness of Salem," remarked Mab. 
 "How could our poor nerves stand their 
 multitudinous noises?" 
 
 " How, indeed?" agreed Dorothy, plain- 
 tively, helping herself to some choice cake. 
 
 "And fancy the love-feasts and the tea- 
 fights," remarked Alec aside to Mab, at which 
 that young lady gave speech to such a forcible 
 expression that it elicited from her mother a 
 reproving " My dear ! " 
 
 " Well, mother," with pretty penitence, 
 "it really would be too awful." 
 
 Nora looked at her mother thoughtfully. 
 " I think you should have gone over the 
 house and inquired about it a little more : I 
 expect Mr. Oldham and dad will." 
 
 Mr. Oldham was one of the firm, and the 
 most active, in conjunction with Mr. Ellaby,
 
 Why Little Marsdon ? 19 
 
 in the arrangement of all such minor and pre- 
 liminary matters upon which they were at 
 present engaged at Nincleton. 
 
 " It is much too large," continued Mrs. 
 Ellaby, as thus brought to bay she strived to 
 speak with a conviction she was far from 
 feeling. 
 
 " The little one with seven rooms will be 
 taken for the office, I bet," said Alec. 
 
 " Do hold your tongue ; you tack that 
 horrid 'I bet' on to everything you say," 
 snapped Mab. 
 
 fl Don't be snaggy," and Alec grinned. 
 
 "Go on, mother dear," urged Dorothy, who 
 was always softly persistent, u we want to 
 hear lots more." 
 
 But Mrs. Ellaby, impressed by that last 
 sensible speech of Nora's, felt she had no 
 more to say ; indeed, what had she ? 
 
 So she declared herself too tired to talk 
 any more, and proposed they should all go to 
 bed early. 
 
 "I'm ready," assented Alec, bringing his 
 feet to the floor, and executing a step or two
 
 20 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 of a clog dance. " I was up and out at six this 
 morning, but I dare say you girls," he added, 
 "will stay up half the night ragging it over, 
 but you wouldn't if you had to get up at 
 daylight." 
 
 " Getting up early is good for hobblede- 
 hoys," retorted Mab, ducking her head to 
 escape his ready hand on her small ears. 
 
 After leisurely lighting his bedroom candle, 
 he went off under the strong impression that 
 "when Mr. Oldham and the governor came 
 across that blessed old Grange they'd nab it, 
 to a dead certainty." 
 
 His mother, as she prepared for bed, had 
 much of the same conviction, although she 
 would not have expressed it in the same 
 terms. 
 
 How foolish she had been, she thought 
 now, not to go over the house ! and once 
 more she was conscious of that strong repug- 
 nance she had felt when there. 
 
 She saw again the slimy weed-covered 
 water, the tangled gardens, the utter desola- 
 tion pervading the whole. Could the sun's
 
 Why Little Marsdon? 21 
 
 rays, she wondered, ever penetrate those high 
 narrow windows or dispel the gloom from 
 that really fine avenue ? While those tumble- 
 down and neglected stables alone would, she 
 felt sure, fill James with dismay, if nothing 
 else did. Their eeriness recalled the old 
 German legend of the hunter who strangled 
 himself in his own stable by means of a com- 
 mon halter, so that his ghost hovered round 
 the spot ever after, to the terror of the equine 
 race, which nothing could induce to cross the 
 threshold. 
 
 As she turned in her comfortable bed she 
 determined to dismiss the perplexing subject 
 until her husband returned, although the 
 worry of house-hunting was increased rather 
 than diminished by her recent experiences at 
 Little Marsdon. 
 
 When at last sleep came, Pendleton 
 Grange and the tall brick house by the 
 chapel figured in her dreams in a confused 
 jumble not at all conducive to restful repose.
 
 22 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PHILIP HENRY DYKETON. 
 
 Not far from Marsdon there stood, at a 
 little distance from the high-road, a 
 comfortable red-brick mansion, " Marsdon 
 House," commonly called " Dyketon's," 
 perhaps from the marked individuality of its 
 owner. 
 
 On the morning after Mrs. Ellaby had 
 visited the demesne and dingy exterior of 
 Pendleton Grange, Philip Dyketon entered 
 his large and well-appointed breakfast-room 
 a trifle earlier than was his wont, and walked 
 quickly to the pile of letters that lay beside 
 his plate. Of late, owing to this proposed 
 new line really about to be commenced, his 
 correspondence had largely increased, and 
 the movement altogether gave his busy life 
 a fresh interest. 
 
 Barely thirty-three, his hair was already
 
 Philip Henry Dyketon. 23 
 
 grey, more particularly on the top of his finely - 
 formed head ; but, as he would have told you, 
 his father was white-headed at forty, although 
 he was hale and hearty when over seventy, 
 and rode to hounds a fortnight before his 
 death. The grey hair did not detract from 
 Philip Dyketon's good looks, for, even with 
 a story-teller's wide latitude, I must not call 
 him handsome — he was scarcely that, never- 
 theless there was about him that undefined 
 yet unmistakable air which bespeaks the 
 gentleman. In his clear blue eyes lurked a 
 certain expression which effectually waylaid 
 criticism, while his well-cut nose and square 
 chin indicated determination. His hand grasp 
 was firm, and conveyed the impression that 
 when occasion served he could prove both 
 leal and true. " Every inch a man," was felt, 
 if not said, of Philip Henry Dyketon, J. P., 
 proprietor of Marsdon House, Leicestershire. 
 He was singularly alone in the world since 
 his fathers death, so far as family ties were 
 concerned (not that this is always to be de- 
 plored), but of friends and acquaintances he
 
 24 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 had plenty ; he was rich, too, in fortune's 
 favours, and perfectly unfettered in their use, 
 being sole heir to the old Squire's wide pos- 
 sessions. Of his mother he had no distinct 
 remembrance. He had a faint recollection, 
 albeit a painful one, of a time when during 
 his infantile days a woman's form flitted 
 through these very rooms of which he was 
 now master. A shadowy reminiscence this, 
 of that mother with fair flowing hair, 
 dazzling complexion, and large blue eyes — 
 which he had inherited — mostly bedewed 
 with tears. Sometimes too, he fancied he 
 felt the warm kisses given by that visionary 
 being as his small figure lay nestled among 
 the scented laces of her gown. 
 
 She had voluntarily gone from them, and 
 years after his father, a broken-hearted man, 
 stood by her death-bed in an old Florentine 
 city, in order that she might, as she sorely 
 craved, breathe her last in his arms. 
 
 This sorrow, this dishonour of the mother 
 of his boy, had been the one bitter drop in 
 the old Squire's cup, the one dark cloud that
 
 Philip Henry Dyketon. 
 
 had fallen over his otherwise bright life. 
 Philip himself felt this shame clinging to him, 
 although no one had ever dared to mention it 
 in his hearing, and he firmly resolved never 
 to trust his honour and good name to the 
 keeping of a woman. 
 
 No maid, wife, or widow had reason to 
 believe for one instant she ever disturbed the 
 current of his thoughts. Kind and courteous 
 to all, he was especially so to none, and with- 
 out an effort on his part womenkind accepted 
 the fact that friendship only was to be 
 received from him. In spite of good looks 
 and extensive estates, he was not precisely 
 a man coveted by women, although they 
 could, and did, value such friendship as he 
 offered, yet there was little desire to bring 
 him to their feet, nor was he vain enough to 
 think so. He neither courted nor purposely 
 avoided them, for he was far too chivalrous 
 to entirely withdraw himself from their 
 influence because of one delinquent. 
 
 He was by no means incomprehensible or 
 mysterious with them, neither exciting their
 
 26 A Railway Foundling. • 
 
 rivalry nor fostering ill-nature, never moving 
 them in any unworthy sense, as many men of 
 baser motives, situated as he was, might have 
 done, yet he was not devoid of manly attri- 
 butes, but his upright, cleanly mind and 
 simple heart raised him above all low, un- 
 healthy sentiment. Husbands, fathers, and 
 brothers would have willingly entrusted their 
 nearest and dearest to him, knowing full well 
 that he was not likely to prove dangerous to 
 any woman's peace of mind ; no one having, 
 even in the merest joke, coupled his name, 
 either lightly or matrimonially, with one of 
 the fair sex. 
 
 Possibly a fond mother might earnestly 
 wish for such a son-in-law, but it was a ques- 
 tion whether the daughters (silly creatures), 
 having been asked to choose, would not 
 iiout him as a lover in favour of one who, 
 though of falser metal, had more fascinating 
 manners. 
 
 A portion of this new line of railway 
 would have to run across his own park ; he 
 was annoyed at this, and a shade of disap-
 
 Philip Henry Dyketon. 27 
 
 pointment crossed his face as he perused a 
 large blue letter relating to the final settle- 
 ment of this matter. He laid it down with 
 an impatient sigh, and muttered, "Well, it 
 cannot be helped, only it would have vexed 
 the dear old man." 
 
 He had been all along one of the principal 
 promoters of this line, but had to the last 
 hoped to save his private grounds from this 
 sacrilege. However, it could not be, as he 
 clearly saw from the weighty reasons given 
 in the aforesaid document. 
 
 Much of the house property in Little 
 Marsdon belonged to him, and he was 
 anxious to place it at the disposal of the 
 incoming staff, should any of it prove avail- 
 able, and he had already intimated as much 
 to his agent and to Mr. Oldham. 
 
 He met Mr. Ellaby in David Trench's 
 office, and at once took a great liking for him, 
 pronouncing him afterwards, in a private 
 chat with Mr. Trench, " a good fellow." 
 This from young Squire Dyketon meant a 
 very great deal.
 
 28 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 He was rather hazy as to what kind of 
 dwellings such people would require, and he 
 somewhat vaguely thought of them as a 
 nomadic, ever-moving race, peculiar, perhaps, 
 in many ways, but one to whom he would 
 afford every assistance. 
 
 David Trench had told him that the Cross 
 farm was likely to suit the Ellabys, and 
 seeing a letter with the lawyer's superscrip- 
 tion, he fancied as he broke the seal that he 
 pretty well knew its contents, and concluded 
 that the old place was at last let ; he must in 
 that case lose no time in handing it over to 
 some reliable person who could restore it 
 and put it into thorough repair. But as he 
 perused the letter an expression of surprise 
 and annoyance came into his face, followed 
 by one in which anger was plainly dis- 
 cernible. 
 
 " I never for a moment took this into 
 consideration," he murmured, rising from his 
 seat to pace the length of the room — a 
 habit of his when worried ; and yet the letter 
 was short and simple enough.
 
 Philip Henry Dyke ton. 29 
 
 " My dear Dyketon, — Try to meet me to-morrow if 
 you can. Mrs. Ellaby was here to-day, and I am afraid 
 the old Cross farm will scarcely suit them, after all. It 
 appears they are rather a largish family. Indeed, I do 
 not see how they are to find exactly what they require in 
 your immediate neighbourhood. Feeling perplexed, as 
 a last resource I ventured to recommend the lady to 
 look over Pendleton Grange. 
 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 " David Trench." 
 
 Philip carefully read it through a second 
 time. Trench called Mrs. Ellaby "the lady,'' 
 not "the person," "the party," or any such 
 anomalous term, but emphatically " the lady," 
 and he knew his old friend made no errors of 
 judgment in such little niceties. 
 
 " A lady," he mused, yet thinking it odd for 
 a lady to come alone to a strange country- 
 place house-hunting. He felt a sort of pity 
 for this unknown woman — the wife of the 
 man whom he had so cordially voted " a 
 good fellow" — wandering about unprotected 
 on what must have been an unthankful errand 
 enough. Verily, he considered, there was not 
 much in Little Marsdon to tempt a stranger
 
 30 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 to pass several years of his life in it, for 
 Ellaby had distinctly told him, " he must find 
 a house there." The more Philip thought, the 
 more he pitied Mrs. Ellaby. And she was a 
 lady — well, and the man was a gentleman, 
 innately a gentleman — had he not treated him 
 as such ? Had he not invited him to luncheon 
 the very next day along with Mr. Oldham 
 and David Trench, to meet the agent and the 
 lawyer of the Smalkington estate ? He would 
 come, of course, and would be entertained 
 with the others as a friend — why not ? So 
 there was a large family. Philip wondered 
 how large it might be. Grown-up sons, 
 perhaps daughters — yes, of course, the Cross 
 farm would be out of the question for them, 
 but — Pendleton Grange ? 
 
 Now, Pendleton Grange was closely con 
 nected with that dishonour of his mother 
 which had so overcast the brightness of 
 Philip Dyketon's life, and on this point he 
 was keenly sensitive and strangely morbid. 
 This disgrace was the one thing he could 
 not cast aside, the sting of which rankled ever
 
 Philip Henry Dyke ton. 
 
 fresh within him, and on which his heart 
 fed in bitterness and resentment — a disgrace 
 which destroyed the happiness of that dear 
 old man, his father, and for that reason alone 
 Philip hated the place. 
 
 It was at Pendleton Grange the man had 
 lived who wrought them this evil. He was so 
 vile, so utterly heartless and lost to all sense 
 of shame or decency, that he returned after his 
 sin, and took up his residence in his former 
 home, leaving his victim alone in a foreign 
 land, declaring to those who cared to listen 
 that " he was sick of her repentance, and 
 that she had drowned his passion with her 
 tears." He was coldly received and openly 
 shunned by his former friends ; but his stub- 
 born pride held out, and there he continued 
 to drag out, year on year off, a secluded, 
 unwholesome existence, till at last death 
 claimed him in its most terrible form, 
 delirium-tremens. Philip Dyketon was 
 young when this occurred, but he could 
 well remember the horrible tale of that awful 
 death which rang through the country-side
 
 32 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " How long ago?" he asked himself now. 
 He had no need to ponder over this question 
 as men do who seek a lost thread-in their 
 memory; through his ran an ever-vivid recol- 
 lection of the smallest detail : fifteen years 
 • ago it happened, and since Ralph Kirkburn's 
 death Pendleton Grange had lain empty and 
 desolate. 
 
 It was his own property now, for this 
 man had, in the very mockery of disdain, 
 willed it to his father — to the man whose life 
 he had so blighted and dishonoured. 
 
 The kindly old Squire had not accepted it 
 as any palliation of the crime, if so intended, 
 nor had he resented it as further insult — he 
 simply let the matter rest, and never referred 
 to the subject one way or the other. 
 
 There had been a big sale of " effects " to 
 which the curious of all grades eagerly flocked, 
 and from which strange brokers and Jewish- 
 looking dealers carried away the grim old 
 pictures, oaken furniture, and queer old china, 
 then — solitude. And so it had remained, 
 for Philip followed his father's lead, and
 
 Philip Henry Dyke ton. 33 
 
 never willingly saw even the chimneys of the 
 house visible above the bare trees : in summer 
 even those were effectually hidden by thick 
 foliage from the gaze of the passer-by. Up to 
 this moment no one had ever proposed taking 
 it as a residence, and to him it was a most 
 undesirable possession, a dead weight — in 
 short an indescribable incubus. But now, 
 apparently, he must throw off some of this in- 
 tolerance in regard to it. Fresh people, these 
 roving railway folk, to whom he had already 
 advanced civility and shown friendship, 
 would come, and probably take it, a step 
 which might even entail his visiting within 
 its walls. 
 
 Philip Dyketon winced at such a possi- 
 bility ; he had not foreseen to what such 
 intimacy might lead. At the bare sugges- 
 tion scenes enacted within these very walls 
 in days gone by came crowding up. He 
 saw himself again a small boy playing 
 in a high panelled room hung with pictures 
 of the grimmest nature ; in the centre a 
 table with massive le^s carved with stranee 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 devices, which he loved to trace with his 
 tiny fingers as he knelt on the dim, rich 
 carpet. In this vision stood a tall, dark 
 man holding a woman by both her hands, a 
 frail creature, with fair hair flowing about her 
 shoulders, dressed in a flowery garment of 
 mingled blues and pinks. The man was 
 laughing, the woman — Philip's mother — 
 crying, and evidently begging something of 
 him who gripped her hands so cruelly hard. 
 Then suddenly the man loosed those dainty 
 hands and flung her from him as in pas- 
 sionate scorn, laying his iron grasp on his 
 own small shoulders, swinging him roughly 
 from the ground 
 
 At this point of his reflections the 
 door of the room in which he now 
 was, opened to admit his confidential old 
 butler. 
 
 " Mr. Philip, John Datchet's in the hall, 
 he's come about that hay you promised 
 to speak of for the ' Blue Lion.' ' : 
 
 " Ah ?" said his master, as if not hearing, 
 or at least not understanding. The pull back
 
 Philip Henry Dyketon. 
 
 from the past to the present was bewildering 
 him for a moment. 
 
 " John Datchet, sir, about that hay," was 
 repeated. 
 
 " Oh, yes, Harvey, to be sure." Philip 
 rose now, alert, and himself again. 
 
 11 And, sir, he says as how he drove a lady, 
 only yesterday, to Pendleton Grange. Sure/)'. 
 Master Phil, none of this railway lot 11 
 be wanting such a big tumble-down place as 
 that to live in?" 
 
 Sometimes, in moments of excitement, 
 the old servants were wont to drop 
 thus into the familiar term, " Master 
 Phil." 
 
 As Harvey followed his master from the 
 room he went on with his speech : " No, 
 sure/)' such as they won't want Pendleton 
 Grange, never you fear, Master Phil. They 
 wants big new-built, cheerful houses, wi' 
 plenty o' stucco and plaster o' Paris about 
 em. I take it they'll be a rampagious 
 pack, take 'em all round, that'll come 
 swoopin' down, and thinkin' to drive all
 
 36 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 afore 'em, and to rough-ride over every- 
 thing" 
 
 "We shall see," Philip replied, laugh- 
 ing a little at the old fellow's testy 
 earnestness. " But, all the same, I don't 
 know where the big, cheerful houses are 
 to be found in Little Marsdon." 
 
 " Massy on us ! why, there's the brick 
 'ouse next the Methody Chapel. Good 
 enough for railway folk any day in the 
 week, / should think, anyhow." 
 
 This was spoken in the hearing of John 
 Datchet, who stood hat in hand in the 
 spacious hall. He pulled his forelock to 
 the Squire, but answered Mr. Harvey, " You 
 wouldn't think that, nayther, that that 'ere 
 'ouse 'ud be good eno' for the leddy as / 
 druvved to Pendleton Grange yesterday as 
 ever wos, not ef you'd 'a sin her, that is, 
 and had 'a talked to her like I did. She's 
 a rale good sort, she is, sir," to Philip. 
 "It's a good shake o' time sin I've had 
 a couple o' 'alf-crowns guvved me at one 
 swing."
 
 • Philip Henry Dykcton. $7 
 
 "Oh," broke in Harvey, "railway folk 
 makes money easy enough, never fear, and 
 likes to throw it round. ' Easy come, easy 
 go,' I dessay's their motter ; but that's," 
 irritably, " neither here nor there as to her 
 bein' a lady."
 
 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "OF COURSE, MY DEAR, OF COURSE." 
 
 More than a week passed before Mr. Ellaby 
 returned home. He was not fond of letter- 
 writing, except under pressure of business, so 
 only a few scanty lines had been received 
 from him to the effect that " mother need 
 trouble no more about house-hunting." 
 
 " Dear me," said Mab, contracting her 
 white forehead. "I do wish dad would 
 write us longer letters just now ; he might 
 well have dispensed with ' his best love to 
 yourself and girls,' to have substituted a little 
 information as to what he is doing about a 
 house." 
 
 " I dare say in the end all will turn out 
 comfortably, my dear, if we are patient," 
 answered Mrs. Ellaby, brightly ; " and you 
 know nothing bothers your father like writing 
 letters."
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course." 39 
 
 "Yes; but then, you see, mother, you 
 are patient { without effort, and that is so 
 different." 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby only sighed, and Mab ran to 
 kiss her. "You know what I mean, don't 
 you, dear ? " she asked penitently. 
 
 " I think I do, darling," smiling, as she 
 kissed the pretty, eager face. 
 
 "At any rate, I am pretty sure," continued 
 Mab, reflectively, "that it won't be the old 
 Cross farm, and I am morally certain he will 
 not cotton to the house by the chapel. Now, 
 do you think he will, mother ? " 
 
 "I do not see what else there is, dear," 
 and once more Mrs. Ellaby sighed, for, to use 
 Mab's expression, she did not " cotton " to 
 this house herself. She rather fancied in her 
 own mind it would be the Cross farm, because 
 Mr. Trench had told her no trouble or 
 expense would be spared to put it quickly 
 into habitable repair. 
 
 "What else?" inquired Mab, eagerly. 
 " Why, the old Grange, mother." 
 
 " My dear, if you had only seen it you
 
 40 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 would dismiss all idea of it from your 
 thoughts." 
 
 • " You do not seem a bit like yourself, 
 mother dear, about that house," remarked 
 Dorothy, looking up from her lace-work. 
 " It is unusual for you to be so prejudiced 
 against an arrangement of this kind." 
 
 " Is it, child ? I do not know about that, 
 and this can scarcely as yet be called an 
 arrangement," said Mrs. Ellaby, so quietly 
 and almost sadly that neither of the girls felt 
 inclined to pursue the subject, although 
 amongst themselves they expressed it as their 
 opinion that in the end they would live in 
 this particular house, and Alec, of course, 
 agreed with them. 
 
 Mr. Ellaby's first words on his arrival were 
 "Well, mother, and how do you like Little 
 Marsdon now ? " 
 
 He spoke in such a gay, cheery tone 
 that it seemed to inspire her with fresh 
 hope. 
 
 " It must be an awful hole, dad," said Mab, 
 hugging and kissing him, "for even mother
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course!' 41 
 
 can find nothing — positively nothing to 
 praise in it" 
 
 " Nonsense, kitten, get away and let's have 
 some dinner." 
 
 " Why, dad," after some minutes, " there's 
 not a decent house in the place, and as for 
 society, there is none — I don't suppose there 
 are any men within a radius of twenty miles, 
 for as a rule they don't vegetate at Little 
 Marsdons." 
 
 "It did not strike me that the population 
 was more than usually composed of women," 
 rejoined her father, quizzically. 
 
 "Oh, you know what I mean — men of — of 
 a certain stamp." 
 
 " Hush, Mab, n said Mrs. Ellaby, " this 
 society question is, after all, a secondary con- 
 sideration ; we can always be happy among 
 ourselves. But really, James, there are no 
 houses that I can see likely to suit us, and I 
 do not know what we are to do." 
 
 " Go somewhere else," promptly suggested 
 Mab between her spoonfuls of soup. " Now, 
 Marsdon itself is not half bad. The Kings
 
 42 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 know some people there ; he's a lawyer, and 
 has two jolly daughters and a " 
 
 " My dear child," interrupted Mrs. Ellaby, 
 who, instead of Mab's chatter, was anxious to 
 hear what her husband had to tell. But he 
 was very provoking, and went on quietly with 
 his second helping of soup, only smiling now 
 and again. 
 
 The others being out, Mab was the only 
 daughter to talk, and talk she felt she must. 
 "Ah, I see," she exclaimed delightedly, " we 
 are to live at Marsdon, after all." 
 
 Just then the others came in rather 
 excitedly even for Nora, who was usually so 
 calm. " Oh, father," she said, kissing him, 
 41 then it is to be the old Grange, after all ? " 
 
 "So Alec has let the cat out of the bag 
 already," glancing up at him as he spoke. 
 
 <4 Oh, James," said Mrs. Ellaby, startled, 
 " is it really settled so ? " 
 
 11 Signed and sealed," he answered merrily, 
 not thinking for a moment but that she would 
 be pleased. 
 
 11 Oh, James, I do not like the place."
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course!' 43 
 
 "My dear ! " and he stared at her in amaze- 
 ment. " Not like it ? Why, surely you are 
 never going to turn fanciful ? It is not half a 
 bad old place — any amount of room, plenty of 
 stabling, and is precisely in the spot that will 
 suit me. The firm made a good offer for it 
 without hesitation: the owner is absolutely 
 indifferent as to what is done with it, and 
 makes no tiresome restrictions whatever. 
 Why, looking at it sensibly, it's a perfect 
 god-send to us, for I confess I despaired of 
 Little Marsdon. Mr. Trench, too, is most 
 anxious to make things plain sailing for us." 
 
 " Yes, I liked him very much, " observed 
 Mrs. Ellaby. 
 
 " Why, mother, that must be the very man 
 the Kings know. You never said a word 
 about him before." 
 
 " I only saw him for a few minutes in his 
 office, child. I remember," to her husband, 
 " he did say something vague about the owner 
 having family reasons for disliking the place 
 and leaving it to fall into disrepair." 
 
 u Ah," said he, laughing, "you never saw
 
 44 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 it to advantage. Why, Datchet tells me you 
 never went inside." 
 
 " I — thought it so out of the question, 
 you see, James, so large and rambling ; and 
 oh," she shuddered, " it is so weird and dismal 
 with all that ivy and stagnant water about it." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh " said Mr. Ellaby. " And 
 now, Mab, give me a cigar." 
 
 That he was vexed, they could see, but 
 triumphant at heart, so far as he himself was 
 concerned. " I think," he added, " you girls 
 will revel in it, there is something so romantic 
 about it, you know," this with a comical look 
 at Dorothy and Mab. 
 
 "Well, really," assented Dorothy, "it does 
 not sound half bad, does it, Nora ? " Dorothy 
 was never content unless her opinion was 
 backed up by some stronger will. 
 
 " No, indeed," answered Nora, promptly, 
 glancing at her mother. " I do think, dear," 
 she said, " you must have been morally under 
 some sort of cloud the day you saw it." 
 
 "And," broke in Mab the irrepressible, " I 
 do like your idea of romantic, dad. If there
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course." 45 
 
 is any romance about it you will soon dispel 
 it with the motley crew you gather round us, 
 with a blacksmith's shop, perhaps, in your 
 wake, set at some corner near the front door, 
 while the lawns, as likely as not, will be 
 turned into convalescent hospitals, on which 
 sick horses will perambulate about." 
 
 They all joined in the merriment this 
 speech called forth, for there was so much 
 truth in it. 
 
 il Xo, no, Mab, I promise there shall be 
 nothing of this sort," 
 
 " Honour bright ?" 
 
 " Ay, Mab, honour bright." 
 
 "And no office in the house?" softly 
 asked Dorothy. 
 
 " Only one, for my own private use," her 
 father answered. 
 
 " And no horrid stores, rusty chains and 
 irons and things, to say nothing of bags of 
 dusty grain, and huge harness-sets smug- 
 gled into the unused rooms, like you did 
 at " 
 
 " Hush ! Mab, Don't hark back to old
 
 46 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 scores, that's mean. Here, give me a 
 
 light- 
 
 Dorothy, who was not so daring as Mab 
 in chaffing the dad on his hobbies, laughed 
 with him. 
 
 " Well," persisted Mab, handing him a 
 lighted match, "you know you require a 
 deal of looking after in these matters, and 
 you are evading the question now, I can 
 
 see " 
 
 " Well, Mab, the house is really so 
 large " 
 
 " Exactly," she replied, with a triumphant 
 nod to the rest. 
 
 " That I shall set a wing or two quite 
 apart for a little of this sort of business, 
 and a storekeeper, Jallops, you know, and 
 his wife, can live in them, for, as you say, 
 the place is lonely. That will do, eh, 
 mother ?" 
 
 Mab looked thoughtful at this arrange- 
 ment, but it had such a very reasonable 
 sound that Mrs. Ellaby said " there was 
 nothing to object to in it."
 
 " Of cotirse, my dear, of course." 47 
 
 u And Jallops can have the old blunder- 
 bus," chimed in Alec, " in case of ghosts 
 or burglars." 
 
 "And, James, when you are away at 
 nights I must stipulate for a night-watchman 
 about the place, I really must," said Mrs. 
 Ellaby, very earnestly. 
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course," he briskly 
 assented, evidently greatly relieved ; " that 
 goes without saying. I know the situation 
 is dull ; but, bless my life, you won't know 
 the old house when you see it again. 
 Already fires are in all the rooms, and there's 
 a whole gang of our fellows in the gardens 
 and orchard clearing away the rubbish, 
 and giving them a rough dig-over ; inside, 
 painters and plasterers are holding high 
 revel, and the rats are nowhere in the 
 bustle." 
 
 Presently, when Mab and her father were 
 alone, she perched herself on his knee, to 
 prefer a request. " Might she go down 
 with him the next time he went, to see for 
 herself what it was all like ? Do let me,"
 
 48 A Raikvay Foundling. 
 
 she pleaded coaxingly, with her bright violet 
 eyes very close to his. 
 
 James Ellaby, who rarely denied his 
 favourite little daughter anything, when she 
 proposed this to him, answered, " Yes, 
 kitten, you may, on Monday, if you'll pro- 
 mise, mind, to try and like everything, 
 so as to come back and reassure the 
 mother. Can't understand her being so set 
 against it." 
 
 " Nor we," said Mab, brightly, giving him 
 a grateful hug. " I promise to put on rose- 
 coloured spectacles, and on my return I'll 
 fairly talk mother over. I really do think," 
 gravely, for Mab could be very grave at 
 times, "that / shall like it" — here she put 
 out her arched little feet, in order that she 
 might admire some satin bows she had 
 sewn on her slippers — "and," she continued 
 demurely, " as you say, too, there is the 
 romance of the thing. I'll be bound there's a 
 ghost. Now, I have always longed to live 
 in a haunted house." 
 
 " 'All houses are haunted where men
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course." 49 
 
 have lived and died,' doesn't some poet 
 fellow say, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes — Longfellow," answered Mab, 
 thoughtfully ; and then turning sharply 
 round to him, " What sort of a man is the 
 owner of Pendleton Grange, dad? I think 
 his name very ugly — ' Dyketon.' There is 
 such a hard, thin, wiry sound about it." 
 "Oh, I don't know." 
 
 " But I do, sir. Now, I like a smooth- 
 sounding name. All the same, he appears 
 to have been very kind and nice to you." 
 
 " Very. He is an all round good fellow. He 
 cut up a little rough at first over a personal 
 question of land, but now he is reasonable- 
 ness itself, and will raise no further obstacles. 
 There is a sort of honest give-and-take 
 about the man I can understand and get on 
 with." 
 
 " Oh," said Mab, with an amusingly wise 
 air, " I am so glad. And did you not say to 
 mother just now that he had a park ? " 
 "Yes." 
 "Then he is rich?" 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " I suppose so, and he's a J. P., so you'll 
 have to behave yourself, young woman." 
 
 " Is his house very swell ? and was he very 
 jolly the day you lunched there ? " 
 
 Mr. Ellaby laughed. " I can't tell you any- 
 thing about his furniture or antimacassars, 
 Mab, if that is what you mean. As to the 
 luncheon, it was well served, and its object 
 was purely business." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course." 
 
 " He is one of the most influential direc- 
 tors . 
 
 But Mab, not wishing the conversation to 
 drift off into this channel, asked, " And is he 
 young, dad ? " 
 
 " No, Mab." 
 
 " Married ? " skilfully dropping one of her 
 slippers to pick it up again. 
 
 '' No — at least, I believe not. But I saw a 
 little girl walking in the grounds with a nurse, 
 so perhaps he is; but I don't fancy so, all the 
 same." 
 
 " Oh, and about how old is he, dear ? " 
 
 A quiet smile, which Mab did not notice,
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course." 51 
 
 lighted up her father's face as he replied 
 
 indifferently, " Oh he is quite a grey-headed 
 
 man." 
 
 Slab's interest abated considerably, and 
 
 she proceeded on another tack. 
 
 "And this Mr. Trench has a son, dad — at 
 
 least, Lucy King said so in her last letter." 
 " Yes, he has." 
 
 " Did you happen to see him ? " 
 ''Yes. I dined with them last night. " 
 " Did you ? " with fresh vigour ; " and were 
 
 they pleasant ? " 
 " Extremely so." 
 
 " And the girls, are they pretty ? " 
 "Remarkably so, I should say — dark-eyed, 
 
 fine-looking girls. Mrs. Trench is something 
 
 like your mother — at any rate, her caps and 
 
 rowns are." 
 
 " Yes, and the son — what is he like ? " 
 Again the quizzical, amused smile suffused 
 
 his countenance as he quietly said, " Oh, 
 
 poor fellow, he's a cripple." 
 
 " Oh dear, how tiresome ! I mean," 
 
 laughing a little, " how very sad ! ''
 
 52 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Yes, pretty bad, I suppose. But now, 
 kitten, don't you think it's about bed-time ? " 
 
 " Did you ever know anything more 
 unutterably provoking ? " said Mab, in the 
 privacy of the girls' own rooms, as she 
 savagely brushed her sunny hair. "There 
 are only two men down there that dad 
 has heard anything of — one's grey-headed ; 
 nasty, tiresome old thing ! and the other's 
 a cripple." 
 
 " Then it will be miserable for you," 
 remarked Nora, blandly. " Whatever will 
 you do ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure. It's all very well 
 for you to go in for the blissful-content sort 
 of thing, who are engaged with Tom coming 
 to see you at ' regular times,' as the house- 
 maids say. Not that I could endure that," 
 here the crisp curls had a brisker handling 
 than ever — " the aggravating regularity of 
 the thing would worry me into fiddle- 
 strings." 
 
 " That would be bad for your lover," said 
 Nora, teasingly.
 
 " Of course, my dear, of course? 53 
 
 Dorothy, who was in the next room — for 
 the one opened into the other — giggled at 
 this, and made Mab still more angry. 
 
 " You need not be so jubilant, Dol, since 
 you are in the same boat with me. I am 
 quite sure that having a hard-and-fast lover 
 would simply bore me to death.'' 
 
 " How about a husband, then ?" demanded 
 Nora, who was looking very handsome with 
 her long black hair unbound and her cheeks 
 flushed with fun. 
 
 " Oh, a husband is a different thing alto- 
 gether, I suppose. I don't want to haggle 
 over reasons for all I say, so I'm off. Good 
 night." With these words she shut the 
 door sharply on her eldest sister, and joined 
 Dorothy, whose room she shared. 
 
 They had an exhaustive talk, as girls will 
 in such cases, and after viewing the position 
 in all its bearings they decided, with the 
 hopefulness of youth, that, on the whole, they 
 liked the idea of the old Grange, and if only 
 there were some few families in the vicinity, 
 life there might be very enjoyable.
 
 54 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " And then," murmured Dorothy, in her 
 pretty but rather weak manner, "it is such a 
 good hunting country." 
 
 " What's the good of that to us," snapped 
 irritable Mab, "when we don't ride?" 
 
 " We can ride Gyp whenever we like." 
 
 "Ride Gyp!" retorted Mab, with in- 
 effable scorn, 
 
 "Well, at any rate, we can drive to the 
 meets," urged Dorothy, gently. Dorothy 
 was always sweetly persistent. 
 
 " I can't say I particularly care about 
 putting myself out of the way to see other 
 people enjoying just what I crave for 
 myself," said Mab ; " and who, for goodness ' 
 sake, would notice us in such a crowd with 
 Gyp and the old gad-about ? " 
 
 " But we could see " 
 
 "As if seeing was everything." 
 
 " And dad says he is going to have the 
 gad-about done up for us, Mab, and you 
 know how well-built it is." 
 
 "And I'll take care to keep him up to the 
 mark about that," rejoined Mab, more cheer-
 
 " Of cotirse, my dear, of course." 55 
 
 fully ; " and I think we'll have brown cloth 
 cushions this time, Dol." 
 
 To this Dorothy warmly agreed, adding, 
 " And I am sure dear little Gyp is lovely." 
 
 " Gyp's we ^ enough," allowed Mab, " only ■ 
 I am, as Alec would say, downright snaggy 
 to-night ; somehow you never are, or only in 
 an aggravatingly slow way." 
 
 " 'Tisn't worth it," said Dorothy, yawning. 
 
 " That's what you always say, Dol, and yet 
 in a quiet way you can and do worry on, just 
 as much as I snap and snarl." 
 
 " Be sure, Mab," ignoring this remark, and 
 with another sleepy yawn, " you look about 
 and inspect everything on Monday, and 
 bring us back a whole budget of news." 
 
 " Trust me," answered Mab, laughing 
 now. " I'll grub round into every nook and 
 corner."
 
 56 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A STRANGE INCIDENT. 
 
 On the following Monday Mab was in high 
 spirits as she travelled down into Leicester- 
 shire with her father. She felt extremely 
 well pleased with herself and surroundings — 
 a satisfaction arising in a great measure from 
 the knowledge that she was well dressed in 
 a new and thoroughly becoming costume. 
 What woman is there — or man either, for that 
 matter — who is proof against this " glow of 
 satisfaction " from the wearing of good-cut 
 and well-made garments ? 
 
 A dark brown velveteen skirt, with a 
 heather cloth Directoire jacket, suited Mab 
 Ellaby to perfection — a fact of which she 
 was well aware. 
 
 On the low white forehead a tawny 
 fringe of crisp little curls showed to ad- 
 vantage under her becoming toque ; more
 
 A Strange Incident. 57 
 
 of these cunning curls clustered at the nape 
 of her slender neck, while the back hair was 
 just long enough to brush loosely into a coil 
 on the crown, to meet, with the aid of a 
 couple of hairpins, the front line of them. 
 This is a very becoming style, always sup- 
 posing there are a good head and neck, an 
 elliptical line of cheek, with really pretty, 
 ears. Mab's looked exceedingly small and 
 shell-like as they nestled among her hair, 
 their beauty not being disfigured by any 
 earrings. A neat horse-shoe brooch was the 
 only ornament her simple good taste allowed: 
 even the wrists of her number-six dogskin 
 gloves were innocent of the inevitable 
 bangle. 
 
 The deep violet eyes were full of interest 
 for every point as the express rushed through 
 the fair counties ; they were by turns 
 expressive of laughter and earnestness as 
 thoughts flitted quickly through the busy 
 brain. 
 
 When the fly from the " Blue Lion " once 
 more drew up at the principal door of
 
 58 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Pendleton Grange, Mr. Ellaby said, "Now, 
 kitten, you wanted to come, so you must 
 not mind being left alone here a bit, for I 
 must get away to Nincleton for an hour or 
 two. Datchet can put his horse up and stay 
 about the place." 
 
 "All right," answered Mab, merrily. "I am 
 only longing for you to be gone that I may 
 commence my explorations. I shall not find 
 the time heavy on my hands, I can assure 
 you. I shall make up to John Datchet, and 
 get all the news of the neighbourhood out 
 of him." 
 
 " This is my youngest daughter, Datchet, 
 and the greatest plague of my life," said 
 her father, as she sprang lightly out of the 
 shaky old vehicle. " I must leave her in 
 your charge for awhile, so put up your horse 
 and keep an eye upon her ; she says she is 
 going to get all the news of the place out 
 of you." 
 
 "Ay, sor," assented John Datchet, with 
 a pleased look. " But it 'ud tek a weary 
 toime to tell the sprightly young leddy all I
 
 A Strange Incident} 59 
 
 knows. o' Pendleton Grange; mebbe she'd git 
 tired fust." 
 
 11 Not she, John. But how about my nag?" 
 
 It appeared at this moment in charge of a 
 respectable-looking man, and Mr. Ellaby 
 was soon mounted and away. 
 
 11 Now, look here, John Datchet," said 
 Mab, stepping to his side, " I do really want 
 to hear all about this old place and the 
 neighbourhood — oh, and everything you can 
 tell me, because you must know I have come 
 to see how I like it, that I may go back and 
 tell the others at home." 
 
 "Ay, for sure ; and the missus she didn't 
 loike it much that day I druvved her here. 
 I'll jest go and boss up t' ould oss, and then 
 we'll see about it." 
 
 " Yes," said Mab, demurely. " Is his 
 name Baalbec ? " glancing at his up-standing 
 bones. 
 
 " No, missy, he ain't got no sich high- 
 soundin' name as that 'ere, but he've got 
 some good blood in 'im for all that : he's 
 ony ole Tom."
 
 60 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Oh — I thought what a magnificent ruin 
 he was — like Baalbec, you know," and Mab 
 laughed — a pretty little ripple of good- 
 natured mirth that won John Datchet's 
 heart and smoothed away any slight resent- 
 ment he felt on old Tom's account. 
 
 " Mebbe, missy," he said, chuckling in spite 
 of himself; "but I don't zactly see what you 
 be a-drivin' at, all the same." 
 
 She laughed again, and nodded cheerily to 
 him as he led old Tom away round a corner, 
 then she disappeared within the house. 
 
 Inside, all was bustle and disorder. The 
 damp old plaster was torn down, and littered 
 the wide hall ; but in an instant her quick, 
 appreciative eye took in its fine proportions. 
 "What a lovely summer lounge this will 
 make," she said to herself, " with a few hand- 
 some ferns dotted here and there, and a sofa 
 or two ! in winter that old fireplace will be 
 superb." 
 
 Workmen were about in plenty, and the 
 clatter of their tools and gruff voices made a 
 pleasant, cheery sound on the quiet air.
 
 A Strange Incident. 61 
 
 Mab was favourably impressed as yet. 
 The soft spring sunshine was flooding 
 through the open door and lighting up some 
 old panelling, which she stepped across to 
 examine more closely. 
 
 " How lovely this is ! " she remarked to an 
 elderly man, who appeared astonished at 
 seeing such a strange visitor in their midst. 
 
 " Ah, 'tis so, and folks nowadays be all 
 agog for old things. Plenty of 'em 'ere," he 
 said, looking at her questioningly. 
 
 " I am Mr. Ellaby's daughter," she 
 answered, as if in explanation. " He has 
 been obliged to leave me to look round 
 alone, so you won't mind my going about — I 
 so wanted to see what the place is like, as 
 we are to live here." 
 
 " And nateral, too, that is, missy, for sure. 
 This way, if you please, and mind that 'ere 
 old plank as yer don't ketch yer pretty foot 
 in't." 
 
 He was evidently a master-mason. Mab 
 was quite accustomed to pick her way 
 amongst planks, &c, and as she eagerly
 
 62 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 followed him she inquired affably, " Are you 
 Marsdon tradespeople, or do you belong to 
 the railway ? " 
 
 " Well, I be a Marsdon man myself, born 
 and bred, and most o' these men hail from 
 there too ; some o' the carpenters and 
 painters'll come from Nincleton." 
 
 " I suppose the railway men are outside ?" 
 she remarked, pointing to the gardens. 
 
 "Ay, jest so, missy, and a fmeish set o' 
 chaps they seems to be, as far as I can see 
 — anyhow, they'm a clearem all afore 'em. 
 Mind, missy," he cautioned, " all this 
 rubbitch and cumulation." He was con- 
 siderably surprised at the deft manner she 
 sprang over it. " Not the first time you've 
 a-done this sort o' thing," he said admir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " By no means," replied Mab, brightly. 
 " I go about on the w r orks a great deal with 
 my father at times, and know a good many 
 of the men and their families." 
 
 " i\n' be they such a rough lot as is made 
 out, missy, now ?" he asked. " Some o' the
 
 A Strange Incident. 63 
 
 folk 'bout 'ere is a bit scared-like — not that 
 I be, or my old 'oman either." 
 
 " You must wait and see," answered Mab, 
 with a little flushed colour in her cheeks. 
 " We respect the navvy — that is, the real 
 thoroughbred navvy — as an honest, God- 
 fearing man, nothing more nor less." 
 
 ".Ay, ay, missy, I sees what you mean." 
 
 " You will, all in good time," said Mab, as 
 she stopped at the foot of the stairs ; " but 
 of course, there are navvies and navvies." 
 
 " Ay," chuckling, " same as there's men o' 
 all sorts — and men." 
 
 "What fine old carving! What a pity 
 the place should have been left to such 
 neglect ! " 
 
 " Yes," said the old mason, taking off his 
 cap . to ruffle up his tufts of iron-grey hair, 
 " the carvin's is fine, I s'pose ; though, to my 
 mind, they cut and cut away at their figure- 
 ments like wi'out much rhyme or reason, so 
 lur as designin' or patternin' goes ; and for 
 the matter o' that, missy, when folks leads bad 
 lives and dies dreadful deaths in the devil's
 
 64 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 grip, so to say, their 'ouses is apt to lay empty 
 and 'cumulate rubbitch and destruction-like — 
 fifteen year 'tis now sin Mr. Kirkburn died 
 that 'ere death." 
 
 " Was he a very bad man ? " asked Mab, 
 a little awed. 
 
 " Ay, missy, he wor that — a regular bad 
 egg he wor, and 'tisn't no wonder as Mester 
 Dyketon hates the sight and soun' o' the 
 place — nobbut," more brightly, " I 'ope as 
 he'll git over that now and feel more healthy- 
 like 'bout it ; but I must be going now, not 
 but what 'tis a great temptation to talk to 
 such a bonny young lass as you." 
 
 Mab smiled radiantly, as was her wont, at 
 such an honest compliment, but handsome 
 Nora herself could not repel impertinence 
 better than she could on occasion. 
 
 She went by herself quickly but thought- 
 fully up the wide oak stairs, wondering what 
 could be the story of that wicked Mr. 
 Kirkburn, which made old Mr. Dyketon so 
 dislike such a fine property as this. 
 
 Into several rooms where men were busy
 
 A Strange Incident. 65 
 
 she went, giving them a civil nod as she 
 glanced round critically and comprehensively. 
 She then wandered down a rather dark 
 passage, at the end of which she opened a 
 heavy door. Here her tour of inspection was 
 suddenly curtailed by a great mishap. 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon, I could not 
 help myself," she cried in some alarm, as she 
 freed herself from the support of two strong 
 arms that were anxious to retain their hold 
 of her while their owner assured himself she 
 was unhurt. 
 
 She had entered hastily, and tripping over 
 a basket of carpenter's tools, had upset a 
 bucket of whitewash, which wash was now 
 meandering the whole length of the room 
 like a huge wriggling snake. 
 
 True to her merry nature, and keenly 
 alive to her ridiculous position, she laughed 
 heartily as, in answer to inquiries, she 
 declared herself uninjured. 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? It was a very 
 awkward tumble.'' 
 
 The tone of voice was so full and 
 vol 1. f
 
 66 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 pleasant that Mab looked up gratefully at 
 the speaker. 
 
 "Quite sure," she answered, " thanks to 
 your promptness in helping me." 
 
 She wondered who her interrogator was, 
 but concluded it was some one waiting to 
 interview her father on business. " I am 
 afraid," she said next, "that you will not be 
 able to see my father, Mr. Ellaby, he is 
 gone on towards Nincleton." 
 
 The stranger slightly raised his hat in 
 acknowledgment of this information, but, 
 to Mab's disgust, did not satisfy her curiosity 
 by telling either his name or his business. 
 
 Perhaps it was an involuntary oversight 
 on his part, occasioned by her unexpected 
 appearance as she broke in upon his reverie. 
 
 "Any way," Mab determined, "he is a 
 gentleman," and after his courtesy to her 
 she concluded a little farewell speech was 
 necessary before she quitted his presence. 
 
 " I am his daughter, Mabel Ellaby," she 
 continued, as if in reply to the man's ques- 
 tioning look. " We are going to live here, so
 
 A Strange Incident. 67 
 
 I came on a voyage of discovery to find out 
 what it is like." She spoke lightly, though 
 still piqued that he was so silent. "It was 
 very stupid of me to topple over that bucket i 
 and I am sure I am much obliged to you for 
 rescuing me from its contents." 
 
 She was departing, when the man said 
 simply, "This house is scarcely a fitting 
 home for so much brightness." 
 
 Mab bridled a little at this, but it was said 
 so pleasantly — the idea of compliment being 
 evidently far from the speaker's mind — that 
 she could but bow politely as she replied, 
 "Yes, it is gloomy ; " then, as her interest 
 overcame her little resentment, " You see, 
 it has been empty so long — fifteen years, 
 I believe — and something very dreadful 
 happened in it : the man who lived here 
 died an awful death, it seems, after leading 
 a very bad life. I do not exactly know 
 why, but the old gentleman to whom he 
 left it hates the sight of it, they say. It is 
 a pity, I think, do not you ? " she added, for 
 the grave attention and the respectful manner
 
 68 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 of this stranger were perceptibly winning 
 her over. 
 
 " Old Mr. Dyketon has been dead several 
 years," he answered, smiling a little. 
 
 " Oh dear, no, he is still alive — this all be- 
 longs to him. My father knows him just a 
 little, and says he is such a nice man. He has 
 a lovely place near here, and such a pretty 
 park — I saw it as we drove along. Some 
 people get everything, do not they?" she 
 asked naively. 
 
 "Perhaps, Miss Ellaby. If one only looks 
 on the surface of things, it does seem so," he 
 returned quietly. " But Philip Dyketon is 
 not old." 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed ; my father told me he 
 has grey hair," indifferently asserted, Mab, 
 and then asked impulsively, " However was 
 it, I wonder, that that wretched Mr. Kirk- 
 burn left such a property as this to 
 people who do not care in the very least 
 for it?" 
 
 " I think that involves a long story. If 
 you come to live here you will doubtless
 
 A Strange Incident. 69 
 
 hear all about it. Many garbled accounts, I 
 dare say " 
 
 " But had he no son of his own to leave it 
 to ? " Mab questioned, in her bright, eager 
 way. 
 
 " I do not quite know, There was a man 
 whom people thought was the rightful heir. 
 Some said he was his lawful son, although he 
 was called Thistleden " 
 
 " Thistle 'den, did you say?" asked Mab, 
 coming quite close to the stranger, and 
 looking into his face with blanching cheeks — 
 " Thistleden?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss Ellaby — you seem startled." 
 The same might well have been said of him- 
 self just then. 
 
 " Do you know — his other name ? was it 
 Arthur ? " queried Mab, with suppressed 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, it was Arthur Geraint 
 Thistleden, I believe. But what of it?" greatly 
 puzzled by her growing excitement. 
 
 "Arthur — Thistleden," said the girl, with 
 a sharp catch of the breath which boded tears
 
 jo A Railway Foundling. 
 
 presently, " is a very bad fellow, and — and — 
 he married my eldest sister" here her voice 
 sank to a pained whisper. " It is the sorrow 
 of our lives ; it is miserable sometimes for us 
 when poor mother frets about it, for we have 
 heard nothing of poor Mary for years — we do 
 not know if she is alive or dead." Mab 
 looked round the large room, tears dimming 
 the violet depth of her eyes ; but conquering 
 her emotion by a brave effort, she continued, 
 "And how strange that mother should have 
 taken such a dislike to this place when she 
 saw it ! It must have been a presentiment, 
 don't you think ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," admitted her companion, in 
 those rich, full tones which had invited Mab's 
 confidence. " But this could scarcely be called 
 young Thistleden's home ; he was seldom 
 here, and it was never quite known who 
 he was." 
 
 He sighed wearily as he spoke, and Mab 
 realised all at once that she was taking up the 
 time of an entire stranger — some business 
 man, perhaps, to whom time was valuable.
 
 A Strange Incident. 71 
 
 But his manner had been so void of every- 
 thing but pleasant tolerance that she had 
 forgotten — and how talkative she had 
 been! she now thought, as she blushed with 
 vexation. 
 
 People were in the habit of waiting about 
 at the different places where Mr. Ellaby was 
 most likely to be found, and she had taken it 
 as a matter of course that this idle loiterer 
 was one of them. 
 
 " I am afraid," she said, once more, "you 
 will be tired of waiting for my father." All 
 her eagerness was gone now, and her voice 
 had grown timid under the uncomfortable 
 feeling that she had been careless and 
 too communicative about family affairs. 
 " How could I be so silly — so unguarded ! " 
 she was thinking, and wishing the man 
 would go away and leave her to herself. 
 
 " I was not waiting for your father," he 
 said, rousing himself as from some troubled 
 thought. " Something prompted me to come 
 in to-day as I was passing, or I have not 
 been here since I was a child."
 
 J 2 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " In-deed!" ejaculated poor Mab, crimson- 
 ing with renewed annoyance, as the idea 
 flashed into her mind that she had been 
 discussing domestic matters with some one 
 of the neighbourhood. 
 
 " I hope," with some effort, " that what I 
 said about my sister — and — and Mr. Thistle- 
 den — you will not think it strange — of me. 
 I was so startled when you mentioned the 
 name that I spoke thoughtlessly, and on the 
 impulse of the moment." 
 
 Where was all Mab's daring ? Dorothy 
 would have wondered, could she have seen 
 her now, and have heard her pained, halting 
 voice. 
 
 " Never mind," very kindly, "do not trouble 
 at all about that ; it was natural you should 
 do so. It is only a strange circumstance that 
 this place should have any connection with 
 the man — if, indeed, it is one and the same." 
 
 Mab felt greatly cheered and comforted. 
 " But the name," she said, " is so uncommon. 
 Although I was such a small child, I can 
 remember it quite well — Arthur Thistleden."
 
 A Strange Incident. 73 
 
 "Yes," looking keenly at her; and then 
 this stranger spoke huskily, with a little 
 haste: "And this house, you see, Miss 
 Ellaby, has always been a bugbear to me, 
 for it reminds me of the only sorrow and 
 shame my life knows. So, you see," smil- 
 ing a little bitterly and very sadly, " I 
 have not got everything, as you remarked 
 just now." 
 
 "I do — not — understand," said Mab, 
 slowly : she was now thoroughly bewildered. 
 "Would you mind telling — me — your 
 name ?" 
 
 "Not at all, child— I am Philip Dyketon."
 
 74 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A WOMANLY INSTINCT. 
 
 When Philip left home that morning he 
 had no intention of going immediately to 
 Pendleton Grange. It was one of his 
 nvariable rules to personally inspect all the 
 improvements and repairs on his estate, and 
 why not this ? Duty whispered he ought to 
 go there, but his whole being quivered 
 with suppressed pain at the mere thought 
 of again entering its portals, and thereby 
 reviving those never-to-be-forgotten scenes. 
 
 As he rode along, vainly striving to over- 
 come this dread, he found himself, at the 
 turning of the road which led directly to the 
 main entrance. He half checked his horse as 
 if to follow the path, but eventually passed 
 on, vexed with himself for being so irresolute. 
 He had gone some distance, when he 
 wheeled sharply round and cantered briskly
 
 A Womanly Instinct. 75 
 
 through the tall iron gates, beyond which the 
 old lodge stood. 
 
 Here all was astir. Was he disappointed ? 
 But what did he expect ? Was it likely that 
 things would remain in the same undisturbed 
 repose after the peremptory orders he had 
 issued? He smiled at his own incon- 
 sistency. 
 
 Mechanically he dismounted and looked 
 through the open door at the workmen who 
 were vigorously scraping the mildewed walls, 
 enveloping themselves in clouds of mouldy 
 dust. Even his horse gave a choked whinny 
 as he pushed his soft nose over his masters 
 shoulder. 
 
 A miserable fire was struggling into 
 existence within the damp, rusty grate, and 
 dank ddbris littered the narrow floor. 
 
 The ice was broken. To walk to the 
 mansion occupied but a few moments. To 
 throw the reins to a passing labourer and 
 enter, and the worst was over. 
 
 He was conscious of intense relief, and 
 he was glad now he had come. Gloom and
 
 j6 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 depression had given way to activity and 
 mirth. The familiar shouts of his employ 4s y 
 the clatter of busy tools, the whistling of the 
 merry lads hurrying to and fro with bricks 
 and mortar-dabs scared away the ghosts 
 of the past — only the busy commonplace 
 present remained. 
 
 To Philip Dyketon the very air in this 
 sleepy dell seemed fresher, and the sun 
 shone approvingly on the long-neglected 
 dwelling, with its paint blisters, broken 
 glass, shattered frames, and rat-eaten panels, 
 so soon to be renovated into the modern 
 country house. 
 
 Among the local tradesmen there were 
 many navvies, with their distinguishing 
 characteristic of dress, strangers to him and 
 the district, who noted his coming with re- 
 spectful but unawakened interest. His own 
 people, with that innate delicacy nowhere 
 seen to such advantage as amongst the poor, 
 betrayed no sign of surprise, though many a 
 rough face lighted up with pleasure and silent 
 sympathy as they accorded him their usual
 
 A Womanly Instinct. yy 
 
 hearty greeting. Full well they knew that 
 the Squire's presence had cost him no small 
 effort, and they honoured him the more for 
 having conquered his deep-rooted prejudices 
 
 Ben Halyard was the only one to speak. 
 "Glad to see you, Squire," he said quietly, 
 when they were alone together. "It 'ave gone 
 agin the grain wi' all o' us, and right to my 
 heart, to be rumagin' raun' 'ere, and feeling 
 as 'ow you wud never come in to gi' us 
 God-speed. The sight o' you clears a load 
 o' 'pression off my mind, and I can spurt 
 on wi' the job now wi' a better sperrit — mind, 
 sir," as Philip's hat nearly came in contact 
 with a low beam — " and we'll root out the 
 clingin' evils o' the old place wi' a will. At 
 fust, you see, the chaps felt stunned-like as 
 if they was under a spell, so to say ; but 
 it's wearin' off, and onct you've set your foot 
 
 inside " Here he hesitated, then jerked 
 
 out, " 'Tis the fust comin' you'll find the 
 wust, Squire." 
 
 " I believe you are right, Ben ; I ought to 
 have come before."
 
 78 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Na, na, I don't say that, nayther. 
 Everybody knows their own feelin's best." 
 
 The friendliness of the words, and the 
 man's unassuming manner of saying them, 
 touched Philip. He silently held out his 
 hand, which the old mason, after hastily 
 wiping his on his coat, squeezed lustily. 
 
 It was small spontaneous acts like these 
 which, united to a dignified bearing, endeared 
 Philip Dyketon to the simple folk whom he 
 oved and ruled. 
 
 The man, with a fine sense of good breed- 
 ing, left him alone, and afterwards in his talk 
 with Mab Ellaby either forgot the Squire 
 was there or considered he had left as 
 quietly as he had arrived. 
 
 And so it happened that she had 
 opened the door, and partially blinded by 
 the semi-darkness outside, nearly came 
 to grief over that ignoble bucket of white- 
 wash. 
 
 At that speech of his, " Not at all, child — I 
 am Philip Dyketon," she started and blushed 
 confusedly, forjglancing at his head as he
 
 A Womanly Instinct. 79 
 
 removed his hat, she noticed for the first 
 time his whitening hair. 
 
 " You are Mr. Dyketon ! " she said ; then 
 mastering her embarrassment, she added 
 simply, " What must you think of me ? " 
 
 "About the grey hair?" he asked, 
 laughing, and replacing his hat. " But shall 
 we shake hands and be friends, Miss Ellaby ? 
 I know your father quite well, and we are so 
 soon to be neighbours." 
 
 Mab gladly complied with the request, 
 and Philip, seeing tears again dimming those 
 pensive eyes of hers, held her hand firmly, 
 as if to reassure her ; for he liked this frank, 
 unaffected little girl very much ; she was so 
 genuine, with no vulgar mannerism to shock 
 his somewhat fastidious taste. 
 
 "And this house is a pain and trouble to 
 you. I am so sorry." She did not use his 
 own word "shame," but the pitiful way in 
 which she said, " I am so sorry," showed him 
 clearly enough she might have done so. 
 
 For a moment he looked at her very 
 keenly, debating within himself whether
 
 8o A Railway Foundling. 
 
 this child were literally honest or only a 
 perfectly well-bred, clever actress ? 
 
 In that rapid intent glance he noted the 
 complete picture she made — her plain, 
 closely-fitting frock, as he would have called 
 it, displaying her slight figure to advantage, 
 her daintily begloved and booted extremities, 
 and lastly the sweet troubled face, with 
 heightened colour, full of thoughtfulness, 
 not curiosity. Yes, he concluded, this girl 
 was nothing if not sincere and true. 
 
 She underwent the scrutiny gravely, 
 leaving her hand in his with simple trust, and 
 losing her embarrassment by its friendly 
 touch. Many girls so young as she would 
 have blushed and giggled nervously under 
 a similar ordeal, but Mab Ellaby remained 
 calm and self-controlled. 
 
 Whether prompted by the place, by his 
 own state of mind, or her unexpected 
 sympathy, he could not tell, but then and 
 there Philip Dyketon, usually so reserved, 
 related to her wondering ears the story of 
 his own sorrow — his father's wrongs and his
 
 A Womanly Instinct. Si 
 
 mother's falseness. " You would have heard 
 it, child, from others," he saicl quietly, as he 
 finished the recital. 
 
 " But I am so glad you have told me 
 yourself." Laying her hand on his arm, she 
 continued, " How well I can understand your 
 feelings ! I am so grieved for you " — here 
 the tears stole down the soft round cheeks as 
 he gazed steadily at her — " and for her? 
 
 The womanly instinct of her words, her 
 utter freedom from restraint, and her un- 
 consciousness of self charmed Philip, but he 
 was startled all the same. "For her, child ? " 
 he repeated the words huskily. 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Mab, brushing away 
 the falling tears, "for her. How she must 
 have suffered ! " 
 
 No more was said but these words ; that 
 act gained Mabel Ellaby a friend for life in 
 Philip Dyketon. His heart was suddenly 
 lightened of a load of reproachful misery. It 
 was altogether a new sensation to hear it put 
 thus ; indeed, he had never conversed with 
 any one on the subject, and all his pity had 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 hitherto been for the father, whom he had 
 known and loved ; yet this pure, innocent 
 girl spoke frankly to him of his poor erring, 
 sinned-against mother, and was sorry for her. 
 The idea was a kind of shock to him, 
 causing a great revulsion of feeling ; but the 
 balm of its mercifulness softened him, and 
 soothed the soreness of his hidden wound. 
 
 When Mr. Ellaby returned, he found Mab 
 alone, picking snowdrops in the old orchard. 
 He was in a tremendous bustle as he gave 
 sundry directions to the several foremen, and 
 to John Datchet " to get his horse in sharp." 
 
 "Ready, kitten?" he called out briskly. 
 " We've no time to lose if we catch your 
 train ; and you'll have to travel back alone, as 
 I find I must stay the night in Marsdon — 
 I hope you don't mind it ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, dad, not a bit," was Mab's 
 response, and her father was too much 
 engrossed to notice her listlessness. 
 
 " Jump in, then ; and drive fast, Datchet." 
 
 Whereupon out came his bulky pocket- 
 book and stump of lead pencil, with which
 
 A Womanly Instinct. 83 
 
 he scribbled numberless entries and hiero- 
 glyphical figures, totally regardless of the 
 jolting of the fly. 
 
 Mab sat very silent, thinking over her 
 interview with Mr. Dyketon and how very 
 strange it was that Pendleton Grange had 
 once been the home of her sister's husband, 
 Arthur Thistleden ; but of this she must not 
 speak to her father, or at least not until she 
 mentioned it at home — it was a tabooed 
 subject — nor would it do to introduce it 
 abruptly when his mind was so full of the 
 manifold details of this new undertaking. 
 
 None of them ever knew Arthur Thistle- 
 den, or who or what he was. Mary Ellaby 
 ran away with him from her London school, 
 and was married clandestinely, after which 
 they had gone abroad. The last time her 
 family heard of them they were in Australia, 
 but so many years had elapsed since then 
 that, as Mab told Philip Dyketon, they did 
 not know whether she was alive or dead. 
 
 " So Dyketon has been in, old Halyard 
 tells me ?" said Mr. Ellaby, shutting up his
 
 84 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 pocket-book and facing round abruptly to 
 Mab. 
 
 " Yes," rousing herself to speak as if 
 nothing unusual had happened. It was a 
 great effort, for she was as yet a novice in 
 the art of veiling her inmost thoughts by 
 that outward calm which comes so com- 
 paratively easy in later life. 
 
 " Well, I've done a good day's work," said 
 Mr. Ellaby, cheerfully, rubbing his hands — 
 " got possession of some land over which we 
 expected a sharp tussle, so we begin at once : 
 I've started three gangs. Now, be sure you 
 give the mother a good impression of every- 
 thing — you like it yourself, eh ? " 
 
 " I do, immensely," answered Mab, truth- 
 fully. 
 
 " That's right." 
 
 He was pleased to hear her say this, for he 
 did not feel happy that they should dislike a 
 place where they were obliged to live or a 
 home he provided for them. ''It's better 
 than the brick house by the chapel, eh ? " 
 he asked, chuckling.
 
 A Womanly Instinct. 85 
 
 " Oh, dad, that would never have done ; we 
 should have been wretched," said Mab, glad 
 to turn the talk into this safe channel. " But 
 I should think it would do capitally for the 
 Tempests : those lower rooms looked as if 
 they would make splendid offices." 
 
 " You think so, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Mab ; " and, you see, the 
 nearness of Salem will be no drawback to 
 them." 
 
 " Meaning the Tempests or the clerks ? " 
 asked her father, quizzically. 
 
 " The Tempests, of course. I don't expect 
 Mr. Neal and the rest of them will care 
 much either way, except to make fun of it." 
 
 11 Hush ! Mab, you little bigot," said Mr. 
 Ellaby, with an amused twinkle in his eyes 
 which belied his reproof. " As it happens, 
 I have secured it to-day, and they must get 
 in at once." 
 
 Mr. Ellaby often talked business with this 
 shrewd little daughter, and sometimes de- 
 clared " she hit off a good many practical 
 points for him." She was personally ac-
 
 86 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 quainted with many of the old " hands," and 
 her lively interest in all that concerned them 
 and their families gratified her father. She 
 wondered now how Mrs. Tempest would get 
 on with the thin, sleek young minister she 
 passed in the village, for she was not a 
 Dissenter at heart — " not such a chapelite," 
 Alec would have said — as George Tempest 
 himself. 
 
 " Old George will be able to keep his eye 
 on them all this time, eh, kitten ? I expect 
 he'll soon be striking in with his workings 
 of grace, eh ? " 
 
 Mab laughed heartily with keen apprecia- 
 tion ; but there was no time for reply, for 
 here was the station, and she found herself 
 bundled out pretty sharply. 
 
 " Here's your return ticket, Mab, and I'll 
 telegraph to Alec to meet you, and mind 
 you tell him to have that tracing of 
 Bolton ferry section ready for me to-morrow 
 night. By-the-bye, have you had anything to 
 eat?" 
 
 " Yes, I brought some sandwiches, you
 
 A Womanly Instinct. 8j 
 
 know. Mr. Dyketon was amused at my 
 forethought, but he didn't know what coming 
 out with you was in the matter of food." 
 
 " Don't be rude, miss." 
 
 After all their scramble they had a few 
 minutes to wait before the train started. 
 
 " Come along, kitten, and have a glass of 
 sherry. You look paleish," noticing for the 
 first time her lack of spirit. " Tired, eh ? " 
 
 " Just a little," Mab admitted. 
 
 " And so you like Mr. Dyketon better 
 than his name, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, dad. But you let me in for an 
 awkward thing, telling me he was old." 
 
 " I didn't, Mab," laughing. " I said he was 
 grey-headed." 
 
 11 Well, it was a very poor joke, dad. Why, 
 I contradicted him to his face, and insisted 
 that Mr. Dyketon was an old man, because 
 my father told me he had grey hair." 
 
 " The you did ! That was before you 
 
 knew him, eh ? " 
 
 " Of course it was." As she put down 
 her empty glass she blushed uncomfortably,
 
 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 for she saw Philip Dyketon making his way 
 towards them through the crowd. 
 
 " What, going off alone, Miss Ellaby ? " 
 he said, shaking hands with her father. 
 
 She was soon settled in her seat. Mr. 
 Ellaby gave her his railway rug, and bade 
 her " take care of herself," while Philip 
 called out as the train moved, " Please take 
 these," throwing in a bundle of books and 
 papers he had been carrying. 
 
 There was only time for a hurried " Thank 
 you," and the last she saw of her father and 
 Mr. Dyketon, they were walking down the 
 platform together. 
 
 How thankful she was she had cautioned 
 Mr. Dyketon not to allude to Arthur 
 Thistleden in her father's presence ! How 
 kind he had been to her and how con- 
 siderate for them all in the little after-talk 
 they had had concerning it ! And that 
 wicked man's name was Kirkburn, and yet 
 people had whispered Arthur Thistleden 
 was his son ? Mab was becoming a little 
 " mixed," and as her head ached terribly
 
 A Womanly Instinct. 89 
 
 she determined to think no more about it 
 for the present. She turned to the pile 
 of literature, which did not look tempting, 
 and had evidently not been purchased for 
 her use — the Field, a new Brads haw, a 
 heavy Quarterly, two or three Reviews, 
 the Athenceum s and the Saturday, and 
 the second volume of Stanley's " Through 
 the Dark Continent." She scanned a few 
 pages of the latter, but soon laid it aside in 
 hopes of finding something less solid in the 
 Sporting Times. But even this somehow 
 failed to arrest her attention, for she was 
 presently lying back in her corner fast 
 asleep.
 
 90 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ELF. 
 
 Mab was awakened by Alec's voice at the 
 window : " Oh, here you are, in lonely state, 
 my beloved twin ! and having nobody to talk 
 to, you have been asleep." 
 
 "Alec!" exclaimed our sleepy traveller. 
 " Have I got home ?" 
 
 " Exactly so. Why, some bloke has left 
 his papers and part of his library behind 
 him." 
 
 "They are all mine," she answered; then 
 gathering them up with an air of superiority, 
 " And what disgusting words you use — 
 1 bloke,' for instance ! " 
 
 "Phew," whistled Alec, "how high and 
 mighty we are since we have been to the 
 Grange ! So we are coming the ' blue,' ' 
 taking the parcel from her, "and going in 
 for high-class literature," mockingly. "Satur-
 
 The Elf. 91 
 
 day Review, Blackwood's, Quarterly — oh, 
 Lord ! — and ■ Stanley.' Now, Tm reading 
 Stanley, but I should like to see either of 
 you girls appreciating Stanley ; he's an out- 
 and-out man, Stanley is." 
 
 " I did not say he was not," said Mab, 
 plaintively, as she followed him to the 
 entrance of the station. " Have you brought 
 the waggonette, dear, and have any of the 
 others come ? " 
 
 " No, it was too late, though there'll be a 
 rattling good moon presently. I brought the 
 dog-cart — thought you'd like it best. Dol's 
 had Gyp out twice to-day." 
 
 "The dog-cart and Polly!" excitedly. 
 " How lovely ! and we'll go the long way 
 home, Alec dear." 
 
 The boy whistled again, but Polly was fresh 
 and he himself had no objection to a spin, 
 after having been in the office all day. 
 
 Mab went round to the mare, and whispered 
 something at which she whinnied, and rubbing 
 her soft nose on her breast was so impatient, 
 she would hardly stand still while they got up.
 
 92 A Railway Foimdling. 
 
 " I have had such an adventure," began 
 Mab, seating herself. " Drive slowly, and 
 then I can tell you all about it before we get 
 home." 
 
 "Wait till we're clear of the streets," and 
 Alec gave all his attention to Polly, who, 
 despite Mab's whisper, made a great point of 
 going the near, instead of the long way home. 
 
 "No use, old girl," remarked Alec, firmly 
 pulling her into her usual even trot. " Now, 
 then, Mab." 
 
 " First of all, dear, you are to get a tracing 
 of Bolton ferry section finished for dad by 
 to-morrow night." 
 
 " Oh, botheration ! " 
 
 " Now, mind you do it, or dad will think I 
 have forgotten to remind you." 
 
 " As it happens, it's done — been slaving at 
 it all day to get a turn at tennis to-morrow ; 
 we're to go to the Dumbartons'." 
 
 " Splendid ! " said Mab, and then she 
 proceeded to give a succinct account of her 
 day's experiences. There was always absolute 
 confidence between these two, and however
 
 The Elf. 93 
 
 much they jeered and girded at each other in 
 sport, they never really disagreed. 
 
 Alec listened with absorbing attention to 
 the strange story his twin-sister was relating, 
 and when she drew to a close, he ejaculated 
 gravely, " Well, I'm jiggered ! " 
 
 -Alec!" 
 
 " So Mr. Dyketon doesn't know Thistleden, 
 then?" 
 
 " Not at all; he only remembers him being 
 at Pendleton Grange when quite a lad. It is 
 so long ago, you see — twenty years nearly. 
 Why, it is more than fifteen since this Mr. 
 Kirkburn died." 
 
 "It's a rum story," said Alec, very 
 thoughtfully, "and it must be quite ten 
 years since mother had that last letter 'from 
 Mary ; she was in Sydney then." 
 
 "I do so wish it had not cropped up like 
 this," Mab went on, " for mother will fret so. 
 It is funny enough she should have taken 
 such a dislike to that place — Mr. Dyketon 
 considered it was quite a presentiment." 
 
 "Rot!" retorted Alec, with incredulous
 
 94 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 disdain. " I expect you said so, and he let it 
 pass — men don't go in for romance and 
 presentiments. So he is not old, after all ? " 
 
 " Dear me, no ; it was so silly of dad. Of 
 course he has grey hair ; it is very grey on 
 the top of his head when he takes his hat 
 off." 
 
 " I suppose it is when he keeps it on too," 
 said Alec, grinning. " But, I say, he must have 
 been knocked into a cocked hat when you 
 came tumbling in over that blessed bucket 
 as he was mooning round. You're an un- 
 commonly pretty girl, you know, and that 
 tailor-suit and all — I don't wonder he caught 
 hold of you tight." 
 
 "It was a wonder I didn't break my legs," 
 answered Mab, stiffly — had it not been nearly 
 dark, Alec might have seen the swift blush 
 which dyed her face — "and do not be so 
 absurd, dear, it is so horrid to talk like that; 
 I wish you — would not do it." 
 
 "Such 'bad form,'" replied he, teasingly, 
 mimicking a certain would-be exquisite of 
 their acquaintance, at which Mab was obliged
 
 The Elf. 95 
 
 to laugh, although her blush did not die 
 away. 
 
 "Don't be so tiresome, Alec dear; I do 
 really wish you would leave off the habit." 
 
 " Now, I say, Mab, don't be such a 
 specious humbug, when, if the truth were 
 known, you've been flirting away to the top 
 of your bent the livelong day." 
 
 "With whom, pray?" asked she, with 
 lively scorn. 
 
 " Oh, with — John Datchet, perhaps, but 
 most likely with t'other." 
 
 " Mr. Dyketon ? Indeed I have not," Mab 
 protested. "He is not a man at all like that. 
 How can I make you understand ? He is a 
 perfect gentleman." 
 
 " Well, Mab," very seriously, " perfect 
 gentlemen flirt, or I'm a Dutchman." 
 
 11 You ridiculous ape! " testily; then lapsing 
 into earnestness, " Alec dear, if Mr. Dyketon 
 was a hundred years with a girl, it would 
 never enter her head to think of flirting? 
 
 " I'll bet you'd flirt with anything short 
 of an old rag-woman."
 
 g6 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " I will not talk to you any more ; " and 
 Alec, to his dismay, perceived she was really 
 vexed. 
 
 " You know, Mab," deprecatingly, "you 
 went into such raptures over his niceness " 
 
 " And so he is," vehemently, forgetting her 
 threat of silence ; " he is much the nicest man 
 I have ever met. I should think," her voice 
 dropping, " he could be the truest friend in 
 the world to — any one." 
 
 " And is he going to be a friend of yours, 
 platonic and all that kind of rot, such as Miss 
 Abigail Green sets up with the curates ? " 
 
 Mab was almost tearful with annoyance, 
 yet she could not help laughing again. 
 
 " You do not comprehend in the least 
 what I mean." Alec did thoroughly well. 
 " Perhaps you will when you know him." 
 
 " Perhaps," flicking Polly's ears gently 
 with the whip, just to try how she would 
 stand it. 
 
 " Oh, Alec, don't ! " But Polly subsided into 
 her quiet pace. " I spoke to him of you, dear, 
 and how nice and kind you were to me,"
 
 The Elf. 97 
 
 coaxingly ; "and oh, promise me you won't go 
 on before him like this about my — flirting 
 and all that, it would disgust him ; besides, it 
 is so vulgar — he would never guess it was 
 only fun or ' chaff,' as you call it." 
 
 " You appear to have made the best use 
 of your time, and exchanged a good many 
 family statistics with each other." 
 
 " Promise me, dear," urged Mab, intent on 
 obtaining her desire. 
 
 " All serene, kitten. I know what you 
 mean." 
 
 The boy had, in fact, a very clear per- 
 ception of the true state of the case — more, 
 perhaps, than Mab would have imagined 
 possible. Alec Ellaby shared much of her 
 own delicacy of feeling, and despite his still 
 boyish and rather rough exterior, his heart 
 was in the right place. When this can be 
 honestly said of a youth of eighteen, there is 
 a foundation • to work upon : it promises 
 " grit " in the future man. 
 
 As he pulled up before their own door, he 
 said, helping his sister down, " Go in for 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 breaking it to Nora first, Mab, and I'll help 
 you out with the mater. After all, it can't be 
 helped, and I don't suppose it will make much 
 difference either, in the long run." How 
 much, neither were aware. " For my part, 
 I wish Thistleden had stopped in the old 
 shanty or had been at Jericho when he cut 
 off with our Mary. He must be a mean 
 skunk, and I'd like to kick him," he mut- 
 tered to himself, leading Polly off into the 
 stable-yard. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Ellaby was spending the 
 evening with Philip Dyketon at Marsdon 
 House. As the train left the station, this 
 gentleman linked his arm in Mr. Ellaby's, 
 and admitted frankly, " I am charmed with 
 your bright little daughter." 
 
 Mr. Ellaby was gratified, and accepted the 
 invitation to dine at Marsdon House, in- 
 stead of at the " Blue Lion," as cordially as it 
 was offered. 
 
 Philip Dyketon was singularly quick 
 in forming opinions of character, and was 
 never very far out in his estimate. He was
 
 The Elf. 99 
 
 drawn to this man as much as he had been 
 to his little daughter ; indeed, his regard for 
 him was intensified by the fact of his having 
 just such a child. If she was a type of the 
 rest of the family — and why not ? — then they 
 would be a great acquisition to the limited 
 society of the two Marsdons. 
 
 Now, Mr. Ellaby was not by any means a 
 so-called " society man," although a cheery 
 host in his own house to the friends his 
 young people gathered around them. A big 
 luncheon or banquet he could tolerate from a 
 business point of view, but considered any- 
 thing further, such as social visiting, down- 
 right waste of time for one absorbed in 
 business as he was. He always dined late, 
 but strongly objected to don what he called 
 his " monkey-suit," except on very rare 
 occasions, and was therefore relieved when 
 Philip Dyketon said, while ordering the 
 fly — his horse having been ridden home by 
 a groom — " I am quite alone, Ellaby, no 
 need' for dressing at all." 
 
 Those to whom he most objected, as a
 
 ioo A Railway Foundling. 
 
 class, were "parsons;" yet he would bear with 
 some even of advanced orthodoxy for the 
 sake of not paining his family, indulging at 
 such times as they crossed his path in what 
 Mab designated a little "back-door sarcasm." 
 But when he chanced upon an out-and-out 
 man under the cloth, he would, as likely as 
 not, make much of him — a set-off, perhaps 
 against his general conduct to the clerical 
 brotherhood. 
 
 As he drove with Philip Dyketon towards 
 his house, and entered it in the character of 
 an informal dinner guest, he was pre- 
 possessed and quite at his ease with him 
 and the surroundings in general ; for there 
 was no lowness of mind or breeding beneath 
 James Ellaby's rugged outside crust. As he 
 would have shown courtesy to the poorest 
 hind, provided he was upright in all his 
 dealings, so he would have pandered to 
 none, let their social rank be what it might. 
 His rough side was invariably turned, when- 
 ever he encountered them, to those (of what- 
 ever position in life) whom he designated
 
 The Elf. 101 
 
 by the forcible Norfolk term of disapproba- 
 tion, "sweeps." "Thank Heaven," he would 
 say, "I can be independent;" and he was. 
 
 After a comfortable dinner, at which 
 Harvey duly attended, producing his 
 choicest claret and driest sherry — being 
 vastly edified by the prevailing topic of 
 conversation, the new line — they retired to 
 a large cosy apartment on the other side 
 of the wide entrance-hall, where, Philip 
 remarked, the most pleasant hours of his 
 life were spent — " in fact, Ellaby," he added, 
 " I never use the drawing-room unless at 
 stated intervals when some kind lady friend 
 undertakes the honours for me." 
 
 This room was, to James Ellaby's mind, 
 the perfection of what a man's snuggery 
 should be, and he heaved a contented sigh as 
 he sank into a wide chair which proved 
 every bit as comfortable as it looked, and 
 this cannot be said of all chairs. 
 
 " A fine room, very," he observed, noting 
 its contents and furnishings with apprecia- 
 tion, " and not too fine for use, eh ? "
 
 102 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " No, indeed," answered his host, laughing, 
 " and so we may smoke in it. These cigars 
 are good, I believe," pushing a box across 
 the table. 
 
 A pert young footman, whom Harvey 
 saw off the premises within a . week of 
 his arrival, had termed it " a mongrel 
 affair of a room, neither one thing nor the 
 other." To a certain extent, probably he 
 was right. It certainly was not a library, for 
 the library proper was next door, and there 
 Philip Dyketon transacted all cut-and-dried 
 business connected with his estate. Neither 
 was it a bachelor's " den " of authenticated 
 stamp, where every mortal thing, from guns 
 and fishing tackle to odd bric-a-brac and 
 portraits of stage celebrities, adorn the wall. 
 Such a den could never have existed under 
 Harvey's methodical supervision, and would 
 have horrified the prim housekeeper of 
 Marsdon House. 
 
 But it was supremely cosy, lofty, and well 
 lighted by high windows opening directly 
 into the old rose garden with its soft turf
 
 The Elf. 103 
 
 walks. It had a wide tiled grate, deep blue 
 in prevailing colour, and with brass fittings 
 on which the firelight danced briskly, while 
 at the side stood a compact smoking 
 apparatus, always kept by Harvey in spick- 
 and-span neatness of order. One's feet trod 
 on the real thing in Turkey carpet, while the 
 principal tint of hangings and furniture was 
 not a harsh, glaring crimson, but dark and 
 subdued in tone. Luxurious chairs ; low 
 tables littered with magazines, newspapers, 
 and odd books in course of being read, in no 
 hasty, slip-shod manner, but with grave 
 thought ; inviting lounges of cane and 
 bamboo, which could be easily lifted through 
 the windows on summer evenings — finished 
 off with the softest cushions encased in 
 bright old-world chintzes — indicated the 
 attention bestowed by the owner upon 
 mental and bodily requirements. 
 
 Before Harvey retired, having placed 
 finely-cut old-fashioned decanters and glasses 
 before them exactly at a given angle to the 
 high moderator lamp, Philip said, "Send
 
 104 A Railivay Foundling. 
 
 word the Elf can come in as usual to say 
 good-night." 
 
 Presently the little girl whom Mr. Ellaby 
 had seen walking in the grounds on his 
 former visit entered, led by a sedate elderly 
 woman. 
 
 She was a peculiar, old-fashioned-looking 
 child, with a colourless little face lit up by 
 really wonderful eyes, the sadness of whose 
 gaze, so intent it was, was apt to strike one 
 as being too pathetic in so young a creature. 
 The small intellectual head was thickly 
 covered with brown silky hair lying in 
 clusters, suggesting that it had been recently 
 shaved and these were the result of new 
 growth. 
 
 As a matter of fact, it was so. 
 
 She wore a quaint brown merino frock 
 and diaper pinafore, edged at the armholes 
 with goffered frills of old nun's lace, tied at 
 the waist with a broad plaided sash. 
 
 This upright little figure went demurely 
 to Philip Dyketon's side, and a faint pink 
 overspread her face as she saw the strange
 
 The Elf. 105 
 
 gentleman sitting opposite to him ; but she 
 answered all Mr. Ellaby's questions with a 
 funny stiffness of self-possession that was 
 evidently habitual to her. 
 
 " And what is your name, my dear ? " 
 
 " Annabel Westgate." 
 
 " And how old are you, eh ? " 
 
 " Eight years one month and a fort- 
 night," was answered gravely, at which 
 Philip laughed and kissed her, saying, " She 
 is always so very particular in her state- 
 ments." 
 
 "You are quite sure about that odd 
 fortnight, eh ? " queried Mr. Ellaby, with 
 infinite amusement. 
 
 The mite flushed even more, and turned to 
 Philip Dyketon appealingly. 
 
 " She is quite correct, Mr. Ellaby — the 
 Elf never makes mistakes of this kind." 
 
 "Do you live at Marsdon House?" 
 drawing her to him. Children were soon at 
 home with James Ellaby, but Philip was 
 somewhat surprised to see how willingly she 
 went ; " and do you like dollies, eh ? "
 
 106 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " I live at Marsdon House," with a glance 
 at Philip, ''and I do not care for dolls — they 
 are stupid." 
 
 James Ellaby, meeting Philip's eye, said 
 inquiringly, " Your niece ? " 
 
 " No, my adopted child." 
 
 "Ha! And will you give me a kiss, little 
 Brownlocks ? " 
 
 Very intently she appeared to consider 
 this proposition. As a rule she was not a 
 child people wished over-much to caress, 
 but to Philip's further astonishment she put 
 her small thin arms round Mr. Ellaby's neck 
 and kissed him. 
 
 When she was gone to bed, the two men 
 dropped awhile into commercial talk, thence 
 to politics, on which they were amazingly well 
 agreed, and then after a short silence Mr. 
 Ellaby remarked in rather a quick manner — 
 
 " A queer name to call that child — the 
 Elf." 
 
 " I dare say it would appear so to a 
 stranger. It was set her by Dr. Tooley, and 
 like such names, it clings. Somehow,"
 
 The Elf. 107 
 
 thoughtfully, " in her case it does not seem 
 altogether a misnomer, poor little thing." 
 
 At these words, " poor little thing," Mr. 
 Ellaby looked up to ask, " Not much used 
 to other children, eh ? " 
 
 For a moment Philip Dyketon made no 
 response, and Mr. Ellaby continued, " She'll 
 be a wonderful woman one of these days, 
 Dyketon, mark my words — there's something 
 uncommon about her. Never saw such eyes 
 in my life — a sort of magnetism about 'em, 
 eh ? " Then he, too, was silent. 
 
 " People round here call her plain, weird, 
 and all kind of odd names," said Philip : " you 
 are, I believe, the first who has predicted that 
 she will be a beauty." 
 
 " I don't — there's the rub. But she'll be 
 far more than that, and she'll be a woman 
 early, mind ; in some respects she's one 
 now." 
 
 Philip laughed a little. " That is the one 
 ardent ambition of her life — to be a woman." 
 
 Instead of smiling, Mr. Ellaby sighed, and 
 stared fixedly into the fire, but started when
 
 108 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Philip said, as if completing a story he had 
 been telling, " Yes, and I know no more who 
 or what she is than you do." 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " ejaculated Mr. 
 Ellaby, sitting round in his chair with a 
 questioning air. 
 
 " Eight years ago," said Philip Dyketon, 
 quietly, "John Datchet one snowy night 
 nearly drove over a poor woman who was 
 lying insensible by the west gate of the park. 
 They carried her in, her loose, flowing golden 
 hair — lovely soft, fleecy hair it was — almost 
 covering her. She was painfully emaciated — 
 starved, Tooley said — and only awoke to 
 complete consciousness after the child was 
 born, and that for but a few brief moments." 
 
 11 And she died ? Poor thing! poor thing ! " 
 
 " And was buried in Little Marsdon church- 
 yard," Philip went on, "in a nameless grave ; 
 for although I have left no stone unturned 
 to find out who she was, to this day I have 
 not discovered the faintest clue." 
 
 " Dear me ! dear me ! " 
 
 " There is a bundle containing her clothes
 
 The Elf. 109 
 
 — plain and clean, but in no way remarkable, 
 and bearing no mark of any kind, together 
 with her weddin^-rin^ and two old-fashioned 
 keepers, an almost empty purse of silk 
 knitted with beads — you know the kind ? " 
 Mr. Ellaby nodded — " and that is all." 
 
 11 Yes ?" said Mr. Ellaby a little eagerly, as 
 if wishful to hear more. 
 
 But there was absolutely nothing more to 
 tell, and Philip added, in answer to his 
 visitors half-query, " Her story, so far as 
 I have given it you, is well known in the 
 neighbourhood ; indeed, I wonder you have 
 not already heard it." 
 
 " Xo, no." 
 
 " She, the child, is called Westgate, you 
 see, from the gate where she was found, and 
 at the christening, when my father was asked 
 1 What name ? ' none appeared to suggest 
 itself to him but that of my mother, Annabel, 
 and he gave it. She became a source of 
 great pleasure to him till he died, and since 
 then has become to me what Esay — mine by 
 adoption."
 
 no A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Some day," said Mr. Ellaby, gazing 
 abstractedly into the fire, "you will marry 
 her." 
 
 " And so give the story quite a fictional, 
 dramatic ending," laughed Philip. " Nay, I do 
 not think so." 
 
 " Bless my soul !" said Mr. Ellaby, "what 
 on earth made me say such a thing? Don't 
 know at all, unless," laughing, "it's the 
 influence of the best port I've tasted in 
 the Midlands. But it is a strange story, 
 very." 
 
 "It is," answered Philip; "but we are 
 become accustomed to it now, and I suppose 
 there are many such strange stories in the 
 world." 
 
 " That is so," said James Ellaby, as he 
 rose somewhat abruptly to go. " They say 
 that everybody in this world has some 
 sorrow, and I take it, it is pretty well 
 balanced, eh ? though it strikes me some 
 make their own, while others have it thrust 
 upon them." 
 
 Philip suddenly recollected what Mabel
 
 The Elf. 1 1 1 
 
 had told him of this mans burden, as he 
 shook his hand in parting. 
 
 He stood for awhile on the steps, until 
 the dog-cart had disappeared, when Harvey 
 came to close the door for the night. 
 
 " Well, Harvey," he asked pleasantly, 
 " and what do you think of railway-folk 
 now ? " 
 
 " If them 'm all like this one, they'll do, 
 Master Phil," the old servant answered with 
 his most oracular air ; " but we'll wait afore 
 we takes 'em all at his count, I ses." 
 
 " Too good to be true all round, I 
 suppose you mean to imply?" 
 
 " Ay, may be ; anyhow, this 'ere Mr. 
 Ellaby's a good pi-oneer, so we won't give 
 up hopes."
 
 112 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A DIFFERENCE OF SERVING. 
 
 Totally unperceived by James Ellaby, there 
 was a difference of serving shown to him — 
 more in subtle effect than actual manner — 
 by those in and about the " Blue Lion," after 
 he had walked back from the railway station 
 with Squire Dyketon, and had gone home 
 with him to dinner. 
 
 On his return he might well have won- 
 dered why his "traps" had been taken 
 out of his usual bedroom into one of larger 
 proportions ; why finer sheets were on the 
 handsome mahogany four-post bed, and a 
 more liberal allowance of towels on the rail, 
 had he not been too accustomed to casual 
 hotel life to notice such details, always 
 supposing he was thoroughly well served. 
 
 On that evening Mr. Phelps, the landlord, 
 had visions of an after-dinner chat with this
 
 A Difference of Serving. 1 1 3 
 
 new customer of his — a chat embracing the 
 whole topics of the place, spiced with gossip, 
 politics, and Local Board transactions, and 
 the doings of certain townspeople of note. 
 
 Then, again, what an excellent oppor- 
 tunity to discuss the rival attractions of the 
 two vicars and their respective curates, the 
 exact status of the several lawyers, and the 
 precise standing of the three doctors, each 
 of whom was desirous of becoming medical 
 officer to the employes of the new line ! 
 
 It was an appointment which promised 
 such remuneration as to be worth the accept- 
 ance of either Dr. Tooley, of High Street, 
 whose ambition it was to die the richest 
 man in Marsdon ; of the rising young fellow, 
 Clement Danes, M.D., who had a year 
 or two ago established himself in the town 
 in face of strong opposition, and was 
 considered to be working up such a fine 
 practice; or of "poor Mr. Snelling," as he 
 was usually called, who had unquestionably 
 been, professionally, the most worsted by 
 this smart young practitioner. 
 
 vol. 1. 1
 
 H4 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 It was assumed by those especially learned 
 on such delicate subjects, that he was not 
 clear about his " degrees," because only the 
 simple word "Surgeon" appeared on his 
 doorplate, and he was, moreover, handicapped 
 in the race of life by a small ailing wife 
 and a superabundance of children. What a 
 valuable addition to his fluctuating income 
 this new post would be ! 
 
 But now this new customer to the " Blue 
 Lion," who had had a private room at his 
 disposal for nearly a fortnight, and was 
 known to be the resident engineer and 
 agent for the contractors on the new railway, 
 was socially raised in the estimation of its 
 myrmidons after having dined at Marsdon 
 House. 
 
 Even the smart barmaid's smile was a 
 shade more deferential in its warmth the 
 next morning as she handed him a couple 
 of telegrams, and never again would the 
 head-waiter feel this " gen'leman's tips " to 
 be of exactly the same free-and-easy flavour 
 as before.
 
 A Difference of Serving. 1 1 5 
 
 Hitherto they of the " Blue Lion " had 
 been exercised in their minds as to their 
 customer's precise social status. He was a 
 plain man in himself, yet had an imperative 
 air of command, and always ordered in an 
 abrupt, simple manner the best of every- 
 thing. Then he was so affable to all the 
 townspeople and farmers whom he met — 
 wore thick boots and not a particularly good 
 hat ; still, the doctors all eagerly stopped to 
 speak to him when they could (but here was 
 self-interest, no doubt), and Lawyer Trench 
 was on friendly terms with him. Railway 
 folk were not " in touch " with the people 
 hereabouts, therefore were not as yet 
 awarded a " position," and this new man 
 was, to say the least of it, a perplexing 
 study. 
 
 As to clothes, the chambermaid deposed 
 to finding in his portmanteau an evening 
 suit of superfine material, lined with silk as 
 spick as you please, and, to be sure, his 
 ordinary clothes, though plain, were good in 
 quality and well cut, if he did get them on
 
 1 1 6 A Railway Fozmdling. 
 
 in a rough-and-ready manner. As yet he 
 had not helped them one whit by taking any 
 stand as to religious views — had only spent 
 one Sunday in Marsdon, going neither to 
 St. Luke's, which was " High," or to St. 
 Mary's, whose ritual was purely evangelical ; 
 neither (on this they took good care to 
 ascertain) had he gone among the Dissenting 
 lot. 
 
 So far, so good ; for Mr. Phelps of the 
 "Blue Lion" was a Tory of the pure old type, 
 and rigidly upheld Church and State so far 
 as he was able, finding ample reward in the 
 steady patronage of the best county people. 
 Who so proud as Phelps of the " Blue 
 Lion " when his assembly rooms were full 
 at the hunt and county balls, and his stalls 
 and yards thronged with their cattle and 
 equipages ? No, on that Sunday Mr. 
 Ellaby had risen later than usual, written 
 some letters, strolled through the stables, had 
 a little walk, dined, read the papers, and gone 
 early and so far as public worship was 
 concerned, godless to bed.
 
 A Diffe7 r ence of Serving. 117 
 
 Until that evening of his dining with 
 Squire Dyketon, he had been a veritable 
 social anomaly to those worthy and dis- 
 cerning people, for even the clergy lifted 
 their hats to him in the street with a certain 
 reserve of warmth, and the Dissenting 
 parsons theirs with a free sweep indicative 
 of hope for a future possibility of combining 
 force. 
 
 All this, though, went for little, as to 
 one and all was yielded the same cheery 
 short nod. The inhabitants of the vicinity 
 had scarcely recovered their first surprise 
 at hearing Pendleton Grange was to be his 
 residence, when they also found he had 
 lunched with Lawyer Trench, and not in the 
 library alone with him either — was known 
 to the " Blue Lion" — but the ladies of the 
 family had joined the meal. 
 
 This reliable information came from the 
 lawyer's pretty parlour-maid, who was en- 
 gaged to the head-waiter at the hotel, and 
 she further said Mrs. Trench had remarked 
 on parting with the railway gentleman "that
 
 u8 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 she and her daughter hoped to be the first 
 to call on Mrs. Ellaby when she was settled 
 at the Grange." 
 
 " Oh, ay," her lover had answered at the 
 time from the height of his superior under- 
 standing, "there's calls and calls." 
 
 Mary Ann, retaining a lively remem- 
 brance of a bright five-shilling piece which 
 that gentleman had transferred to her 
 keeping, snapped in reply, ''Well, you wait 
 and see." 
 
 John Thomas felt he had "waited to see" 
 when John Datchet drove off with the 
 Squire and Mr. Ellaby, and within doors 
 he was conscious of bustle overhead owing 
 to that change of bedrooms. 
 
 "And the little Miss Ellaby, who had just 
 gone off, had been as spanking a bit of the 
 real thing as ever he saw — a lady, every inch 
 of her" — John Thomas thought he was a 
 tolerably good judge of the article — " tight 
 and trim, ship-shape and kitty-like, with no 
 rattletraps of jew-lerry and ends of ribbon 
 jingling and floating about her," he said to
 
 A Difference of Serving. 1 1 9 
 
 himself, and then muttered, "Women hits the 
 nail on the head sometimes, and I guess 
 Mary Ann hev about done it here." 
 
 Long before Pendleton Grange was ready, 
 Mr. and Mrs. George Tempest were settled in 
 the tall brick house by the chapel in Little 
 Marsdon. The ground floor was used as 
 " offices," and in them appeared, as if by 
 magic, suitable furniture, and two well-dressed, 
 gentlemanly fellows as cashier and clerk. In 
 the upper rooms and kitchen department Mrs. 
 Tempest reigned supreme. One of the front 
 rooms — usually intended for sleeping apart- 
 ments — was converted into, strictly speaking, 
 (i a best parlour," wherein she could serve 
 luncheons or teas if need were, and often at 
 short notice, to hungry gentlemen who were 
 connected with the works, and who did not 
 care to put up with the very scanty accom- 
 modation of the small inn. Across the narrow 
 landing was another sitting-room, but fur- 
 nished more simply. Here were no Bohemian 
 vases with slender stems, or wax flowers 
 under high glass shades, or woolly mats to
 
 120 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 cling desperately to every article they 
 touched, or snowy antimacassars with grasp- 
 ing fringes to entwine unwary coat-buttons. 
 A plainer tapestry carpet was on the floor, 
 whose flowers had a reversed appearance by 
 reason of a process known to household 
 economists as "turning sides into middle," and 
 sundry minor items of general effect tended 
 to show at once it was a man's abode. It was 
 here the cashier and his clerk lodged, for 
 whom Mrs. Tempest " did." 
 
 The Tempests had followed the fortunes 
 of the Ellaby family for twenty years or 
 more, and all of them in Mrs. Tempest's 
 eyes were far beyond the average beauty 
 and goodness. Portraits of the family in 
 all stages of its development adorned that 
 sanctum, the best parlour, while in other 
 rooms odd monstrosities of daguerrotypes 
 figured — groups taken at the sea-side, &c. ; 
 but, however " frightful" Mab or Dorothy 
 protested them to be, Mrs. Tempest replied, 
 " She would not part with them for any 
 money" — their recent and fashionable photo-
 
 A Difference of Serving. i 2 1 
 
 graphs reposed in state within a square album 
 on the velvet pile cloth of the centre table in 
 the best parlour. As for herself and her 
 husband, the kitchen served them as a living- 
 room, and if any callers came she had that 
 upper one, with all its glories, at her com- 
 mand, save at such times as it might be 
 occupied by the hungry gentlemen aforesaid. 
 If she should be desirous of " entertaining," 
 she had only to manage so that her company 
 did not clash with this business arrangement, 
 and all was well. The nearness of Salem was 
 no grief or eyesore to her, although she had 
 already been heard to remark, "It would have 
 been as well further off," but this was am- 
 biguous. So far as George was concerned, 
 " it was a cross between a comfort and a 
 worry to him," or so said the young clerk to 
 the cashier, who laughed. 
 
 A comfort it clearly was, that from that 
 best-parlour window he could stand, ready 
 dressed for worship, and watch the congre- 
 gation assemble ; for he need not hurry, as 
 he had only to step outside his own door to
 
 122 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 enter that of the chapel, and was there in his 
 " sitting " before Mr. Kelpy raised his head 
 from the cushion on the pulpit front. 
 
 A worry, inasmuch as everything relating 
 to this congregation and tabernacle was not 
 " to his mind " or in accordance with his 
 special " views." For one thing, he an- 
 nounced to his wife, " there was a luke- 
 warmness clinging to the whole thing, or 
 else why did the people come in straggling 
 groups of twos or threes, chattering worldly 
 talk right athirt the very gate ? They need 
 as lief go over to the church at onct ! 
 Why didn't they," he asked, thrusting his 
 broad chest out like a pouter pigeon, " meet 
 on the green and march in a body to the 
 tabernacle, collecting the idlers by the way ? " 
 
 Whereupon she had replied, in the hear- 
 ing of Mr. Neal and his clerk, " To let be, 
 and not begin tramplin' on fresh people's toes 
 the minit he showed face among 'em." 
 
 A well-known little snort of hers effectually 
 stopped the good man's tirade, and he went 
 off with the sound of it, and of the clerk's
 
 A Difference of Serving. 123 
 
 amused snigger, tingling in his ears all 
 service-time. 
 
 Mrs. Tempest was not disposed to 
 encourage this carping spirit towards people 
 who had already shown themselves kindly 
 disposed to be on friendly terms with her, 
 and so in her own mind she determined "to 
 set her foot down on it once for all." 
 Several ladies — residents in the place and 
 members of the congregation — of the small 
 chandlery, drapery, grocery, and dairy- 
 iarm line had paid her visits of more or less 
 warmth, duly going into matronly raptures of 
 full-breathed admiration of what they called 
 "her duck of a droring-room," and why 
 should she flout them in return for their 
 goodwill ? 
 
 They had given her, in addition to their 
 interesting and exhaustive family statistics, 
 so much reliable information in relation to 
 chapel affairs — matters relating to other 
 ministers, of their going, and of the election 
 of this young man, Mr. Kelpy, so very 
 "nice," so far as they knew — young, of course.
 
 124 ^ Railway Foundling. 
 
 and a bit delicate, and not engaged to be 
 married that they had heard tell of. 
 
 All of which, Mrs. Tempest knowing the 
 nature of the man she had to deal with, 
 wisely kept to herself. 
 
 Mr. Kelpy had been her first visitor, and 
 having to wait a few minutes, occupied him- 
 self with the contents of the large album. 
 He still kept the volume open while he 
 shook hands with her, with a view to some 
 explanation of the photographs. 
 
 u Ah, Miss Nora, bless her, that is, Mr. 
 Kelpy, the eldest daughter now at home; 
 and this," pointing to a handsome man on 
 the opposite page, " is her lover, Mr. Tom 
 Erskine — a barrister, sir, he is — a kind of 
 upper lawyer, so to say — of the Inner 
 Temple, as they calls it." 
 
 " Very good-looking man," murmured Mr. 
 Kelpy. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, and as haffable as you please 
 he is too — none of your stand-off bows, but 
 a cordial hand-shake, and ' How do you do ?' 
 and he'll sit down in this very room, I'll
 
 A Difference of Serving. 
 
 be bound, along with Miss Nora, and have a 
 cup of tea, as friendly as you like. He lives 
 in chambers now, I believe, but, of course, 
 when they marry," with an air, "hell take a 
 proper house." 
 
 "And these?" inquired Mr. Kelpy, turn- 
 ing the leaf. 
 
 "Yes, for sure — Miss Dorothy, who was 
 twenty last month, and little Mab, bless her, 
 who is twin, sir, with Master Alec, and a 
 fine boy he is too." 
 
 " They are pretty girls," Mr. Kelpy 
 admitted, " though rather too — what should 
 he say ? — worldly for his taste." 
 
 At which Mrs. Tempest bridled up, 
 remarking rather shortly "that the fact of 
 their being very pretty girls was too easy 
 to be seen for her to say aught of it, and as 
 to being worldly, for her part, she always 
 maintained ' 'Andsome is as 'andsome does' 
 was a good motto, but there was another 
 as good, ' Judge not, that ye be not 
 judged.' " 
 
 If the young minister winced, he made no
 
 126 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 sign, but placidly lifted another leaf for her 
 inspection. 
 
 " Master Alec," she answered, just a trifle 
 huffily still. " Oh, and that's a young friend 
 of his." 
 
 "And this?" queried the indefatigable 
 minister of the gospel. 
 
 "Ah, sir ! poor dear Miss Mary — God 
 bless her — that was the eldest of the family." 
 
 Mr. Kelpy scenting some mystery from 
 the changed tone, asked with studied care- 
 lessness, combined with polite interest, " Ah, 
 married, I presume? — or dead?" 
 
 " Not dead — that we know on, sir," and 
 Mrs. Tempest blew her nose, and would 
 have passed on to the next picture, but her 
 visitor held the photograph to the light, as 
 if greatly struck by its beauty. 
 
 " Darker than the rest of the family ?" 
 he said, as indifferently as he could. 
 
 " Except Mr. Frank, the heldest son, he 
 is dark," said Mrs. Tempest, feeling on safe 
 ground again. " He is in the Brazils jiow, sir, 
 he's an hengineer, and they are only waiting
 
 A Difference of Serving. 1 2 7 
 
 for him to come home for his holiday before 
 there'll be a wedding at Pendleton Grange. 
 Miss Nora's you see." 
 
 " Yes — there is a likeness between the 
 two elder girls," persistently referring to the 
 page containing Mary's, "more than between 
 the two younger." 
 
 " I suppose so," said Mrs. Tempest, with 
 a recurrence of that slight huffiness, while 
 to herself she muttered, " Bless the man, 
 he is interested, as for sure he may well be, 
 but he needn't be so downright inquisitive 
 to harp on Miss Mary so ; there's reason in 
 all things, and a mejium." Aloud, " But she 
 was andsomer, they say, even than Miss 
 Nora: she had such a wealth of lusterous 
 dark-brown hair, as you may see — almost 
 black-brown it was, sir, and as soft as silk. 
 Many's the time I've brushed it for her, 
 poor lamb." 
 
 "She appears very young here ?" 
 
 " She was only seventeen when that was 
 took," answered Mrs. Tempest, who, in 
 spite of herself, was being drawn out of her
 
 128 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 reserve by the man's concern and ques- 
 tionings : she began to think it was real 
 and not mere curiosity, " the very year she 
 was married — in Scotland, sir." 
 
 " Badly, I suppose ?" glancing up quickly. 
 " Dear me." 
 
 11 Well, she married a mere lad — for love, 
 as the saying is ; but, as George has it, ' he 
 was a bad egg.' " 
 
 " And will they be coming to the 
 Grange ?" taking a glass of gooseberry 
 wine. 
 
 " Oh dear, no," said Mrs. Tempest, almost 
 dropping the decanter. "The last time we 
 heard from the poor creature she was in 
 Australia, and that was years ago." 
 
 "Dear me," very sympathetically. "A 
 widow, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh no, " with a slight snort. " He may 
 be living and flourishing like a green bay- 
 tree, for aught I know," retorted Mrs. 
 Tempest ; " for the Devil, they say, takes 
 good care of his own." 
 
 Mr. Kelpy coughed ; he had no words
 
 A Difference of Serving. 129 
 
 ready in his present mood to use, to a 
 new member of whom he knew so little, in 
 contradiction of such a broad sentiment. 
 
 "And when are the family coming?" he 
 asked, the slight cough having served his 
 purpose in this instance. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Kelpy," answered Mrs. Tem- 
 pest, quite brightly, and moving the album 
 beyond his reach, " just as soon as the 'ouse 
 can be got ready ; and that reminds me. I 
 shall want a lot of 'elp, and can I give the 
 work to any deserving women of your flock, 
 sir f 
 
 The word your instead of the warmer 
 our oppressed Mr. Kelpy. Was this 
 shrewd, quick-tempered woman really one 
 of them or not ? But he replied quietly, 
 "There are two or three would be only too 
 glad, I am sure — we are very poor here, I 
 assure you." 
 
 " Same everywhere, for the matter of that," 
 said Mrs. Tempest. "That's the worst of 
 Dissenters, so much putting the hand in the 
 pocket." 
 
 vol 1. K
 
 130 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Mr. Kelpy smiled vaguely. He felt that 
 here he must tread very cautiously : this new 
 member was not at heart one of them, so all 
 the more need of tender handling. 
 
 " No offence, sir," added Mrs. Tempest, 
 who really liked him ; "but, you see, I was 
 brought up to Church, though I married a 
 Dissenter, and it is — different." 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Mr. Kelpy, smoothly, not 
 prepared to trench on her present forbearing 
 humour by any disapproval on his part, ."it is 
 — different." 
 
 " And I shall require, sir, 'arf-a-dozen 
 'elpers all next week, say at two shillings 
 a day and find theirselves — that is, if I can 
 get them." 
 
 Of this there appeared no doubt what- 
 ever, and Mr. Kelpy promptly offered his 
 aid in the procuring of these women, and 
 after drinking a third small glass of goose- 
 berry wine, which frothed and sparkled 
 almost as immorally as champagne, he 
 shook hands venturously and departed. 
 
 On the whole he was not ill pleased with
 
 A Difference of Serving. 131 
 
 this pastoral call, for he had received much 
 implicit knowledge about these fresh people 
 and had let two sittings — "one for herself 
 as well as George," Mrs. Tempest had 
 explained, "though, as a rule, she had 
 dinner to cook on Sunday mornings, so 
 could not be at service." 
 
 He had obtained her ready promise to 
 give a tray at the next tea-meeting, and an 
 assurance (a trifle limited this) " that she 
 would attend the weekly prayer meetings 
 if she could." 
 
 " So far well," mused the young pastor, as 
 he went at once to some back streets to look 
 up charwomen on behalf of Mrs. Tempest. 
 " She is not one of us at heart, but may be 
 won." 
 
 His step quickened as he thought how 
 very desirable in many respects such new- 
 comers might be to his poor struggling pas- 
 torate : he was as yet unaware of the vein 
 of intolerance, the spirit of truculence in 
 religious affairs, that others of his profession 
 had found, to their cost, in George Tempest.
 
 132 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Altogether his visit had comforted him in 
 a measure for the present, and was not with- 
 out hope of enlargement for the future. 
 
 Even the Sunday cooking, not counte- 
 nanced by him as a general rule, might in 
 this decidedly exceptional case be sanctified 
 occasionally by his presence at the board. 
 At any rate, Mrs. Tempest was a superior 
 woman of her class, in easy circumstances, 
 with a quick temper and sharp tongue, which, 
 judiciously applied, might prove of great 
 service to him in various feminine disputes 
 within the Tabernacle, and therefore he 
 purposed to hold out the right hand of 
 Christian fellowship to her husband, whom as 
 yet he could only accept on trust. 
 
 In this summing-up, Mr. Kelpy, although 
 young, proved himself possessed of a nice 
 power of discrimination, and of a keen judg- 
 ment as to the necessities within " his first 
 call to the Lord's*ministry " — save the mark 
 — besides being well versed in that useful 
 art, reading of character.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AT CHURCH. 
 
 The Ellabys' forerunner, Mrs. Tempest, 
 had no reason to complain either of the 
 number or quality of the auxiliary forces 
 sent her by Mr. Kelpy, and, in the van of 
 the able charwomen, worked her hardest at 
 the Grange to complete what the array of 
 masons, paperhangers, and painters had 
 begun. 
 
 One morning Mr. Kelpy stood at the 
 window of his lodgings, running the risk of 
 letting his dinner get cold rather than no 
 witness the processional entry of the Ellabys 
 to the village. 
 
 They must pass his window, therefore to 
 go out would not avail him anything, or 
 probably, so eager was he to see them, he 
 would have foregone his dinner altogether 
 making up for the sacrifice later on by a
 
 134 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 high tea, composed of the remnants of his 
 midday meal " warmed up." 
 
 First came a tip-top high dog-cart, drawn 
 by a quick-paced chestnut mare. Mr. Kelpy 
 from the semblance to the likenesses in 
 Mrs. Tempest's sanctum sanctorum, at once 
 recognised Alec, who drove, and his twin- 
 sister Miss Mab, who occupied the other 
 seat. 
 
 Mab was brimful of keen, merry curiosity, 
 and her lovely eyes beamed with fun, while 
 the soft wind blew her golden-brown fringe 
 across her white forehead. As she passed 
 the high brick house she nodded in at the 
 window in a friendly recognition to Mr. 
 Neal and his companion ; then — for Mr. 
 Kelpy's lodging was just on the other side 
 of the chapel — she caught his eye, so that she 
 almost, but not quite bowed to him. Laugh 
 she did, and had Mr, Kelpy but known 
 (only we never do know these things), unin- 
 tentionally — helplessly, in fact ; for Alec said 
 at the moment, " Oh, snakes ! the shepherd 
 of the Tempests."
 
 At Church. 135 
 
 " Oh, Alec, you shouldn't," she cried 
 pitifully: " you made me laugh outright in the 
 man's face, and see — he is bowing." 
 
 " Like his cheek — let him bow," said Alec, 
 urging Polly along still faster, so that the 
 young groom behind them had enough to do 
 to maintain his hold on the several parcels 
 with which he was encumbered, and had it 
 not been for the deft use of his left leg, a gun- 
 case would have fallen out as they swirled 
 round the corner. 
 
 Mr. Kelpy had bowed — involuntarily — at 
 Mab's gay smile, and felt larger by inches 
 across his narrow chest as he watched them 
 out of sight. He supposed that the roomy 
 waggonette which passed from the Grange 
 to the Marsdon station would not be long, 
 nevertheless he had time to partake hurriedly 
 of a certain portion of his beefsteak pudding 
 before he heard the measured tramp of the 
 two fine black horses he had so much 
 admired. To regain his post of vantage was 
 the work of a moment. 
 
 By the coachman's side sat a plain-looking,
 
 136 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 elderly woman holding wraps and a hat- 
 box ; inside were Mr. and Mrs. Ellaby, sit- 
 ting cosily side by side, and opposite to 
 them — their backs turned to him — were the 
 other two daughters. Their natty deer- 
 stalker hats gave Mr. Kelpy quite a pang 
 as to their complete worldliness, and he felt 
 aggrieved he could not see their faces ; but 
 from the darkness of one of the knots of 
 hair under the offending head-gear, and the 
 lightness of the other — thanks again to 
 Mrs. Tempest and her album — he was able 
 to distinguish which was Nora and which 
 Dorothy. 
 
 Luck favoured Mr. Kelpy, for even at 
 the moment the waggonette swept up to the 
 office door Mr. Ellaby jumped out and went 
 quickly inside the house. To seize his wide- 
 awake and dash innocently out of his own 
 was Mr. Kelpy's next move ; to walk 
 past the carriage and raise that wide-awake, 
 in virtue of his cloth, and to offer respectful 
 greeting, but another. The deerstalkers, 
 imitating the example of the handsome black
 
 At Church. 137 
 
 chip bonnet of their maternal parent, gave 
 simultaneously correct little acknowledgments. 
 
 " Not a bad-looking fellow," whispered 
 Dorothy, " for a Dissenting parson, is he, 
 Nora ?" 
 
 Nora really had scarcely noticed, she was 
 far too busy taking stock of the surroundings 
 in general. 
 
 "Eh?" she said, catching her sister's idea 
 and a back view of Mr. Kelpy in the same 
 instant. " No, but would be better if that 
 pudding-basin crop of hair were cut close." 
 
 "They all seem to grow their hair so, 
 don't they ?" laughed Dorothy. " I wonder 
 w T hy ?" 
 
 " Can't imagine," said Nora, as Mr. 
 Ellaby came out, when once more the car- 
 riage bowled on, enabling Mr. Kelpy to 
 return to his neglected dinner ; but lest some 
 unperceived onlooker had been reconnoi- 
 tring his movements, he did so with the air 
 of one who has suddenly forgotten some- 
 thing, and he carefully avoided the eyes of 
 those two quizzical clerks in the office.
 
 138 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 He was conscious of not feeling comfort- 
 able at times under their critical obser- 
 vation. 
 
 He had barely helped himself to more 
 pudding, regretting the total absence of 
 gravy (why have poor bachelors in such 
 lodgings always to eat their inevitable steak 
 pudding gravyless ?), when wheels sounded 
 again. 
 
 This time it was only a light cart con- 
 veying the luggage, a respectable servant in 
 charge beside the man who drove, so the 
 dinner could be eaten in peace at last. 
 
 And after it Mr. Kelpy, whose digestion 
 was weak, could rest awhile, and his thoughts 
 naturally ran on the Ellabys and their advent 
 to Pendleton Grange. People like these, 
 he meditated, were bound to bring stir and 
 life into the place ; for, from all reports, 
 they were instinct with a vivid individuality 
 of their own, and they would necessarily 
 bring so many others in their train that new 
 interests were sure to spring up among all 
 classes.
 
 At Church. 
 
 No doubt his "call" would largely benefit, 
 for he must work with redoubled energy 
 to win souls (or, at least, let sittings) for his 
 church. 
 
 Here Mr. Kelpy allowed the ends of his 
 thin fingers to meet while he rested his chin 
 on them, filled partly with thoughts of 
 his own possible advancement — certain 
 " powers " might push his temporal interests 
 in consequence — and partly on the still 
 undigested pudding. " No gravy," he 
 muttered. " Yes, it will be well to try to 
 stay here with its many discomforts ; all this 
 may make it more bearable." 
 
 Probably his bed of life had its crum- 
 pled rose-leaf, and that within Salem all 
 was not sugared moonbeams — is it ever, 
 indeed ? His own father had generously 
 given a harmonium to the new edifice, and 
 yet the choir, to quote the words of the 
 player thereon, " would not emil-ge-mate." 
 
 No wonder the young shepherd sighed 
 as he digested his pudding, and rising, he 
 helped that process with the slightest modi-
 
 140 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 cum of raw gin taken from a moderate-sized 
 physic bottle — for the blue ribbon was 
 making headway in Little Marsdon. 
 
 A brighter expression of countenance 
 was the result as the clothes-brush was 
 brought into requisition on the well-worn 
 coat and rusty felt wide-awake. "Yes, 
 these railway people would bring fresh life ; 
 and, yes, those girls were very pretty, and 
 how affable they all seemed ! and how " — 
 here Mr. Kelpy's colour rose — " she, the 
 little one, had laughed, and how very, very 
 much the prettiest she was ! " As the brush 
 made its last tour over the narrow waistcoat 
 his bosom swelled with hope that some 
 palpable good might come to him out of 
 all this — he only wished such souls could 
 have been of his flock ; but this was an old 
 unsatisfied cry of the striving, ambitious 
 young heart, and, alas ! all the rungs of any 
 ladder cannot be mounted at one bound. 
 
 These coveted souls, on the first Sunday 
 morning in their new residence, were certainly 
 giving no thought to young Mr. Kelpy as
 
 At Church. 141 
 
 they at breakfast-time discussed church- 
 going for the day. 
 
 " Now," asked Mab, giving a rapid glance 
 round the table. " who is going to run the 
 blockade at church this morning — by-the-bye, 
 
 that a fitting simile, dad ? " 
 
 " Not I, for one," said Alec, helping 
 himself to bacon. 
 
 " Indeed, you are," said Mab, conclusively, 
 " and of course you girls will : you'd hardly 
 be so mean as to let Alec and me brave it 
 out alone with only dad to keep us in 
 countenance." 
 
 Mr. Ellaby looked up quickly and then at 
 his budget of letters. 
 
 " Now, dad," continued the indefatigable 
 Mab, "to be commonly respectable^^ can't 
 stay at home the first Sunday morning and 
 let us file in under the critical eye of all 
 Little Marsdon without the head of the 
 family." 
 
 " I will go this evening," said Mrs. Ellaby. 
 
 But Mab, not heeding this faint protest 
 for her father, went on, " Until they know
 
 142 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 better, dad, you see, strangers — especially- 
 such as live in small places and get narrow 
 ideas in consequence — mostly judge us to be 
 a godless crew of dubious respectability ; so 
 if mother can't go this morning you must, so 
 that's settled. It's all very well to have 
 cosmopolitan tastes, but then other people 
 haven't, and there is nothing like giving 
 good impressions at first." 
 
 Mr. Ellaby had no reply ready either in 
 defence or contradiction of this statement, 
 so contented himself by wondering "why 
 they didn't make the service hour eleven 
 instead of half-past ten ? " 
 
 " Because, dear," answered Mab, brightly, 
 seeing she had gained her point, " they make 
 it half-past ten instead of eleven — for no 
 other reason that they could give, you may 
 bet your best hat." 
 
 " It's a full mile to walk," with one more 
 longing look at his correspondence. 
 
 "Yes, and so we must start early: 
 Dorothy's gone to get ready," and Mab, 
 taking up the unopened missives and placing
 
 At Church. \/± 
 
 them carefully in the rack, piloted her 
 father out of the room. She slipped on her 
 jacket and neat little bonnet with great 
 alacrity, for now and again in the course of 
 her experience dad had been non est at 
 the last moment ; so she demurely kept her 
 eye upon him, determined not to be done 
 on the present occasion, and demanded just 
 before starting, " What change he had ? " 
 
 He laughed, perfectly aware that he was 
 being cleverly manoeuvred, and drew out 
 some loose silver. 
 
 " Here, Alec dear, you put in this 
 shilling," ordered Mab, deftly picking one 
 out, "and mind, dad, you dub up half-a- 
 crown, and we'll take these sixpences — that 
 will look respectable and not ostentatious : we 
 don't want to create any false impressions 
 or raise unlimited hopes in the hearts of the 
 sidesmen or churchwardens, so we will begin 
 as we mean to go on." 
 
 "Now for the fire of eyes," growled Alec, 
 when, after a rather hot, dusty walk, they 
 reached the tiny old church, to find they
 
 144 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 were very late. " I do hate this sort of thing 
 — people think they've a right to stare new- 
 comers downright out of countenance." 
 
 " Go on, do," urged Dorothy, " and don't 
 grumble so ; and, Mat), go first and ask for 
 the Grange pew." 
 
 " Come along, dear," said Mab, "we'll lead 
 the van." So saying, she went valiantly 
 forward, with a bewildering smile that nearly 
 took away the breath of the frowsy old pew- 
 opener when she whispered, " Show us the 
 Grange pew, please." 
 
 To all appearance she was sublimely 
 unconscious of the sudden movement of 
 heads and bonnets as she marched up the 
 centre aisle, preceded by the ambling old 
 fellow, to a square, high pew full of mouldy 
 cushions and stumbling-blocks for the 
 unwary in the form of rotting hempen 
 hassocks. 
 
 Mr. Ellaby nearly came to grief over one 
 at the first set off, but duly recovered his 
 equilibrium, and settled his face into his 
 glossy " Lincoln and Bennett" for the
 
 At Church. 
 
 145 
 
 allotted space of time courtesy or devotion 
 demands. 
 
 " I shall fettle this up, Alec, before next 
 Sunday, see if I don't," whispered Mab under 
 cover of her supposed first prayer. 
 
 " Phew ! How it stinks of rotten hemp 
 and rats ! " came in reply from the interior 
 of his straw hat. 
 
 Both girls were conscious during the 
 solemn droning service of many eyes being 
 fixed on them in that uncompromising, 
 matter-of-fact stock-taking always bestowed 
 upon new-comers on their first appearance 
 in a fresh locality. 
 
 Adopting a little artifice she had found 
 stand her in good stead aforetime, Mab 
 remained as though in complete ignorance of 
 a hard stare, then abruptly raised her eyes 
 point-blank on the luckless offender with a 
 straight gaze that, as Alec was wont to assert 
 admiringly, "sewed 'em up for that journey." 
 
 She had just completed this operation 
 effectually on a sandy-haired young man of 
 the yeoman type, when she caught Philip 
 vol. 1. L
 
 146 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Dyketon's eyes fixed on her with a keen, 
 amused twinkle in them. 
 
 A bright colour mounted to her very fore- 
 head, and not once during the remainder of 
 the service did hers again wander towards 
 that part of the building. 
 
 " What can he think ? " she painfully asked 
 herself. "But they do stare so abominably, 
 and I have to do battle for all the rest ; and 
 he does not know that, of course." 
 
 Such reflections are rather perturbing, and 
 quiet Dorothy was puzzled to discover why 
 Mab sat out the sermon so stolidly, permitting 
 a whole volley of these distressing elements 
 to pass unchallenged. She essayed the mode 
 of "fixing" them suddenly herself, but retired 
 fairly vanquished before the pertinacious and 
 deliberate gaze of an old woman in the free 
 benches who meant to have her calculations 
 out at any price. 
 
 Poor Dorothy was covered with confusion 
 and wished ardently the Benediction might 
 be said to enable her to conceal her burning 
 cheeks behind her new kid gloves. It came
 
 At Church. 147 
 
 in due course, when Philip Dyketon joined 
 them on leaving the church, and was intro- 
 duced to Dorothy and Alec by their father. 
 " And now let's get off home," the latter 
 observed, going down to the old lych-gate in 
 a tremendous hurry. 
 
 Mab had shaken hands with Philip 
 Dyketon without a word, and smiled ner- 
 vously as she prepared to walk after her 
 father. 
 
 "You will find the field path the best to 
 use in summer, Mr. Ellaby," said Philip, 
 as they were starting off by the way they 
 came. They all stopped with one accord, 
 and gladly gave assent to his next sugges- 
 tion, " that he should be their guide so far 
 as his road was the same." 
 
 "How jolly this is!" said Alec, leaping 
 first over the stile that led into a field of 
 young clover, planted on one side with high 
 elms. 
 
 As they walked along under their grate- 
 ful shelter Mab lingered behind with 
 Alec, leaving the others the opportunity of
 
 148 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 chatting to Mr. Dyketon. Mr. Ellaby, who 
 never approved of loitering, hurried them 
 along at a considerable pace, which made 
 Dorothy look back imploringly at Mab, for 
 Mab was brave enough to check her father's 
 undue haste. 
 
 But that young damsel evidently had no 
 such intention now, and persistently avoided 
 her sister's eye. She was still inwardly 
 chafing at the recollection of having been 
 discovered by this man behaving badly in 
 church, and she could not quite over- 
 come the strangeness of feeling that she 
 cared. 
 
 As a rule she was altogether above 
 desiring the opinions of others on her con- 
 duct. "Why should she in this case ?" she 
 questioned herself petulantly, hitting off 
 some young clover tips with her big parasol 
 stick. 
 
 "He's a rattling good fellow, I know," 
 remarked Alec, with boyish conviction, 
 nodding onward to those in front. " Think 
 he'll put any rabbit-shooting in my way?"
 
 At Church. 149 
 
 " Perhaps," assented Mab, listlessly, 
 making a dab at a passing butterfly. 
 
 Then the two relapsed into quietness — 
 a quietness on Alec's part full of happy 
 visions of rook-shooting in the Marsdon 
 rookery, and of rabbiting in the warren. 
 
 Mab had put up her sunshade now, and 
 walked thoughtfully along under its laces. 
 
 Just then Philip Dyketon made a de- 
 termined halt, turning round to face them. 
 " Master Alec, your sister has been telling 
 me you have a devouring passion for rabbits. 
 The warren," pointing to it with his cane, 
 " is at your service any time." 
 
 " Dol's a brick," was the boy's thought, 
 as he eagerly admitted the charge laid to 
 him. 
 
 " I am glad you are fond of a gun," 
 deliberately waiting for the twins to join 
 him. " Do you care to have a fly at the 
 rooks ?" 
 
 " An untried bliss as yet," said Dorothy, 
 with her fair face all aglow. 
 
 " She is very much at home with our
 
 150 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 escort," mentally remarked Mab, still fight- 
 ing against her soreness. 
 
 Indeed, Dorothy was so, and had tho- 
 roughly enjoyed her little talk with him. 
 There was something about Philip Dyketon 
 which invariably put women — nice-minded 
 women — at their ease, and as to those who 
 could not exactly be reckoned under this 
 head — they usually let him alone as not 
 worth their fire.
 
 i5i 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS RIVALRY. 
 
 On reaching a point where the field path 
 diverged towards Marsdon House from that 
 leading over an awkward stile, past the 
 Warren, to the back of Pendleton Grange, 
 Philip Dyketon stopped. " You cannot 
 miss the path," he said to Mr. Ellaby, 
 " you see — you will enter by the orchard 
 road ; for my own part, I never come past 
 this spot. I always shoot rabbits from 
 the opposite side of the Warren," laughing 
 to Alec. 
 
 " Perhaps you will now," said Dorothy, 
 irrelevantly, seating herself indolently on the 
 topmost step of the wooden obstruction, 
 where she made a pretty and effective 
 picture. 
 
 "Will what?" asked Alec — "shoot from 
 this side of the Warren, or come past the
 
 152 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 stile ? Your remarks, as a rule, want a good 
 deal of unravelling, Dol." 
 
 " Do they ? " she asked quite innocently. 
 " I mean, perhaps Mr. Dyketon may some- 
 times come our road now." 
 
 " Yes," he made answer, with his eyes 
 on Mab, " it may be so." He wondered 
 whether the rest knew of his meeting with 
 her, and about their discovery in regard to 
 Arthur Thistleden. 
 
 " Come, girls," observed Mr. Ellaby, "you 
 seem to be in blissful unconcern about 
 dinner. One would think we didn't have it 
 early on Sundays — for the benefit," he added 
 as if in explanation to Mr. Dyketon, " of 
 the maids," and with that he scrambled over 
 the stile first. 
 
 Apparently, Mr. Dyketon was in no hurry, 
 for he was talking to Alec, the result of 
 which was that the boy called his father back 
 excitedly. 
 
 -Eh, what ?" 
 
 " I want Alec to come and spend the rest 
 of the day with me — that is, if you can spare
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 153 
 
 him," said Mr. Dyketon. " We want to 
 reconnoitre the rook-shooting probabilities, 
 and have a look round my stables." 
 
 " Musn't put too much of that kind of 
 thing into his head," answered the father, 
 pleased nevertheless. "He must turn to work 
 now, and I don't intend him to make a 
 playgame of it, he knows that." 
 
 Mr. Dyketon was a little curious as to 
 Mab's silence. He had been infinitely amused 
 by that little episode in church, and never 
 deemed it possible she was labouring under 
 any distress about it ; but she was not the 
 same bright little maiden he had so admired 
 that day in the old Grange. Was it the 
 Sabbath air — or the bonnet that did it ? " he 
 pondered. 
 
 He liked pretty, fair Dorothy very much 
 indeed, but was not inclined to forego his 
 extra friendship with the sparkling sister 
 with whom he had been so struck. Surely 
 she must know he respected her confidence, 
 yet why was she so different as scarcely to 
 seem the same girl ? " Ah," he said quickly
 
 154 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 to Mr. Ellaby, thus detaining him further, 
 " here is the Elf — she always comes to meet 
 me on Sunday mornings." 
 
 Mr. Ellaby waited while the child advanced 
 towards the group, holding her nurse tightly 
 by the hand — although he was becoming 
 restless, having visions of dinner and a 
 newspaper and his nap. 
 
 She looked older by daylight, and taller : 
 a little flush was on the small face, that gave 
 a sort of prettiness to the sedate features. 
 She went at a word from her guardian to Mr. 
 Ellaby, and gravely shook hands with him 
 through the opening of the stile. Beyond a 
 swift glance from those wonderful eyes of 
 hers on first seeing them, she appeared to 
 notice none of the others. 
 
 " My dear," said Mr. Dyketon, leading her 
 by the hand, " these are the Miss Ellabys. I 
 expect they have heard of you." 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed," said Dorothy, drawing 
 both the tiny thin hands into hers; "and 
 won't you kiss me, Annabel ? " 
 
 For a moment the child hesitated before
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 155 
 
 presenting her passive cheek to Dorothy's 
 warm kiss. She was a quaint little figure — 
 "like one out of a book," Alec thought — in 
 her out-of-door dress of white woollen frock 
 and black silk spencer, with a hood to match 
 it quilted with pale satin on the inside. 
 
 What a queer, unchildlike child ! was the 
 sensation experienced by both the Ellaby 
 girls. Mab did not ask to kiss her. She 
 was not so particularly fond of children as 
 Dorothy, but she looked up at Mr. Dyketon 
 and_smiled as that passive one was yielded 
 and taken. 
 
 He, too, smiled frankly, and the little colour 
 in the Elf's face deepened as she stood by 
 Dorothy's side, who presently stooped down 
 to kiss her again with girlish tenderness, and 
 all in a moment the queer little creature 
 threw her arms round her and kissed her 
 in return with -a sort of sob of suppressed 
 passion. " I like you," she murmured. 
 "And I like you. darling," answered 
 Dorothy, softly; and as Mr. Dyketon is going 
 to run away with my brother, I want you to
 
 A Railway Foundling, 
 
 come home with us and see our new house, 
 will you ?" 
 
 " I do not — know," said the child, with a 
 perplexed air, as if some exceedingly strange 
 proposition had been advanced. 
 
 Dorothy appealed inquiringly to Mr. 
 Dyketon. " May she not come ? " 
 
 " I suppose there is no reason why she 
 should not ? " said he, turning to Mrs. 
 Geddings. 
 
 " None whatever, sir, so far as I know, and 
 I will fetch her at any time the young lady 
 names." 
 
 "Will you come, dear?" asked Dorothy, 
 bending down over the slight figure ; then 
 seeing the large dark eyes were full of 
 unshed tears, added, " Do just whatever you 
 like. Do not come to-day if you would rather 
 not." 
 
 " Well," queried Mab, who had been quite 
 forgetting her chagrin in a few cheery words 
 with Philip Dyketon, " is it to be, or not to 
 be, little Brownlocks ? for somebody wants to 
 get home to dinner," nodding at her father.
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 157 
 
 "Yes, if you please," answered Annabel. 
 She did not take Mab's proffered hand, 
 but deliberately stationed herself beside 
 Dorothy. 
 
 "We will meet you here at eight 
 o'clock," to the nurse, "will that do?" 
 asked Dorothy. 
 
 She spoke with that graceful courtesy 
 which seemed natural to all the Ellabys. 
 
 "Yes, miss;" then hesitatingly, "It is a 
 little late for Miss Annabel to be out." 
 
 " We will say seven, then," corrected 
 Dorothy as, Mr. Ellaby now being fairly 
 impatient, they parted. 
 
 " I suppose, dear, you know the way quite 
 well," said Dorothy to the child by-and-by, 
 as the silence was a trifle awkward. 
 
 " No," came the slow, well-considered 
 reply, " not quite well : I never have come 
 farther than the corner of that field before — 
 we always come just so far on fine Sunday 
 mornings." 
 
 "And do you never come here on fine 
 Sunday evenings ? " asked Mab, quizzically.
 
 158 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 "He does not go to church in the 
 evenings," nodding her head backwards to 
 indicate the " he " intended. 
 
 " Oh, so you do not come out unless you 
 have a gentleman to meet," said Mab, who 
 had become quite merry. 
 
 The Elf looked solemnly at her, and 
 replied with a cool stateliness, " It is no use 
 my doing things for nothing." 
 
 " Delicious ! " cried Mab, with her most 
 tantalising air. 
 
 " Of course it is not, darling," said 
 Dorothy, kindly, as the small fingers lay 
 trembling in her own. The nervous fingers 
 might tremble, but the steady eyes did not 
 flinch from their intent and rather discom- 
 forting gaze into her tormentor's face. 
 
 It was the first time in her life the Elf 
 had been quizzed, and she was conscious of 
 not understanding something. 
 
 " I like you much the best," she said to 
 Dorothy at last — " you are not rude and 
 silly." 
 
 True to her words, she clung to her all
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 159 
 
 the day, although she evinced no dislike to 
 Mrs. Ellaby, or to handsome Nora. 
 
 Everything in and about the place was, 
 of course, fresh to her, and she was full of 
 keen interest in it, for the sake of her new 
 friends primarily, but more than all that it 
 belonged to her guardian. 
 
 She explored eagerly, with Dorothy, the 
 entire house and grounds — not a room, 
 corridor, or staircase escaped her vigilant eye. 
 The gardens, the still pools, the orchard, 
 and lastly the stables underwent the 
 same exhaustive supervision. Somewhat to 
 Dorothy's amaze, for she could not have 
 done it herself, she went into the stalls and 
 round by the side of each horse with the 
 air of one who is very much in her element. 
 
 The coachman, very naturally delighted, 
 dangled after the small, inquisitive figure, 
 telling her the names and special attri- 
 butes of each — their separate work and 
 capabilities. 
 
 " I shall know them all quite well now, 
 dear things," she said to him at parting,
 
 160 A Railway Foundling, 
 
 "and I shall ask Mr. Dyketon to let you 
 come and see ours." 
 
 "Ah, missy, I'd like to very much. I hear 
 the Squire's got somethin' in that way worth 
 looking at, and I've seen you, little lady, on 
 your trotter." 
 
 "Yes, I remember we passed you. That 
 was Star my guardian was riding," she 
 informed him : " he is a new one, and quite, 
 quite young, you know." 
 
 " Ah, I seed that much wi' 'alf a eye, 
 missy." 
 
 "And my Mouse is not very old: he is 
 only eleven," very sedately, " and he is 
 nearly as big as Gyp. I often go to see 
 the hounds throw off, and I am quite sure he 
 could follow," and here she sighed. 
 
 " Ay, ay, toime eno' for that, little lady, 
 when you gits big enough to ride a proper 
 hoss," said the man, with an amused snigger. 
 
 The girls found her intelligent beyond her 
 years, and were astonished at some of her 
 remarks on people, things, and events — all 
 uttered as though due thought had been
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 161 
 
 given to each subject before speaking. She 
 knew no other children, and did not desire 
 such companionship ; of animals she was 
 evidently passionately fond, for even Patch, 
 the yard dog, made friends with her at once. 
 
 " A rum little gel, that," said the coach- 
 man to his wife. " Blest if she didn't walk in 
 and out round my stables wi' the air o' a 
 duchess, and # the questions she asked — lor," 
 he chuckled, "she knows a thing or two 
 'bout hosses, do that little 'un. Guess she 
 picked it up over in the stable yonder." 
 
 " I almost wonder they let such a tiny 
 mite in 'em," remarked his wife, "and among 
 all the men there must be about 'em too." 
 
 " Ay, she's one of the sort as'll touch 
 pitch, for that matter, and never none o' 't 
 ull stick. One comes across 'em now and 
 agin, and she's one. And the dignity of 
 her too, my eye ! But none o' the chaps 'ud 
 tek no liberty afore that 'ere straight-limbed 
 mite, bless you, mor'n they would afore a 
 growed-up missus, and not so much as with 
 some, I'll stake my dick. She ain't uppish, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 but she's got a cut o' the real princess thing 
 — come by natural-like wi' her." 
 
 " She's a sort of unearthly bairn, to my 
 mind, with those great black eyes lying like 
 pools in her poor pale little face," observed 
 the wife, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Ay, you let be. 'Tis the plain babbies, 
 I've heard tell, grows up to lick the pretty 
 'uns into fits, and so'll this 'ere little filly with 
 the dark and the flashin' eye — won'erful 
 powerful eyes, I call 'em, and in a hoss I 
 
 should say good 'uns, wi' no d d tricks 
 
 behind em, either." 
 
 At last Dorothy announced it was time 
 they were going, if they were to meet nurse 
 at seven o'clock. 
 
 Rather to their surprise, the child started 
 up, anxious to depart. " This day has been 
 so long," she said to Mrs. Ellaby — " so much 
 to see, you know," with a deep breath, " so 
 full of things and happenings." 
 
 11 She is really a remarkable child, James," 
 said Mrs. Ellaby, watching her as she passed 
 down the path by the orchard, between
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 163 
 
 Dorothy and Mab. " Do you know, I have 
 quite taken to her, and I do not usually care 
 for indifferent children, and hers is a 
 peculiar history too." 
 
 " That may account for it, eh ? " said her 
 husband. " I hope she'll come round here 
 a good bit : it's nice to have a child about, 
 and ours are all growing up now." 
 
 " Well, you Elfin creature, and what 
 opinion have you formed of me by this 
 time ? " inquired Mab, finding as they 
 walked along the child's eyes fixed on her. 
 " Do you think me very beautiful, and 
 almost too good for this common earth, that 
 you behold me so earnestly ? " 
 
 The unexpected question did not nonplus 
 the Elf as Mab's point-blank gaze had th^ 
 sandy young yeoman in church, but she met 
 it with absolute coolness, which, absurd as 
 it may sound, irritated Mab. " Well ? " she 
 asked again, more sharply. 
 
 " No," answered the child, treating the 
 question literally and with thoughtful de- 
 liberation, " not very beautiful, because very
 
 164 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 beautiful would mean something big, or 
 noble, or good." 
 
 " Indeed ! So you do not approve of me 
 or my looks ? You are rather a prig, let me 
 tell you, Miss Annabel Westgate." 
 
 " Am I — that ? " asked the child, puzzled. 
 " I don't know what it is ; and why do you 
 always laugh and glitter so ? You are like a 
 ring my Mr. Dyketon has : it always sparkles 
 and glitters and seems to mock." 
 
 " I should esteem the person odd that did 
 not laugh at you, child, you are so very funny, 
 you see — so unlike other children " 
 
 kl Oh, am I not like other people?" she 
 asked of Dorothy, quite pitifully — "like other 
 children, I mean — are they all silly? " 
 
 " Perhaps it is you who are silly," replied 
 Mab, and as she spoke ruffling the brown 
 curls on the troubled white forehead. 
 
 " Please don't tumble my hair — I do not 
 like it." 
 
 " Not for the world," said Mab, patting it 
 down into place with both hands; "and now, 
 mind, we have set you a very pretty name
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 165 
 
 because of this lovely rich hair of yours — 
 Brownlocks ; but if you bristle up so at 
 everything I say, I shall change it to Por- 
 cupine, and you won't like that, shall you ? " 
 
 " Don't tease her, Mab darling," said 
 Dorothy. "She does not understand, and 
 you will make her dislike you for nothing, 
 poor wee, lonely bairn." 
 
 She spoke very low, but the quick ears 
 heard, as was testified by the tightening clutch 
 on Dorothy's hand. 
 
 But merry Mab was in provoking mood, so 
 continued rallying her, " And why, pray, do 
 you generally say my Mr. Dyketon, Miss 
 Annabel Westgate ? It sounds so intensely 
 comical, you know/' 
 
 " Does it, Miss Dorothy ?" with beseech- 
 ing regard. " I like to say it because he is 
 mine — he tells me so, and calls me his 
 little mistress. Is it wrong of me — saying 
 that ? " 
 
 11 Oh dear, no, Brownlocks," said Mab, 
 checking Dorothy's slower speech, "not at all 
 wrong y only silly \ as you would say ; for
 
 1 66 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 some day he may be somebody else's Mr. 
 Dyketon. Comprenez-vous ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Well, suppose some day," explained Mab, 
 becoming mock-serious for the nonce, "he 
 was to marry a beautiful lady as the Prince 
 did in the fairy tale Dorothy was telling you ; 
 then — he would be hers, you perceive." 
 
 The Elf drew herself up and tears filled 
 the large eyes, which flashed fire at Mab as 
 she replied scornfully, " My Mr. Dyketon is 
 not a stupid Prince, and he will never marry 
 a beautiful lady, because he is mine, my very 
 own — he said so himself," stamping her tiny 
 foot to give emphasis to her words. 
 
 Both her hearers were obliged to laugh at 
 her ; but on seeing Dorothy join issue with 
 the enemy, as she imagined, the Elf hastily 
 drew away her hand ; then all her defiance 
 subsided, and she fell to quiet weeping. 
 
 " I was not laughing at you, darling," said 
 Dorothy, regaining possession of her hand, 
 "only at the vehemence of your speech — I 
 laughed because my sister laughed."
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 167 
 
 " That is very silly," sobbed the child, 
 although she let her hand remain in 
 Dorothy's. She soon grew calm again, and 
 was ashamed of both tears and excitement. 
 
 Mrs. Geddings was sitting on the stile 
 awaiting them, and thanked the young ladies 
 for their kindness to her nurseling ; " for," 
 she said, " it will do her no end of good to 
 be with young folks a bit. I often think 
 I'm but lonesome company for her now 
 she's growing up so, and she often talks 
 about things I don't exactly fetch, and asks 
 so many queer questions I can't well an- 
 swer. Sometimes I think it most a pity the 
 Squire brings her home such heaps of 
 books : she pores over 'em, you see, because 
 we have taught her to read, and there's 
 nobody over there to teach her on further, 
 and the books nowadays as they writes 
 for children don't seem over-plain reading, 
 to my mind." 
 
 " No," said Mab, smiling, albeit her face 
 was not so very bright just then, and her 
 eyes were not on Nurse Geddings, or her
 
 1 68 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 thoughts on her speech, for that matter. 
 She was looking beyond her ; perhaps at 
 the pretty park and high chimneys of 
 Marsdon House. 
 
 It was very doubtful what she was looking 
 at — into space, certainly; and probably the 
 owners of that park and chimneys filled that 
 space in her mind. 
 
 11 And I expect as how you have finely 
 enjoyed yourself, Miss Annabel?" 
 
 "Yes, very much, nurse;"' and then to 
 Dorothy wistfully, " I will come again 
 always when you ask me." 
 
 " Thanks awfully," said Mab, making her 
 a deep curtsy, at which the nurse laughed ; 
 11 and don't you be a wicked Elf and cast 
 spells on my brother Alec, but send him 
 home safely to me." 
 
 " What does she mean, nursie ? " asked 
 Annabel, as they walked away. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, only some joke about your 
 being called an Elf — Elf is a kind of fairy. 
 Never mind a bit what such a winsome 
 young lady as that says, she is only in
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 169 
 
 fun, pretty dear — she's just brimming over 
 with it." 
 
 " Do you think, nurse, that — she is very 
 beautiful ? " 
 
 " Yes, that I do, just about as beautiful a 
 young lady as I've seen this many a day — 
 just as beautiful, except for the emeralds 
 and the diamonds, as any of them princesses 
 in the fairy tales as Mr. Dyketon brought 
 you home last week and that you've been 
 plaguing my life out to tell you about." 
 
 "Prettier than Miss Dorothy?" ques- 
 tioned the child, with rapid voice. 
 
 " No," answered the nurse, thus brought 
 to bay, and a trifle bothered, " no, not so 
 pretty, perhaps, Miss Annabel, but — well, 
 there, you do ask such straight-away ques- 
 tions, as I say: she's more in her, somehow. 
 Miss Dorothy is softer and steals on you like. 
 while the other would flash into one's liking 
 and take you all of a heap, so to say." 
 
 Poor little Annabel Westgate asked no 
 more questions, but all the strength had 
 gone out of her limbs, while her tears fell
 
 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 unhindered, which, when nurse saw, she lifted 
 her up bodily within her strong arms, 
 saying — 
 
 " There, nobody will see, pet : I'll manage 
 to carry you the rest of the way. You ain't a 
 bit used to excitement, and you're just fagged 
 out. I feared as much when I saw you 
 comin' along." 
 
 When she went up later on to put her 
 charge to bed, she found her inside a big 
 cupboard, where she kept an odd collection 
 of childish rubbish. She was working vigo- 
 rously at something, and came out with her 
 face heated and flushed. 
 
 Mrs. Geddings was in a hurry, for her 
 supper waited ; so she made no remark, but 
 put the poor tired-out child to bed quickly. 
 
 When alone Annabel sat up, and clenching 
 her small teeth, muttered through them, " I've 
 poked it away under the old bird-cage that 
 Blackie died in : it's a nasty wicked book, 
 and I'll never read any more fairy tales as 
 long as I live." 
 
 And then she threw herself back among
 
 Unconscious Rivalry. 171 
 
 her pillows in a wild passion of tears, and 
 cried and sobbed herself to sleep at last 
 from sheer weariness, as have so many of 
 her sex, older, yet no wiser, except that they 
 could give their misery a name.
 
 T72 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SISTERLY TALK. 
 
 Dorothy and Mab leaned on the stile long 
 after the Elf and her nurse had disappeared, 
 for the evening was clear and balmy, and the 
 air full of pleasant summer odours. 
 
 It had not been easy to talk confidentially 
 to each other in presence of that preternatu- 
 rally sharp-witted child, and the first Sunday 
 in a new place always affords topics for 
 conversation and speculation. 
 
 Mab was unusually quiet as she watched 
 those two figures out of sight, while Dorothy 
 in her soft cooing way expressed her love 
 for the strange little thing. Her voice had 
 ever more or less of a soft coo in it, which 
 sometimes soothed Mab, and sometimes 
 irritated her. To-night it had the latter 
 effect, and she remained silent, giving 
 Dorothy full opportunity to coo on.
 
 Sisterly Talk. 17, 
 
 Had Mab expected to see some other than 
 the prim Mrs. Geddings come for the child? 
 If so, she said no word to her sister of such 
 expectation. 
 
 As they turned along the homeward path, 
 their bright dresses stood out in glowing 
 contrast against the sombre old trees skirting 
 the warren. With arms carelessly inter- 
 locked, their light talk deepened. Said 
 Dorothy gravely, " Mab darling, you should 
 not speak so unguardedly before that child. 
 There is no knowing what she may not 
 repeat to Mr. Dyketon, or how innocently 
 she may distort your meaning. ' Little 
 pitchers' — you know the rest." 
 
 " She is a queer child — an oddity," 
 Mab answered, after a moment, not resent- 
 ing Dorothy's caution. " I like her, some- 
 how, and she is far beyond the generality of 
 girls at her age. I delight in seeing her 
 eyes flash when she defies me. I wonder," 
 after another thoughtful pause, " what sort of 
 a woman she will be when she grows up, 
 Dol."
 
 174 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Sometimes those strange children de- 
 velop into remarkably fine women — at least, 
 they always do in books." 
 
 " Oh, books," returned Mab, pettishly. 
 " Books are written to sell, and people set 
 down, at least in novels, whatever claptrap 
 pleases their fancy at the moment. I know 
 you reckon everything by books. I don't ; 
 but, you see, I am not so sentimental as you 
 are.''" 
 
 "Don't be snaggy, dear," urged Dorothy, 
 with a loving pressure on the arm she held. 
 
 " One's own life," Mab went on, " would 
 often make a better story, if one could but 
 write it." 
 
 But Dorothy was not disposed just now 
 to lapse into generalities, and brought the 
 conversation back to their late companion 
 by some remark by no means fresh, so that 
 Mab broke in wearily, " I really do think, 
 Dol, we've had enough of Miss Annabel 
 Westgate for one day ; do let's talk of some- 
 thing else. Suppose we compare notes on 
 the curate, they are always fair game. The
 
 Sisterly Talk. 175 
 
 vicar looks an old dear, only I was afraid he 
 was going to cry once in the sermon, and 
 what a funny habit he has of putting h in 
 the middle of his words, as a connecting 
 link; it gives a peculiar expression to some 
 of his sentences." 
 
 ''Yes, I noticed it," said Dorothy, glad that 
 Mab was brightening. " ' Here begin-h-eth 
 the fir-h-st les-h-son.' It is so ridiculous; 
 but he is an old dear, so that one couldn't 
 laugh at him for the world." 
 
 " Think the curate will be good for tennis," 
 queried Mab, "or above such frivolling?" 
 
 " I should say he'd frivol," said Dorothy, a 
 smile crossing her fair young face at some 
 remembrance : " they all do." 
 
 " Oh dear," ejaculated Mab, quite sharply, 
 " how we shall miss the Kings and the 
 Dunbartons! We shall get so out of practice, 
 too, if we play alone ; and you are such a 
 dummy at games, and so fearfully lazy, you 
 never care a toss whether you win or lose." 
 
 " Mr. Dyketon has a lawn, and they can 
 place four nets at a push." The smile was
 
 176 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 still on Dorothy's face, and she took no notice 
 of Mab's satire, for it was not her way to 
 argue out such statements. 
 
 "Oh," said Mab, quickly on the alert, "four 
 setts ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and one of the Trench girls — the 
 youngest — is the best player about here, he 
 told me." 
 
 " I should like to see what their best about 
 here is." 
 
 " Lady Juliana Smalkington is good at a 
 four-handed game," he says, " but never plays 
 single." 
 
 " Who, for goodness' sake, is she ? " 
 
 " They live at the Castle — over there," 
 said Dorothy, pointing in the direction. 
 "There are a mother and two daughters — 
 very proud and very poor, I believe." 
 
 " Naturally," assented Mab, but her curio- 
 sity was aroused. " You may depend that was 
 the party going off in that shambling old 
 four-wheeler. I noticed the coachman was in 
 good livery, and the coronet was not quite 
 obliterated from the panels."
 
 Sisterly Talk. 177 
 
 "Yes, it was. I asked Mr. Dyketon 
 who they were, and that was how he came to 
 speak of the tennis lawn." 
 
 "Ah — well, they are no chickens — eh, Dol ? 
 — for tennis," said Mab, rippling with sudden 
 glee. " But I fell in love, all the same, with 
 the old lady." 
 
 " Mab ! Why, she resembles a bunch of 
 dried parchment." 
 
 " How clever you are getting, Dol — quite 
 sharp, in fact. It was a shrewd old face, and 
 I liked it much better than either of her 
 daughters. It was a tight squeeze for them, 
 poor dears, in that back seat. How I should 
 laugh if some day it gave way and deposited 
 their ladyships in the road ! Such things 
 have happened with humbler burdens, and it 
 may to them." 
 
 "They play the old deuce-and-vantage 
 game here," observed Dorothy, referring to 
 the tennis. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said Mab, and her 
 "good gracious " expressed volumes. 
 
 " Mr. Dyketon says Countess Smalkington 
 vol. 1. N
 
 178 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 is a very good friend where she takes, or just 
 as staunch an enemy." 
 
 " I can quite believe that; but I don't expect 
 it will make much difference to us, as we shall 
 not come within her range, for castles, Dol, 
 don't figure, as a rule, on our visiting list. 
 You and Mr. Dyketon seem to have made 
 good use of your time, and to have touched 
 on several subjects." 
 
 There was a little jealous ring in the tone 
 these words were said, and the girl's humour 
 was variable, so that prudent Dorothy chose 
 her next words with very great caution. 
 
 " Do you know, Mab dear, I got on so 
 well with him, although I did not quite think 
 I should." 
 
 Here Mab laughed as if anxious to throw 
 off her pettishness, for she was painfully 
 conscious of its littleness. " As if you didn't 
 get on with everybody, dear old Dol, when 
 you'd rather suffer any mortal pain than stand 
 up for your own opinion or utter the faintest 
 contradiction." 
 
 " Mr. Dyketon looks, you see," continued
 
 Sisterly Talk. 179 
 
 Dorothy, " as if he might be very difficult to 
 understand, and yet he is particularly easy to 
 get on with." 
 
 "Is he? I don't know." Mab was busy 
 now, poking up a wasps' nest with the stick 
 she carried. 
 
 " Oh, don't do that," cried Dorothy, who 
 was horribly afraid of all stinging insects. 
 " The horrid creatures! do leave them alone." 
 
 She dragged Mab away, and it was some 
 minutes before she felt assured that no angry 
 wasp was following them, so that she could 
 fall back on undisturbed chat. 
 
 11 I call the curate very good-looking," she 
 proceeded to say as a commencement. 
 
 "Yes, in the 'fair, fair, and golden hair' 
 sort of thing," Mab agreed, humming the 
 refrain of the song. 
 
 " He looks a gentleman," said Dorothy, 
 with as much decision of tone as she was 
 capable of — even her patience was beginning 
 to tire of Mab's insecurity of mood, but her 
 sweetness returned at the next remark 
 vouchsafed her.
 
 180 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " And so does that other fellow, Dol — the 
 one who was sitting in the left aisle. I 
 wonder who he could have been ? " 
 
 " I noticed him : he was very handsome for 
 his style. He was looking at us several 
 times.'' 
 
 " Examining us," rejoined Mab, "as speci- 
 mens of some unknown tribe, as people do 
 when we go to a fresh place." There was a 
 growing shade of bitterness in the girl's 
 accent as she went on: " Our position is so 
 anomalous — the aborigines don't know how 
 to ' class' us, as the naturalists say. Cer- 
 tainly not with the gentry, pure and simple ; 
 certainly not with the trades, forsooth ; and 
 they don't know whether the mediums — 
 doctors, parsons, and lawyers — will take us 
 up or whether they will elect to go their way 
 and have none of us." 
 
 Dorothy laughed gently. This was an old 
 sore of Mab's of which she was tender, 
 because the topic was one on which they did 
 not agree ; for it was no sore to Dorothy, 
 since she never was alive to the little things
 
 Sisterly Talk. 181 
 
 which irritated the more sensitive Mab. 
 She never knocked her soft, fair prettiness 
 against any sharp corners by reason of her 
 general amiability in respect to the givings 
 and takings of life. She was passive by 
 nature, and the passive natures escape much 
 suffering that the active endure with more or 
 less pain. 
 
 " So they wait," said Mab, continuing her 
 discourse on the vexed subject, " and the 
 result is that when Mr. and Mrs. Parson have 
 made their duty-call, Mr. and Mrs. Doctor 
 make their speculative one. If we are pain- 
 fully robust it is less hopeful for them than if 
 we are looking bilious and languidly over- 
 tired with our fatigue of moving. Notes 
 having been exchanged, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lawyer come, followed by the Bank manager 
 and his wife — I beg pardon, the Banker and 
 his lady. Then all the unattached widows 
 and spinsters of the community arrive in rota- 
 tion, their reason being that, 'as all the others 
 have called on these new railway people, it 
 must be quite the correct thing, my dear.' '
 
 1 82 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Dorothy wisely ignored this tirade, the 
 outcome of poor Mab's strained mood, and 
 quietly remarked, " I expect the Trench 
 family are nice — Mr. Dyketon says they are 
 charming ; and then there is your poor 
 cripple," looking slyly under the lace of her 
 parasol, which she was using at the moment 
 to brush away some midges with. " Perhaps, 
 though, he may turn out as great a delusion 
 as the grey head," making a wider sweep at 
 the midges with the closed parasol. 
 
 " Don't be an idiot, Dol, for goodness' 
 sake." 
 
 Dorothy sighed at the still pettish into- 
 nation — she wished Mab would be good- 
 tempered and jolly. She wondered why she 
 was so irritable this lovely evening, for she 
 was quite innocent of any cause she could 
 possibly have. " I suppose, dear," she made 
 answer, since Mab would have nothing but 
 vexed subjects, "it is only natural, after all, 
 that people should reckon us up, as you 
 say, before accepting us as close acquain- 
 tances ; we cannot always expect to be taken
 
 Sisterly Talk. 1 8 
 
 o 
 
 on trust. There is a For and Against, I am 
 sure, in all professions, and if people are 
 for ever moving about as we are, we must 
 put up with a lot of this sort of thing — 
 inspection, I mean. For my part, I do not 
 object to it." 
 
 "What do you object to, Dol ? With 
 that placid, sober mind of yours, I believe 
 you would let them come and prod you as 
 they do the fat woman in the show booth, 
 to see that you were veritable flesh and 
 blood." 
 
 " Don't be nasty. What an idea — ugh ! " 
 
 Mab, her little resentment dying away, 
 stood still to watch the gleaming sunset on 
 the other side of the hollow. The slanting 
 beams of fading light just touched the tops 
 of their own chimneys, and shed over the old 
 place a sort of halo. " Lovely, isn't it ? " she 
 said quite softly to her sister, " I do like this 
 new home, and I think I shall like all the 
 people, and oh," stretching out her small 
 palms, " I do hope we shall all be happy here." 
 
 Dorothy caught her breath with a sort of
 
 184 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 gasp. Happy here — why not ? How difficult 
 Mab was to follow ! her quick changes 
 of humour were so perplexing. Why could 
 she not rest and take things easily and 
 quietly just as they came ? It was to gentle 
 Dorothy so much the best thing to do. She 
 felt sorry for Mab and pitied her, and yet 
 she could scarcely have told for what. 
 " How queer you are, darling ! " she said, 
 putting her arm round the slight figure. 
 " Of course we shall be happy here — we are 
 always happy, I think — we all love each 
 other so." 
 
 Mab made no answer: perhaps she did not 
 even gather the sense of the low-spoken 
 words. She continued to gaze earnestly at 
 the loveliness of the deepening scene — at the 
 tender glinting lights of the setting sun, at 
 the quivering of the leaves on the trees about 
 her, for a slight breeze had sprung up, so 
 that the woods murmured — perhaps a good- 
 night. She seemed to drink in the calmness 
 of the hour almost greedily : it was so restful, 
 so soothing to her quivering senses, for the
 
 Sisterly Talk. 185 
 
 girl's mind was filled with a strange unrest. 
 An oppression and dread of change was 
 upon her which she could scarcely under- 
 stand or grapple with, for it was shifting and 
 undefined — not a recognised, tangible feeling, 
 only a dim idea possessed her as of some 
 unreality. 
 
 " Yes," she said presently and in a lighter 
 strain, " there is a For and Against in every- 
 thing, and one of the Fors in our case is the 
 delightful feeling of freedom we enjoy. At 
 least we can be independent, having few to 
 study beyond our own personal likes and 
 dislikes. Oh ! it must be awful to feel com- 
 pelled to study, almost pander to, at least to 
 bear with people whom one hates and holds 
 in utter disrespect. At any rate, we are 
 free!' 
 
 " But I am sure we do not dislike many 
 people," said negative Dorothy. 
 
 Mab had given herself a moral shaking 
 by now, and was disposed to be as practical 
 all of a sudden as she had before been 
 querulous and irrelevant.
 
 1 86 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " No; and we come among new sets of 
 people with a rush of circumstances that 
 obliges them to consider us, almost whether 
 they will or no. If they don't much care 
 for their new railway, they deem it advisable 
 to welcome us as passing friends ; if they 
 find us tolerable " 
 
 "And I am sure they always do." 
 
 " Then," continued Mab, not heeding the 
 interruption, "it is all the better for both 
 parties ; we bring them new interests, and a 
 certain amount of stir. If they approve 
 and greatly desire the works, of course 
 everything is still easier, and they are the 
 more ready to receive us with open arms." 
 
 " They will here, I am sure." 
 
 "Because," said Mab, "it is as I say. 
 Here they do greatly desire a new line for 
 commercial purposes, to open up their con- 
 nection with big centres of trade and all 
 that; and then," smiling, "we bring intro- 
 ductions to the Trenches — a eood old 
 family — and dad has been seen about so 
 much with Mr. Dyketon. I saw that old
 
 Sisterly Talk. 187 
 
 parchment Peeress look out of those 
 gimlet eyes of hers when he came up and 
 shook hands with us at the church door." 
 
 "And the daughters, Mab, looked ever so 
 little surprised, I thought." 
 
 " Exactly so," said Mab, laughing out- 
 right. "/ should not be at all surprised if 
 ' Mamma ' would not willingly give him 
 one of her aristocratic daughters, to have 
 and to hold till death do them part — the 
 
 fair one seemed rather nice, the other " 
 
 Mab shrugged her shoulders with a fair 
 mimicry of Lady Juliana's manner. 
 
 From this sisterly and unrestrained talk 
 we may gather that Miss Mabel Ellaby had 
 a very apt perception of things general 
 and social, and that among her natural 
 traits, beneath her quick-witted blitheness of 
 outward demeanour, lurked not a little of 
 worldly wisdom. 
 
 "The Countess bowed ever so conde- 
 scendingly to the handsome unknown — I 
 wonder who he can be ? He went off down 
 the Marsdon road."
 
 1 88 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Mab made no answer, but a blush rose 
 on her fair forehead and crept away among 
 the sunny fringe of hair under the brim 
 of her hat. 
 
 The handsome unknown that Dorothy 
 was so puzzled about was no other than 
 Malcolm Trench, who had idly walked over 
 to Little Marsdon church for the sole 
 purpose of inspecting any of the Ellaby 
 family who might be " on view." In this 
 direction the girl's thoughts had not turned, 
 since their father had spoken of him as 
 " a cripple, poor fellow," and this athletic, 
 broad-shouldered young man certainly 
 showed no sign of any such affliction. 
 
 At the precise moment they w T ere discuss- 
 ing him, he was sitting under a big chestnut 
 on their lawn, with his sister Madoline, a 
 pretty, dark-eyed girl, telling her that " he 
 should never flirt again with any woman 
 under the sun, for if I can't get Miss Ellaby 
 — the little one — for a wife, Maddy, I will 
 never marry at all." 
 
 " Malcolm ! " and Maddy laughed incredu-
 
 A Sisterly Talk. 
 
 lously; then, seeing his face, and noticing 
 the determined set of his firm chin, she 
 asked, " Are you really in sober earnest, 
 Malcolm?" 
 
 "Yes, I am," he answered, with perfect 
 gravity; "only don't say anything about it 
 to the others," pointing to the house, "and 
 don't chaff me, there's a dear ; but I felt the 
 moment I caught sight of that girl coming 
 up the church aisle that I could never look 
 at another woman — that I loved her. I 
 never felt so before, I can tell you honestly." 
 
 " But, my dear, you have so often " 
 
 " Ah ! I dare say I have ; but this is 
 altogether a different thing, and I know that 
 I cannot help myself, that I shall never 
 change. To my dying day I shall love that 
 eirl : I wonder what her name is ? " 
 
 "If it is the youngest, with the bronze 
 hair, it is Mabel, but they call her Mab — I 
 heard Mr. Ellaby speaking about her to 
 mother, and I fancy she is somehow his 
 favourite. Dorothy is a very fair girl, with 
 pale hair and large blue eyes."
 
 190 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Yes," and Malcolm Trench rose and 
 walked the length of the lawn and back. 
 " Mab," he said to himself — "a pretty name, 
 with something tantalising and tricksy 
 about it," and something struck him that 
 she fitted her name. "And yet," he con- 
 tinued, " the girl is as true as steel, with 
 those merry eyes and that fearless glance — 
 yes, it did not need two thoughts to deter- 
 mine so much. True as steel — what was the 
 old German phrase ? Treu und fcst — these 
 words would always rest in his mind in 
 connection with Mab Ellaby, if ever he gave 
 
 her a " But here he pulled himself 
 
 together and strode back to his sister. " I 
 say, Maddy," stopping before her, " you will 
 try to like her, and — help me out, won't 
 you, dear ?" 
 
 His voice was deep and full of passionate 
 earnestness. Madoline had never seen him 
 so moved or so utterly grave before. She 
 did not banter or ridicule him as Di would 
 have done, but eagerly promised what 
 he required of her. She was his favourite
 
 Sisterly Talk. 191 
 
 sister — he had given her his confidence, and 
 she was naturally simple-hearted, and rather 
 inclined to be sentimental, so that quite a 
 thrill of gladness passed through her frame 
 at this proof of his trust in her. 
 
 The sun had gone down behind the dis- 
 tant hills, and evening darkness shrouded 
 the hollow in which Pendleton Grange 
 stood, when the two sisters went indoors, 
 and upstairs to their own room, to lay aside 
 their hats and gloves. 
 
 Said Dorothy, stopping midway before 
 the cheval glass, " Oh, Mab, I have just 
 thought of it — perhaps that handsome 
 fellow is Clement Danes, the young doctor 
 at Marsdon." 
 
 " No," answered Mab, decisively, from 
 what point of view I know not, " he's not a 
 doctor."
 
 192 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 FRESH LIFE. 
 
 Old Halyard, the mason, had been right 
 when he said the first coming would prove 
 the worst, for after Philip Dyketon once 
 overcame his morbid reluctance to visit the 
 old Grange, he gave the feeling no chance to 
 reassert itself. The fresh life he met therein 
 thrust out the old with forcible insistance, 
 and the reaction proved beneficial to him. 
 The ghosts of the past were effectually laid 
 ever since the day he had so unwittingly 
 encountered Mabel Ellaby in that room 
 haunted by childish memories, and he went 
 daily with a lighter heart to inspect progress 
 and direct his workmen. When he saw her 
 again in the parish church he wondered 
 whether or no she had spoken to the rest of 
 her family about Arthur Thistleden, and the 
 possibility of their new home being his old
 
 Fresh Life. 193 
 
 one. He had met Mr. Ellaby pretty fre- 
 quently of late, but the subject had not been 
 referred to by him, so Philip concluded the 
 young lady was still awaiting a more fitting 
 time for such revelation. 
 
 Was the lad whom he could remember 
 hanging about the neighbourhood under a 
 sort of moral cloud — by some deemed Mr. 
 Kirkburn's rightful heir, by others scouted as 
 a bastard — one and the same as the man who 
 had married this bright little maiden's elder 
 sister ? And if so, what then ? As he had 
 said to her, it was just one of those odd co- 
 incidences that come into lives about which 
 it is useless to speculate or reason. The 
 brightness, truth, and honesty of the girl had 
 pleased him, and her gentle sympathy had 
 been as soothing to, as it was unexpected 
 by him. This strange, frank-hearted little 
 " gentlewoman," he called her in his mind, 
 was absolutely the first person who had ever 
 openly spoken to him of his mother, and she 
 had done so freely and with touching pity. 
 To be sure, his pain was, and might ever be, 
 vol. 1. o
 
 194 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 with him, but this girl's words had extracted 
 the lurking sting and exorcised the shame he 
 had cherished so long, converting it into 
 something more bearable. 
 
 As he sat in his pew that Sunday morning 
 during the simple service, which he mechan- 
 ically followed without involving on his part 
 much turning of leaves in his Prayer Book, 
 his thoughts went back to the day when he 
 had last seen this fellow, Arthur Thistleden. 
 John Datchet was driving him from the 
 station, and the lad, a tall, well-made young 
 fellow, with bold blue eyes and brownish 
 hair, was leaning over a field gate. As they 
 drove past he nodded with insolent friendli- 
 ness. Datchet's remarks drifted into his 
 mind as a kind of sequence, " That young 
 chap's got the cheek o' Old Nick, and have 
 bin about here ever since you've bin gone 
 this time, Master Phil. I guess he don't kip 
 no college terms, nor noght else as'll ever 
 lick him inter shape, so to say. Some people 
 say, though, as ow his name's Kirkburn 
 right eno', although he do call hisself Thistle-
 
 Fresh Life. 195 
 
 den. There's them as says Mary Thistleden 
 was married by the law o' Scotland to her 
 master afore he was born — that is, ef such 
 heathenish ways is laws — and there's them as 
 doubts that much; tell I 'bout jumpin' over 
 broomsticks, and all that rot. Let a man and 
 a woman stand up honest in a sanctified 
 church, afore the parson, I say, and then 
 there's bound to be no gammon about the 
 consarn, and everythink in natur goes on 
 decent." 
 
 And these people did not know if their 
 daughter and sister was alive or dead ? 
 Certainly he knew no more of Thistleden, 
 he had never even heard of him since the 
 proving of Mr. Kirkburn's eccentric will, 
 in which ^"500 was left ''To my son 
 Arthur," the legitimacy of that son remain- 
 ing an open question. At the funeral he 
 had not put in an appearance, but had after- 
 wards received his bequest from David 
 Trench in solemn silence. 
 
 It was not long before Philip made his 
 first friendly call on the Ellabys, and as
 
 196 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 he entered the house he tried to repress 
 all thought of Arthur Thistleden ; but 
 quite against his will it was uppermost as 
 he ascended the wide oak staircase to that 
 large upper room, mercifully robbed of all 
 trace of its former appearance even more 
 completely than when given over to car- 
 penters and whitewashers. 
 
 No heavy oaken tables, with ungainly 
 carved legs, were here now ; no grotesque 
 ornaments ; no trailing velvet curtains, ex- 
 cluding daylight ; no grim tapestry, or grim- 
 mer pictures looking down from the walls ; 
 but instead, plush-covered tables, pretty 
 cretonne and lace draperies, and good water- 
 colours met his eye. 
 
 In lieu of a man and a woman, the one 
 mocking, the other pleading, a handsome 
 motherly woman came forward to him with 
 outstretched hand, cordially expressing her 
 pleasure at welcoming him as their first 
 guest. " You see, Mr. Dyketon," explained 
 Mrs. Ellaby, still firmly holding his hand, 
 " I have heard so much of you ' from my
 
 Fresh Life. 197 
 
 husband and children. This," turning to 
 Nora, " is my eldest daughter." 
 
 Philip mentally asked himself which of 
 these girls was the nicest. After all, this one 
 was decidedly the handsomest, so stately 
 too, and yet so thoroughly and gracefully 
 genial. 
 
 He would not have owned for one 
 moment to surprise at their well-bred ease 
 and innate charm and repose of manner ; 
 yet it was there (latent in him) all the same 
 as he seated himself, already feeling at 
 home with them and about to enjoy himself. 
 
 " We have heard of you as well from 
 your little ward," said Nora, " and have to 
 thank you so much for your kindness to 
 Alec." 
 
 In return Philip thanked them quite as 
 heartily on behalf of the child. 
 
 " She is such a dear, quaint little girl," 
 remarked Mrs. Ellaby. "It will do her good, 
 Mr. Dyketon, to be with young people : you 
 must let her come to us often." 
 
 11 Pray take a more comfortable seat,"
 
 198 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 suggested Nora, with a sparkle of fun in 
 her fine eyes which reminded him of Mab. 
 He was by no means loth, having deposited 
 himself on a narrow, straight-backed chair 
 decidedly too small for him. 
 
 " Thank you," rising with alacrity, " we 
 almost invariably need placing in a lady's 
 room, I fancy; for, as a matter of course, we 
 choose the most unlikely seat." 
 
 " Not at all — or, at least, that is not my 
 experience. Failing the hearthrug, I usually 
 find gentlemen take refuge in some roomy, 
 deep chair, where they can wriggle and 
 twist about to their hearts' content, as, for 
 instance — " and she pointed to a corner 
 behind them, where such a chair stood, with 
 its cushions and lace ornamentations in 
 terrible disorder, and out of which had just 
 risen a rather stout but very good-looking 
 man, who had evidently been fast asleep. 
 
 " That's too bad, Nora," remarked this 
 personage, in a peculiarly penetrating, rich 
 voice, with a look of assumed penitence, as he 
 awaited an introduction.
 
 Fresh Life. 199 
 
 A little blush rose to Nora's face as she 
 said, " Mr. Erskine — Mr. Dyketon," and 
 added to Philip, " I thought he was never 
 going to wake up." 
 
 Before they were fairly seated again, the 
 door opened and Mrs. Trench and her 
 daughters were announced. That lady's 
 effusive entrance effectually removed any 
 lingering stiffness or formality. 
 
 " Dad was quite right," thought Nora, "in 
 saying Mrs. Trench was like our mother." 
 There was a very marked similitude between 
 the two, although perhaps more in general 
 style and bearing than in actual facial 
 expression. Nora welcomed the two girls 
 with evident pleasure, and introduced her 
 lover once more before the talk became 
 animated and general. 
 
 Philip Dyketon endeavoured to account 
 for the absence of the other two house 
 daughters as they did not join them, and 
 presently Di Trench resolved this question 
 by saying quickly, " What a jolly little car- 
 riage you have, Miss Ellaby! We met your
 
 200 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 sisters driving into the village, and the pony- 
 was going like steam." 
 
 " Yes," said Nora, laughing. " I suppose 
 Mab was driving : Gyp always knows he has 
 to do his best then. Dol and I are never a 
 match for him — he takes every possible 
 advantage of us." 
 
 " Naturally," returned Tom Erskine, a 
 trifle quizzically, "when you are too lenient 
 to him, and Dolly's half afraid of him." 
 
 Madoline and Di Trench were puzzled to 
 know in what relationship this remarkably 
 pleasant and attractive man stood to the 
 family. Di, who affected slang, said, "Yes, 
 Miss Mab was ' tooling along ' at a fine rate 
 — I should say they'd be back soon, for 
 we fairly crawled here : our pony is four- 
 teen, I believe, and as lazy as he is high, 
 or broad, which, after all, is more to the 
 point." 
 
 Tom Erskine was amused at the merry 
 girl. " Mab Ellaby drives, you see, Miss 
 Trench," he explained, " while Nora and 
 Dorothy leave it to Gyp's discretion and
 
 Fresh Life. 201 
 
 sense of honour, of which, between you and 
 me, he has little enough." 
 
 After this speech Di Trench, like most 
 very young girls, blushed and giggled — a 
 habit which in her case showed off her fine 
 teeth to considerable advantage, and so re- 
 deemed the action. Di was well aware of 
 all her " points," and still made play of her 
 ruby lips, so that the whole line of pearls 
 were exposed as she laughingly added, 
 " Miss Mab seems to be the active member 
 of this family." 
 
 " Yes, indeed — wits included : we all have 
 to do pretty much as Queen Mab directs, 
 from paterfamilias downwards." 
 
 " Do you ?" asked Di, with incipient 
 coquetry and a slight grimace, deciding that 
 this man must be a lover — but of which 
 of the girls ? "I hate doing as anybody 
 directs." 
 
 " I am sure, " broke in Madoline's pretty 
 drawling voice, "she will be an acquisition 
 here — we want some one with a superabun- 
 dance of energy and nerve power to stir
 
 202 A Railway Fotmdling. 
 
 us all up, we mostly go to sleep, do we 
 not, Mr. Dyketon ? I believe it is the air 
 about this neighbourhood ; it is not con- 
 ducive to buoyancy or animal spirits." 
 
 Mr. Erskine bowed, and Di, looking 
 round the room, sighed quite tragically, 
 "Yes, we are awfully slow here, " at which 
 both the gentlemen felt it a relief to laugh 
 heartily, and from a glance she intercepted 
 between Nora and this male visitor, Di, 
 being by no means devoid of sagacity, deter- 
 mined "they were engaged." 
 
 " Mab Ellaby has really any amount ol 
 'go,'" said Tom Erskine to Mr. Dyketon, 
 as the girls left them to examine Nora's lace- 
 work. 
 
 " A true-hearted little girl, though ? at 
 least, she strikes me as being so," answered 
 Philip. " It is an uncommon attribute now- 
 adays, don't you think?" 
 
 " Oh, I think the world and the people in 
 it are very much as we make them for our- 
 selves. Yes, Mab is like all the rest of the 
 Ellabys, true-hearted — though she's a bit
 
 Fresh Life. 
 
 captious at times: she is desperately de- 
 voted to her father and young Alec. Frank, 
 the eldest son, is one of the finest fellows I 
 know — he is next in age to Mary, who 
 married that Thistleden, you know. Queer 
 affair that, and his living here too ; but 
 there, the scamp must have had a home 
 somewhere, so why not here?" 
 
 " It is very queer," assented Philip, be- 
 hind the buzz of feminine chatter over 
 the lace-work (so Mab had mentioned this 
 matter), and he listened with renewed in- 
 terest as Erskine went on to say, " You see, 
 we lawyers are keen to scent out such queer- 
 ities, as on such many a strange clue may 
 hang. I confess I have thought a lot of this 
 one since coming to this house ; it's a fine 
 old place?" 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so." 
 
 "Ah, perhaps you care more for modern 
 houses ?" 
 
 Mab, the true-hearted, had kept her own 
 counsel respecting their meeting,, for evi- 
 dently this friend knew nothing beyond the
 
 204 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 bare fact of Thistleden's connection with this 
 new residence 
 
 " Perhaps I do," he answered dreamily. 
 
 Why should this man interest himself so 
 deeply in the Thistleden subject ? The 
 next words cleared up this point. " We, 
 Nora and I, are only waiting for Frank to 
 come home, to be married;" but just then 
 there was a lull in the general conversation, 
 and Norah coloured vividly as her lover's 
 last word, " married, " seemed to poise in 
 the air. 
 
 "What is that about married?" inquired 
 Mrs. Trench, briskly. 
 
 Whereupon Tom Erskine made the best 
 of it by repeating the whole sentence for 
 the benefit of all. " I wasn't far wrong," 
 thought sixteen-year-old Di. "He's very 
 handsome — a little old for her, perhaps, and 
 too stout ; but, heigho ! lovers are not too 
 plentiful, and one can't have every- 
 thing." 
 
 It was a great relief to Nora that the 
 parlour-maid came in with tea at that precise
 
 Fresh Life. 20 ■ 
 
 moment. Now, " afternoon tea" was un- 
 usual at Little Marsdon, and the ladies ever 
 so slightly showed that it was so, when 
 Mrs. Ellaby said, " My husband is so irre- 
 gular regarding dinner that we are obliged 
 to make quite an institution of early tea, 
 and Nora is our presiding genius at the 
 table. I believe she introduced it, and so 
 considers it a sort of right." 
 
 During the little bustle that ensued, 
 Philip Dyketon and Tom Erskine fell back 
 into their quiet corner, likewise into their 
 pleasant chat. Presently they discovered a 
 mutual friend in town, very dear to both 
 of them, and we all know how far this 
 goes to riveting a short acquaintance. But 
 they were not long allowed to remain idle, 
 for Nora promptly despatched her lover to 
 make the tour of the room with eatables, 
 the neat, well-trained maid being in 
 attendance with tea-cups, &c. 
 
 "What a cosy little meal it was ! " thought 
 Philip, " altogether different in kind to 
 the dismal ceremony at the Castle, where
 
 206 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 it was served by a gorgeous creature 
 in plush, and even the old hostess pro- 
 nounced the tepid beverage thus dispensed 
 ' poor stuff.' " 
 
 Then in came Dorothy and Mab, fresh 
 from their drive, not disdaining to own 
 frankly that they had hurried back, having 
 seen Mrs. Trench turn in at their gates. 
 
 "You are quite useful, Mr. Dyketon," 
 said Nora, as he handed her a basket dain- 
 tily filled with an assorted collection of cake, 
 as was the custom of the house. 
 
 "Oh ! " cried Di Trench, " Mr. Dyketon 
 is the most splendid host we know—when 
 are you going to give us another tennis 
 party?" turning merrily to him. 
 
 "Just whenever your mamma will act 
 hostess for me, Miss Di, now that Mrs. 
 Ellaby is sufficiently settled to come. I 
 have only been waiting for that to have a 
 field-day, for Miss Dorothy," smiling to her, 
 " tells me tennis is a great attraction in 
 this circle." 
 
 Dorothy gave utterance to a slight " Oh ! '
 
 Fresh Life. 207 
 
 at this, but it was drowned in the chorus 
 of delight at his proposal. 
 
 " You play ? " he inquired of Mab a trifle 
 eagerly. 
 
 "A little," she replied demurely, at which 
 Tom Erskine laughed outright. " Rabid on 
 it, she and Alec," he answered for her. 
 
 " You play ? " 
 
 u Only at looking on, Dyketon, and Mab, 
 like the hard-hearted little wretch she is, 
 tells me / deserve to get fat — hard, isn't it, 
 Miss Di ? and then, again, I may not be 
 here." 
 
 " Nonsense, Tom. You always fly pos- 
 sible briefs in our faces in a case like this. He 
 will come and do his looking-on, Mr. Dyke- 
 ton," said Mab, conclusively — " he always 
 does." 
 
 " By-the-bye," rattled on Di Trench, " Mal- 
 colm was at your church on Sunday, and he 
 said he expected you would be all good for 
 tennis. If it were not for tennis, I believe 
 we should all die of stagnation." 
 
 " Oh, does he come so far ? Poor fellow !"
 
 2o8 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 said Mab, pouring herself out a second cup 
 of tea. 
 
 " So far ! My gracious ! Malcolm does 
 not think much of a three-mile walk when he 
 has an object in view ; else, as a general rule, 
 he is insufferably lazy. But that's partly 
 because Maddy humours him so — she waits 
 upon him hand and foot ; in fact, makes 
 herself a perfect slave. I don't," frankly. 
 
 "But my father said " then Mab, 
 
 glancing at Philip Dyketon's hair, stopped 
 short, blushing very much. 
 
 "Ah ! your father saw him," said Madoline, 
 gently, "when he had sprained his knee in 
 the hunting-field. It is all right again now, 
 but he was quite crippled for a week or two." 
 
 Nora, knowing how perilously near utter 
 discomfiture Mab had gone, rescued her by 
 turning the conversation back to the tennis 
 party, by asking Tom Erskine " if he really 
 thought he could stay for it ? " 
 
 " It will be best to fix the day at once," 
 said Philip, " and an early one. Will Tuesday 
 suit you, Mrs. Trench ? "
 
 Fresh Life. 209 
 
 " Quite well," answered that lady, who was 
 now sitting by Nora, carefully inspecting the 
 never-failing lace-work. 
 
 "Then Tuesday it shall be," announced 
 Philip, taking a vacant place by Mrs. Ellaby's 
 side on a broad Sutherland sofa, " if I can 
 depend on Mr. Ellaby for that day." 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby was not at all sure that her 
 husband would accept, and the faces of the 
 girls fell perceptibly, for their prospective host 
 was so determined to secure Mr. Ellaby that 
 he proposed to postpone the party until his 
 presence could be guaranteed. 
 
 " I am anxious," he explained to Mrs. 
 Ellaby, " to make this especial gathering an 
 informal opportunity for you to meet some 
 of the people about here. Mr. Ellaby tells 
 me he eschews dinner parties." 
 
 " He does, and you are really very kind, 
 but " 
 
 " Leave it to me," said Philip, briskly, " 1 
 
 shall see him, and make a point of his coming. 
 
 Young ladies, consider the thing settled — for 
 
 at least the earliest day I can prevail on Mr. 
 
 vol. 1. p
 
 2io A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Ellaby to fix. You see," he added to Mrs. 
 Trench, " I want this to be something more 
 than an ordinary tennis party." 
 
 " I understand," nodding, " and I think 
 Mr. Ellaby will not be difficult to manage, 
 and as the weather is so settled just now, 
 I hope you will be able to make it 
 Tuesday," turning again to listen to some 
 explanation Nora was giving about lace 
 stitches. 
 
 " Mr. Dyketon," said Mrs. Ellaby, in a low, 
 clear tone, " I should so much like sometime 
 to have a chat with you about Arthur Thistle- 
 den — it is strange, very strange, this house 
 having ever been his home. Do you know, 
 as yet I have not spoken to Mr. Ellaby 
 about it — his time is so much occupied — but 
 I must do so, although the subject is a 
 painful one." 
 
 " Naturally, it must be," answered Philip, 
 quietly, noticing her trembling lips and the 
 tears flooding the dark eyes so like Mab's. 
 " I shall be very pleased. It does appear 
 strange. But the name Thistle den is not so
 
 Fresh Life. 21 1 
 
 uncommon about here, and, after all. it may 
 not be the same man." 
 
 " Perhaps not,'* rejoined Mrs. Ellaby, with 
 a short little catch in her breath ; " but, do 
 you know, Mr. Dyke ton. I feel sure " (and she 
 laid stress on the word), " that it is the 
 same." 
 
 They were interruped by Alec bursting 
 into the room, not knowing guests were 
 there, with his hat tilted back on his head, 
 calling out, " Oh, I say, Mab, you have been 
 taking it out of Gyp, and no mistake." 
 
 Everybody laughed with scant pity for the 
 poor ill-used animal, while Di Trench, as 
 usual on the alert, mentally observed, " What 
 a perfect love of a boy ! and that tiresome 
 Malcolm never told us a word about him. 
 It's just like brothers, they are so selfish."
 
 212 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IN THE TOILS. 
 
 Mab Ellaby's worldly wisdom was not at 
 fault in presuming the people of the neigh- 
 bourhood would call on them in a friendly 
 spirit. After that day on which Philip 
 Dyketon and Mrs. Trench made the first, 
 callers were a daily institution for the next 
 week, and Nora's afternoon tea equipage was 
 in constant request and proved popular. 
 
 It was rather embarrassing that old Dr. 
 Tooley, of High Street, Marsdon, should be 
 quietly seated by Mrs. Ellaby when " Clement 
 Danes " was announced. Tom Erskine had 
 duly heard of the bitter feud that existed 
 between the two men professionally, but was 
 not supposed to know any such thing. He 
 was talking to Miss Tooley, generally known 
 as " Miss Margaret Tooley." Indeed, he 
 was cracking some grim joke with her, and
 
 In the Toils. 213 
 
 naturally drew the young doctor into it, so 
 that the general laugh eased the strain of 
 animosity, so far as she was concerned, for 
 the moment. 
 
 He adroitly treated the two men as fellow- 
 practitioners and on the best of terms, so 
 that before the visit was over, and Miss 
 Tooley had unbent to the cosy ''herb," and 
 admired the rare old china set in which it 
 was served, Dr. Tooley and Clement Danes 
 had spoken perforce more than ever they had 
 done since the pushing young man had 
 established himself in face of much opposition 
 in Marsdon. 
 
 Margaret Tooley was a peculiar old lady 
 — quite a " character " in Marsdon, and not 
 given to social gatherings, as a rule. Yet she 
 unbent in the Grange drawing-room so far 
 as to accept Nora's offer to give her the 
 address in town where she might procure at 
 last "something worth calling tea ; " and to 
 Dorothy she was absolutely cordial, and 
 invited her to come and see her at any time 
 if she did not mind an old woman's dulness.
 
 214 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 For one thing, Dorothy's singing charmed 
 her, for she happened to select an ancient 
 ballad that for some reason keenly touched 
 the old lady, and she might have been seen 
 to tweak a tear out of her deep-set eyes with 
 a movement half-pitiful, half-scornful. 
 
 Dorothy's singing voice was tender and 
 true — none of the family could " touch her" 
 at ballad singing, to use Alec's expression — 
 and Miss Tooley made no scruple whatever 
 in proclaiming herself better pleased with it 
 than with the popular duet Nora and Mab 
 executed for her delectation. 
 
 Mr. Ellaby was never at these afternoon 
 receptions, and Alec very seldom, although it 
 was their custom to inspect the various cards 
 left for them. Mab was sure that visiting 
 cards would be " an expense consideration " 
 now, since the dlite left them in sheaves. 
 
 When the eventful Tuesday arrived, the 
 weather for tennis was all that could be 
 desired, and the girls were glad they knew a 
 few people beforehand, so that they did not 
 feel such utter strangers as they drove in at
 
 In the Toils. 
 
 the park gates of Marsdon House. The 
 lawns were dotted with gay little groups, and 
 Mr. Dyketon was sufficiently near to step 
 forward at once to welcome them. James 
 Ellaby had come with his party under 
 protest " that this sort of thing- must not be 
 expected of him," and occupied the front 
 seat of the big waggonette, his wife and 
 daughters sat inside, and Alec and Tom 
 Erskine were behind in the dog-cart. 
 
 It was very unusual for him to mix in 
 such scenes, but Mr. Dyketon had overruled 
 all his pet objections by assuring him " he 
 would meet many kindred spirits amongst 
 his friends who were all more or less 
 interested in the works." 
 
 Once there, he was quite at home, and as 
 he glanced round nodding to several whom 
 he had, as yet, only met in a business way, 
 seemed disposed to vastly enjoy himself. He 
 soon discovered that he might talk " rail- 
 way " to any extent to these county mag- 
 nates, who were full of the subject, and eager 
 for any amount of discussion and detail, and-
 
 216 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 for information on stray points at issue, 
 concerning yield of land, possible terms, and 
 probable manner of treatment. 
 
 Some of them having to suffer loss 
 or disfigurement of cherished property, 
 and some who were anxious to sell, were 
 alike disposed to make much of the 
 friendly opportunity of procuring reliable 
 information. 
 
 He was proud, too, of his handsome wife 
 and daughters ; for, with quick perception, he 
 saw at once they could as usual " hold their 
 own " in more w T ays than one. 
 
 " Good style — hum ! exceptionally good 
 form," ejaculated Countess Smalkington to 
 her daughter Gwen. " Wonder, now, where 
 such folks £et it from ? " 
 
 As she spoke, she was coolly viewing the 
 new arrivals through her gold-rimmed 
 glasses. Presently she beckoned Philip 
 Dyketon to her side in rather an imperious 
 manner. " Hum ! " (an expression of hers 
 varied in difference of tone according to her 
 mood), " your arm, please, and present that
 
 In the Toils. 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby to me. The men are not cads, 
 and the girls more than pass muster as 
 gentlewomen — hum ! plenty of dignity about 
 'em, and no trumpery affectation of pretend- 
 ing they are other than what their position 
 makes 'em — that woman must be worth 
 knowin'." 
 
 Philip Dyketon was pleased — how pleased 
 and even relieved he would not have 
 confessed, but his face expressed nothing 
 beyond simple compliance with the whim- 
 sical old autocrat's request. 
 
 Countess Smalkington was the guiding 
 power, in a society point of view, in this 
 corner of her county. A glance of dis- 
 approval given by her with a contemptuous 
 " Hum ! " shrivelled, as one of approval and 
 a cordial " Hum !" expanded the chances of 
 fresh comers. 
 
 She accomplished either method most 
 effectually. To do her justice, she was not a 
 mean-hearted woman, nor yet an ill-natured, 
 though a cynical one. She had an iron will 
 and domineering spirit, was quick-sighted,
 
 2i8 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 and just in all her dealings, permitting no 
 paltry half-measures. 
 
 She liked or she disliked with equal force 
 and undisguised thoroughness, and her stand 
 once taken, she was as obstinate as any 
 mule. Her daughters, Ladies Juliana and 
 Gwendoline, now past their " fair holiday of 
 youth," obeyed her as little children : where 
 the indomitable old lady led, as a matter of 
 course they followed. Lady Gwen would as 
 soon have dreamed of flying as of not rising 
 from her seat to accompany her mother and 
 Philip Dyketon to Mrs. Ellaby, and she 
 smiled at Nora as she did so. 
 
 Lady Juliana was at some distance, and 
 watched these manoeuvres with considerable 
 surprise ; but surprises were often their fate, 
 for neither was ever quite sure what their 
 lady mother's next move would be. She 
 slightly shrugged her thin aristocratic 
 shoulders for her s ster's benefit, and made 
 no advance towards this introduction on her 
 own account. 
 
 But as the old Countess seated herself on a
 
 In the Toils. 219 
 
 garden chair near Mrs. Ellaby, she beckoned 
 to her eldest daughter pretty sharply, and 
 waited until she came before apparently 
 noticing her meek Gwendoline at her side, 
 and then with a queer little "Hum!" said, 
 " My daughters, Mrs. Ellaby." 
 
 Both made perfectly graceful acknowledg- 
 ments, after which they knew their duty was 
 done, and that they were at liberty to go their 
 several ways. Lady Ju calmly returned 
 whence she came, while Gwen stationed 
 herself by Nora Ellaby, for that smile had 
 been sympathetic. 
 
 Philip Dyketon could also go his way, 
 seeing that now the Ellabys were fairly 
 launched in Little Marsdon society, and that 
 he had nothing further to do but leave them 
 to effect their own popularity. 
 
 "Hum! that your boy?" asked the old 
 lady, raising her eyeglasses full on Alec, who 
 at that moment was bowing to Lady Juliana, 
 having been named to her by their host as a 
 partner for the first sett of tennis. 
 
 "Yes, my youngest," answered Mrs. Ellaby,
 
 220 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 quietly, with maternal pride, as she looked 
 toward her curly-headed stripling standing 
 bare-headed under God's fair sun in his 
 spotless flannels and crimson scarf. 
 
 When Lady Ju had completed her some- 
 what stiff curtsy, he replaced his cap, and 
 turning to Mab, whom Philip Dyketon had 
 asked to be his partner, remarked, " Lo, we 
 are to be antagonists ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Mab, quite unconcerned 
 by Lady Juliana's stony stare. 
 
 " And your youngest daughter ?" said the 
 Countess, giving vent to an amused little 
 chuckle at this mimic pantomime. " Pretty 
 girl — very ; and knows, I should say, exactly 
 how to comport herself under most circum- 
 stances," and she chuckled again. 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby was amused, but made no 
 immediate reply, as the four passed out of 
 sight. 
 
 Altogether, bright and bonny Mab Ellaby 
 looked that day, with her violet eyes shining 
 with pleased excitement, her dress a plain 
 white serge tennis frock, edged with crimson
 
 In the Toils. 221 
 
 silk, with a kind of jockey cap to match, of 
 her own manufacture, set closely on her crisp 
 brownish curls. No frills or frippery of 
 ornamentation was to interfere with the 
 business of her day, which was before every- 
 thing " play." 
 
 Nora and Dorothy also wore plain but 
 well-made tennis-gowns ; but somehow, 
 although lovely enough in them, they 
 lacked Mab's originality and sparkle. 
 That wording best expresses the subtle 
 " effect" produced by Mabel Ellaby's "get- 
 up" on most occasions. 
 
 " I thought only boys wore jockey caps," 
 said the Elf, who had joined Dorothy and 
 was gazing critically at Mab. 
 
 " Did you, dear ?" laughed Mab. " Well, 
 then you see you have learnt something fresh 
 to-day," smiling at Clement Danes, who was 
 on the other side of her sister, got up in 
 unexceptionally doctorical style — correct 
 grey trousers, frock coat of finest Melton, 
 faultless silk hat, and prim scarf with a small 
 cat's-eye pin in it, and on his hands the
 
 222 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 daintiest grey kid gloves, known as " London 
 smoke." 
 
 " I like Dorothy's big hat the best," 
 answered the Elf, at which Philip Dyketon 
 laughed, laying his hand as he did so kindly 
 on her small shoulders. 
 
 "Well, Miss Annabel, I like my cap the 
 best, for, you see, there is nothing to hinder 
 my seeing a coming ball, and yet I have 
 sufficient shade for my eyes — comfort com- 
 bined with utility, do you perceive ? " 
 
 " I do not know what you mean," said the 
 child, with a stiff little disdain, as she turned 
 away after this passage of arms. " Please," 
 to Dorothy, "I am going to talk to Lady 
 Smalkington. I don't want to stand here and 
 see them play : tennis is so silly." 
 
 Philip Dyketon looked particularly young 
 and happy — his suit of white flannels relieved 
 by a cap and scarf of brown silk flecked 
 with orange, his racing colours, may have 
 had something to do with his juvenile 
 appearance. Fond of all athletic sports and 
 being what is termed a good all-round man,
 
 In the Toils. 
 
 he was as gleeful as a boy to-day at having 
 to encounter fresh talent. He had already 
 tested Alec's skill with the racquet, and 
 heard from him that Mab could play game 
 and game with him single-handed. Lady 
 Juliana, too, was a fair player, so he antici- 
 pated this first sett with considerable 
 pleasure. 
 
 Nor was he disappointed. Minute by 
 minute the interest increased around them, 
 while the other games were proportionately 
 neglected, and from eager onlookers arose 
 the enlivening sounds, " Well up ! " " Good ! " 
 " Splendidly returned ! " " Game ! ! ! " 
 
 Mab and Alec Ellaby could play tennis 
 with a finished dexterity new to Little 
 Marsdon, while both entered into the amuse- 
 ment heart and soul — it was work to them. 
 
 " Do you play like that?" asked Clement 
 Danes of Dorothy, as Mab sent back with a 
 superb strike one of Alec's most difficult 
 serves. 
 
 " Oh dear, no," laughed Dorothy, her 
 pretty cheeks in a glow, " and Mab does
 
 224 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 hate me in consequence. I like tennis, but 
 in a milder form, you know." 
 
 " Exactly — as you do most things, I 
 should say," looking down on her with an 
 air of appropriation as well as of appro- 
 bation. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Dorothy, flushing under 
 his lengthened gaze, a look more suggestive 
 of curiosity than altogether of admiration. 
 
 For about the first time in her life, Lady 
 Juliana Smalkington excitedly allowed one 
 of her balls to be taken for her — an inter- 
 ference she would in general bitterly resent 
 — crying, "Oh, Mr. Ellaby, pray take it for 
 me." 
 
 With prompt decision it went back, whiz- 
 zing past Philip Dyketon, who stood for- 
 ward, and fell, with a nasty twist on it, to 
 Mab. She lifted it cunningly enough, and 
 landed it in the corner farthest from Alec. 
 
 She clenched her teeth as she said to her- 
 self, " Let her play her own game," but Lady 
 Juliana weakly slipped aside, and once more 
 Alec received her ball. It hit Mab's uplifted
 
 In the Toils. 
 
 bat, and a smart volley ensued, which 
 elicited admiring applause from the on- 
 lookers. It was vantage, and the excite- 
 ment intense. 
 
 Mab again served directly at Lady Juliana, 
 who this time sprang to reach it, only to do 
 so too hurriedly, sending it high in the air. 
 The stroke was not scientific, but she had 
 been taken at a disadvantage. The spent 
 ball halted in its downward course, and 
 none could tell on which side of the net it 
 would eventually fall. It struck the rope 
 line and limply bobbled over it, to lie at 
 Philip Dyketon's feet in a manner that 
 defied further treatment. 
 
 " Forty all," cried Clement Danes, in his 
 sharp metallic voice. Once more the last 
 game of the " sett" was resumed, for Mab 
 picked up the ball and prepared for her final 
 serve. There was a look on her pretty, 
 clear-cut face of settled determination — 
 somehow she must win this game. This 
 last serve would decide it : she would use 
 the very same ball and — yes, she must win. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A Railway Found ling. 
 
 Alec perceived by his sister's studied 
 precision that some tumult was going on in 
 her mind, and that she had a motive for 
 being more anxious to win than usual. He 
 bit his lip as her ball swirled past him 
 untouched : far too intent on solving her 
 " moods and fancies," he had missed his 
 opportunity. 
 
 "Game !" was fairly shouted on all sides, 
 as the gaily dressed bystanders closed in on 
 the players ; but Mab shrank back, pale 
 now, and wishful to attract her brother's 
 attention. " Alec, dear, I felt I must win. 
 It was generous of you to miss that ball, 
 but " 
 
 " My dear girl, you won fairly, you did 
 indeed," he eagerly whispered in reply. 
 
 "Honour bright?" she asked, the swift 
 colour flushing into her face and pretty 
 panting throat. 
 
 " And I am glad you won, Mab, for I saw 
 you wished it more than usual." 
 
 " I did," she answered ; "but I — I thought 
 you gave me that chance."
 
 In the Toils. 
 
 " Not I," said he, as Mab, ''the cynosure 
 of neighbouring eyes," was drawn away from 
 him into the crowd, to be warmly congratu- 
 lated and complimented on her wonderful 
 skill. 
 
 Mab's winsomeness always disarmed petty 
 jealousy : even Lady Juliana praised her vic- 
 torious rival with unmistakable sincerity. 
 Alec watching Mab, as he always did, saw her 
 blush painfully under Philip Dyketon's strong 
 approving glance, and for an instant the 
 day's enjoyment was dimmed for him. He 
 could not have told w T hy. " Will she win 
 always ? " flashed into his mind, and he 
 turned away somewhat brusquely from the 
 merry, chattering group. He felt irritated 
 and sore. 
 
 And she ? 
 
 After another sett she informed her part- 
 ner, Malcolm Trench, that she was too tired 
 to play any more — that she had spent all her 
 energy. " You can see," she said, " that it is 
 so,|as we have failed ignominiously ; so please 
 let us rest and recoup ourselves. We will
 
 228 A Railway Fottndling. 
 
 sit under that wide-spreading beech-tree, 
 and you may talk to me as much as you 
 like." 
 
 A gleam of dazzling coquetry danced in 
 her eyes which reassured the still watchful 
 Alec. " Girls are all alike," he muttered, 
 going off with Di Trench to arrange another 
 game. 
 
 " Nothing on earth could please me half 
 so well, Miss Ellaby," answered Malcolm 
 Trench, leading her to the shady spot she 
 coveted ; " and for the matter of that, I ought 
 not to play at all since I turned this wretched 
 knee of mine." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, " said Mab, saucily, " I ex- 
 pected to meet you as an interesting cripple, 
 and got up an amount of unneeded pity. 
 You have disappointed me, Mr. Trench." 
 
 ''No — really?" placing her comfortably 
 on a mass of cushions, and arranging one at 
 her back so that the dainty dress should not 
 be soiled against the bole of the tree. 
 
 She laughed provokingly at his serious tone 
 — a ringing laugh full of silvery, good-natured
 
 In the Toils. 229 
 
 mirth — as she removed her little crimson cap 
 to put her fingers through her sunny curls, 
 pulling the hair down over her white fore- 
 head and teasing eyes, as she looked up into 
 his handsome dark face. "Yes, I thought 
 so, because, you perceive, my father had told 
 me you were ' a cripple, poor fellow.' " 
 
 She mimicked her father to the life, and 
 Malcolm, just a little riled, was obliged to 
 seem amused at her humour. 
 
 " Of course, Mr. Trench," suddenly drop- 
 ping her bantering tone, " I naturaHy in- 
 quired what the people were like here, and 
 he wickedly told me Mr. Dyketon was grey- 
 headed and you were a cripple, giving me 
 the tantalising impression that the one was 
 an old frump and the other under a tiresome 
 infliction that would be a bar — to tennis, for 
 instance." 
 
 " I was laid up when he saw me," he 
 answered, meeting the merry mockery in her 
 eyes with a solemnity that made the arrant 
 little coquette break into another trill of 
 laughter.
 
 230 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 The words of an old ditty kept running 
 through his mind, confusing his senses : — 
 
 " Beware of her fair hair : 
 A young man's fancy lightly caught, 
 She will not ever let him go again." 
 
 He knew himself sinking deeper and deeper 
 into the toils of this girl's beauty. Was 
 his fancy lightly caught? He did not think 
 so. "She will not ever let him go again " 
 had no terrors for him. No, not if this 
 sweet, bewildering pain were to be his lot 
 for that ever. 
 
 He experienced, as he sat under the 
 gently moving, brown leaves of the beech- 
 tree, a blissful sense of floating away under 
 such sweet thraldom to some unknown haven 
 of supreme happiness. In his day-dream 
 the busy lawyer's son gave place to a chival- 
 rous knight of the olden time — bound by 
 oath to defend youth and beauty, and even 
 ready to break a lance in honour of his lady 
 love. 
 
 But practical, busy-brained little Mab
 
 In the Toils. 
 
 shared no such fanciful dreams ; she was 
 entirely absorbed by the present, and brought 
 back his wandering fancies to the dead 
 level of the commonplace thereof by the 
 remark — 
 
 "Why, I actually told Mr. Dyketon he 
 was old — told it to his very face." 
 
 "Ah ! " coming back from his dreams with 
 an effort, "he is not so very young, you 
 know." 
 
 " Oh," said Mab, a trifle pettishly, " I 
 thought you knew- — I was telling your sister 
 about it. It was that day I met him at the 
 Grange, before we came here to live " 
 
 " Before you knew him, then ?" 
 
 "Yes, of course, and I pretty nearly 
 blurted out something about your affliction 
 the day your people called — I just saw in 
 time " 
 
 "What?" inquired Malcolm, bending his 
 head to catch her meaning, for she stopped 
 suddenly. 
 
 Mab Ellaby was in most provoking mood ; 
 she would not answer, but instead directed
 
 232 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 his attention to Countess Smalkington, 
 who sat near by, and upon whose China 
 crepe shawl a huge wriggling " woolly 
 bear" was slowly making its way, and it 
 would soon reach the wrinkled neck of the 
 wearer. "Would she think me very horrid 
 if I went and took it off, Mr. Trench ? " 
 
 Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. "Should 
 not like to risk it myself, Miss Ellaby." 
 Mab's eyes followed with a kind of fascina- 
 tion the upward movement of the "woolly 
 bear," and she shuddered. 
 
 " I shall," she said quickly. " Poor old 
 thing ! just fancy that horrible hairy creature 
 making the tour of one's neck !" 
 
 She jumped lightly from the cushions. 
 
 " Pardon me, Lady Smalkington ; sit still, 
 please," and she laid her young hand firmly 
 on the startled old woman's shoulder, while 
 with the other she captured her prize, which 
 immediately rolled itself into a complete 
 ball in her pink palm. 
 
 " The nasty beast!" said the old Countess. 
 " Thank you very much, my dear; most young
 
 In the Toils. 233 
 
 ladies would have screamed instead of 
 helping me. Ugh ! I hate the creatures," 
 looking at the glittering hairy mass, which 
 Mab was calmly holding up to the sunlight. 
 
 She laughed merrily. " Here, Mr. Trench, 
 please take it away," handing it to him. " Put 
 it under that big bush, no doubt it has its 
 family there." 
 
 As he departed — he would have touched a 
 viper at such bidding — the Countess laid her 
 skinny fingers on Mab's arm, saying, "Sit 
 down by me a while, child, if you can spare 
 a withered old woman some of your live- 
 liness." 
 
 Harvey came up just then with coffee, and 
 Mab seated herself on the ground at her 
 ladyship's feet, saying in her turn, " There, 
 now! that creature has done me a good turn." 
 
 " How, my dear ?" puzzled. 
 
 Malcolm Trench, seeing the new position 
 of affairs, walked away, after depositing the 
 insect, rather disconsolately. 
 
 " Because," said Mab, with extreme 
 frankness, "I saw you talking to my mother
 
 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 and Nora and to Tom Erskine such a long 
 time, and I was afraid," stirring her coffee 
 reflectively, " I should never get to know 
 you — not," she added, meeting the gimlet 
 eyes fixed on her, " because you are 
 Countess Smalkington, but because I liked 
 you." 
 
 " And I think I like you, child," patting 
 the crisp shining curls with her wrinkled 
 hand. "Do you know, I find Tom Erskine's 
 mother was a school-friend of mine — re- 
 member her quite well; and so she's dead 
 and gone, as so many of my youthful con- 
 temporaries are. I wonder, now," wiping 
 her glasses, "whether they've got the best of 
 it in goin' or I in remainin' ? I am very 
 old, my dear." 
 
 "Yes," answered Mab, slowly; "but if 
 ever I am an old woman, I hope I may be 
 exactly like you — a bit of fine steel that was 
 never allowed to become damp or rusty. 
 You are honest and true, and your heart is 
 not withered, I know." 
 
 The worldly old peeress was pleased, and
 
 In the Toils. 235 
 
 her cynical face broke into smiles : it was 
 some time since she had been so tickled, or 
 addressed so fearlessly, with such open 
 candour. 
 
 And she approved it. Young girls were 
 so apt to cringe to her till the servility was 
 exasperating, and aroused all her native 
 sarcasm, or else they shrank timidly away 
 as if afraid of her. 
 
 " Hum ! and if I mistake not, you are 
 true-hearted and tolerably honest, my pretty 
 tennis bird." 
 
 Mab laughed at this new name — people 
 often invented new pet names for her — then 
 she looked up, startled at the next remark 
 addressed to her. 
 
 " You must not be trapped by that young 
 male-creature's handsome face and broad 
 shoulders : he's well enough, but not good 
 enough, mind that." 
 
 As she spoke she nodded with great com- 
 posure toward Malcolm, who was standing 
 at some distance with some pretty girls from 
 Xincleton.
 
 236 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Oh, Countess," said Mab, " as if- 
 
 " Ay, as if, my dear," putting on her 
 gold-rimmed glasses — " as iff I ain't blind, 
 and I can see plainly how it is with him. 
 I see a lot, my dear, and it will do 
 him a vast deal of good to learn that for 
 once in a way he cannot walk over the 
 course ; he takes it for granted that this 
 easy way is always to be open to him. 
 Bah ! girls are such ninnies — a man has 
 but to hold up his finger, and it's hey! willy- 
 nilly with 'em. The present age is one of 
 shams. Thackeray's right enough there, as 
 he is in most things; but girls don't sham 
 readiness to be won, anyhow. Do you read 
 Thackeray, my dear? a good tonic — all 
 clever girls should read Thackeray." 
 
 Mab did not reply, she was watching 
 the ever-shifting groups: everywhere Philip 
 Dyketon flitted out and in amongst them, 
 courteous to all, but paying no marked 
 attention to any. If he more frequently 
 spoke to one of her own party it was because 
 they were the greatest strangers within his
 
 In the Toils. 237 
 
 gates, and though this at fresco entertain- 
 ment was not given exactly for them, it was 
 understood to be larger than usual on their 
 account. 
 
 The keen aged eyes were scanning the 
 girl steadily, and presently a thin bony 
 finger was laid on the warmth of Mab's 
 cheek. " Ah! now, he s a man worth a girl's 
 consideration: he's not a mere shapeable 
 mass of bones and flesh, fit only for a tailor's 
 block, as so many of 'em are nowadays." • 
 
 " Who ?" asked Mab, moving her cheek 
 from the inquisitive finger. 
 
 " Hum," chuckling, "why, our host, Phil 
 Dyketon." 
 
 Mab was indignant : this old lady's eyes 
 were somewhat too sharp, and her tongue 
 too pointed. She was all the more angry 
 that she blushed on seeing him pass with 
 Lady Juliana. 
 
 "Pshaw! never mind, little one — Ju's 
 had her try and failed years ago ; Gwen's 
 had hers and come to desperate grief. 
 She's got too soft a heart by far for this
 
 238 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 rough-and-tumble Vanity Fair of a world 
 and will let herself be trampled on by 
 some man or other yet. Some people 
 are born to be trampled on — Gwen's one of 
 'em ; but he," nodding her feathered bonnet 
 at Philip's retreating figure, " never fooled 
 either of 'em, I'll say that, and I'm honestly 
 fond of him, and would have wished no 
 better luck, my dear, than to have had him 
 for a son." 
 
 Mab stared at this unexpected speech, 
 and scarcely knew what to say in reply ; 
 but the old lady went on: "It's rare fun for 
 me to watch all the new comers take aim 
 and spend their arrows for the owner of one 
 of the best properties in the county. Not 
 that they care a jot for the man — half of 'em 
 are too utterly silly to do that, or to even 
 discern there is anything out of the common 
 ruck of men in him. Ay," with infinite 
 unction, " I often poke a sly joke at Phil 
 Dyketon on the point. I always get him up 
 to the Castle by hook or by crook when I've 
 got a fresh woman there who's a bigger fool
 
 In the Toils. 239 
 
 than the ordinary run. He comes unwary, 
 all strength and innocence ; while I've fooled 
 the woman to the top of her bent. Ay," 
 chuckling gleefully, " it's prime to see 'em." 
 
 Mab was conscious of feeling that, after all, 
 this old woman was not so very nice ; but 
 catching a rollicking twinkle in the gimlet 
 eyes which lighted an answering spark in 
 her own, she burst unrestrainedly into a 
 hearty peal of intense appreciation. 
 
 People turned round in polite wonder- 
 ment to see the caustic old Countess — so 
 abjectly feared by most of them — wiping 
 mirth-water out of those penetrating eyes of 
 hers and shaking with laughter. 
 
 "Rude old thing!" said a pretty girl to 
 Malcolm Trench. " I wonder what she has 
 been saying now to make Miss Ellaby laugh 
 so. She little knows what a spiteful old 
 cat she is." 
 
 " Now, my dear," said the spiteful old cat 
 in question to Mab, "give me a helping 
 hand, this grass is getting too damp for old 
 bones."
 
 240 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 Mab complied, and on her father coming 
 up, the Countess remarked to him : "A word 
 with you, Mr. Ellaby. I have fallen in love 
 with this bright little maiden of yours, you 
 must let her come to cheer me up some- 
 times. Take care of her, sir; don't let her fish 
 in shallow streams, and be careful she doesn't 
 throw her lines into too deep waters — 'there's 
 a medium in all things,' doesn't somebody 
 say r 
 
 Then looks of extreme astonishment were 
 exchanged among the bystanders as Countess 
 Smalkington, of the Castle, bent down and 
 kissed Miss Mab Ellaby heartily, much to 
 that young lady's amusement, and perhaps 
 not a little to her satisfaction.
 
 241 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "A RUGGED FRAME, A SOUL SINCERE." 
 
 On the works George Tempest went by the 
 nickname of " The Cock-eyed Spider," be- 
 cause his visual organs, although keen and 
 far-seeing, were not set exactly " on the 
 square." 
 
 The name clung to him, as throughout the 
 fraternity of navvy life such names do, and 
 by many it was supposed that his roving left 
 eye saw quite as much, if not more, than did 
 his straight right one of things " under the 
 muck " — in other words, what was meant to 
 be hidden. 
 
 In his office of " ganger" over a large 
 number of men on a "length," he was duly 
 feared and looked up to by those who 
 worked honestly, and sometimes weakly 
 pandered to by those who when they could 
 did a bit of shirking or double-shuffle. But 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 through it all he went doggedly on his way, 
 a man proud of the position he held and 
 of being able to boast he had raised himself 
 to it by his own sheer strength of will. 
 
 It was no use for any of the men to try 
 to hoodwink George Tempest. If a man 
 felt a bit ''gammy" (idle), and asked a pal 
 to "twig the Spider" while he went to do 
 a " laugh and joke" — that is, in navvy 
 parlance, a smoke — he was as sure to be 
 found out and reported as that he had been 
 "fetched" (born). 
 
 Any reports sent to headquarters by the 
 " Spider " were promptly attended to. This 
 was well known; and these, once given in, 
 it was waste of time and breath on their 
 part to attempt to "diddle the boss," the 
 title by which Mr. Ellaby was recognised 
 amongst them. If they meant honest work, 
 they stayed on and altered their tack ; if 
 they meant mischief, only one way was open 
 to them — to go up for their "back" money 
 and — tramp. 
 
 Now, it was a custom of George Tempest
 
 "A rugged frame y a soul sincere!' 243 
 
 to hold an open-air prayer-meeting on Sun- 
 day afternoons on his " length," and woe 
 betide those of his own gang who failed to 
 come in to this means of grace. To do the 
 man justice, he was sincere, and deeply in 
 earnest in his intentions — fairly trying his 
 level best to raise his fellow-workers 
 according to the ''power" he deemed had 
 been given him. 
 
 In due course this proceeding came to the 
 knowledge of Mr. Kelpy, and the soul of 
 that gentleman and fellow-servant in the 
 Lord waxed wrath. So, much too hastily, 
 he decided to frustrate the interference with 
 what he considered his work — to root out 
 such unorthodox proclivities, unless con- 
 ducted by himself as one appointed — -nay, 
 consecrated to such labour. 
 
 Was not he the chosen shepherd of the 
 flock ? And were these new sheep, who 
 had entered the fold, to thus set his 
 authority at defiance, and bleat as they 
 listed ? No. 
 
 When George Tempest heard of this
 
 244 A Railway Foundling, 
 
 wrath, his blood was up, and his resolution 
 was soon taken — to see the minister, and have 
 it out man to man. 
 
 For this purpose he presented himself one 
 Monday morning in Mr. Kelpy's lodgings 
 before that meddler had descended to the neat 
 breakfast prepared for him in the front room, 
 of which, containing as it did his books and 
 " presentations," he was not a little vain. 
 
 On hearing from his landlady's "gurl" 
 who his early visitor was, Mr. Kelpy was 
 slightly perturbed, knowing he had been too 
 hasty in speech and action the day before. 
 But he buckled on his armour of moral 
 resistance with his braces, and made no 
 lingerings about facing his enemy. He 
 meant to be respected as one in authority 
 by virtue of his "call," the tenure of which 
 was sufficiently uncertain without these rough 
 railway interlopers trenching on his preroga- 
 tive. As he put on a clean tie, and smoothed, 
 with a damp brush, the heavy sleek hair on 
 his somewhat narrow crown into the tidal- 
 wave appearance he so much admired, he
 
 "A rugged frame, a soul sincere." 245 
 
 was inwardly anxious to condone his late 
 irrational behaviour, but not inclined to 
 forego one tittle of his dignity as the 
 clergyman. 
 
 He entered the sitting-room, into which 
 the morning sun was just struggling, under 
 a sensation of righteous zeal in ''the cause," 
 tempered by this anxiety to be courteously 
 tolerant, if this rude son of toil would let 
 him ; but he was hardly prepared for the 
 opening speech which met him across the 
 narrow table, from which arose the appetising 
 odour of pickled mackerel baked in strong 
 taragon vinegar. 
 
 "And now, Mr. Kelpy, meaning nothink 
 but civility, mind you, I am come to get at 
 the rights o' what I've heard about your 
 objection" — a strong emphasis on the pro- 
 noun — " to my wor-rk for the Lord on the 
 Sabbath Day." 
 
 The speaker stood with his straight 
 eye fixed on the tidal-wave of wet hair 
 on the minister's forehead, while the 
 other, being so much askew by nature,
 
 246 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 appeared as if on a tour of the surround- 
 ings generally. 
 
 Mr. Kelpy was decidedly taken aback — in 
 short, some of " the wind was knocked out 
 of his sails ; " but he rallied bravely, smiled, 
 and pointed to the table. " This is the first 
 time I have had the pleasure of meeting you, 
 Tempest, will you share my breakfast ? " 
 
 " Not I, Mr. Kelpy — not till me and you 
 onderstands each other's tactics, 'twould be 
 onpossible, for 'tis a fixed principle o' mine 
 never to break bread with no man save in 
 friendliness." 
 
 " But fish is not bread," said Mr. Kelpy, 
 attempting a feeble joke, " and we are 
 friends, I trust ? " 
 
 Mr. Kelpy would have got on so much 
 better had he breakfasted : he belonged to 
 that class who can do little or nothing on an 
 empty stomach. 
 
 " Sartainly not, sor, ef what I hears is 
 true : that you — you have been circum- 
 navigatin' my work in Nincleton cutting o' 
 Sabbath arternoons."
 
 " A rtigged frame, a soul sincere" 247 
 
 The young minister met the awful gaze 
 of those ill-set eyes with a light in his own 
 that showed less tolerance than when he had 
 first encountered them. 
 
 " I have myself instituted a service close 
 by the spot, Mr. Tempest — in virtue of my 
 calling : it is, I presume, my especial prero- 
 gative so to do. I might say it is you who 
 are interfering with my work ; you see," 
 cooling a little, " there are two sides to every 
 question, my dear man." 
 
 " Oh," the ganger replied, with irritating 
 slowness, " and this is your side ? " 
 
 " This is my side," answered Mr. Kelpy, 
 not without dignity. 
 
 " And — you — think — that — my men — the 
 chaps o' my own gang '11 sooner come to 
 your service than to mine ? Well, that 
 you've got to find out. I can tell you that 
 they wont." 
 
 Mr. Kelpy by this time had seated him- 
 self, and was rapping his thin white knuckles 
 against a breakfast plate to keep down his 
 rising ire.
 
 248 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Mebbe, sor," continued George Tempest, 
 leaning over the pickled mackerel and speak- 
 ing in a low, earnest tone, "you've never 
 worked among navvies afore ? " 
 
 " No — I cannot say I have," said the 
 young man, glancing up at this change of 
 voice. 
 
 " Ah ! you'm a young hand at this kind o' 
 thing, I guess " 
 
 " I am young, of course," Mr. Kelpy said 
 sharply, nettled at yet another intonation and 
 feeling the pressing need of speech ; "never- 
 theless, I intend doing my duty among these 
 men to the letter, and I further intend having 
 my own way of doing it — for their good," 
 rapping his hand on the table by way of 
 emphasis (failing the pulpit cushion). 
 
 George Tempest shifted his straight eye to 
 the window and smiled — a slow, irritating 
 smile of pitying amusement. All the same, 
 he respected the man who had so answered 
 him. 
 
 " So far so good, sor, and as the sayin' is, 
 They that lives longest '11 nater'lly see the
 
 " A rugged frame, a so?il sincei'e!' 249 
 
 most.' Now, I dessay you feels wroth and 
 crampy-like with me, and that I can onder- 
 stand, for you ain't to be expected to know 
 just to onct the ticklish ground you be on, 
 and to a sartain extent I'm bound for to say 
 out straight that you're in the rioht o't, and 
 I can see you means well, and I, having the 
 blessed Lord's cause at heart, don't want to 
 throw no cold water on no man's ardour, 
 not at all, but," and the horny fist was 
 brought suddenly down on the small table so 
 that the china rattled again, and a more 
 penetrating scent came from the pickled fish, 
 " you dorit onder stand navvies. 'Tisn't to be 
 expected, so you've bin too hurried in yer 
 judgment, and miscalkilated the sitooation in 
 consequence." 
 
 " We shall see," quietly remarked Mr. 
 Kelpy, replacing the cup, which had toppled 
 over in the general shake. 
 
 "Ay," said his tormentor, "and as I said 
 afore, 4 They as lives longest '11 see most.' 
 Now, look here, Mr. Kelpy, you may wor-rk 
 with me, and all '11 be plain sailin' with our
 
 250 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 chaps ; but ef you sets your monkey up 
 and tries to wor-rk agen me — well, all I can 
 say is, you'll find yourself pretty consider- 
 able in the wrong box." Mr. Kelpy drew 
 himself up and was about to speak, but was 
 waved to silence. " I'm only anxious, sor, 
 to onderstand each other : me and you 
 mustn't 'chop odds,' as the sayin' is, or the 
 cause '11 suffer for our pig-headedness. I 
 never cuddles a grievance, and I don't 
 believe in no worm o' concealment — I never 
 does noght onderhand,but open and straight- 
 forrard, and so I come to you at onct on 
 hearing as how you was a flustrin' round 
 yesterday in a fantag about my prayer- 
 meeting. You see, each man must be cock o' 
 his own walk, and every jack man as is 
 worth his salt 's captain of his own ship ; but 
 we, I take it, is in the same boat 'bout this 
 business, and two can't pull stroke oar, as 
 any child med see." 
 
 " I begin to comprehend your meaning," 
 assented the young pastor, "and am with 
 you so far."
 
 " A rugged frame, a soul sincere'' 251 
 
 " Then, sor, you'm more a man o' the 
 wor-rld than I thought. You see, a feller 
 like me don't knock around for a matter 
 o' fifty years wi'out seeing a thing or 
 two and knowing summat o' his own line 
 o' business, and my line's — navvies. The 
 book-learnin' and the general congregation 
 I leaves to you." 
 
 " I see," and Mr. Kelpy did see that this 
 man was honest and well-meaning — a man 
 difficult to deal with, but once won, true to 
 the core. 
 
 " Now, sor, you must please choose 
 whether we comes to your chapel as we 'ave 
 all along, and I brings what men I can to 
 the fold, and you in your boat pulls 'stroke,' 
 or whether I simply leaves it altogether and 
 holds open-air and hut meetings, when, I 
 guess, you'll find as how your boat '11 get no 
 fresh passengers. I'm a peaceable man, but 
 I alius drives my own team, and I never let 
 none o' my cattle get the bit atween their 
 teeth. For more than twenty years I've 
 carried on this thing o' preaching Sabbath
 
 252 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 arternoons, and many's the hard soul I've 
 
 won over to Christ " 
 
 " As Christian men and servants in 
 Christ let us work together, Tempest — I as 
 clergy, you as laity. I confess I resented 
 your action, but I think now we shall quite 
 understand each other." Mr. Kelpy said 
 this with some little mental reservation, but 
 cordially. 
 
 Tempest smiled his cross-way smile in 
 a superior manner. " I don't know 'bout 
 clergy nor layty, as you puts it in churchified 
 phras'ology, Mr. Kelpy, but I reckon it 
 can be as you say — you wor-rks as minister 
 in your chapel, and I as preacher out o' 
 doors." 
 
 " And must I never visit among those 
 who come to my services?" asked Mr. 
 Kelpy, ignoring the palpable hit at clergy 
 distinction as though not heard. 
 
 The horny hand was waved here in a for- 
 giving spirit, deprecating the interruption. 
 " Visit 'em ? Just as much as ever you like. 
 That I ses nothing whatsomever agenst, as
 
 "A rugged frame, a soul sincere? 253 
 
 we agrees to work together, and there's 
 nothink like 'malgamation, for ' union's 
 strength,' though not trades-unions bain't — 
 just the very oppo-site, in fact." 
 
 This was a little joke on Tempest's part, 
 and his listener accepted it in good faith, or 
 rather, let it pass ; for, he wisely thought, 
 perhaps they might not agree on this point. 
 
 He considered it his best policy just now 
 to let well alone, and to meet this man on 
 his own ground, without raising dispute of 
 any sort on vexed questions ; so he said 
 evasively, " They are a rough, degraded set 
 of men, I am afraid, on the whole." 
 
 " Stop, sor ; rough they may be — rough 
 they are ondoubtedly, but degraded! there 
 you are on the wrong tack intirely, as you'll 
 find afore this day twelve months. A navvy 
 is a rough sort of necessity ; he wor-rks hard 
 and he lives hard, but he's grit to the back- 
 bone, and kind-hearted in the main — ay, and 
 tender-natured, alius willing to help the sick 
 and sufferin', and that wi' no niggard hand. 
 O' course there's some as is wilful and bois-
 
 254 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 terous and owdacious, but their hearts is as 
 brave, and their minds as clean, as most, as 
 you'll find by goin' among 'em, mark my 
 wor-rds ; that is, ef you goes wi' open speech 
 and bold front, and don't hold back the hand 
 o' good fellorship, for they don't stand no 
 slam o' patronisin', let me tell you, for they 
 respects theirselves, does navvies, above a 
 bit. No, sir ; it's libellous to class all navvies 
 in the ruck as onfeeling and onchristian 
 reprobates." 
 
 " I do not, not at all," broke in Mr. 
 Kelpy, who had not bargained for such an 
 onslaught. 
 
 But George Tempest, once started on a 
 say, had that say out, which all who knew 
 him found to their cost. " No, sor ; 'tis the 
 broken-down cads, the scum o' towns and 
 riff-raff o' cities, wi' their foul-mouthed gaol- 
 bird wickedness and slang, who hangs on to 
 our ranks till we chucks 'em out, that brings 
 wi' 'em habits and langwidge more dais- 
 goostin' than anythink they finds among us, 
 as merits that term. Navvies ain't angels,
 
 "A rugged frame, a soul sincere." 255 
 
 by no manner o' means — I don't want to 
 inferate no such thing ; but they ain't the 
 coarse, low-bred brutes by a long shake as 
 they're often held to be, and so feared and 
 shunned, and looked upon as summat just 
 above animals by a set of squeamish folks 
 who'd quail and chatter their teeth like a 
 pack o' women at the work they're often set 
 to tackle, sometimes with death right afore 
 their eyes. But there," wiping his brow, 
 " all this you've ony got to see and learn for 
 yourself, as you will in double quick time, for 
 I sees you mean to put your hand honest 
 and straight to this 'ere plough, and I 
 respects you, sir, and I 'opes it'll continner to 
 be peace and goodwill atween me and you, 
 and not war and snaggin' for everlastin' ; and 
 now, as my time's about up, I reckon I'll be 
 goin." 
 
 As he enunciated the last few words a 
 shyness stole over the man as he looked 
 round the room and became conscious for the 
 first time of its several little refinements. 
 " P'raps I've been a bit hard," he jerked
 
 256 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 out, as he brought both eyes to bear for a 
 moment on the slim, rather delicate young 
 fellow who had borne with him so patiently, 
 and noticed his weary attitude. 
 
 " Oh, no, since you mean well," smiled 
 Mr. Kelpy, rousing himself. " We shall not 
 be likely to misunderstand one another 
 again." 
 
 " There's just one thing, sor, as I'd like to 
 say afore I goes," twiddling his felt cap ner- 
 vously, " that if there ever is any row agate 
 I'll stand by you, 'mongst the chaps, through 
 thick and thin, and none o' 'em '11 defige 
 George Tempest. Cos why ? I alius sticks 
 to 'em till they knocks under." 
 
 It would have been as well had Mr. 
 Kelpy let the interview end here, or had 
 entirely altered the conversation. 
 
 Perhaps, and perhaps not ; for, after all, 
 the remainder enabled him to still further 
 understand this new worshipper in his taber- 
 nacle, if " worshipper " (a favourite term) a 
 man can be called who persistently cavils at 
 all its forms of worship.
 
 11 A rugged frame, a soul sincere." 25 
 
 :/ 
 
 How Mr. Kelpy opened up a fresh vein 
 of argumentativeness in George Tempest 
 was by saying, with a shade of jealous irri- 
 tation, by no means hidden by a show of 
 indifference from those keen cross-eyes, 
 " The Church party, I find, are making un- 
 usual efforts to attract the navvies — quite a 
 contrast," he added, with rather a limp smile, 
 "to their customary supineness. Mission 
 chapels, I believe, are to be erected along the 
 line, and I have heard," with another smile 
 of doubtful meaning, " that the Bishop is 
 personally interesting himself in the under- 
 taking." 
 
 Hearing no response, his smile died away, 
 beaten off the ground by a frown, for he saw 
 now how much better it would have been to 
 have withheld a remark which elicited no 
 sympathy. He put his long fingers through 
 that tidal-wave of hair, and thought regret- 
 fully of his untasted breakfast; but he had 
 put a match to a fuse which was bound to 
 find outlet in an explosive utterance from his 
 undesirable visitor. 
 
 vol. 1. S
 
 258 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 All the truculence was to the fore again, 
 while the slight shyness had vanished, and 
 Mr. Kelpy shivered at his indiscretion in not 
 having let well alone. 
 
 " I don't put no man down as dust- 
 lickers till I find em so, and I mostly thinks 
 in the matter o' such accusations 'tis summat 
 o' the pot and kettle " 
 
 "Oh, I was only inferring " 
 
 " Exactly," it was hopeless to stem the 
 flood, and Mr. Kelpy resigned himself to 
 the inevitable with a sigh, " and nothink, I 
 take it, but a Bishop's bounden duty, and it's 
 well after a fashion ' to live and let live.' 
 And I've heard this one preach, and he 
 speaks straight to the p'int, wi' no palaverin' 
 or picking o' words. Bishop or no Bishop, 
 he don't spring his book-learnin' over the 
 men's head, but hits it out slick right at their 
 hearts ; ay, and he touches 'em too — he hits 
 the bull's-eye, he does — though he don't 
 use nought but simple wordin's, and don't 
 hark about for no crackjaw teck'alities, but 
 sails right away in a fair wind o' pure
 
 "A rugged frame, a soul sincere" 259 
 
 doctrine to the port of the lowest onder- 
 standin'. Ay, he speaks to us on equal terms 
 like, and I'll tell you more, though I ses it as 
 shouldn't, when he heard tell o' my preaching 
 he picked me out and looked me through" 
 and through : ' My man,' ses he, as straight 
 and fair as you please, ' I am told you are 
 not only a listener, but a fellow-worker. 
 Work honestly and with godly fear, and your 
 reward is sure,' and my hand, this very 
 hand," holding it out to view, " was in his 
 as he spoke them wor-rds. Mind you, he 
 didn't ask if I preached this, or that, or 
 t'other: 'We all preach Christ! he said, and 
 that's what I says." 
 
 "It is what we all say, I hope ; I am 
 no bigot," said Mr. Kelpy, to which 
 remark George Tempest only vouchsafed 
 a tight-twisted smile, going on with his 
 former speech, as was his wont — 
 
 "No, 'tis but the meanest o' jealousies, all 
 said and done, for ef money and opportu- 
 nity-like was to the fore, I ain't so sure but 
 that a good shake o' our ministers would
 
 260 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 preach from a church pulpit ef they could, 
 and I fancies a good many o' em has a sort 
 o' hankerin' for the silk gowns and pin bibs." 
 It was but the night before he had heard 
 Mr. Kelpy was so hankering. " 'Taint the 
 wor-rk o' the Church I fears, it's the luke- 
 warmness, the takin' things too easy, as is to 
 blame there. We wants another Luther, 
 that's what we wants. Thank God ! I ain't 
 a one-sided man over doctrynal p'ints, let 
 every fish, big and little, have his fair swim, 
 I ses ; but, mind you, there's them as'll 
 sooner be fetched by the plain-speakin' o' 
 such as I, as speaks to 'em in their own 
 lingo, than while they was raking their 
 minds for a tied-up meaning from a college 
 man like you, don't you see ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes. I quite follow you— " 
 
 But George Tempest had not done yet. 
 " Excuse me, 'tis just this, Mr. Kelpy, this 
 'ere's a queer wor-rld, and there's many a 
 folks in it wi' rum twists in their reasonin s — 
 not but they means well, but I tek it that 
 one o* these snatched from the burnin' '11 be
 
 " A nigged frame, a soul sincere." 261 
 
 welcomed up there so well's as another, and 
 I ses, ses I, ef such as me, for instance, is 
 gived the power o' speech and reason, and 
 don't use it, then the holdm back '11 rest on 
 our own consciences to our soul's ondoin'." 
 
 " You are quite right, as you put it, Tem- 
 pest ; " but Mr. Kelpy once more committed 
 himself by adding to this, " I fear your master, 
 Mr. Ellaby, will give all his support to the 
 Church party, and he is not, I should say, a 
 God-fearing man himself, in the strict accep- 
 tation of the term ? I cannot look," he con- 
 tinued, seeing the steady waiting attitude on 
 the part of his hearer, " as they do, you know, 
 on the breaking of the Sabbath — a master 
 should set a worthy example — to those 
 placed under him." 
 
 Tempest stood with covered eyes to hear 
 this rather hesitating speech fully out. A 
 flush rose on his rugged cheek, and the 
 hands squeezed up the felt hat to a shapeless 
 mass. 
 
 " Well, sor, I think so too," he slowly 
 answered, still not looking up.
 
 262 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Mr. Kelpy, wishing ruefully 
 that he were free to ring for the coffee he 
 could distinctly smell in the kitchen. 
 
 " But, I take it, everybody has just their 
 own way o' exampling." The eyes were 
 raised now, and the broad chest thrown out. 
 " One strives to set 'em, and most-like fails, 
 because o' the strain bein' too visible-like ; 
 while others does it unconscious and to the 
 pint. Mr. Ellaby does ; and, mebbe, after 
 all, there may be more roads to heaven than 
 one. Anyhow, I am pretty sure ef you and 
 me Qfets there, we shall be safe to meet 
 James Ellaby, though he don't over-much 
 affect church nor chapel. Tkafs his way. 
 Still, for all that, he's safe on the road, never 
 you fear, though his way be a bye one 'stead 
 o' the main thoroughfare; and he's no dust- 
 licker to the great, and he'd as lief give you 
 a sovereign for a good cause as he'd give it 
 to the greatest bishop as ever wore the big 
 sleeves they preaches in. Now, sor, I sees 
 you be pretty nigh tired out, and I feels 
 ashamed to be keepin'you so long; but afore
 
 " A rugged frame > a soul sincere!" 263 
 
 I goes I must set you right about our master, 
 for he's one o' the salt o' the earth, he is. 
 Perhaps salt ain't so pleasant alius to the 
 taste as su^ar, but 'tis more useful all round. 
 He's a man, sor, whose mind is as easy as a 
 glove, and his heart's as clear as the day- 
 light ; and then, you see, he's sitooated pecu- 
 liar, and has a many to please, and as for 
 Sabbath-breaking and such-like, wor-rk like 
 ours is apt to come ticklish at times, when 
 a day's miss would drop in a tunnel, and 
 a darned sight o' other mischief — which I 
 guess you never calkerlated when you spoke 
 — times when you med as well say you 
 shouldn't sail a ship crossin the ocean 'cos 
 it was Sunday, for fear o' breaking the 
 Sabbath. They don't go theirselves, I 
 reckon ; the sailors work 'em, with God 
 meanin' 'em too. Now, I've known James 
 Ellaby, and hev stood beside him in many 
 a danger, for a fortnight at a stretch, by 
 a tunnel's shaft, when he wouldn't leave till 
 danger was past, while the chaps wor-rked 
 with their brute courage — kep' up, so to
 
 264 A Railway Foundling, 
 
 speak, on'y by his stayin ; and all this, I 
 fancy, '11 tell up there," raising his hand rever- 
 ently. " 'Tis given you and me to preach 
 redemption, mebbe, and for him to effect it 
 like some other way. He've a got a rough 
 side, and his tongue's got a sharp edge for 
 them as lays theirselves open to it through 
 lyin' or meanness ; but he's tough metal all 
 through, and a brave man in danger," he 
 went on, warming to his subject. " I've 
 seen him stand face to face wi' death more 
 than onct in my life, and look out at it, 
 and never so much as blench ; and there 
 ain't many o' our chaps but caves in under 
 the flash o' his eye when his blood's up, 
 either ; or many o' their frames as can stand 
 the weight of his fist. And I hev stood 
 anigh him in a case o' this sort, and hev felt 
 fit to bust with pride to see how he can hold 
 his own and shame the devil. Ay, and 
 many's the wife and widow-woman as has 
 blessed the name o' James Ellaby ; and I 
 ought to know, since I've been with him 
 off and on these forty years " — the rough
 
 "A rugged frame, a soul sincere!' 265 
 
 voice grew deep and husky here — " ever sin 
 I were a starved little muck-shifter, and 
 broked my leg under a trolly, and he ups 
 and carried me off the work wi' his own 
 arms." 
 
 The honest fellow was at the door now, 
 fumbling with the handle, that he might 
 get himself out without, as he would have 
 said, "makin' a milksop o' himself.''
 
 266 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 "I DREAM OF THEE." 
 
 After the lapse of a year Pendleton Grange 
 had lost all remaining trace of its former 
 gloom and decay, thanks to the merry life 
 and pulse of business within. Save for those 
 silent off rooms, the house was bright rather 
 than dull, and one in which visitors were 
 always glad to find themselves. 
 
 Early spring is ever a gladsome time, and 
 it was specially so just now to the Ellabys, 
 for Nora's wedding was fixed for the ist of 
 May, and Frank was expected home daily. 
 
 It was, the gossips opined, a good omen 
 for the bride that the season should be so 
 advanced, more like June than May. The 
 flowering hedges would yield, with persever- 
 ing search, enough pink and white blossoms 
 to fill the bridesmaids' baskets, and the old 
 warren was carpeted with wood anemones,
 
 "/ dream of thee!' 267 
 
 and Mab briskly inquired, " What could 
 more fitly decorate the tables than their pure 
 delicacy ? " 
 
 Alec, being in a contradictious mood, made 
 answer "that pure delicacy was all very well, 
 but that he preferred flowers with some 
 scent." 
 
 " All right," observed Dorothy the peace- 
 maker — " failing the scent, we must make do 
 with the delicacy, and all we want you to do 
 is to set those village lads to pick just as 
 many as ever they can." 
 
 And Alec, growling a little, went off to do 
 her bidding. Could his thoughts have been 
 read, his grievance would have been plain. 
 Frank was not come, and the chances were 
 that Alec would have to act the trying part 
 of best-man on the morrow, when he would 
 have to take in one of his sisters as first 
 bridesmaid, and Di Trench would be some- 
 where in the "ruck" behind with some — I am 
 afraid Alec said "puppy." " So ridiculous," 
 he soliloquised, " of Tom Erskine to choose 
 his bride's brother for his best-man, why
 
 268 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 couldn't he have brought down some lawyer 
 fellow ? he must know plenty. When he and 
 Di were married he'd take precious good 
 
 care " Here his thoughts took an abrupt 
 
 turn and his face assumed a brightness that 
 promised well for the anemone raid, for Mab 
 shrieked out from the side door of the house, 
 " He's come !" 
 
 Then she flew upstairs into Nora's 
 chamber, where she found that young lady 
 busily packing her last trunk with Dorothy's 
 assistance. " He's come! just in the very nick 
 of time. He couldn't get letters posted or 
 something, but just caught the ship, and it 
 doesn't matter an atom so long as he's here — 
 though he might have telegraphed from town ; 
 but it's just like men to be so thoughtless." 
 
 "Who?" asked Nora, raising her head 
 from the interior of the trunk. " Tom ? " 
 
 But Dorothy had comprehended, and was 
 already in her brother's arms. 
 
 "Tom!" cried Mab, with comic disdain. 
 " I believe every available cranny of your 
 mind is stuffed to repletion with Tom. No,
 
 "/ dream of thee!' 269 
 
 silly, it's Frank who is come ; he's as brown 
 as a berry, and handsomer than ever." 
 
 11 I've only two months' leave, Dol," Frank 
 was saying to his pet sister ; "so you'll have 
 to be sharp about getting your kit ready to 
 go back with me ; it's an old promise, you 
 know." 
 
 "Oh, Frank, you darling," said Dorothy, 
 all aglow with blushes and tears, " I don't 
 know, I am sure." 
 
 " No backing out, Dol," 
 
 "No, dear," she answered, rather 
 evasively. To tell the truth, pretty Dorothy 
 was in a corner, so to say, and had not the 
 wit, since she could not openly explain 
 matters, to get herself out of it. 
 
 Mab, overhearing them from the upper 
 flight of stairs, broke into a tantalising peal 
 of laughter, and sung the refrain of Mr. 
 Neal's topical song, "You will have to make 
 other arrangements," which proceeding only 
 served to increase Dorothy's confusion. 
 
 " What's up ? " asked Frank. 
 
 "Nothing," almost sobbed Dorothy.
 
 270 A Raihuay Foundling. 
 
 "Only something pending," whispered 
 Mab over the bannisters. 
 
 " You know," as Mab disappeared, " I am 
 teaching the Elf, little Annabel Westgate, 
 regularly now. I told you in my last letter." 
 
 "Oh, bother the child, Dol ; that 
 1 arrangement ' can soon be set aside. 
 Mab must take it up." 
 
 " Indeed, she will not," said that young 
 person, promptly, as Nora disengaged herself 
 from the wanderer's arms, covered with 
 happy confusion of colour. Mab declared 
 "she was in a chronic state of blush 
 now." 
 
 " Well, I am glad she is not doing the 
 lackadaisical, tearful, spasmodic business, 
 going about in a tumbled gown and rumpled 
 collar condition. One can stand the blushes ; 
 at any rate they are genuine." 
 
 " Dol will do the spasmodic business," 
 said Nora, mischievously. 
 
 "Never mind, Dolly; let 'em go on," he 
 said kindly, slipping his arm round her slim 
 waist, content to wait for an explanation till
 
 " I dream of thee!' 271 
 
 some more fitting time. " I say, Nora, did 
 my present turn up ? " 
 
 "Yes, and it is so lovely, everybody 
 considers it charming." 
 
 " That's right, then ; it's what the brides 
 wear out there, and I always said I should 
 give all you girls the wedding gown. I was 
 awfully afraid you wouldn't get it in time." 
 
 Here he gave Dorothy a big squeeze, and 
 whispered, " Shall I have to send out for 
 another like it ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," said she, aghast at such 
 precipitation. 
 
 " But I say, girls, I was surprised to find 
 the day was fixed for to-morrow. I got a 
 spry old fellow, by name Datchet, to drive 
 me over, and he took my breath away by 
 the announcement. I ordered a new suit as 
 I came through town, but it won't be here 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Oh, Frank, my dear boy," said Nora, 
 her fine countenance falling visibly, " I am 
 afraid we can't put it off; you see, everything 
 is ready."
 
 272 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Not for a thousand worlds, as Mab used 
 to say. I've got a tidy rig, only fashions 
 change so. If I don't pass muster for best- 
 man you must let me lie perdu till after the 
 ceremony, only I'm terribly conscious old 
 Datchet — he's got a tongue like a washer- 
 woman's — will have spread the news of my 
 arrival. He knew all about everything, and 
 condescendingly informed me that everybody 
 was longing to see me, and that, you know, 
 for a shy man " 
 
 "And so every one is. They are anxious 
 to know you, dear," remarked Nora, quietly, 
 as she returned to her interrupted labours in 
 the packing line. 
 
 "Well, thanks to your jolly letters, I seem 
 to half know all the people ; but I missed the 
 last mail. By-the-bye," glancing at Dorothy, 
 "is Erskine here, Nora?" 
 
 At this, Nora sprang up from the trunk. 
 " No, but his aunt and Nelly are, and what 
 must they think of us not taking you to 
 them ? How selfish of us ! " 
 
 " As usual, Nol utters the words of
 
 "Y" dream of thee." 273 
 
 wisdom," said Frank, as he followed his 
 bevy of sisters downstairs. " And how is the 
 fair Nelly — as great a romp as ever ? " 
 
 " No," answered Mab ; "and she is just 
 engaged to be married to an eminent Old 
 Bailey lawyer, so you must just mind your 
 P's and Q's in that quarter ; and, besides, 
 there are other fish for you to fry 
 now." 
 
 " Left off all that sort of thing. Why, you 
 never told me about Nelly." 
 
 "It was only really settled last week," 
 said Nora, looking up at her brother a little 
 doubtfully, as if to see how much this news 
 affected him. 
 
 Apparently very little, for he met her 
 regard with a perfectly heart-whole smile. 
 
 " You can flirt with the Trench girls 
 unless Alec keeps the lively Di all to him- 
 self," was Nora's next remark, and she made 
 it with a certain relief. 
 
 " Ha ! isn't it a ' case ' with the eldest 
 and that young doctor ? You said something 
 of it " 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " Ages ago," broke in Mab, giving 
 Dorothy a sly poke in the back. 
 
 "Yes, that's it, or will be," she said, 
 nodding in answer to his look of amaze- 
 ment. But Dorothy had sped away, and was 
 already in the drawing-room. 
 
 Mrs. Reginald Erskine came eagerly 
 forward to welcome Frank Ellaby, and 
 Nelly, a ruddy-haired and very plump 
 little girl, followed her mother's example 
 with rather an embarrassed air. 
 
 Aforetime there had been certain passages 
 between herself and this bronzed young 
 traveller — passages which had been a little 
 dangerous to her peace of mind, but now 
 only the awkward remembrance was 
 troubling her — sufficient, however, to make 
 her cheeks glow and her ears tingle, but did 
 not cause her pulses to beat one bit the 
 quicker for his presence. 
 
 Thus much will Time do for us, yet how 
 often we abuse him for dealing us wrinkles 
 and crow's-feet, and forget to bless him for 
 this power to forget !
 
 "/ dream of thee T 275 
 
 Nelly Erskine, happily in love now, gave 
 a heart to her lover no less a warrantable 
 article because those " passages " had existed. 
 They were sweet, pure, and innocent, leaving 
 behind no taint or heart-burning — each 
 could meet the other and smile frankly 
 across the faint recollection of those boy- 
 and-girl days. 
 
 Not so with all "love" passages, more's 
 the pity. 
 
 The wedding was to be early and very 
 quiet, but there was to be a dance in the long 
 panelled drawing-room in the evening : this 
 Tom Erskine and Nora had pleaded for 
 Dorothy and Mab's sake. 
 
 " Now then, Nol, wake up," cried Mab the 
 alert, whisking up the blind to let the morning 
 sun in on the sleeping bride. " Fair shines 
 the sun to-day, and oh, Nol dear," almost 
 breaking down in the rather forced gaiety, 
 " we shall miss you." 
 
 " Keep up, darling," said Nora, wide 
 awake now, " for the mother's sake." 
 
 " Yes, I will," bravely, and choking down
 
 276 A Railway Fottndling. 
 
 some rebellious tears ; " but we shall never 
 make up to her for the loss of you." 
 
 " Why, Mab ! you, the active member, to 
 say such a thing as that ! " 
 
 " Ah, well ! I don't know that in the long 
 run the bustlers get through the most work, 
 and I suppose I come under that head," and 
 pretty Mab sighed. 
 
 But if she had any trouble none knew of it, 
 for she kept her own counsel, and at intervals 
 her gaiety was as vivid as of old, but was it 
 forced rather than spontaneous ? Her spirits, 
 too, were not so even — now and again a 
 curious irritation seized her, and all her 
 cheerful defiance and merry, practical ways 
 appeared to be under a cloud. 
 
 " Tell me, Mab darling," said Nora, very 
 earnestly, while dressing, ''what is troubling 
 you — I feel so sure something is." 
 
 For answer Mab burst into tears, and 
 sobbed wildly for a few minutes, till she 
 regained her self-control, when she ex- 
 claimed with all a young girl's stern pride, 
 " Nothing."
 
 "/ dream of thee T 277 
 
 Nora could only sigh, for she dare not 
 push her sympathy further in face of such 
 reticence. 
 
 And all through the day not one was so 
 daringly gay as Mab, "the ubiquitous," as 
 she was dubbed ; for, indeed, she was here, 
 there, and everywhere, as if nothing could 
 be arranged or got into train without her 
 active decision. 
 
 A shade of sadness was on the face of 
 both Mr. and Mrs. Ellaby on this second 
 marriage in their family, and the girls knew 
 they were thinking of poor Mary. 
 
 Was she alive now ? or was she dead and 
 buried in that far-away land in which they 
 had heard of her so long ago ? 
 
 Mrs. Ellaby had long since told her 
 husband of this house having been Arthur 
 Thistleden's home, but the fact did not 
 strike him as so very remarkable, for he 
 merely said, " The 'sweep' must have had a 
 home somewhere, and why not here as well 
 as elsewhere ?" and, to her knowledge, the 
 subject had never been mentioned since. It
 
 278 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 was not Mr. Ellaby's way to talk over 
 painful subjects. 
 
 Tom Erskine also knew of this family 
 sorrow, and was sure Nora would not have 
 shed those tears she tried so hard to 
 restrain, under less trying circumstances. 
 He was not aware of her present uneasiness 
 regarding her younger sister, although he 
 had noticed more than once of late Mab's 
 lack of spirit and changed demeanour. 
 
 There was but one solitary time-worn bell 
 in the steeple of Little Marsdon church, but 
 it must have had visions of renewed youth 
 as it was pulled vigorously at stated intervals 
 throughout the day, and gave forth in 
 response its most hollow clangs. 
 
 The dim little church was closely packed 
 with people as the simple bridal procession 
 passed up its narrow aisle into the damp old 
 chancel. The faces of those so gathered 
 together were expectant with curiosity, at 
 the same time their presence testified to 
 their respect for the Ellaby family, who, 
 in this fleeting twelvemonth, had become
 
 "/ dream of thee!' 279 
 
 extremely popular, and we all know there is 
 nothing like a wedding for eliciting sympathy 
 from rich and poor. 
 
 The bride's dress was a peculiar one — 
 " furrin-like" the villagers pronounced it, in 
 their exhaustive criticism — the thinnest 
 muslin of pearly hue, with a deep border 
 worked in raised flowers of silver filoselle ; 
 the veil, also of cobweby muslin, edged with 
 silver embroidery, fell around her in soft, 
 cloudy folds. 
 
 The bridesmaids looked dainty enough to 
 satisfy the most fastidious taste, in simple 
 frocks of a faint pink colour, and broad hats, 
 trimmed with may-bloom. It would be 
 invidious to single out any of them as the 
 most effective as the clear light streamed in 
 through the painted windows, tinting each 
 youthful form into even fresher beauty. 
 
 Clement Danes would have promptly 
 answered, had he been asked, " Dorothy." 
 Malcolm Trench had no eyes for any except 
 Mab. Mark Denton, the Old Bailey lawyer, 
 leaned down to whisper to Nelly Erskine
 
 280 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 "that she decidedly carried the palm," 
 while Alec most assuredly thought Di 
 Trench had never looked so beautiful as 
 in that bewitching hat with the may-bloom 
 on the brim, from under which her 
 mischievous eyes sparkled with admiring 
 reciprocity. 
 
 And Frank ?• 
 
 In the evening, as he was dressing for 
 the dance, Mab passed his room, the door of 
 which chanced to be ajar, and heard him 
 softly singing, " I dream of thee, sweet 
 Madoline." 
 
 11 If I didn't think so," she cried, popping 
 her head round the screen. 
 
 He faced her, by no means abashed at 
 her pleasant raillery. 
 
 " I thought you had given up all that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 "All what sort of thing?" he inquired, 
 struggling with his tie, which was deter- 
 mined not to settle itself to his liking. 
 
 " Flirting," said Mab, seating herself 
 gravely in a deep basket-chair.
 
 "/ dream of thee!' 281 
 
 " I say, Mab, you shall have a big dance 
 at my wedding — mind, I promise it." 
 
 " Frank! what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Don't startle me so, kitten, till this 
 beast of a tie is settled off — you know how 
 excessively nervous I am." 
 
 " Frank, are you serious or only teasing ? " 
 
 "Serious, as a judge, Mabel Ellaby," 
 giving the white muslin a final coaxing twist, 
 and his neck its last wriggle. 
 
 " I must say you are uncommonly cool. 
 There is such a thing as reckoning one's 
 chickens " 
 
 " Ay, and there is such a thing as not 
 waiting for 'em to hatch, my dear, but taking 
 'em on chance." 
 
 " Indeed ! and how do you proceed, may 
 I ask ? " 
 
 " Nature has done much," he answered, 
 with mock solemnity, looking at himself 
 critically in the big mirror, " and does not 
 somebody say, ' A man, having a tongue, 
 is a poor thing if with that tongue he cannot 
 win a woman.' "
 
 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 " And you call yourself nervous ? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 "You are abominably vain," she replied, 
 with some asperity. 
 
 "Be on my side, Mab, there's a darling. 
 I'm reckoning a good deal on your wit and 
 good nature — you always were a brick, and in 
 this case I mean to go in and win" 
 
 " Madoline Trench ? " 
 
 " Madoline Trench." 
 
 " I thought," provokingiy, " you were not 
 a believer in love at first sight ? " 
 
 " My case is hardly that — you see, you 
 have written me so much about her " 
 
 " Bosh !" said Mab, " as if that would do 
 it." 
 
 All the same, Mab's eyes were beaming 
 with delight — was not this what she had 
 hoped for all along, ever since she and 
 Maddy had become such sworn friends? 
 Had she not had the hope before her when 
 she sent out the photograph of the gentle 
 Madoline, that every one pronounced " so 
 artistic."
 
 4 ' / dream of thee." 283 
 
 " I will be on your side, Frank," she said. 
 " because this thing jumps with my humour. 
 Maddy Trench is a darling, and much too 
 sweet for anybody but you." 
 
 " Now, kitten, spare my blushes. Yes, 
 between you and me, I fell in love in down- 
 right earnest with a picture, and the original 
 more than comes up to the tolerably high 
 standard I had formed." 
 
 Mab put on a wise, inscrutable air, which 
 was infinitely amusing, as she said, slowly 
 pulling up her long suede gloves, " You are 
 awfully fastidious, yet, do you know, it is 
 precisely what we thought likely to happen." 
 
 ' k The deuce you did ! " 
 
 Mab nodded, and then surveyed the 
 effect of her long gloves. 
 
 " What are you two conspirators plotting ? 
 queried Dorothy, coming in, in her pink 
 frock. 
 
 " Nothing to you, dear," said Mab, quietly, 
 
 "except that, after all, you may not be 
 
 wanted to go abroad. Hush ! " putting up 
 
 her finger in a listening attitude, " I think
 
 284 A Railway Foundling. 
 
 I hear Clement Danes' shrill voice, had you 
 not better go down ? I will come presently 
 with Frank." 
 
 " Perhaps I had better ? " said Dorothy, 
 almost in the form of a question, at which 
 both Mab and Frank laughed immoderately. 
 
 " How like dear old Dol ! " he said. 
 
 " Yes, when he asks her to marry him, she 
 will want somebody to back her up before 
 she says ' Yes,' and then most probably she 
 will say it with a meek ' Please ' tacked on," 
 answered Mab. 
 
 " I should say he'd moral backbone for the 
 pair of them ; but I rather like him, although 
 he is a bit dictatorial in his manner." 
 
 " He'll suit Dol well enough," was Mab's 
 rejoinder. " She won't mind the touch of 
 wire in the leading string ; now, with me, it 
 would be a case of hammer and tongs." 
 
 And Frank, looking curiously at her, was 
 mistaken if his merry little Mab didn't wink 
 a tear away as she ended her sentence. 
 
 " How about yourself, kitten ? " he in- 
 quired, kissing her. " You are prettier than
 
 " / dream of thee!' 285 
 
 ever, but somehow not so bright, eh ? I 
 can't make you out exactly. Malcolm Trench 
 
 is a rattling good sort of fellow, but " 
 
 But on looking round, Mab was gone. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY W. WILFRED HEAD AND MARK, 
 DR. JOHNSON PRESS,'' FLEET LANE, OLD BAILEY, LONDON, EX.