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And sooner than face the disgrace of this, as I considered it, I was willing to try my luck with King George. I therefore walked along with the pressgang, by the side of Master Veale, who used me civilly enough when he found I had given up the thoughts of resisting.
"Quaarts an' quaarts of waater they squeedged out of me afore the wind got back in an' I don't seem's if I'd ever get free o' the taste o' that waater. Nothing won't settle it, no matter how 'ard I do try." The gentry who smilingly listened, knowing Veale for a queer rustic character of poor repute, gave him sixpences to assist in his efforts to quench an abnormal thirst.
I'd have told him what I thought of him." "I promise you," said Mavis, "that I told Mrs. Neath what I thought of her." "An' I'm right glad you did." This new inmate under their roof was Norah Veale, a twelve-year-old daughter of the Hadleigh Wood hurdle-maker.
No news yet of our fleet gone to Tangier, which we now begin to think long. 17th. This morning, both Sir Williams, myself, and Captn. Cock, and Captn. The Sir Williams being unwilling to eat flesh, Captn. Cock and I had a breast of veale roasted. 18th. Having agreed with Sir Wm. 20th.
Veale, although sadly bemused, at once said that he could refuse nothing to the wife of his preserver. "Oh, lor-a-mussy, yes, mum, you may 'aave my little Norrer an' do what you like wi' her. Bless her heart, I look on Norrer and her brothers to be the comfort o' my old age, but I wunt stan' in their light to interfere wi' what's best for any of 'em."
"They do tell me," said humble folk quite far afield, "that Mr. Dale up to Vine-Pits hev adapted little Norrer Veale same as if 'twas his own darter; and I sin her myself ridin' to her schoolin' in Mr. Dale's wagon. I allus held that Abe Veale was born a lucky one, fer nobody ever comes adapting my childer; an' how hey he kep' out o' jail all his days, if 'tisn't the luck?"
He looked very old and very shaky. "Good evening, Miss Veale," he said courteously as he entered the office. "Oh, you mustn't call her Miss Veale. She's Norah one of us, you know." And as he spoke, Dale laid his hand on the back of Norah's neck to prevent her from rising. "She's our multum in parvo making herself so useful to the wife and me that we can't think what we should ever do without her.
Where in the name of reason is my hat?" His shouts broke the Sunday silence, filled the house with noise, went rolling through the open windows in swift vibrations. Norah Veale under the blossoming apple tree caught up the cry as though she had been an echo, and ran with the children after her. "Mary, the master's hat. Mary, Mary! Master wants his hat."
"No, nor likely to be." The horse-people soon began to move off again "Thank you, Mr. Dale. Good night, Mr. Dale.... You've done us proper, sir.... Just what I wanted.... Good night, ma'am;" but the foot-people lingered. The red-coated earth-digger, Veale, and one or two others, had got around Mr. Allen and were chaffing him irreverently.
Such is that memorable story of the ghost of George Villiers, which might with more propriety have been made a present of to Dr Drelincourt, to have kept the ghost of Mrs Veale company, at the head of his Discourse upon Death, than have been introduced into so solemn a work as the History of the Rebellion.
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