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Updated: June 23, 2025
These poor people here are not very bad, and are not at all extraordinary." "Never mind," said Sadie, hurrying her along. After a pause she went on, "You know the Priory very well, I guess?" "I lived there when I was a little girl, with my aunt, the Dowager Lady Beverdale," said Miss Amelyn.
"Rather an old man to be still at work," said the consul. Beverdale laughed. "You must not let him hear you say so; he considers himself quite as fit as any younger man in the place, and, by Jove! though he's nearly eighty, I'm inclined to believe it. He's not one of our people, however; he comes from the village, and is taken on at odd times, partly to please himself.
"Oh yes; I always forget you are a consul. Then, of course, you know all about them. I suppose they're very rich, and in society over there?" said Beverdale in a voice that was quite animated. It was on the consul's lips to say that the late Mr. Desborough was an Englishman, and even to speak playfully of their proposed quest, but a sudden instinct withheld him.
"He'd be too delighted," said Miss Amelyn, with disaster written all over her girlish, truthful face, "but but you know it really wouldn't be quite right to Lord Beverdale. You're his principal guest you know, and they'd think I had taken you off." "Well," said Miss Desborough impetuously, "what's the matter with that inn the Red Lion? We can get a sandwich there, I guess. I'm not VERY hungry."
"When my cousin Fred, who was the young heir, died, and the present Lord Beverdale succeeded, HE never expected it, you know, for there were two lives, his two elder brothers, besides poor Fred's, between, but they both died, we went to live in the Dower House." "The Dower House?" repeated Sadie. "Yes, Lady Beverdale's separate property."
If we had known you were so keen on 'good works, and so early at it, by Jove! we'd have got up a 'slummin' party, and all joined!" "And you haven't seen half," said Lord Beverdale from the box. "Miss Amelyn's too partial to the village. There's an old drunken retired poacher somewhere in a hut in Crawley Woods, whom it's death to approach, except with a large party.
Miss Amelyn hesitated. The American girl looked capable of doing what she said; perhaps it was a national way of almsgiving! She took the note, with the mental reservation of making a full confession to the rector and Lord Beverdale. She was right in saying that the poor of Scrooby village were not interesting.
The consul knew that Lord Beverdale was not a rich man, that like most men of old family he was not a slave to class prejudice; indeed, the consul had seen very few noblemen off the stage or out of the pages of a novel who were. So he said, with a slight affectation of authority, that there was as little doubt of the young lady's wealth as there was of her personal attractions.
The gentlemen all knew it, too, for I heard Lord Algernon say that he was looking very queer lately, and might have had a fit; and Lord Beverdale has sent word to the coroner. And only think, the people here are such fools that they daren't touch or move the poor man, and him lyin' there in the rain all the time, until the coroner comes!"
"But I don't think that that Lord Beverdale would quite approve," hesitated Miss Amelyn. The pretty brow of her companion knit, and her gray eyes flashed vivaciously. "What has HE to do with it?" she said pertly; "besides, you say these are not HIS poor. Take that five-pound note or I'll DOUBLE it, get it changed into sovereigns at the station, and hand 'em round to every man, woman, and child."
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