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You remember my tellin' you about little Cattley and the auction, don't you?" "Yes, Willie." "Well, he came, and just as he was goin' away I ran out an' asked him how the fairy was. `She's very ill, he said, shakin' his head, and lookin' so mournful that I had not the heart to ask more. But I'm goin' to see them, mother."
There was a small cottage on the farm, not far from the dwelling-house. This was rented by Willie, and into it he afterwards introduced Ziza Cattley as Mrs William Willders. The widow inhabited another small cottage not a hundred yards distant from it, but she saw little of her own home except at night, being constrained to spend most of her days with one or other of her "boys."
It's what I may call, in the language of the haristocracy, a harticle of virtoo, w'ich means that it's a harticle as is surrounded by virtuous memories in connection with the defunct. Now then, say five bob for the hold harm-chair!" While the clown was endeavouring to get the chair disposed of, Willie pushed his way to the side of Jim Cattley.
The orchid arriving in such humble fashion proved to be Cattleya labiata; Lindley gave it that name there was no need to add vera then. He established a new genus for it, and thus preserved for all time the memory of Mr. Cattley, a great horticulturist dwelling at Barnet. There was no ground in supposing the species rare. A few years afterwards, in fact, Mr.
"Mister Cattley," interrupted Willie, "if you'll allow a partic'larly humble individual to make a observation, I would say there's nothin' in life to prevent me from keeping this 'ere fairy company till you come back. I've nothin' particular to do as I knows on, an' I'm raither fond of lonely meditation; so if the fairy wants to go to sleep, it'll make no odds to me, so long's it pleases her."
"Eh! another cup, Ziza?" exclaimed the self-accused nurse, as he put out his hand to seize the tea-pot. "Hallo! I thought it was the fairy," he added, looking up with a sleepy smile; "I do believe I've gone and fell asleep." "Why, lad, where got ye all those things?" inquired the senior Cattley, laying aside his cloak and cap, and speaking in a low tone, for Ziza was still sleeping soundly.
Both are wrong, boy; we're machines, lad wonderful machines and the machines won't work well if they're not used all over. Don't that sound grand, mother?" Willie might have received an answer if he had waited for one, but he was too impatient, and went rattling on. "And who d'ye think, mother, came to see old Tippet the other day, but little Cattley, the clown's boy.
He got married two years ago, and I have not seen much of him since, but he's a sharp fellow, and knows a good deal more of the Tippets than I was aware of. I'll go and see if he can throw any light on this subject." "The next point," pursued Willie, "is Cattley the clown. Have you seen or heard of him lately?" Frank said he had not. "Well, I am greatly troubled about him.
Standing on the hearth, as we have said, Willie related to his friend all he knew in regard to the Cattley family, and wound up with an anxious demand what was to be done for them. Mr Tippet, leaning on his bench and looking into Willie's face with a benignant smile, said "Done, my boy? why, help 'em of course." "Ay, but how?" asked Willie. "How?" cried Mr Tippet; "why, by giving 'em money.
"Not the less thanks to you, sir," said Willie, in the deferential tone which he had assumed involuntarily towards his patron almost from the commencement of their intercourse; "but Z -a Miss Cattley positively refuses to accept of money from anyone in charity, as long as she can work." "Ah!" exclaimed Mr Tippet, shaking his head slowly, "pride, simple pride. Not laudable pride, observe.
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