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Updated: May 4, 2025
But Rawson-Clew, when he ascended, found the second door without trouble; there was not room to get lost. He knocked; he half expected to hear Julia's voice; it seemed to him probable that she was the person referred to as "one of them." But it was a man who bade him enter, and, unless his memory played him false, not Captain Polkington. It was not the Captain, it was Johnny Gillat.
She was naturally much interested in the new streaked daffodil; so much so, that she spoke of it afterwards, not only to those people who shared her taste, but also to at least one who did not. Rawson-Clew was back in London. He had not been back long, but already he had begun the preliminaries of a search for Mr. Gillat.
Besides all that, there are two other things; I like the cottage best myself, and I believe it to be the best I know the sort of living life we should live at a boarding-house and then there is Johnny Gillat." Mr. Ponsonby had no recollection of who Johnny Gillat was, and he did not trouble to ask; Julia's other reason was the one he seized upon.
Rawson-Clew searched for it, could not find it, discovered that he could not get on without it, and, thinking if not saying something not very complimentary about Mr. Gillat, walked back to the cottage.
They had all worked hard in this plot ever since their coming; there was not much more to be done, or at least not much planting, which was what Mr. Gillat liked. However, there had been no sharp frosts yet and Julia, who knew his tastes, thought she could find something to please him.
Gillat, he had not the making of a sleuth-hound in him; or even a watch-dog, except, perhaps, of that well-meaning kind which gets itself perennially kicked for incessant and incurable tail wagging at inopportune times. The half-hour which followed Captain Polkington's coming down-stairs was a trying one. The Captain went to the back door to look out; Mr.
Julia asked, puzzled. "Yes," Mr. Gillat said; "not a great deal, of course, but it would be a help it might pay the butcher's bill. It's a great thing to have the butcher's bill paid; I've heard my landlady say so; it gives a standing with the other tradespeople, and that's what you want she often says so." "You mean you think of selling them for us?"
As to the Captain, he was still there; time had not taken him away, but it had reduced him; he gave little trouble now even when Johnny Gillat came; he kept so out of the way that she had almost come to regard him as a negligible factor which was a mistake. Both the Captain and his friend had a great respect for Mrs. Polkington, though both felt at times that she treated them a little hardly.
When the meal was over and Mr. Gillat in the back kitchen, Captain Polkington spoke to his daughter. "Julia," he said, moistening his dry lips, "that man Cross thought it was the streaked daffodil that I, that " His voice tailed away, but Julia only said, "Well?" "I pledged by word of honour that it was the true one." Again Julia said, "Well?" "What is to be done?" the Captain asked.
Gillat used to also in the winter, but lately, during the spring, he had been induced to teach in the Sunday school, and now went every Sunday to the village, first to teach and afterwards to conduct his class to church. It was Mr. Stevens, the Rector of Halgrave, who had made this surprising suggestion to Mr. Gillat.
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