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Updated: May 19, 2025
"I thought I should have swooned," she said. "And no wonder," replied the Bishop, "I'm quite sure I should have." Then he turned to us with a look of mingled amusement and concern. "Now what do you suppose I'm going to do with you Granfa?" "Oh, parson, don't 'ee send me back to the work'us! If I bide there any longer, 'twill break my fine spirit."
"Sure, you've give me a nice fright prowlin' about like thaves and whoiver may be the ould man wid ye? The mistress'll stand no tramps or beggars about, as well you know." "He's no tramp or beggar," I retorted, stoutly, "he's Granfa." "Granfa! Granfa who? Noan o' your nonsense, now, byes. What's the truth now, spit it out!"
Granfa looked very snug in Mary Ellen's bed, with his curly beard resting comfortably on the red and white quilt, and his blue eyes twinkling up at us. "Comfy, Granfa?" asked The Seraph. "I be just so cozy as an old toad," he replied. "I do believe I'm a-going to be terr'ble happy in my new home."
So, after partaking of a little nourishment, as The Seraph put it, we retired to Mary Ellen's room; she leading the way up the dark backstairs with a lighted candle; Granfa next bearing his little bundle; and we three in the rear, exceedingly tired, but in excellent spirits.
Once, standing before the stained glass window in memory of young Cosmo John, Granfa said: "It beats all how thiccy lad does yearn toward me. His eyes follow me wherever I go." "And no wonder, Granfa," cried The Seraph, throwing his arms around him, "for everybody loves 'ee so!" Angel and I grew amazingly that summer. We grew in length of limb but with no corresponding gain in scholastic stature.
"Guard nothink," said Mr. Watlin, belligerently, "I'll go right in and tackle him single-handed." With one accord The Seraph and I flung ourselves before the door. "You shan't hurt him," we cried, "he's our own Granfa! We'll fight you first." Mr. Watlin made some playful passes at our stomachs. "Let's all have a fight," he chaffed.
Snug beneath our covers, at last, we felt to the full, the new spirit of adventure that had spread its irridescent wings over the house. There was Granfa, snoring under Mary Ellen's patchwork quilt; there was the trusty Mary Ellen, herself, stowed away in the scullery; there was Mrs.
The Bishop and Harry and The Seraph resumed their fishing, but Angel and I preferred to be on the grass beside Granfa, while he told us tales of old smuggling days in Devon and Cornwall, where his little cutter had slipped round about the delicate yet rugged coast, loaded with brandy and bales of silk from France, guided by strange red and blue lights from the shore; and where solemn cormorants kept darkly secret all they saw when they sailed aloft at dawn.
The Seraph ran off obediently, and it was not long till he re-appeared with food and the dregs of the ale. It was a treat to see Granfa make way with these. He smacked his lips and wiped his beard on his sleeve with the relish born of prolonged abstinence.
You terrible old wretch!" this to Granfa "close that door instantly while I send for the police!" By this time we had ventured into the hall, and, Mrs. Handsomebody, seeing us groaned: "Under the roof with these innocent children I thought that in my care their innocence was safe."
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