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Updated: June 4, 2025
Poor Mark has the worst of it, nausea and splitting headache, with a shameful sense of having made both a fool and a beast of himself. So much for the delights of "lots of negus, wine, and punch!" He has also a humbling remembrance of having been rude to Mr Tankardew. A knock at his door. "Come in." "Please, sir, there's a hamper come for you," says the butler; "shall I bring it in?"
"You'd better take some music with you," said his mother, turning to her eldest daughter; "Mr Tankardew has got his new piano on purpose, I suppose." "Ay, do," cried Mark; "take something lively, and you'll fetch out the old spiders and daddy-long-legs which have been sent into the corners like naughty boys, and they'll come out by millions and dance for us."
She had been sitting back in the deep recess of a window, terribly afraid of a mirthful explosion from Mark, and therefore drawing herself as far out of sight as possible; but now a bright ray of sunshine cast itself full on her sweet, loving features, and as Mr Tankardew caught their expression he uttered a sudden exclamation, and stood for a moment as if transfixed to the spot.
"Why, Mayster Tankardew," said the farmer, "it isn't for the likes of me to be giving my opinion of things afore you and these ladies; but I has my opinion, nevertheless." "Of course you have. Now, tell us what you think about the young people of our day, and their self-indulgent habits." "Ah! Mayster!
My dear child, Miss Franklin seems more willing than able to speak just now. Yes; let me make a clean breast of it. Let me introduce our young friend in a new character, John Randolph Tankardew, my only son, my only surviving child."
I was truly glad to get away early." "Oh! So was I, mamma; it was terrible. I wish he wouldn't touch such things; I'm sure he'll do himself harm if he does." "Yes, indeed, Mary; harm in body, and character, and soul. Those are fearful words, `No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God." "I wish I was like Mr Tankardew," says Mary, after a pause; "did you see, mamma, how he refused the negus?
The room in which he met his tenants was thoroughly in keeping with its owner: old and dignified, panelled in dark wood, with a curiously-carved chimneypiece, and a ceiling apparently adorned with some historical or allegorical painting, if you could only have seen it. How Mr Tankardew got into the room on the present occasion was by no means clear, for nobody saw him enter.
"This way, this way," said Mr Tankardew, utterly unmoved by the expression of angry astonishment on the face of Mark Rothwell at the sudden conversion of his cup of liquid fire into harmless flame "Come this way, come this way, Mrs and Miss Franklin: Tom, give me the lantern, I'll take the ladies to Sam Hodges' farm, and do you be so good as to see this young gentleman across to the `Wheatsheaf'; Jones will look well after them all, I know."
The child did so, and Mr Tankardew, producing from his coat pocket a considerable sized bottle, turned to the lady who had addressed him, and said: "Madam, will you help me to dispense some of the contents of this bottle to these little children?" "Gladly," she replied. "I suppose it is something very good, such as little folks like."
Mr Tankardew had settled in his present residence some ten years since. Why he bought it nobody knew, nor was likely to know; all that people were sure of was that he had bought it, and pretty cheap too, for it was not a house likely to attract any one who appreciated comfort or liveliness; moreover, current report said that it was haunted.
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