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Updated: May 20, 2025
Riversedge; "such a thing would be impossible." "Whatever he may do to eke out his income," interrupted Mrs. Troyle, "he is certainly not going to fill in his leisure moments by making love to my maid." "Of course not," agreed her hostess; "that must be put a stop to at once. But I don't quite know what we ought to do."
The beautiful palace of the old Earls of Orkney would have been still habitable if only some local body early in the nineteenth century had not stolen its slates for the purpose of roofing some schoolhouse. Tankerness House, entered by a fortified gate, and built round a small court, can have hardly changed since the days of Brenda and Minna Troyle.
Now if he had left it under a cloud, or as a protest against the incurable and heartless frivolity of its inhabitants, that would tell us something about the man and his mission in life." "What does he do?" pursued Mrs. Troyle magisterially.
You can't do all that on two hundred a year, can you?" "Does he write for any other papers?" queried Mrs. Troyle. "No, you see he specializes so entirely on liturgy and ecclesiastical architecture that his field is rather restricted.
In the nave of the great cathedral, which took four centuries in building, one would not have been surprised at meeting Magnus Troyle or Norna. The nave is full of the records of old Orcadian notables. These are not, however, for the most part, attached to the walls as tablets. They are attached to the pillars by extended iron rods, from which they hang like the swaying signs of inns.
You see it occurred to me that I was very seldom in my room just at that hour, and that Florinda was almost always there tidying up things about that time. So I picked up that innocent-looking piece of paper." Mrs. Troyle paused again, with the self-applauding air of one who has detected an asp lurking in an apple-charlotte. Mrs.
"I mean there's a SONG with that refrain," hurriedly explained Mrs. Riversedge, "and there's 'Rhoda, Rhoda kept a pagoda, and 'Maisie is a daisy, and heaps of others. Certainly it doesn't sound like Mr. Brope to be singing such songs, but I think we ought to give him the benefit of the doubt." "I had already done so," said Mrs. Troyle, "until further evidence came my way."
"You might put a barbed wire entanglement round the yew tree as a precautionary measure," said Clovis. "I don't think that the disagreeable situation that has arisen is improved by flippancy," said Mrs. Riversedge; "a good maid is a treasure " "I am sure I don't know what I should do without Florinda," admitted Mrs. Troyle; "she understands my hair.
"Dullness I could overlook," said the aunt of Clovis; "what I cannot forgive is his making love to my maid." "My dear Mrs. Troyle," gasped the hostess, "what an extraordinary idea! I assure you Mr. Brope would not dream of doing such a thing."
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