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Updated: June 25, 2025
There came back to Enid Crofton the very last words uttered by Piper, the clever, capable man who, after having been Colonel Crofton's batman in the War, had become their general factotum in Essex: "Don't you go and be startled, ma'am, if you see the very spit of Dandy in this 'ere village!
But he meant, Miss Harold, that I am to be a Crofton boy, directly, next month." "Then have we done with one another, Hugh?" asked Miss Harold, gently. "Will you not learn any more from me?" "That is for your choice, Miss Harold," observed Mrs Proctor.
Fortunately for the new occupant of The Trellis House, a certain type of prettiness gives its lucky possessor an extraordinary sense of assurance and tranquillity when dealing with the average man. Enid Crofton wasn't quite sure, however, if Godfrey Radmore was an average man. He had never made love to her in those pleasant, now far-away days in Egypt, when every other unattached man did so.
She stopped abruptly, for she never, if she could help it, used the word "ghost," or "spirit," to the child. "Up to now I've always supposed that animals had no souls, Mum, but now I know they have. I know another thing, too," but there was a doubtful note in his voice. "I suppose that ghost-dog hates Mrs. Crofton because she was so unkind to his master.
Yes; people can always manage to be proud: so you have boasted of being a Londoner up to this time; and from this time you will hold your head high as a Crofton boy." "How long? Till when?" "Ah! Till when? What next! What do you mean to be afterwards?" "A soldier, or a sailor, or a great traveller, or something of that kind. I mean to go quite round the world, like Captain Cook."
Early in the eighteenth century, so runs the tale, a hurling-match was held in Connaught, which was attended by all the gentry of the neighbourhood. The Queen of Beauty, who gave away the prizes, was Sydney Crofton Bell, granddaughter of Sir Malby Crofton of Longford House.
"But do you mean really, uncle, the person I should like best in all the world, out of Crofton?" "Yes; out with it!" "I should like Agnes best," said Hugh, timidly. "We thought as much. I am glad we were right. Well, my boy, Agnes is there." "Agnes there! Only two miles off! How long will she stay?" "O, there is no hurry about that. We shall see when you are well what to do next."
Suffice it to say that she discovered that vice is not always conducive to happiness, and is not, even in this world, so well rewarded as its earnest practice might merit. Sated, and disappointed, she soon grew tired of her life, and longed to escape from its wearying dissipations. At this juncture she fell in love. The object of her affections was one Mr. Lionel Crofton.
There was a doubting, almost a resentful, tone in the mincing voice. "I think she's at home. Isn't she expecting you?" Radmore had taken the woman for a superior servant. "She's not expecting me exactly, but me and my 'usband have been 'oping for a letter from Mrs. Crofton. As nothing's come, I thought I'd just come down and see 'er.
Anything about the Crofton boys? Anything about Phil?" "I cannot tell you a word about it. Mamma did not know I heard them. How plain anyone can hear what they say in that parlour, Hugh, when the door is open! What do you think I heard mamma tell Mrs Bicknor, last week, when I was jumping Harry off the third stair?" "Never mind that. Tell me what they are talking about now. Do, Agnes."
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