A Tale of a Lonely Parish | Page 8

open and Mr. Ambrose shouted to the fly.
"Muggins! Muggins!"
No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican,
had christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the
least of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain
Charles Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and
Muggins he remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for
the afternoon was hot and he had anticipated his "fours."
Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where
the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse the
driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed
close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the
blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt
very foolish.
"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the
summer's sun.

"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping
Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel.
Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only
the young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not
mind being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and
brought the fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting.
"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she
came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then
it was the turn of the little girl.
"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand.
"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who
was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding
out her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than
ever as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl
blushed and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the
carriage.
"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door.
"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered
the lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her
voice. She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful.
Muggins cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and
his pupil standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house.
"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose,
rather anxiously.
Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would
say something about the lady, but to his annoyance, he said nothing at
all. John could not ask questions, seeing it was none of his business and
was fain to content himself with thinking of the lady's face and voice.
He felt very uncomfortable at dinner. He thought the excellent Mrs.
Ambrose eyed him with unusual severity, as though suspecting what he
was thinking about, and he thought the vicar's grey eye twinkled

occasionally with the pleasant sense of possessing a secret he had no
intention of imparting. As a matter of fact Mrs. Ambrose was
supremely unconscious of the fact that John had seen the lady, and
looked at him with some curiosity, observing that he seemed nervous
and blushed from time to time and was more silent than usual. She
came to the conclusion that he had been working too hard, as usual, and
that night requested him to take two little pellets of aconite, and to
repeat the dose in the morning. Whether it was the result of the
homoeopathic medicine or of the lapse of a few hours and a good
night's rest, it is impossible to say; John, however, was himself again
the next morning and showed no further signs of nervousness. But he
kept his eyes and ears open, hoping for some news of the exquisite
creature who had made so profound an impression on his heart.
In due time the joyful news arrived from Cambridge that the
Honourable Cornelius had passed his examination and was at liberty to
matriculate at the beginning of the term. The intelligence was duly
telegraphed to his father, and in a few hours came a despatch in answer,
full of affectionate congratulation and requesting that Cornelius should
proceed at once to Paris, where his father was waiting for him. The
young man took an affectionate leave of the vicar, of Mrs. Ambrose
and especially of John Short, for whom he had conceived an almost
superstitious admiration; old Reynolds was not forgotten in the farewell,
and for several days after Angleside's departure the aged gardener was
observed to walk