on any scene—so far as Deerham was concerned. The following day he would quit Jan for good; and that gentleman’s new assistant, a qualified practitioner, had arrived, and was present. Somewhat different arrangements from what had been originally contemplated were about to be entered on, as regarded Jan. The Miss Wests had found their school prosper so well during the half-year it had been established, that they were desirous of taking the house entirely on their own hands. They commanded the good will and respect of Deerham if their father did not. Possibly it was because he did not, and that their position was sympathised with and commiserated, that their scheme of doing something to place themselves independent of him, obtained so large a share of patronage. They wished to take the whole house on their own hands. Easy Jan acquiesced; Lionel thought it the best thing in all ways; and Jan began to look out for another home. But Jan seemed to waver in the fixing upon one. First, he had thought of lodgings; next he went to see a small, pretty new house that had just been built close to the Miss Wests. “It is too small for you, Mr. Jan,” had observed Miss Deborah. “It will hold me and my assistant, and the boy, and a cook, and the surgery,” answered Jan. “And that’s all I want.”
Neither the lodgings, however, nor the small house had been taken; and now it was rumoured that Jan’s plans were changed again. The report was that the surgery was to remain where it was, and that the assistant, a gentleman of rather mature age, would remain with it, occupying Jan’s bed-room (which had been renovated after the explosion of Master Cheese) and taking his meals with the Miss Wests. Jan meanwhile had been about that tasty mansion called Belvedere House, which was situated midway between his old residence and Deerham Court. Deerham’s curiosity was uncommonly excited upon the point. What in the name of improbability could plain Jan Verner want with a fine place like that? He’d have to keep five or six servants, if he went there. The most feasible surmise that could be arrived at was, that Jan was about to establish a mad-house—as Deerham was in the habit of phrasing a receptacle for insane patients—of the private, genteel order. Deerham felt very curious; and Jan, being a person whom they felt at ease to question without ceremony, was besieged upon the subject. Jan’s answer (all they could get from him this time) was—that he was thinking of taking Belvedere House, but had no intention yet of setting up an asylum. And affairs were in this stage at the present time.
Lionel and his bride were expected momentarily, and the company of all grades formed themselves into groups as they awaited them. They had been married in London some ten days ago, where Sir Henry Tempest had remained after quitting Deerham with Lucy. The twelvemonth had been allowed to go by subsequent to the death of Sibylla. Lionel liked that all things should be done seemingly and in order. Sir Henry was now on a visit to Sir Edmund Hautley and Decima: he was looking out for a suitable residence in the neighbourhood, where he meant to settle. This gathering at Verner’s Pride to welcome Lionel had been a thought of Sir Henry’s and old Mr. Bitterworth’s. “Why not give the poor an afternoon’s holiday for once?” cried Sir Henry. “I will repay them the wages they must lose in taking it.” And so—here was the gathering, and Tynn had carried out his orders for the supply of plenty to eat and drink.
They formed in groups, listening for the return of the carriage, which had gone in state to the railway station to receive them. All, save Master Cheese. He walked about somewhat disconsolately, thinking the proceedings rather slow. In his wanderings he came upon Tynn, placing good things upon one of the tables, which was laid in an alcove.
“When’s the feasting going to begin?” asked he.
“Not until Mr. Verner shall have come,” replied Tynn. “The people will be wanting to cheer him; and they can’t do that well if they are busy round the tables, eating.”
“Who’s the feast intended for?” resumed Master Cheese.
“It’s chiefly intended for those who don’t get feasts at home,” returned Tynn. “But anybody can partake of it that pleases.”
“I should like just a snack,” said Master Cheese, “I had such a short dinner to-day. Now that all those girls are stuck down at the dining-table, Miss Deb sometimes forgets to ask one a third time to meat,” he added, in a grumbling tone. “And there was nothing but a rubbishing rice pudding after it to-day! So I’d like to take a little, Tynn. I feel quite empty.”
“You can take as much as you choose,” said Tynn, who had known Master Cheese’s appetite before to-day. “Begin at once, if you like, without waiting for the others. Some of the tables are spread.”
“I think I will,” said Master Cheese, looking lovingly at a pie on the table over which they were standing. “What’s inside this pie, Tynn?”
Tynn bent his head to look closely. “I think that’s partridge,” said he. “There are plenty of other sorts. And there’s a vast quantity of cold meats: beef and ham, and that. Sir Henry Tempest said I was not to stint ’em.”
“I like partridge pie,” said Master Cheese, as he seated himself before it, his mouth watering. “I have not tasted one this season. Do you happen to have a drop of bottled ale, Tynn?”
“I’ll fetch a bottle,” answered Tynn. “Is there anything else you’d like, sir?”
“What else is there?” asked Master Cheese. “Anything in the sweets line?”
“There’s about a hundred baked plum-puddings. My wife has got some custards, too, in her larder. The custards are not intended for out here, but you can have one.”
Master Cheese wiped his damp face: he had gone all over into a glow of delight. “Bring a pudding and a custard or two, Tynn,” said he. “There’s nothing in the world half so nice as a plate of plum-pudding swimming in custard.”
Tynn was in the act of supplying his wants, when a movement and a noise in the distance