Chapter V: A Response to the Advertisement

"I BEGIN to think that the money I have spent on advertisements is just money thrown away," said Aunt Patty, rather ruefully one morning as we sat in the breakfast-room at the close of our early meal.

I looked up from the letter which had absorbed my attention. It was a lively and lengthy epistle from Peggy, giving me all the home news, and I had been so delighted to get it that I failed to observe that the post had brought my aunt nothing. It was very disappointing. During the whole of the past week, the advertisement to which we had given so much thought had appealed to people from the columns of London newspapers, and not a single person had been moved to respond to it. To be sure, the weather had not been such as to make the idea of visiting the country attractive. The March winds had been sharp and boisterous, and sudden squalls were often accompanied by sleet.

"People are waiting till the weather becomes more spring-like," I said. "It is a pity that it continues so cold, and Easter falling next week."

"Yes," said Aunt Patty with a sigh. "I am afraid I have been in too great a hurry. It would have been better to have waited a few weeks before advertising."

The past week had been a trying time for Aunt Patty. Certain business transactions had taken place. The greater part of the land which had belonged to Uncle George, and his father before him, was now the property of Squire Canfield. He had also purchased a good deal of the farm stock, and the rest had been sold by auction at Chelmsford. I hardly realised all that this meant to Aunt Patty. It did not seem to me to make much difference to her, since the house and garden and the grounds immediately adjoining still belonged to her. But I knew she had felt it deeply, and now, as I saw her troubled air, I tried to comfort her.

"It seems rather warmer this morning," I said. "I believe the weather is going to change. We shall have some applications soon, auntie, I feel sure. Would you like me to go into Chelmsford this afternoon, and inquire at the post-office?"

We had only one postal delivery a day at "Gay Bowers," so if we went into town we never failed to visit the post-office, that we might obtain any letters that might have arrived by a later post.

"I am afraid it would only be another disappointment," said Aunt Patty, "and it is hardly worth while to have the horse and trap out for that."

"How I wish I had a bicycle!" I said. "Now that the winds have dried the roads, I could spin into Chelmsford and back in no time."

"Then you can ride?" aunt said.

"Oh, yes; Olive taught me, and she often lends me her bicycle—she is very good-natured about it. You know Mrs. Smythe gave her one because she thought she did not take sufficient exercise."

"I wish I could give you one, my dear," said Aunt Patty gently.

"Oh, auntie, don't say that!" I replied. "I don't care so much about it, only I thought it would be convenient just now if I had one."

"I tell you what you could do if you liked, dear," said my aunt, "not that I think it will make any difference as far as the advertisement is concerned, but there is a business letter I am anxious to receive which may come in by the second post. You might step over to the Vicarage, and ask Jack to call at the post-office for us as he comes back from Chelmsford."

"That I will," I said as I rose from the table, "and I must go at once or Jack will have started. He has to be at his tutor's by ten."

I put on my hat and coat, and went out. The breeze which met me and blew out my skirts was fresh and strong, but its keen edge had gone. The sun was breaking through the ragged grey clouds that were scudding across the sky. Its rays glorified a bed of crocuses, and by the gate, sheltered by the high garden wall, I found the first daffodil. I had been watching for days the green, swelling buds, but not till now had I seen the gleam of gold. Stooping to lift the drooping head, I gazed at it with exquisite delight. How different it was in its dainty freshness from any daffodil I had ever bought in London!

"I shall learn to love gardening if I stay here long enough!" I said to myself as I went on my way.

Turning to the right and following the winding of the lane, I came in a few minutes to Greentree Church, a picturesque, red-bricked building with a pointed steeple. A peaceful churchyard lay about it, with many old tombstones, grey and defaced by age, some bearing curiously worded epitaphs. A little beyond the church was the Vicarage, a beautiful old house, built of red brick, which had long taken on the rich, mellow hue of age. A magnificent cedar adorned the lawn, and an almond tree, breaking into blossom, overhung the gate. The trees and shrubs which grew within were rather too luxuriant, a sign of bad gardening, for flowers could not flourish beneath their heavy shade, and the garden had rather a neglected appearance. The Vicar cared nothing for flowers, nor did Jack concern himself about their culture, though he always evinced what I believed to be an unfeigned interest in Aunt Patty's garden.

The phaeton stood before the door of the house as I approached. Jack's dogs ran barking to meet me, and he came quickly from the house to see why they were making such a commotion.

"Oh, Nan, you are an early visitor—but only just in time!" he exclaimed, looking as pleased as if he had not seen me for a year, whereas he had been at "Gay Bowers" on the previous day. Jack was the most friendly and sociable of beings. It was a striking instance of the irony of fate that such a one should share this quiet home with a father who was always immersed in his books. Aunt Patty's guests, when they came, would have a welcome from Jack.

"Oh, are you going to drive?" I said. "I thought you would cycle to Chelmsford this morning."

"What—with this wind in my teeth all the way?" he replied. "That would be rather too much for me. I might have ridden Bess, only, you see, the pater is going up to town to-day, so I shall drive him to the station before going to Medley's."

As he spoke, the Vicar came out of the house. He was an elderly man, tall, with bowed shoulders, which bore witness to the habits of a scholar. He greeted me kindly, but in an absent-minded fashion. He rarely seemed to give his whole mind to the person he addressed, an unfortunate defect in a clergyman. He did, however, so far recognise my individuality as to inquire for Aunt Patty. It was Jack who asked whether we had had any response to the advertisement.

"Any bites?" was his concise way of putting it.

I shook my head, then hastened to make my request that he would call for us at the post-office on his way home.

"Of course I will," he said promptly, "and I will bring you good luck, too, in the face of an offer from a most desirable 'paying guest.'"

"That is more than you possibly can promise," I replied.

"Oh, you don't know. I have a presentiment that I shall find something good for you at the post-office," he returned. "Come and meet me, Nan, and see if I am not right. I shall walk back, for the trap will have to remain in Chelmsford for father. Meet me half-way."

"I dare say," I said, "that would mean a walk of five miles. I should have thought nothing of it a year ago, but now—although I am ever so much stronger than when I came down—"

"Of course! How thoughtless of me!" he broke in. "Come as far as the Wood End Oaks then; but no farther by the road, for I shall take the short cut."

"Perhaps," I said, "I do not promise," but I meant to go all the same.

Meanwhile the Vicar had climbed into the phaeton.

"The air is milder to-day," he said as he arranged his muffler about his throat.

"Oh, it is spring at last," I said joyfully; "I have found a daffodil in bloom."

"Ah!" he said vacantly, and I saw that a golden daffodil was no more to him than a yellow primrose was to Peter Bell.

I bade them good-morning and turned homeward, for I could see that the Vicar was in a fidget to be off. As I went up the lane the phaeton overtook me. Jack lifted his cap and cried rashly, "I'll bring you one, I promise you, Nan."

Jack usually lunched in town and got home some time in the afternoon. When I started about half-past three for the rendezvous, auntie told me to be sure to bring him in to take tea with us.

"There will be no one looking for him at home," she said.

Not till then did it strike me that Jack was perhaps walking back on purpose to gratify us, and that, if I had not asked him to call for our letters, he would have awaited in Chelmsford his father's return by the six o'clock train. It was just like Jack to give himself that trouble on our behalf, for he was the most good-natured fellow in the world; but I was vexed that I had not thought to tell him that the letters were of no consequence, and that very likely there would be none. When I remarked this to aunt, all she said was:

"Oh, the walk will do him good, and you too, Nan, if you do not go too far."

It was a lovely afternoon for a walk. The fresh breeze was most exhilarating, though it blew almost too strongly for me as I crossed the common. A little beyond this the road dipped suddenly, and to the left a wood bordered it for about a hundred yards. The old, gnarled trees which overhung the road were known as the "Wood End Oaks." A stile gave access to the wood, and a path running through it and across two meadows beyond was a short cut, which for pedestrians considerably shortened the way from Chelmsford.

I was not ill-pleased to find that I had reached the stile before Jack, for I was glad to seat myself upon it. I had not sat there many minutes when I saw Jack coming towards me through the wood. He gave a shout as he caught sight of me, and waved on high a letter.

"I was right, Nan," he cried, coming up. "I told you I should be sure to find a reply, and here it is! There can be no mistake about this." And he laid on my knee a letter directed in a small but clear hand to the "Proprietress, Gay Bowers, Greentree, near Chelmsford."

"Oh, yes, this is one at last," I said eagerly. "No ordinary correspondent would address auntie in that way; but of course the advertisement does not give her name. The handwriting looks like a man's."

"Oh, I don't know," said Jack; "many girls affect that style of writing."

"This is not a girl's writing," I said. "I like it. It is strong and original, and betokens intellectual tastes."

"Nonsense, Nan," said Jack; "you surely don't believe in telling people's characters by their handwriting and all that rubbish."

"It is not rubbish," I replied calmly. "I have often judged unknown persons by their handwriting, and I have seldom found myself mistaken in my conclusions."

"It is all pure imagination," said Jack, who had seated himself beside me on the stile in order to examine the envelope at his ease. "I may not be a genius—I rather think I am not—but at any rate I can make better G's and B's than that fellow, if it is a fellow. Where are you off to in such a hurry, Nan?"

"Why, home, of course," I said, as I sprang down, "to take Aunt Patty this letter and hear what it says."

"Ah! I guessed curiosity was moving you," he said.

"You have none, of course," I retorted. "If you had, it might soon be gratified, for auntie told me to invite you to take tea with us."

"I shall be most happy," said Jack, and he looked so pleased that I felt sure he was as curious concerning the contents of that envelope as I was.

We found Aunt Patty in the drawing-room. Our eager faces told her we brought news ere I gave her the letter.

It was not long, and she quickly scanned it; then said as she handed it to me:

"A nice letter, but not at all the kind of application I expected. The writer is a gentleman."

"I knew it," I said with a glance at Jack, and proceeded to read the following:

"Dear Madam,—I have recently returned from India, ill-health having compelled me to resign the professorship in an Anglo-Indian college which I have held for nearly five years. I am still somewhat of an invalid and find London life far too exhausting for my nerves. My physician advises me to live in the country for some months. Your advertisement seems to offer me the kind of home I desire, where I could pursue my studies in quiet and enjoy the advantages of a country life while keeping in touch with London. Will you kindly let me know whether you can give me a large and airy bedroom which I could also use to some extent as a study? Please state exactly on what terms you could offer it. A reply at your earliest convenience will greatly oblige."

"Yours faithfully,"
"ALAN FAULKNER."

"Oh, auntie!" I exclaimed as I put down the letter. "To think of our having a professor here! It seems to me rather alarming."

"I should not have thought you would have found it so," said Jack. "I expect he is quite harmless."

"I dare say he will be absorbed in his studies and won't expect much from us in the way of entertainment," said Aunt Patty. "He is human, if he is a professor, and I believe I can make him comfortable. The room above this is large and airy enough, I should think. We could easily screen off the bed and make it look like a sitting-room."

"You thought of putting two beds there," I said. "Yes, but I may have no application for a double-bedded room," she replied, "and he ought to have a large room if he is going to spend so much of his time in it. He will be a man to suit your father, Jack. I dare say they will draw together."

"I do hope for your sakes that he may not be so absent-minded as my dear progenitor," said Jack. "I am anxious as to what escapade he may commit when he is out of my sight. Did I ever tell you, Nan, how he once appeared wearing a girl's hat?"

"Jack, what can you mean?" I cried.

"It is a fact," he said. "It happened two years ago last summer. He had been taking a little holiday and visiting a cousin in Wales. I came up from school and met him at Paddington, that we might go home together. Imagine my astonishment when I saw him step out of the train wearing a round straw hat with long ribbon streamers at the back! How the people did stare!" "'Why, dad,' I said, 'whatever have you on your head? Is that the latest style for clerics?'"

"If you'll believe me, till I spoke, he had no idea there was anything wrong. He had donned a straw hat with his holiday garb. The day being hot, he took off his hat in the train, and a young girl seated in the same compartment also removed hers. He had to change trains rather hurriedly at a certain junction, and in his haste put on her hat in mistake for his own. I was thankful none of the school chaps were with me. You may be sure I hustled him into a cab pretty quickly."

"Oh, how ridiculous!" I cried, laughing heartily; "but, oh, that poor girl! What must have been her state of mind when she discovered what had happened, and found herself in possession of your father's hat?"

"Oh, that did not matter," said Jack. "Girls can wear anything."

Aunt was laughing too, although she had heard the story before.

"Well," she said merrily, "if Professor Faulkner is as absent-minded as that we shall not lack amusement."

We discussed the unknown Professor pretty thoroughly as we took our tea. I have often smiled since to think how wide of the mark were most of our conjectures. Aunt Patty lost no time in replying to his letter. The result was satisfactory. He wrote again giving excellent references and asking to be allowed to spend Easter with us. He would then be able to judge whether the place would suit him for a longer sojourn.

"A canny Scotsman," was aunt's comment, as she read this. "He is not going to commit himself to the unknown. Well, I do not blame him for that."

With considerable excitement and some perturbation, we looked forward to the stranger's arrival. On the very day we expected him, we had our second "bite," to use Jack's expressive metaphor.