Our Admirable Betty Part 84

The Sergeant, about to enter the arbour, paused, started and stood at attention.

"Good day, Sergeant Zebedee!" quoth she demurely.

"Same to you my lady and thank'ee."

"And pray how is the Major?"

"Ha'n't you just seen him mam?"

"Indeed, but he--he vanished before I could speak a word, Sergeant."

"Zounds!" murmured the Sergeant.

"What d'you say, Sergeant Zebedee?

"Why my lady, 'tis his coat I'm after----"

"Coat?" repeated my lady.

"Aye mam, his Ramillie coat, sent me here for same----"

"I don't see it, do you, Sergeant?"

"Why no, my lady, I don't! But he says he left same here and----"

"But it doesn't seem to be, does it?"

"No my lady, unless you----"

"And how is the Major, pray?"

Sergeant Zebedee sighed and shook his head.

"Lord, my lady, he is that gloomy, he do sigh continual--mopes in his study when he should be out i' the sun and wanders abroad when he should be snug abed----"

"But he sat out here to-day----"

"Aye, for a wonder! 'Twas Mrs. Agatha and me as coaxed him out."

"He seems to be a very--uncomfortably--moody kind of man, Sergeant."

"Aye--but only of late, my lady."

"I wonder why?" The Sergeant glanced down into her bright eyes, looked at earth, looked at sky, and scratched his chin.

"Why, since you put the point, my lady, I should say 'tis either on account o' petticoats or witchcraft or--maybe both. And talking o'

witchcraft, there's his coat now, p'r'aps you might chance to be----"

"He seems mighty set on this coat," said she, deftly spreading out her voluminous petticoats, "and 'tis such a shabby, woeful old thing."

"True mam, but I follered that coat through the smoke and dust of Ramillies fight though 'twas gayer then, d'ye see, but even now it shows the rents in skirt and arm o' bullet and bagnet as he took that day. 'Tis a wonderful garment, my lady."

"It would irk him to lose it, belike?"

"Lose it! Mam, it aren't to be thought on!"

"Still I think 'twould do him a world of good if 'twere lost awhile, it seems to affect him so evilly."

"Nay, I think 'tis t'other way about, mam. Says I to him one day, 'Sir,' says I, 'when at all put out wherefore and why the Ramillie coat?' 'Because Zeb,' says he, 'when I put it on I seem to put on some of my lost youth also.' Still, there's limits, mam, there's limits, and for a gentleman o' his degree to go out in same, and among his tenants d'ye see, well, it aren't right--though I've darned same constant. No wonder Widow Weston, which same is a scold, my lady, but 'tis no wonder she contradictioned of his honour no later than yesterday arternoon towards four o' the clock as ever was----"

"Aye, I know Widow Weston!" smiled my lady. "Contradicted him--aye--she would."

"And did, my lady! Here's his honour in his old coat a-bowing to her and a-choking and coughing d'ye see, on account of her chimbley a-smoking woeful. 'Mam,' says he, 'I fear your chimbley smokes.' 'It don't!' she cries, 'it don't, and if it do 'tis no worse than it was in my husband's time and if it did for him 'twill do for me,' she says.

Whereon his honour bows himself into the air and wipes the soot out of his eyes all the way home, mam."

"But referring to the coat, Sergeant----"

"Begad, yes mam, saving your presence. There's him a-waiting for same."

"You must insist on his leaving it off, Sergeant."

"Insist? Zounds, my lady, insist--to the Major. Couldn't nowise be done, mam."

"Why then he must lose same, Sergeant Zeb," said my lady roguishly.

"Lose it, mam! Lord mam, his honour would never forgive me."

"He would--O he would. Besides you didn't lose it. And it isn't here, is it?"

"Why it aren't apparent to human observation, my lady. But p'r'aps you might chance to be sit----"

"Hush!" cried my lady, white finger upraised. "Is someone coming?"

The Sergeant stepped outside to glance about, listened dutifully and shook his head.

"No mam, but I must get back to the house, his honour will----"

"How is he progressing in health, Sergeant--his appet.i.te--doth he eat well?

"Eat, my lady!" exclaimed the Sergeant dolefully, "he's forgot how."

"Truly I do begin to think he hath a soul after all, Sergeant."

"Soul, mam? The finest as ever was! He's all soul, my lady, 'tis his body as do worry me--vading mam it be, vading and a-languishing away.

Aye, 'tis his body----"

"There seems plenty of it left, Sergeant, and it looks solid enough--O Lud!" she exclaimed all at once and clasped her hands, as from afar rose a hoa.r.s.e, growl that swelled into a deep-lunged roar. "A mercy's sake, what is it?"

"My lady, 'tis the Colonel a-calling me. I must go, my lady, and consequently humbly request you to----"