Anthony; us was talkin'
o' you an' your bonny lady this very day. She do be well, sir, I 'ope,
an' comin' home to the great house soon, Mr. Anthony?"
"Thank you, yes, Mary," answered Anthony, baring his head and giving
her his hand, "we shall be coming home next week. And here, George and
Mary, is my friend Mr. Vereker. His horse has cast a shoe, send it to
Joe at Hadlow to be shod. Meanwhile we will drink a flagon of your
October."
So while George led away my horse, his pretty wife brought us into the
sanded parlour, where, having despatched a shock-headed boy with my
horse, George presently joined us.
The ale duly drunk, Anthony proposed he should ride on to Nettlestead
while Wildfire was being shod and return for me in an hour or so, to
which I perforce agreeing, he rode away, leaving me to await him,
nothing loath. For what with the spirit of Happiness that seemed to
pervade this little inn of the "Soaring Lark" and the cheery good
humour of its buxom host and hostess, my haunting demons fled awhile
and in their place was restored peace. Sitting with George in this
low-raftered kitchen while his pretty wife bustled comfortably to and
fro, we talked and grew acquainted.
"By the way, George," said I, "Mr. Vere-Manville showed me a haunted
house called, I think, Raydon Manor, do you know anything of it?"
Now at this innocent question, to my surprise George's good humour
vanished, his comely features were suddenly overcast, and he exchanged
meaning glances with his wife.
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