Doctor Thomas Hardon, of Somesham, seemed likely to have full enjoyment of his brother's property, for Time kept on busy at work over his harvest. Septimus Hardon slowly and laboriously did copying for the law-stationers, apparently quite content with his lot, for he scarcely ever gave a thought now to the quest he had commenced with old Matt; Lucy toiled on incessantly at her sewing-machine, the bright needle flashing up and down, and the treadles set in motion by her feet were hardly ever still. Journeys were made to and from the warehouse from whence she had her work, but mostly alone, for Lucy had lost her protector: he had not returned since the day upon which he had been taken ill, and they knew not where he lodged. The information might have been obtained from Agnes, but save a short note or two enclosed in the regular letters sent to Mrs Jarker, in which she implored her to watch over the child, Lucy had not heard from her. Mr Sterne came and went, visiting them as he would have visited at any other house, treating Lucy with a calm, cold deference that made her weep bitterly after each visit, and grow paler day by day; for the curate told himself that he had at last conquered a foolish fancy, that he had triumphed as became him, and that all he felt now was a sublime pity which prompted him to watch her when she went out alone, and follow her at a distance till he saw her once more in safety, when he would hurry home; for his heart was very full of pity for Lucy Grey, even though he knew not of the tears she shed in secret.

As to carrying on his researches alone, the very thought of such a proceeding never occurred to Septimus Hardon--it seemed to border too much upon the impossible; and besides, he was deep in that Slough of Despond--poverty, which, instead of prompting men to energetic action, too often enervates and breeds despair. So he waited on day after day, hoping to see old Matt again, and yet dreading the prosecution of his claim-shrinking when it was named, for he seemed to grow less hopeful as time wore on. The curate had hinted more than once how willing he would be to aid him; but Septimus always shrank so from entering upon the matter, that Mr Sterne, from motives of delicacy, soon ceased to broach the subject.

The sewing-machine clicked on early and late, and Jean's lark, when he heard it, would set up his crest and whistle away, waking the echoes of the court, while at the open window, when the bird was silent, Jean Marais himself would crane forward and listen eagerly to the fragment of some mournful little air which he could just catch at times, as the machine stopped, and Lucy arranged a portion of her work. But the sweet notes from the first-floor seemed to rouse the lark to fresh exertions, when its master would angrily chide it, and perhaps cover it with a handkerchief, but only to s.n.a.t.c.h it away hurriedly.

"For she loves to hear him whistle," he would say; and then he would smile again, as the bird burst forth once more in its joyous carol.

At times Lucy would ascend to the attic to take up a bunch of green food she had bought for the birds, or a few flowers for the cripple, whose eyes brightened when he saw her, but these visits were mostly paid when _ma mere_ was from home; for in spite of her civil words, there was something in the old woman's quiet smile that chilled her; so that she dreaded meeting her more than if her looks had been those of anger. But she knew not the bitter words that had pa.s.sed between mother and son upon the subject, when _ma mere_ once angrily crushed a bunch of violets Lucy had taken up to the suffering youth.

The sewing-machine was clicking away merrily one day, so that Mrs Jarker could hear it from her sick-bed; Septimus Hardon was busily copying at his little table, and the lark jocund as ever, when a slow step was heard upon the stairs. Lucy stopped her machine to listen, and even Septimus raised his head from his work. But there was no mistake-- it was not a visitor for up-stairs, but old Matt's own shuffling footstep, and Lucy run to admit him.

Paler, thinner, more haggard, he came slowly into the room, rubbing his hands and smiling with pleasure at the warmth of the greeting he received.

"Never better," he said; "capital, thank you; been ill, though, and not able to get out before, though I was afraid you would get all the work done without me. What have you done since I saw you, sir?"

"Nothing," said Septimus quietly.

"Didn't expect you had," said Matt drily. "No offence, sir; but I thought perhaps you might want me; so if you'll get your hat, sir, we'll start at the point where we left off, and see after the doctor."

"But you will not be well enough," said Septimus, hanging back from the task--more on his own account than on that of the old man.

"Don't you be afraid of that, sir. I should have been well weeks ago if it hadn't been for fidgeting about your affairs, and wanting to get out.

I'm as strong as a lion now, sir; but let's be at it. I want a new suit of clothes out of the estate, you know, sir, when you get it;" and the old man chuckled and nodded at Lucy.

Septimus slowly wiped his pen, and carefully put away his paper, sighing the while, for he was unwilling to start, and the fit of eagerness had long ago evaporated; but at last he declared himself to be in readiness, and the pair once more started off upon their search.

Upon this occasion they directed their steps at once to Finsbury, and, after a slow, and what seemed to Matt a painful, walk, they reached their destination.

"Here is the house," said Septimus, after a reference to his pocket-book; "this is the number."

"H'm!--`Tollicks' Registry Office for Servants,'" read Matt from the board over the door. "This isn't the doctor's. Sure of the number, sir?"

"Yes," said Septimus, referring once more to his pocket-book; "yes; this is the number I took down."

"So it is," said Matt, after a reference to his own memorandum-book.

"That's right enough; but wait a bit, one never knows where to be right or wrong with numbers; they always were things as bothered a man; for you have your numbers so-and-so a, and b, and c, and goodness knows how many more, until you're regularly puzzled. Perhaps that's an a, or a b, or something of that kind, and the number we want is somewhere else."

"Let's walk on a little," said Septimus; and they went slowly down one side and up the other, but this proved to be the only house numbered as they wanted.

"Do you know of a Mr Phillips, a surgeon, in this neighbourhood?" said Septimus to the first policeman they met.

The man of order shook his head, beat his white gloves together, and then rearranged the shaken head in his shiny stock before continuing his walk.

"Let's go to the fountain-head at once," said Matt; "perhaps they know something about him. Here we are again--`Tollicks' Registry Office for Servants.' Let's see what Mr Tollicks knows about him."

"Stop a minute," said Septimus, to keep procrastination alive for a few moments longer. "Perhaps there is another door."

"No more doors there, unless they're backdoors," growled Matt; and leading the way, they stood in a floor-clothed room,--the office itself,--furnished with a green--baize--covered table, bearing a stencil-plate, inkstand, and brush; and beside the wall a long bench, upon which sat apparently one of the servants waiting to be hired from ten to four, as announced by a bill in the window, which spoke of cooks, housemaids, and general servants as being regularly in attendance; but most probably the others, tired, had gone home for the day, for the damsel in question was the only one visible. She was "Corrnwall sure,"

as indicated by the shape of her nose, though any ignorant person might have been excused for mistaking her for an inhabitant of the sister isle.

The door gave a sharp "ting" as it was opened, and another as it was closed,--the refinement of the old jingling door bell of the chandler's shop,--when the young lady on the bench rose, and made a bob and sat down again, and someone from an inner chamber cried, "Coming!" Then a small dog with a very apoplectic voice barked loudly to the tune of a little bell secured to its neck, and came waddling round the counter to smell Septimus Hardon's legs; when visiting old Matt for the same purpose, that gentleman favoured him with a pinch of snuff dropped softly towards his nose, provoking a most violent fit of sneezing, and a loud and agitated jingling of the tiny bell.

With the exception of the sneezing, there was now silence in the office for a few moments, till the sound of rattling milk-cans upon the pavement was heard. A man gave vent to the well-known melodious London yodel, and then opened the door, which again said "ting," when from the inner chamber appeared a tall, stoutish, elderly-young female of very grand deportment, which she displayed to great advantage by making a most ceremonious salute--one that would have been invaluable to a governess in a large-minded family of small means. So elegant was the salute, that even old Matt was staggered, and performed an operation rather rare with him--he took off his hat.

"The side-door, my good man," said the lady to the milkman, who grinned, winked to himself, and drew the door after him, when, quietly placing the customary "ha'porth" in a cream-tin, he set it in a corner by the door, jangled his cans as he took them up, and then yelled his way down the street.

"Mrs Tollicks?" said Septimus, raising his shabby hat.

"Miss Tollicks," said the lady, with another profound courtesy almost equal to the former. "Perhaps you will be seated, sir."

Perhaps he would have been; but as there was only the form upon which the auburn-haired damsel sat whilst waiting to be hired, Septimus merely bowed again, and said, "Thank you," at the same moment inadvertently directing a glance at the maiden in question.

"Thoroughly trustworthy, and has an excellent character from her last place," said Miss Tollicks, who had seen the glance; "a very good cook-- plain cook, early riser, strictly temperate; in fact, a disciple of the late Father Matthew. Requires no followers, and only one half-day out in the month. Only twenty-two; wages twelve pounds; and a capital washer."

The damsel had risen, and stood with her eyes half-closed, head on one side, and her rather large mouth squeezed up into a modest smirk; and as Septimus Hardon knew nothing of the maiden, he was bound to accept Miss Tollicks' eulogium; but as to the last-named quality, it was very evident that the girl was not a capital washer of self, while a detergent applied to her hair would have made a manifest improvement.

"Indeed," said Septimus, bowing; "I am obliged, but--"

"Only _twelve_ pounds wages," said Miss Tollicks with emphasis.

"And very reasonable," said Septimus; "but--"

"You will find very few general servants willing to go for less than fourteen," said Miss Tollicks.

"I suppose not," said Septimus; "but at present--"

"Then you don't think this young person would suit your requirements?"

said Miss Tollicks.

"Decidedly not," said Septimus eagerly, for he was getting so exceedingly confused, that had Miss Tollicks pressed her point, he would most probably have ended by hiring the damsel off-hand; for every glance directed for help at old Matt glanced off the impenetrable armour in which the old man had encased himself.

"Mary Donovan," said the lady of the house with dignity, "it is five minutes past four; you need not wait any longer to-day."

Mary Donovan rose at the instant, and made a bob to Miss Tollicks, and one each to Matt and Septimus--bobs that were a disgrace to her after the elaborate obeisances she had so lately seen made; and then she took her departure, played out by a couple of "tings," Miss Tollicks smiling blandly, and courteously holding her head on one side as she stood waiting to know the object of her visitors' call.

Miss Tollicks was a lady whom no one would have supposed to have been born a genius, from the utter absence of enn.o.bling qualities in her face; but for all that she made-up showily, possessed a good figure, had two little corkscrew curls on either side of her face, a suspicion of thinness about her hair--parting, which on a small scale exhibited somewhat the appearance of certain stout ladies' dresses in the back when they have been without a.s.sistance in the hooking department; for the said parting began correctly, and then gradually opened out, but only to contract again and finish evenly some distance farther back. By way of head-dress, Miss Tollicks wore a black-velvet blackbird, with handsome gold-bead eyes, the said ornithological head-dress being kept in its place by means of a fillet of black-velvet and gold twist. A very thick, plain-linked, jet chain was round her neck, a very glossy buckle at her waist, fastening the cincture of her very rusty black-silk dress, slightly rubbed at the plaits; so that altogether Miss Tollicks presented the aspect of a lady superior at the very least.

"We merely called," said Septimus, after an awkward pause, during which he had been waiting for Matt to begin, "to--er--er--to--er--that is to ask if you could give us any information respecting a Mr Phillips, a surgeon, who once resided here."

"Dear me, how disappointing!" said Miss Tollicks. "Now do you know I thought you had come after servants; I did indeed."

"Really," said Septimus sadly, "I am sorry to have caused you disappointment; but it was important that I should know, and I called-- urgent--troubled you," he stammered again, looking in vain at Matt, who only took snuff.

"O, don't apologise, pray," said Miss Tollicks; "come in and sit down, and let's--let me," she said, correcting herself,--"let me hear what it is. There, don't laugh at me, for one is obliged to be so particular how one speaks to the grand people who come for servants."

Miss Tollicks led the way into her inner chamber, where the fat dog slept snoringly in the sunshine; and, after a little hesitation, her two visitors took the proffered chairs.

"Mr Flips, surgeon," said the lady of the place, after a little preliminary conversation, "no, I never heard the name, and I've been here two years this next week, when my landlord will most likely call.