John Morton was coming to Bragton with a party of
ladies and gentlemen. Mrs. Hopkins had spoken of four persons. Mrs.
Masters told Mary that there were to be a dozen at least, and that
four or five pairs of horses and half a dozen carriages had been
ordered from Mr. Runciman. "He means to cut a dash when he does
begin," said Mrs. Masters.
"Is he going to stay, mother?"
"He wouldn't come down in that way if it was only for a few days I
suppose. But what they will do for furniture I don't know."
"There's plenty of furniture, mother."
"A thousand years old. Or for wine, or fruit, or plate."
"The old plate was there when Lady Ushant left."
"People do things now in a very different way from what they used.
A couple of dozen silver forks made quite a show on the old
squire's table. Now they change the things so often that ten dozen
is nothing. I don't suppose there's a bottle of wine in the
cellar."
"They can get wine from Cobbold, mother."
"Cobbold's wine won't go down with them I fancy. I wonder what
servants they're bringing."
When Mr. Masters came in from his office the news was corroborated.
Mr. John Morton was certainly coming to Bragton. The attorney had
still a small unsettled and disputed claim against the owner of the
property, and he had now received by the day mail an answer to a
letter which he had written to Mr.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80