And Tom Verity
still listened, strangely, alertly interested, convinced there was more,
well worth hearing, to follow.
"Oh! there's always bin a tidy lot of money behind young Darcy, and is
yet I reckon, Mrs. Faircloth being the first-class business woman she is.
Spend she may with one hand, but save, and make, she does and no mistake,
Lord love you, with the other. Singular thing though," he added
meditatively, his face growing wholly expressionless, "how little Darcy,
now he's growed up, features old Lemuel his father. Squinny, red-cheeked
little old party, he was; thin as a herring, and chilly, always chilly,
sitting over the fire in the bar-parlour winter and summer too--small
squeaky voice he had minding any one of a penny whistle. But a warm man
and a close one--oh! very secret. Anybody must breakfast overnight and
hurry at that--eat with their loins girded, as you may say, to get
upsides with old Lemuel."
He ceased speaking, and glanced round over his shoulder calculating
the distance to the breakwater, for the boat drew level with the
sea-wall of rough-hewn pinkish-grey granite along the river frontage
of The Hard gardens.
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