The owner returned and closed the gates.
>From time that seemed immemorial, the inhabitants of Kenminster had
disported themselves there as if the grounds had been kept up for
their sole behoof, and their indignation at the monopoly knew no
bounds.
Nobody saw Mr. Barnes save his doctor, whose carriage was the only
one admitted within the lodge gates, intending visitors being there
informed that Mr. Barnes was too unwell to be disturbed.
Mrs. "Folly" Brownlow's aberrations lost their interest in the
Coffinkey world beside the mystery of Belforest. Opinions varied as
to his being a miser, or a lunatic, a prey to conscience, disease, or
deformity; and reports were so diverse, that at the "Folly" a journal
was kept of them, with their dates, as a matter of curiosity-—their
authorities marked:—-
March 4th.-—Mr. Barnes eats nothing but fresh turtle. Brings them
down in tubs alive and flapping. Mrs. Coffinkey's Jane heard them
cooing at the station. Gives his cook three hundred pounds per
annum.
5th.-—Mr. Barnes so miserly, that he turned away the housemaid for
burning candles eight to the pound. (H. S. H.)
6th.-—Mr. B. keeps a bloodhound trained to hunt Indians, and has six
pounds of prime beef steaks for it every day. (Emma.)
8th.
Pages:
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221