Presently Cleg and Vara walked down, and when they came into the garden they found Miss Celie Tennant in animated conversation with her father. She was clinging very close to his arm, as though she never could be induced upon any pretext to leave it for a moment. The old man was smiling somewhat grimly. And Vara thought what a little hypocrite Celie was. The Junior Partner [384]was much interested in a curious pattern of coloured stones, which the General had arranged with his own hand about a toy fountain. Five more innocent and unconcerned people it would have been impossible to meet with in broad Scotland.
But when Cleg Kelly was introduced to Mr. Robert Greg Tennant, he was astonished to notice an unmistakable air of knowledge in that gentleman's face. Indeed, something that was not far from a wink wrinkled his cheek. The original Cleg rose triumphant—and he winked back.
Then Mr. Greg Tennant put his hands into his pockets, and strolled off whistling a refrain which was popular at that remote date—
"I saw Esau kissing Kate, And he saw I saw Esau!"Cleg went away with the Junior Partner to take another look at the whole house, which was now wholly dismantled and about to be pulled down to the foundations. The Junior Partner, who was henceforward to be a sleeping partner only, intended to build a mansion on another part of the property, so that all memory of the horrors which had been contained within the Red Door was to be blotted out.
"And the sooner the better, sir," said Mr. Tennant, grimly. He had just joined them.
"When I have money enough!" stammered the Junior Partner, not sure of his meaning.
He looked about him. Cleg was still exploring far ahead in the ruined tower, from the windows of which the frames and bars had been already removed.
"I was going to speak to you, sir," said the Junior Partner, "but the fact is, sir, till to-day I have had no permission and no right."
[385]
The elder man clapped the younger upon the back.
"All right," he said heartily; "I have been behind beech hedges myself in my time. But I must say," he went on, "that I generally kept a better watch on the old man!"
The Junior Partner blushed red as a rose—a peony rose.
"And if that is your meaning," continued Mr. Tennant, "why, get the house built. I daresay there's tocher enough to go with my little lass to pay for the stone and lime."
At this moment a whirlwind of primrose-coloured summer lawn, twinkling black stockings, and silver-buckled shoes fell upon the two of them, and reduced the Junior Partner to a state of smiling, vacuous inanity.
"Come, come quick!" Celie Tennant cried, with the most charming impetuosity, seizing them each by a hand and dragging them forward towards the brick kitchen. "We have found it—at least Vara has! There's millions of gold—all new sovereigns and things. And I'm to be bridesmaid!"
What the Junior Partner made out of this no one can tell; for at the time he was certainly not in the full possession of his senses. But Mr. Tennant was well used to his impetuous daughter's stormy moods, and understood that something which had been lost was at last found.
Celie imperiously swept them along with her into the little brick building.
"Not so fast, you small pocket hurricane!" cried her father, breathlessly. "At my time of life I really cannot rush along like an American trotter!"
They entered the kitchen. Vara was standing at the table at which Cleg used to cut the bacon for the General's [386]breakfast and his own. She was calmly opening tin after tin of Chicago corned beef, cans of which stood in rows round the walls. Each was full to the brim of bright newly minted sovereigns.
"It is Cleg's money," cried Celie wildly, "and I found it all myself—or, at least, Vara did, which is the same thing. There were just two tins, one at each end, full of real, common, nasty beef for eating, and the rest are all sovereigns. And I'm to be bridesmaid."
And, though a Sunday school teacher of long standing and infinite gravity, the little lady danced a certain reckless breakdown which she had learned in the Knuckle Dusters' Club from Cleaver's boy.
"Well, Miss Quicksilver, you had better go and tell him!" said her father; "he is in the tower yonder."
Mr. Donald Iverach was starting out of the door to do it himself; but Celie seized him tragically; "Father—Donald—how can you?" she cried more in sorrow than in anger at their stupidity and ignorance. "Of course, let her go!"
And Vara went out of the door to seek for Cleg.
"Oh, I wish it was me!" Celie said wistfully and ungrammatically, stamping her foot. "It's so splendidly romantic! Donald, why didn't you make it turn out so that I could have come and said to you, 'I have a secret. Hush! You are heir to a hidden treasure!' You never do anything really nice for me!"
"Why, because the old man didn't leave it to me," said the Junior Partner.
"And a good job for you, too, you great goose," cried Celie, daringly, "for if he had I should certainly have made love to Cleg, and we would have set up a market garden together. I am sure I should have liked that very much."
[387]
And at that time Vara was telling Cleg in the tower that his treasure had come to him at last.
And Cleg was sure of it.
LETTER INCLOSED.
(Being a fragment from the postscript of a note, dated some years later, from Mrs. Donald Iverach to the Girl over the Wall—who has been her dearest friend ever since her engagement was announced.)
"And the funny thing is that, after all, they have a market garden! I've just been to see them, and they live in the loveliest little house down near the sea. And Cleg says he is going to make their little Donald (called after my Incumbrance, the old Dear) a market gardener—'Fruits in their Seasons,' and that kind of thing, you know. And I think it's so sensible of them. For, of course, they could never have gone into society, though she is certainly most charmingly behaved. But Cleg likes to go barefoot about the garden still, and you know that is not quite usual. Gavin is at the Academy, and is dux of his class. He is what is called a 'gyte,' which is a title of honour there.
"And what do you think? Cleaver's boy is married, and they have got a baby also—not so lovely as its father was, but the sweetest thing! He is foreman now, and Janet never thinks of telling a fib, even to afternoon callers. Don't you think that's rather much? Oh, I forgot! Her uncle came in while I was there, and said to Mirren Douglas—that's the little widow, you know, who lives with Cleg and Vara—'I saw Hugh Kavannah walking to-day on Princes Street with little Miss Briggs!' But I don't think there can be anything in it—do you? For, [388]after all, she's a lady, and he is only a student. Of course, when we were girls—but then this is so different.
"Kit Kennedy has just been matriculated or rusticated or something. Everybody is very pleased. He is going in for agriculture, and tells Cleg when to sow his strawberry seed.
"And the man who used to be Netherby carrier has come to take their stuff to market—so nice for him. And the baby is the prettiest you ever saw. But you should see mine. He is a darling, if you like. He has four teeth, and I am quite sure he tries to say Papa!—though Donald laughs, and says it is only wind in his little ——. That was Donald who came and joggled my elbow. He is a HORROR!
"And just think, Cleg Kelly has built, and Donald has furnished, the most wonderful Club in the South Back of the Canongate. It was opened last week. Bailie Holden—who is now Lord Provost, and a very good one—opened it. But Cleg made the best speech. 'Mind, you chaps,' he said—and they were all as quiet as mice when he was speaking—'mind, you chaps, if I hear o' ony yin o' ye making a disturbance, or as muckle as spittin' on the floor—weel, ye ken me!'"
THE END.