If Mr. Bone had experiended difficulty in selecting a suitable gift for a lady, Aunt Agatha appeared to be having equal trouble in the choice of one for the opposite sex. Not that her experience was letting her down, but she could not find anything suitable for a gentleman of his profession amongst all this assortment of feminine fripperies. The jewels so lately returned were spread about over the bed, and she turned over and sorted, and then turned over again the objects she had picked out. Cicely sat perched at the foot, leaning back against the spiral post, giving her opinion every now and then.
Proudly pinned at Aunt Agatha's bosom, fastening her fichu, was the gold brooch set with the crystal head of a dog, whose eyes, peeping out from the frills and flounces, were every bit as bright as those of Mister Pitt, who was watching the proceedings from beneath the bedspread.
'No, child,' the old lady laughed, 'not the gold true-lover's knot—nor the pearl locket with my hair in it, for it might surprise him somewhat to know that I was once a blonde, since he has only seen me in this hairdresser's contraption. Oh, Lud, had we but something appertaining to his naughty trade—a tiny pair of gold horse-pistols, a mask with sapphires for the eyes—though,' she added roguishly, 'I warrant they would not shine as brightly as his do. But there, we have not even a silver spur, and cannot send him a bracelet made of elephant's hair, since his activities on horseback on Quarry Hill. Steep as it is, 'tis not comparable to Hannibal's elephantine ride across the Alps.' Cicely jumped from the bed, exclaiming, 'Why, Lud, madame, what a ninny I am! Sitting here watching you rack your brains while I believe I have the very thing. I'll fetch it for you straight,' and off she went to her own room, returning in a few minutes with something in her hand. 'There,' she said, 'will not this suit your naughty beau, ma'am? At least it tallies with some of his equipment,' and she held out for Aunt Agatha's inspection a golden riding-crop set in the form of a pin, its handle encrusted with diamonds and its thong looped in a true lover's knot. 'Pray take it, ma'am. 'Tis one I bought myself, after I had first cleared the broad dyke without a splash.' Aunt Agatha was delighted. 'I vow, child, and you are quite to my satisfaction,' she cried. ''Tis, as you say, the very thing, though I observe you are insisting upon my sending a true lover's knot to the gentleman, you wicked miss. And since I am sending him something that belonged to you, I shall give you something that he returned to me,' picking from the bed a large velvet case which she handed to the girl. Cicely opened it and saw winking up at her a magnificent set of diamond ornaments—necklace, ear-rings and stars for her hair, and being too excited to speak, could only gaze while the old lady continued: 'Do you not thank me, child? They were to be yours anyway. But now you can wear them at my birthday party. I told your Mamma that she was to excel herself since it will be my eightieth anniversary, and I think I deserve it for staying the course. I intend to write some of the invitations myself, this afternoon. Now let me see'—and she looked up at Cicely with a twinkle. 'Is there not some special gentleman you would like me to ask? A beau from Hythe, or a pretty Dragoon from the garrison at Dover?' Cicely twinkled back at her, but did not speak. 'No? Well, there are but two gentlemen that I care about in the vicinity. That dear old Doctor Syn and that sinful young horseman, and I vow I shall invite them both.' One hour later Miss Gordon's French maid, who by now had become reconciled to this land below the sea, partly because it was in sight of her beloved France but chiefly because of the flattering attentions of a young groom, went tripping down the village street, Mister Pitt at her heels and two large envelopes in her hand.
As usual, after a certain tune had been played and whistled, no one seemed to be about. Indeed she passed but two people, the first of which, a large woman who in passing her muttered audibly, 'Goodness, there's that foreigner! What is Dymchurch coming to?'—the second, none other than Mr. Mipps, who was locking up his coffin shop, who exclaimed, 'Why, if it ain't that there yew-hedged poodle!' Sweeping his battered three-cornered hat with a flourish, he bowed to the enchanted Lisette, who felt that 'Marsh' after all was not so dull, since here was that nice little man whose master had told her not to worry about the Scarecrow. After a deal of excruciating French from Mipps, and much twitterings from Lisette, she gave him the two letters which he promised to deliver—'toot sweet', and hurried back to the stables in hopes of half an hour's flirtation with her groom.
Mr. Mipps found Doctor Syn was in his library, studying a large map of the Continent. The sight of his old Captain measuring mileage with dividers caused the Sexton to ask hopefully: 'What yer doin'? Looks like you're planning to set sail again. Not thinkin' of 'oistin' canvas, are you, sir?' The reply was not what he had expected, having playfully asked the question so many times, and received curt 'Nos' or 'Remember to forget, Mr.
Mipps'. This time, however, the calm, 'Yes, Mr. Mipps—tonight', made him execute a few well-chosen steps from his intricate hornpipe, until the Vicar's shattering, 'Alone, Mr. Mipps, and not what you're thinking,' brought him back to earth again, and with a long face he listened to the Vicar's plans. He brightened, however, as the scheme unfolded and he saw fun ahead, and by the time Doctor Syn had finished he was himself again—full of admiration for his master's daring idea, as, finishing the hornpipe from where he left off, he took the proffered glass of brandy and drank success to this new enterprise.
'That's the best one I've heard yet,' he said. 'Wish I was a-goin' with you.
Now then, what's me orders?' 'To begin with, Mr. Mipps, what ships lie in Rye harbour, ready to sail?' Mr. Mipps not only had them at his finger-tips but rattled them off—friendly vessels and otherwise—and the Vicar made decision on the Two Brothers. 'For,' said he, 'she's fast, well armed, and I like her owners and her crew. Get word to them that I shall be aboard before high tide tonight. Tell Jonathan Quested to be at Littlestone with his fishing-smack at dusk. He must sail me round to Rye, for I shall be staying there in my capacity as Dean to visit neighbouring parishes, and will, of course, inform Sir Antony. I shall want you to deliver some letters for me. The one addressed to Captain Foulkes which I shall date the day after tomorrow must be handed to him at the Red Lion on the same day. 'Tis an invitation he is looking for to meet the Scarecrow, though I do not doubt that he will meet more than he bargains for.' Then, turning away from Mipps and looking in the fire, he took up his pipe and said almost too casually: 'The other letter I want delivered tonight, when I have gone. 'Tis to Miss Cicely, explaining why I cannot ride with her tomorrow morning.' He looked over his shoulder and met the Sexton's quizzical gaze; grinned boyishly and said, ''I am to have my first jumping lessons on a proper horse. I fear that I shall never clear the broad dyke as she can.'
'Riding lessons,' snorted Mipps. 'Serve you right if you falls off.
Jumpin' lessons. You. From a petticoat. Talkin' of petticoats, I met that French bettermy 1 one. She gave me these,' and he took from his pocket the two large envelopes Lisette had entrusted him with. 'This for the Rev.—that's you. And this for a Mr. Bone—don't know who he is. There's somethin' in it, too.' 'Ah,' nodded Syn, not without amusement. 'Our Jimmie has made a conquest indeed. I rather think she has returned his compliment. Perhaps this will explain,' and he opened his own letter, noting with pleasure the large firm hand so full of flourishes and character, and smiling as he read the contents.
1 Marsh word meaning 'superior'.
My Dear Friend, As I have every intention of becoming eighty upon the 19th of this month, I wish to celebrate it, and have commandeered the Court House for a party, which would not be complete without you. Indeed I shall be desolated if you fail, for I fear my only other beau will not be able to attend (I'd give my wig to see our Tony's face if he did). I have writ him an invitation and returned his compliment with a token, so would be mightily glad if you, with your knowledge of black sheep, would see to its delivery. Cicely seemed so chagrined at the loss of her glove that although she carries it with her all the time, I had to give her some diamonds to make up for it. I shall insist that she wears them at my rout at the risk of losing my last remaining beau, so pray do not disappoint us.
Yours affectionately, AGATHA GORDON.
P.S.—On second thought I have also writ an invitation to the Scarecrow, which I hope you will also be good enough to see comes to his hand, i.e. black sheep. For knowing that poor Caroline's choice of gentlemen leaves much to be desired, and that I shall have an especial bunch of 'party' cronies for my amusement if I am not careful, so am leaving nothing to chance. I am going to be eighty but I am equally determined to enjoy myself.
Doctor Syn appreciated the letter, knowing what the old lady meant by her innuendoes. He smiled when he thought that the old lady had noticed what the Squire and Lady Caroline had missed and would never dream could happen. So, telling Mr. Mipps to see that Jimmie Bone's letter was delivered safe at Slippery Sam's, with some added instructions that made the little Sexton howl with delight, he went to his desk and penned a grateful acceptance to Miss Gordon, saying that although he was going away for a few days on a decanal tour, not even the Archbishop of Canterbury would keep him from her party.
He left Cicely's letter to the last, although it was the shortest, reading thus:
Cicely, I am going on a visit with my younger brother. Pray do not worry, for I shall be back in time to compare your eyes with Miss Agatha's diamonds. It may interest you to know that I am not jealous of my brother—I have an idea that I am younger than he is.
P.S.—Pray inform your father that I am gone across the Kent Ditch.
'This his fault. He should never have made me the Dean of Peculiars.
Mr. Nicholas Hyde had spent the morning in the town of Rye, mixing business with pleasure in its many taverns. He had learnt, after some expense laid profitably out in strong ale, that the shepherds and cowmen were in league with the smugglers and were used for passing messages swiftly. This special code, invented by the Scarecrow himself, evolved a complicated manipulation of livestock—the position in a certain field of a particular animal meaning some keyword. Some three hours later Mr. Hyde, in his capacity of Revenue Officer, put this valuable information to the test.
Standing on the bridge across the Kent Ditch, which commanded a good view of both counties—Kent and Sussex—it certainly seemed that something was afoot; for what he saw was not the ordinary shepherding of flocks.
In a field close at hand he noticed that seven sheep were separated and put into the next field—a little further on a white horse was moved from one side of a field to another—while two black cows and a goat in kid were put into that same field. Turning, he saw the same thing happening about a quarter of a mile away. Then on again, and on, and so the message flew, till on the Harbour Quay at Rye the captain of the Two Brothers gave orders that his crew and vessel must be ready to sail on the next full tide.
So that in the language of the smuggler shepherds:
At seven sheep punctually a white horse stepped aboard the Two Black Cows, which sailed at the next goat-in-kid.
