“You would hear, sir,” said old Rolls, “that my lord and her ladyship, they’ve come home.”
“Oh yes; I have just met them; all very well and very bright,” said John, trying to assume an air of satisfaction. What he did succeed in putting on was a look of jaunty and defiant discontent.
“They would naturally be bright coming out of that weary London to their own place,” said Rolls, with grave approbation. And then he added, after a pause, “You’ll be thinking now, sir, of making some return of a’ the ceevilities that’s been shown you.”
“Making a return!” this was a new idea to John. He looked up at the Mentor who condescended to wait upon him, with alarm and almost awe. “To be sure—you are quite right, Rolls,” he said, with humility; “I wonder I did not think of it before. But can we?” John looked round ruefully at his old walls.
“Can we?” cried Rolls in high disdain. “You neither ken me, nor Bauby, nor yet yourself, to ask such a question. If we can! That can we! If you’ll take my advice, ye’ll include a’ classes, sir. Ye’ll have the elders to their denner; and the youngsters, ye’ll give a ball to them.”
“A ball!” cried John, opening his eyes. The boldness of the suggestion, the determined air with which Rolls faced his master, setting down his foot as one who was ready to face all dangers for the carrying out of a great design, touched the humorous sense in the young man’s mind. He laughed, forgetting the previous burden of his desolation. “But how to give a ball, Rolls,” he said, “in this small house?”
“I ask your pardon, sir,” said Rolls, gravely. “In the light o’ Tinto, maybe it’s a small house; but Tinto never was a popular place. Oh ay, there were balls there, when he was a Seeker himsel’—I’m meaning when he was looking out for a wife, before he married her ladyship, poor thing! But this is not a small house if ye consider the other houses, where everything that’s lightsome goes on. And it’s you that’s the Seeker now. You’re wanting a leddy yoursel’—that stands to reason.”
Here John felt that he ought to be angry, and shut the mouth of so inappropriate a counsellor. But Rolls had no sense of his own inappropriateness. He went on calmly, notwithstanding the laugh and exclamation with which his master interrupted him.
“That’s aye an attraction,” said the old servant. “I’m not saying, sir, though I think far more of you in a moral point of view—that ye’re the equal of Tinto as a worldly question. Na, we must keep a hold of reason. Ye’re no’ a grand catch like the like o’ him. But ye’re far better; ye’re a son-in-law any gentleman in the countryside might be proud o’; and any lady, which is far mair important—”
“Come, Rolls, no more of this,” cried John. “A joke is a joke; but you know you are going too far.”
“Me joking! I’m most serious in earnest, sir, if you’ll believe me. I served the house before you were born. I was here when your father brought his wife home. Na, I’m not joking. I’m thinking what’s best for my maister and the credit of the house. The haill county will come; and if ye think we’re not enough to wait upon them, there’s Andrew will put on his blacks; and that sma’ groom of yours—I would have likit him bigger—is a smart lad, though he’s little. The three of us will do fine. I would recommend a denner, say the Wednesday. I’m fond of the middle of the week, no’ too near the Sabbath-day, neither one side nor the other. The denner on Wednesday; and syne on Thursday night the ball. There would be cauld things left that would eke out the supper, and it would all be like one expense. The fiddlers you could have from Dundee, or even Edinburgh. And the eatables—there would be no difficulty about that. We mostly have them within ourselves. Chickens is aye the staple at a supper. And I make bold to say, sir, though she is my sister, that there’s no person can tell what Bauby Rolls is capable of till they’ve seen her try.”
“Rolls,” cried John, “you’re ideas are too magnificent; you take away my breath.”
“No’ a bit, sir; no’ a bit,” said Rolls, encouragingly; “if ye’ll leave it to me, I’ll take all the trouble. We have always said—Bauby and me—that if we were just left to ourselves—You will make out the list, sir, and settle the day, and send the invitations; and if I might advise, I would say to consult with Miss Barbara, who naturally would come over for the occasion, as being your next friend, and take the place of the mistress; and to send for some of your friends (I would recommend officers for choice) would not be a bad thing; for young men are aye scarce in the country, mair especially at this time of the year. We could put up half-a-dozen,” Rolls proceeded, “and trouble nobody; and that would be a great help if they were good dancers, and fine lads—which I make no doubt, sir,” he added, with a little inclination of his head, “friends o’ yours would be.”
This unexpected new idea was of great service to John in the dreariness of the long summer evening. He laughed loud and long, and was infinitely tickled by the gravity of the project in which Rolls saw no laughing matter; but when he strolled listlessly along the Walk in the long, long, endless light, with no better companion than a cigar, with wistful eyes which sought the clear wistful horizon far away, and thoughts that seemed to fill the whole wide atmosphere with an unreal yet unconquerable sadness, the idea of making this silence gay, and seeing her here who had come
