‘Matter!’ shrieked Jawleyford, in a tone that sounded through the thick wall of the room, and caused the hobbling old gardener on the terrace to peep in at the heavy-mullioned window.  ‘Matter!’ repeated he, as though he had got his coup de grace; ‘look there,’ added he, handing over the letter.

‘Oh, my dear,’ rejoined Mrs. Jawleyford soothingly, as soon as she saw it was not what she expected.  ’Oh, my dear, I’m sure there’s nothing to make you put yourself so much out of the way.’  ‘No!’ roared Jawleyford, determined not to be done out of his grievance.  ‘No!’ repeated he; ’do you call that nothing?’

‘Why, nothing to make yourself unhappy about,’ replied Mrs. Jawleyford, rather pleased than otherwise; for she was glad it was not from Rings, the jeweller, and, moreover, hated the monotony of Jawleyford Court, and was glad of anything to relieve it.  If she had had her own way, she would have gadded about at watering-places all the year round.

‘Well,’ said Jawleyford, with a toss of the head and a shrug of resignation, ‘you’ll have me in gaol; I see that.’

‘Nay, my dear J.,’ rejoined his wife, soothingly; ’I’m sure you’ve plenty of money.’

‘Have I!’ ejaculated Jawleyford.  ’Do you suppose, if I had, I’d have left Laverick Wells without paying Miss Bustlebey, or given a bill at three months for the house-rent?’

’Well, but, my dear, you’ve nothing to do but tell Mr. Screwemtight to get you some money from the tenants.’

‘Money from the tenants!’ replied Mr. Jawleyford.  ’Screwemtight tells me he can’t get another farthing from any man on the estate.’

‘Oh, pooh!’ said Mrs. Jawleyford; ’you’re far too good to them.  I always say Screwemtight looks far more to their interest than he does to yours.’

[Illustration]

Jawleyford, we may observe, was one of the rather numerous race of paper-booted, pen-and-ink landowners.  He always dressed in the country as he would in St. James’s Street, and his communications with his tenantry were chiefly confined to dining with them twice a year in the great entrance-hall, after Mr. Screwemtight had eased them of their cash in the steward’s room.  Then Mr. Jawleyford would shine forth the very impersonification of what a landlord ought to be.  Dressed in the height of the fashion, as if by his clothes to give the lie to his words, he would expatiate on the delights of such meetings of equality; declare that, next to those spent with his family, the only really happy moments of his life were those when he was surrounded by his tenantry; he doated on the manly character of the English farmer.  Then he would advert to the great antiquity of the Jawleyford family, many generations of whom looked down upon them from the walls of the old hall; some on their war-steeds, some armed cap-a-pie, some in court-dresses, some in Spanish ones, one in a white dress with gold brocade breeches and a hat