Tatham, observing her, retreated, with a
laugh and a flush.
"I say, we mustn't bother you to paint what _we_ like. That would be too
bad."
Lydia smiled upon him.
"I'm so busy with a big view of the river and Threlfall."
"Threlfall? Oh, do you know--mother! do you know what's been happening at
Threlfall. Undershaw told me. The most marvellous thing!" He turned to
Mrs. Penfold. "You've heard the stories they tell about here of old
Melrose?"
Lydia laughed softly.
"Mother collects them!"
Mrs. Penfold confessed that, being a timid person, she went in fear,
sometimes of Mr. Melrose, sometimes of his bloodhounds. She did not like
passing the gate of Threlfall, and the high wall round the estate made
her shudder. Of course the person that put up that wall _must_ be mad.
"A queer sort of madman!" said Tatham, with a shrug. "They say he gets
richer every year in spite of the state of the property. And meanwhile no
human being, except himself or the Dixons, has ever slept in that house,
or taken bite or sup in it for at least twenty years. And as for his
behaviour to everybody round about--well, I can tell you all about that
whenever you want to know! However, now they've stormed him--they've
smoked him out like a wasp's nest. My goodness--he did buzz! Undershaw
found a man badly hurt, lying on the road by the bridge--bicycle
accident--run over too, I believe--and carried him into the Tower,
willy-nilly!" The speaker chuckled.
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