Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1886-02-12
CHAPTER x.

Returning to his office, Mr. Troy dis
covered, among the correspondence that was
waiting for him, letter from the very per-
son whose welfare was still the uppermost
subject in his mind Isabel Miller wrote in
these terms:
THE LAWN, SOUTH MoRDEN, THURSDAY.
DEAR SIR: My aunt, Miss Pink, is very
DESTROYS of consulting You professionally at
the earliest opportunity. Although South
Morden is within little more than half an
hours railway ride from London Miss Pink
does not presume to ask you to visit her,
being well aware of the value of your time
Will you, therefore, be so kind as to let me
know when it will be convenient to YOU to
receive my aunt at your office in London.
Believe me, dear sir,
Respectfully yours,
ISABEL MILLER.
P. 81 am further instructed to say that
the regretable event at Lady Lydiard's house
is the proposed subject of the consultation.
Mr. Troy smiled as he read the letter.
"Too formal for a young girl" he said to
himself. Every word of it has been die
tated by Miss Pink" He was not long in
deciding what course he should take There
was a pressing necessity Tor cautioning
Isabel. and here was his opportunity. He
0SAAo ioA hOoSA SlCI duQ IOOh6o dU Ills liSL
Of engagements for the day There was
nothing set down in the book which the clerk
was not quite as well able to manage as the
master. Mr.. Troy consulted his railway
guide, ordered his cab and caught the next
train to South Morden
South Morden was then land remains to
this day. one of those primitive agricultural
villages, passed over by the march of modern
progress which are still to be found in the
near neighborhood of London. Only the
slow trains stopped at the station; and there
was SO little to do that the station master
and his porter grew flowers ON the embank-
mont, and trained creepers over the waiting
room window. Turning your bac. on the
railway, and walking along the ono street of
South Morden, you found yourself in the old
England of two centuries since. Gabled
cottages, with fast-clossd windows; pigs and
poultry in quiet possession of TIE road; the
venerable church surrounded by its shady
burial ground; the grocer's shop which sold
everything, and the butchers shop which
sold nothing; the scarce inhabitants who
liked good look at stranger, and the I'M
washed children who were pictures of dirty
health; the clash of the iron-chained bucket
in the public WE'LL and the thump of the fall
ing nine-pins in the skittle ground behind the
public house; the horse pond on one bit of
open ground and the old elm tree with the
wooden seat round it on the other-these
were some of the objects that you saw and
some of the noises that you heard in South
Morden, as you passed from one end of the
village to the other
About half a mile beyond the last of the
old cottages modern England met you again
under the form of a row of little Villas set
up by an adventurous London builder who
had bought the land at bargain. Each
villa stood in its own little garden, and looked
across stony road at the meadow lands
and softly rising wooded hills beyond Each
villa faced you in the sunshine with the hor-
rid glare of new red brick, and forced its
nonsensical name on your attention traced
in bright paint on the posts of its entrance
gate. Consulting the posts as he advanced,
Mr.. Troy arrived in due course of time at
the villa called The Lawn. which derived It's
name apparently from a circular patch of
grass in front of the house. The gate resist.
ing his efforts to open it, he rang the bell
Admitted by a trim, clean, shy little maid
servant Mr.. Troy looked about him in silent
amazement Turn which way he might, he
found himself silently confronted by posted
and painted instructions to visitors, which
forbade him to do this, and commanded him
to do that, at every step of his progress from
the gate to the house. On one side of the
lawn label informed him that ne was not
to walk on the grass. On the other side q
painted hand pointed along boundary wall
to an inscription which warned him to go
that way if he had business in the kitchen.
On the gravel walk at the foot of the house
steps words, neatly traced in little white
shells, reminded him not to forget the
scraper." On the door step he was informed,
in letters Of lead that he was "WeIcomero
On the mat in the passage bristly black
words burst on his attention, commanding
him to "wipe his shoes" Even the hat stand
in the hall was not allowed to speak for
itself: it had FLATS and Cloaksn inscribed on
it, and it issued its directions imperatively in
the matter of your wet umbrelIa-"Put it
here!n
Giving the trim little servant his card, Mr..
Troy was introduced to q reception room on
the lower floor. Before he had time to look
round him, the door was opened again from
without, and Isabel stole into the room on
tiptoe She looked worn and anxious.
When she shook hands with the old lawyer
the charming smile that he remembered so
well was gone.
''Dont say you have seen me. !" she whis-
pered. 81 am not to come into the room till
my aunt sends for me- Tell me two things
before run away again. How is Lady
Lydiards And have you discovered the
thiefp
s'Ladv Lviiard was we'll when. Il last saw