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top to toe； ‘with a swaggering； fire…eating； biling…water drinking
sort of way with him！ And what do you mean by pulling up the
crocuses and snowdrops； eh sir？’
‘It’s only a little nosegay；’ said Joe； reddening。 ‘There’s no harm
in that； I hope？’
‘You’re a boy of business； you are； sir！’ said Mr Willet；
disdainfully； ‘to go supposing that wintners care for nosegays。’
‘I don’t suppose anything of the kind；’ returned Joe。 ‘Let them
keep their red noses for bottles and tankards。 These are going to
Mr Varden’s house。’
‘And do you suppose he minds such things as crocuses？’
demanded John。
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‘I don’t know； and to say the truth； I don’t care；’ said Joe。
‘Come； father； give me the money； and in the name of patience let
me go。’
‘There it is； sir；’ replied John； ‘and take care of it； and mind you
don’t make too much haste back； but give the mare a long rest。—
Do you mind？’
‘Ay； I mind；’ returned Joe。 ‘She’ll need it； Heaven knows。’
‘And don’t you score up too much at the Black Lion；’ said John。
‘Mind that too。’
‘Then why don’t you let me have some money of my own？’
retorted Joe； sorrowfully； ‘why don’t you； father？ What do you
send me into London for； giving me only the right to call for my
dinner at the Black Lion； which you’re to pay for next time you go；
as if I was not to be trusted with a few shillings？ Why do you use
me like this？ It’s not right of you。 You can’t expect me to be quiet
under it。’
‘Let him have money！’ cried John； in a drowsy reverie。 ‘What
does he call money—guineas？ Hasn’t he got money？ Over and
above the tolls； hasn’t he one and sixpence？’
‘One and sixpence！’ repeated his son contemptuously。
‘Yes； sir；’ returned John； ‘one and sixpence。 When I was your
age； I had never seen so much money； in a heap。 A shilling of it is
in case of accidents—the mare casting a shoe； or the like of that。
The other sixpence is to spend in the diversions of London； and
the diversion I recommend is going to the top of the Monument；
and sitting there。 There’s no temptation there； sir—no drink—no
young women—no bad characters of any sort—nothing but
imagination。 That’s the way I enjoyed myself when I was your age；
sir。’
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To this； Joe made no answer； but beckoning Hugh； leaped into
the saddle and rode away； and a very stalwart； manly horseman he
looked； deserving a better charger than it was his fortune to
bestride。 John stood staring after him； or rather after the grey
mare （for he had no eyes for her rider）； until man and beast had
been out of sight some twenty minutes； when he began to think
they were gone； and slowly re…entering the house； fell into a gentle
doze。
The unfortunate grey mare； who was the agony of Joe’s life；
floundered along at her own will and pleasure until the Maypole
was no longer visible； and then； contracting her legs into what in a
puppet would have been looked upon as a clumsy and awkward
imitation of a canter； mended her pace all at once； and did it of her
own accord。 The acquaintance with her rider’s usual mode of
proceeding； which suggested this improvement in hers； impelled
her likewise to turn up a bye…way； leading—not to London； but
through lanes running parallel with the road they had come； and
passing within a few hundred yards of the Maypole； which led
finally to an inclosure surrounding a large； old； red…brick
mansion—the same of which mention was made as the Warren in
the first chapter of this history。 Coming to a dead stop in a little
copse thereabout； she suffered her rider to dismount with right
goodwill； and to tie her to the trunk of a tree。
‘Stay there； old girl；’ said Joe； ‘and let us see whether there’s
any little commission for me to…day。’ So saying； he left her to
browze upon such stunted grass and weeds as happened to grow
within the length of her tether； and passing through a wicket gate；
entered the grounds on foot。
The pathway； after a very few minutes’ walking； brought him
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close to the house； towards which； and especially towards one
particular window； he directed many covert glances。 It was a
dreary； silent building； with echoing courtyards； desolated turret…
chambers； and whole suites of rooms shut up and mouldering to
ruin。
The terrace…garden； dark with the shade of overhanging trees；
had an air of melancholy that was quite oppressive。 Great iron
gates； disused for many years； and red with rust； drooping on their
hinges and overgrown with long rank grass； seemed as though
they tried to sink into the ground； and hide their fallen state
among the friendly weeds。 The fantastic monsters on the walls；
green with age and damp； and covered here and there with moss；
looked grim and desolate。 There was a sombre aspect even on that
part of the mansion which was inhabited and kept in good repair；
that struck the beholder with a sense of sadness； of something
forlorn and failing； whence cheerfulness was banished。 It would
have been difficult to imagine a bright fire blazing in the dull and
darkened rooms； or to picture any gaiety of heart or revelry that
the frowning walls shut in。 It seemed a place where such things
had been； but could be no more—the very ghost of a house；
haunting the old spot in its old outward form； and that was all。
Much of this decayed and sombre look was attributable； no
doubt； to the death