'Cobb,' said Solomon Daisy, dropping his voice and appealing to the
post-office keeper; 'what day of the month is this?'
'The nineteenth.'
'Of March,' said the clerk, bending forward, 'the nineteenth of March;
that's very strange.'
In a low voice they all acquiesced, and Solomon went on:
'It was Mr Reuben Haredale, Mr Geoffrey's elder brother, that twenty-two
years ago was the owner of the Warren, which, as Joe has said--not that
you remember it, Joe, for a boy like you can't do that, but because you
have often heard me say so--was then a much larger and better place, and
a much more valuable property than it is now. His lady was lately
dead, and he was left with one child--the Miss Haredale you have been
inquiring about--who was then scarcely a year old.'
Although the speaker addressed himself to the man who had shown so much
curiosity about this same family, and made a pause here as if expecting
some exclamation of surprise or encouragement, the latter made no
remark, nor gave any indication that he heard or was interested in what
was said. Solomon therefore turned to his old companions, whose noses
were brightly illuminated by the deep red glow from the bowls of their
pipes; assured, by long experience, of their attention, and resolved to
show his sense of such indecent behaviour.
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