Joe the gardener
say be as old as the days when such-like trees was fust beknown in
England. It's crueller, Miss Voylet, for the cedar ain't got no
feelings--but I feel it down to the deepest fibres in me. The lawn 'ud
look ugly and empty without the cedar, and mayhap nobody'll miss
me--but I've got the heart of a man, miss, and it bleeds."

Poor Bates relieved his wounded feelings with this burst of eloquence.
He was a man who, although silent in his normal condition, had a great
deal to say when he felt aggrieved. In his present state of mind his
only solace was in many words.

"I don't know what you mean, Bates," cried Vixen, very pale now,
divining the truth in part, if not wholly. "Don't cry, dear old fellow,
it's too dreadful to see you. You don't mean--you can't mean--that--my
mother has sent you away?"

"Not your ma, miss, bless her heart. She wouldn't sack the servant that
saddled her husband's horse, fair weather and foul, for twenty years.
No, Miss Voylet, it's Captain Winstanley that's given me the sack. He's
master here, now, you know, miss."

"But for what reason? What have you done to offend him?"

"Ah, miss, there's the hardship of it! He's turned me off at a minute's
notice, and without a character too. That's hard, ain't it, miss? Forty
years in one service, and to leave without a character at last! That do
cut a old feller to the quick."

"Why don't you tell me the reason, Bates? Captain Winstanley must have
given you his reason for such a cruel act."

"He did, miss; but I ain't going to tell you."

"Why not, in goodness' name?"

"Because it's an insult to you, Miss Voylet; and I'm not going to
insult my old master's granddaughter. If I didn't love you for your own
sake--and I do dearly love you, miss, if you'll excuse the liberty--I'm
bound to love you for the sake of your grandfeyther. He was my first
master, and a kind one. He gave me my first pair o' tops. Lor, miss, I
can call to mind the day as well as if it was yesterday. Didn't I fancy
myself a buck in 'em."

Bates grinned and sparkled at the thought of those first top-boots. His
poor old eyes, dim with years of long service, twinkled with the memory
of those departed vanities.

"Bates," cried Vixen, looking at him resolutely, "I insist upon knowing
what reason Captain Winstanley alleged for sending you away."

"He didn't allege nothing, miss: and I ain't agoing to tell you what he
said."

"But you must. I order you to tell m