"Darcy Faircloth--Captain Faircloth?" he could not but repeat, and with
such honest puzzlement and evident desire for further enlightening as to
overcome his hearer's hesitation.

"No--not a likely person for you to be in any wise acquainted with, sir,"
Jennifer returned, wary still, though yielding--"even if you didn't
happen to be a bit new to Deadham yourself, as I may put it. For been
away mostly from his natural home here, young Faircloth has, ever since
he was a little shaver. Mrs. Faircloth--owns the Inn there and all the
appurtenances thereof, sheds, cottages, boats, and suchlike, she
does--always had wonnerful high views for him. Quite the gentleman Darcy
must be, with a boarding school into Southampton and then the best of the
Merchant Service--no before the mast for him, bless you. There was a snug
little business to count on, regular takings in the public, week in and
week out--more particularly of late years in the summer--let alone the
rest of the property--he being the only son of his mother, too, and she a
widow woman free to follow any whimsies as took her about the lad."

Jennifer gave some slow, strong strokes, driving the lumbering boat
forward till the water fairly hissed against its sides. And Tom Verity
still listened, strangely, alertly interested, convinced there was more,
well worth hearing, to follow.

"Oh! there's always bin a tidy lot of money behind young Darcy, and is
yet I reckon, Mrs. Faircloth being the first-class business woman she is.
Spend she may with one hand, but save, and make, she does and no mistake,
Lord love you, with the other. Singular thing though," he added
meditatively, his face growing wholly expressionless, "how little Darcy,
now he's growed up, features old Lemuel his father. Squinny, red-cheeked
little old party, he was; thin as a herring, and chilly, always chilly,