Evidently something much more thorough is in store for Master
Theodore. It was only half a pound of gunpowder, she told me.
Doctor Smallboy's gardener had bought it for the purpose of raising
the stump of an old elm-tree, and had left it for a moment on the
grass while he had returned to the house for more brown paper. She
seemed pleased with the gardener, who, as she said, might, if
dishonestly inclined, have charged her for a pound. I wanted to pay
for--at all events--our share, but she would not take a penny. Her
late lamented grandfather she regards as the person responsible for
the entire incident, and perhaps it may be as well not to disturb her
view. Had I suggested it, I feel sure she would have seen the
justice of her providing us with a new kitchen range.
"Wildly exaggerated accounts of the affair are flying round the
neighbourhood; and my chief fear is that Veronica may discover she is
a local celebrity. Your sudden disappearance is supposed to have
been heavenward. An old farm labourer who saw you pass on your way
to the station speaks of you as 'the ghost of the poor gentleman
himself;' and fragments of clothing found anywhere within a radius of
two miles are being preserved, I am told, as specimens of your
remains. Boots would appear to have been your chief apparel. Seven
pairs have already been collected from the surrounding ditches.
Among the more public-spirited there is talk of using you to start a
local museum.
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