Smilash took the card and read it at a glance.  He then went into the chalet.  Reappearing presently in a sou’wester and oilskins, he ran off through the rain and vaulted over the gate with ridiculous elegance.  No sooner had he vanished than, as often happens to remarkable men, he became the subject of conversation.

“A decent workman,” said Josephs.  “A well-mannered man, considering his class.”

“A born fool, though,” said Fairholme.

“Or a rogue,” said Agatha, emphasizing the suggestion by a glitter of her eyes and teeth, whilst her schoolfellows, rather disapproving of her freedom, stood stiffly dumb.  “He told Miss Wilson that he had a sister, and that he had been to church last Sunday, and he has just told you that he is a foundling, and that he only came last Wednesday.  His accent is put on, and he can read, and I don’t believe he is a workman at all.  Perhaps he is a burglar, come down to steal the college plate.”

“Agatha,” said Miss Wilson gravely, “you must be very careful how you say things of that kind.”

“But it is so obvious.  His explanation about the umbrella was made up to disarm suspicion.  He handled it and leaned on it in a way that showed how much more familiar it was to him than that new spade he was so anxious about.  And all his clothes are new.”

“True,” said Fairholme, “but there is not much in all that.  Workmen nowadays ape gentlemen in everything.  However, I will keep an eye on him.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” said Agatha.  Fairholme, suspecting mockery, frowned, and Miss Wilson looked severely at the mocker.  Little more was said, except as to the chances—­manifestly small—­of the rain ceasing, until the tops of a cab, a decayed mourning coach, and three dripping hats were seen over the hedge.  Smilash sat on the box of the coach, beside the driver.  When it stopped, he alighted, re-entered the chalet without speaking, came out with the umbrella, spread it above Miss Wilson’s head, and said: 

“Now, if your ladyship will come with me, I will see you dry into the stray, and then I’ll bring your honored nieces one by one.”

“I shall come last,” said Miss Wilson, irritated by his assumption that the party was a family one.  “Gertrude, you had better go first.”

“Allow me,” said Fairholme, stepping forward, and attempting to take the umbrella.

“Thank you, I shall not trouble you,” she said frostily, and tripped away over the oozing field with Smilash, who held the umbrella over her with ostentatious solicitude.  In the same manner he led the rest to the vehicles, in which they packed themselves with some difficulty.  Agatha, who came last but one, gave him threepence.

“You have a noble ’art and an expressive hi, Miss,” he said, apparently much moved.  “Blessings on both!  Blessings on both!”

He went back for Jane, who slipped on the wet grass and fell.  He had to put forth his strength as he helped her to rise.  “Hope you ain’t sopped up much of the rainfall, Miss,” he said.  “You are a fine young lady for your age.  Nigh on twelve stone, I should think.”