She thought my wits were wandering, as she had often fancied of late, and set off for the larder, which was the usual course of her prescriptions. But I stopped her so calmly that she could not doubt my sanity.
"Yes, dear Mrs. Huxtable, I must leave my quiet home, where all of you have been so good and kind to me; and I have already written to take lodgings in London."
"Oh, Miss Clerer, dear, I can"t belave it nohow! Come and discoorse with farmer about it. He knows a power more than I do, though I says it as shouldn"t. But if so be he hearkens to the like of that, I"ll comb him with the toasting iron."
Giving me no time to answer, she led me to the kitchen. The farmer, who had finished his morning"s work, was stamping about outside the threshold, wiping his boots most carefully with a pitchfork and a rope of twisted straw. This process, to his great discomfort, Mrs. Huxtable had at length enforced by many scoldings; but now she s.n.a.t.c.hed the pitchfork from him, and sent it flying into the court.
"Wun"t thee never larn, thee girt drummedary, not to ston there an hour, mucking arl the place?"
"Wull, wull," said the farmer, looking at the pitchfork first, and then at me, "Reckon the old mare"s dead at last."
"Cas"n thee drame of nothing but bosses and a.s.ses, thee girt mule?
Here"s Miss Clerer, as was like a cheel of my own, and now she"m gooin awai, and us"ll niver zee her no more."
"What dost thee mane, "ooman?" asked the farmer, sternly, "hast thee darr"d to goo a jahing of her, zame as thee did Zuke?"
"Oh, no, farmer!" I answered, quickly, "Mrs. Huxtable never gave me an unkind word in her life. But I must leave you all, and go to live in London."
The farmer looked as if he had lost something, and began feeling for it in all his pockets. Then, without a word, he went to the fire, and unhung the crock which was boiling for the family dinner. This done, he raked out the embers on the hearthstone, and sat down heavily on the settle with his back towards us. Presently we heard him say to himself, "If any cheel of mine ates ever a bit of bakkon to-day, I"ll bile him in that there pot. And to zee the copy our Sally wrote this very morning!"
"Wonnerful! wonnerful!" cried Mrs. Huxtable, "and now her"ll not know a p from a pothook. And little Jack can spell zider, zame as "em does in Lonnon town!"
"Dang Lonnon town," said the farmer, savagely, "and arl as lives there, lave out the Duke of Wellington. It"s where the devil lives, and "em catches his braath in lanterns. My faather tould me that, and her niver spak a loi. But it hain"t for the larning I be vexed to lose my dearie."
That last word he dwelt upon so tenderly and sadly, that I could stop no longer, but ran up to him bravely with the tears upon my face. As I sat low before him, on little Sally"s stool, he laid his great hand on my head, with his face turned toward the settle, and asked if I had any one to see me righted in the world but him.
I told him, "None whatever;" and the answer seemed at once to please and frighten him.
"Then don"t e be a-gooin", my dear heart, don"t e think no more of gooin. If it be for the bit and drap thee ates and drinks, doesn"t thee know by this time, our own flash and blood bain"t no more welcome to it!
And us has a plenty here, and more nor a plenty. And if us hadn"t, Jan Huxtable hisself, and Honor Huxtable his waife, wud live on pegmale (better nor they desarves) and gie it arl to thee, and bless thee for ating of it."
"Ay, that us wud, ees fai," answered Mrs. Huxtable, coming forward.
"And if it be for channge, and plaisure, and zeeing of the warld, I"ve zeen a dale in my time, axing your pardon, Miss, for convarsing so to you. And what hath it been even at Coom market, with the varmers I"ve a-knowed from little chillers up? No better nor a harrow dill for a little coolt to zuck. I"d liefer know thee was a-gooin" to Trentisoe churchyard, where little Jane and Winny be, than let thee goo to Lonnon town, zame as this here be. And what wud thy poor moother zay, if so be her could hear tell of it?"
At this moment, when I could say nothing, being thoroughly convicted of ingrat.i.tude, and ashamed before natures far better than my own, dear little Sally, who had been rolling on the dairy floor, recovered from the burst of childish grief enough to ask whether it had any cause. Up to me she ran, with great pearl tears on the veining of her cheeks, and peeping through the lashes of her violet-blue eyes, she gave me one long reproachful look, as if she began to understand the world, and to find it disappointment; then she buried her flaxen head in the homespun ap.r.o.n I had lately taken to wear, and sobbed as if she had spoiled a dozen copies. What happened afterwards I cannot tell. Crying I hate, but there are times when nothing else is any good. I only know that, as the farmer left the house to get, as he said, "a little braze," these ominous words came back from the court:
""Twud be a bad job for Tom Grundy, if her coom"d acra.s.s me now."
CHAPTER V.
That same evening, as I was sitting in my lonely room, yet not quite alone,--for little Sally, who always did as I bade her, was scratching and blotting her best copy-book, under my auspices,--in burst Mrs.
Huxtable, without stopping to knock as usual.
"Oh Miss Clerer, what _have_ e been and doed? Varmer"s in crule trouble.
Us"ll arl have to goo to gaol to-morrow, chillers and arl."
She was greatly flurried and out of breath, and yet seemed proud of what she had to tell. She did not require much asking, nor beat about the bush, as many women do; but told me the story shortly, and then asked me to come and hear all particulars from Tim Badc.o.c.k the farm-labourer, who had seen the whole.
Tim sat by the kitchen fire with a pint of cider by him on the little round table; strong evidence that his tidings, after all, were not so very unwelcome.
"Wull, you zee, Miss," said Tim, after getting up, and pulling his rough forelock, "you zee, Miss, the Maister coom out this arternoon, in a weist zort of a wai, as if her hadn"t had no dinner." Here he gave a sly look at "the Missus," who had the credit of stopping the supplies, when the farmer had been too much on the cruise.
"What odds to thee, Tim," she replied, "what odds to thee, what thee betters has for dinner?"
"Noo fai," said Tim, "zo long as ai gits maine, and my missus arlways has un raddy. Zo I zed to Bill, zays I, "Best maind what thee"s at boy, there"s a starm a coomin, zure as my name"s Timothy Badc.o.c.k."
Howsomever her didn"t tak on atarl wi we, but kitched up a shivel, and worked awai without niver a ward. "Twur the tap of the clave, "langside of the beg fuzz, where the braidle road coomth along "twixt that and the double hadge; and us was arl a stubbing up the bushes as plaisant as could be, to plough thiccy plat for clover, coom some rain, plase G.o.d."
"Git on, Tim, wull e," cried his impatient mistress, "us knows arl about that. Cas"n thee tull it no quicker?"
"Wull, Miss," continued Tim, in no hurry whatever, "prasently us zees a girt beg chap on a zort of a brown cob, a coomin in our diraction"--Tim was proud of this word, and afraid that we should fail to appreciate it--"they was a coomin, as you might zay, in our diraction this beg chap, and anither chap langside on him. Wull, when "um coom"d within spaking room of us, beg chap a" horsebarck hollers out, "Can "e tell, my men, where Jan Uxtable live?" Avore I had taime to spake, Maister lifts hissell up, and zaith, "What doo "e want to know for, my faine feller?"
every bit the zame as ai be a tullin of it to you. "What"s the odds to thee," zays tother chap, "thee d"st better kape a zivil tongue in thee head. I be Tom Gundry from Carnwall." And with that he stood up in his starrups, as beg a feller as iver you zee, Miss. Wull, Maister knowed all about Tom Gundry and what a was a coom for, and zo did I, and the boy, and arl the country round; for Maister have gotten a turble name for rarstling; maybe, Miss, you"ve a heer"d on him in Lunnon town?"
"I have never been in London, Tim, since I was a child; and I know nothing at all about wrestling."
"Wull, Miss, that be nayther here nor there. But there had been a dale of brag after Maister had thrown arl they Carnishers to Barnstable vair, last year, about vetching this here Tom Gundry, who wor the best man in Cornwall, to throw our Maister. Howsomever, it be time for ai to crack on a bit. "Ah," zays the man avoot, who zimth had coom to back un, "ah, "twor arl mighty faine for Uxtable to play skittles with our zecond rate men. Chappell or Ellicombe cud have doed as much as that. Rackon Jan Uxtable wud vind a different game with Tom Gundry here." "Rackon he wud," zaith Gundry, "a had better jine a burial club, if her"ve got ere a waife and vamily.""
"Noo. Did a zay that though?" inquired Mrs. Huxtable, much excited.
""Coom now," my maister zaith, trying to look smarl behaind the fuzz, "thee must throw me, my lad, avore thee can throw Jan Uxtable. He be a better man mainly nor ai be this dai. But ai baint in no oomer for playin" much jist now, and rackon ai should hoort any man ai kitched on." "Her that be a good un, Zam, baint it now?" zaith Gundry to little chap, the very zame as ai be a tullin it now, "doth the fule s"pose ai be ratten? Ai"ve half a maind to kick un over this hadge; jist thee hold the nag!" "Sober now," zaith varmer, and ai zeed a was gettin" rad in the chakes, "G.o.d knows ai don"t feel no carl to hoort "e. Ai"ll gie thee wan chance more, Tom Gundry, as thee"st a coom arl this wai fram Carnwall. Can "e trod a path in thiccy country, zame as this here be?"
And wi" that, a walked into the beg fuzz, twaice so haigh as this here room, and the stocks begger round nor my body, and harder nor wrought hiern. A jist stratched his two hons, raight and left, and twitched un up, wan by wan, vor ten gude lanyard, as asily as ai wud pull spring inyons. "Now, wull e let me lone?" zaith he, zo zoon as a coom barck, wi his brath a little quicker by rason of the exarcise, "wull "e let me lone?" "Ee"s fai, wull I," zaith the man avoot. "Hor," zaith Tom Gundry, who had been a[#] shopping zumwhere, "thee cans"t do a gude dai"s work, my man, tak that vor thee"s wages." And wi" that a lets fly at Maister"s vace wi" a light hash stick a carr"d, maning to raide off avore Maister cud coom to"s brath again. In a crack Jan Uxtable zet both his hons under the stommick of the nag, one avore the starrup and one behaind, zame as I maight to this here little tabble, and haved un, ha.r.s.e and man, clane over hadge into Muster Yeo"s turmot falde. Then with wan heft, a kitched up tother chap, and zent un sprarling after un, zame as if "twor this here stule after the tabble."
[#] _i.e._ dealing commercially where the staples are liquid.
I thought poor Tim, in the excitement of his story, would have thrown table and stool over the settle to ill.u.s.trate it; and if he had, Mrs.
Huxtable would have forgiven him.
""Thar," zaith our Maister, as plaisant as cud be, and ai thought us shud have died of laffing, "thar now, if zo be the owner of thiccy falde zummons e for traspash, you zay Jan Uxtable zent e on a little arrand, to vaind a Carnisher as can do the laike to he." And wi" that, a waiped his hons with a slip of vern, and tuk a little drap of zider, and full to"s wark again."
"Wull, but Tim," asked the farmer"s wife, to lose no part of the effect, "what zort of a hadge wor it now? Twor a little hadge maybe, no haigher nor the zettle barck."
"Wor it though?" said Tim, "thee knows better nor that, Missus. It be the beggest hadge on arl the varm, wi" a double row of saplin hash atap.
Her maks the boundary betwixt the two parishes, and ain"t been trimmed these vaive year, ai can swear."
"And how be the both on "em now, Tim? A must have gone haigh enough to channge the mune.
"Wull, Miss," said Tim, addressing me, for he had told his Mistress all the story twice, "Tom Gundry brak his collar boun, and zarve "un raight, for a brak Phil Das...o...b.."s a puppose whun a got "un in a trap, that taime down to Bodmin thar; and ha.r.s.e gat a rick of his taial; but the little chap, he vell upon his hat, and that zaved him kindly. But I heer"d down to Pewter Will"s, whur I gooed for a drap of zumthin for my waife"s stommick, ai heer"d zay there, as how Constable was a coomin to Maister this very naight, if Carnishers cud have perswadded un. But Constable zaith, zaith he, "Twor all along o you Garnish chaps, fust battery was mad, and fust blow gien, and wi"out you can zhow me Squaire Drake"s warrant, I wunt have nout to do wi" it, not ai; and that be law and gospel in Davonsheer and in Cornwall.""
"Tim," said Mrs. Huxtable, "I"se warrant thee"s niver tould so long a spin up in thee"s laife avore. And thee"s tould it wonnerful well too; hathn"t un Miss Clerer? Zuke, here be the kay of zellar, gie Tim a half a paint more zider; and thee mai"st have a drap theesell, gall. Waipe thee mouth fust."
"Ah," said Tim, favouring me with a wink, in the excess of his glory, "rackon they Carnishers "ll know the wai off Tossil"s Barton varm next taime, wi"out no saign postesses."[#]