He makes hisself too common. I often tell him
so. Says I, ’Why dost let ’em all
put on thee so? Serve thee right if I was to
send thee my pots and pans to mend.’ ‘And
so do,’ says he, directly. ’There’s
no art in it, if you can make the sawder, and I can
do that, by the Dick and Harry!’ And one day
I said to him, ’Do take a look at this fine
new cow of mine as cost me twenty-five good shillings
and a quart of ale. What ever is the matter with
her? She looks like the skin of a cow flattened
against the board.’ So says he, ’Nay,
she’s better drawn than nine in ten; but she
wants light and shade. Send her to my workshop.’
‘Ay, ay,’ says I; ’thy workshop is
like the church-yard; we be all bound to go there
one day or t’other.’ Well, sir, if
you believe me, when they brought her home and hung
her again she almost knocked my eye out. There
was three or four more women looking on, and I mind
all on us skreeked a bit, and our hands went up in
the air as if one string had pulled the lot; and says
Bet Morgan, the carter’s wife, ‘Lord sake,
gie me a bucket somebody, and let me milk her!’
’Nay, but thou shalt milk me,’ said I,
and a pint of fourpenny I gave her, then and there,
for complimenting of my cow. Will Hope, he’s
everybody’s friend. He made the Colonel
a crutch with his own hands, which the Colonel can
use no other now. Walter swears by him. Miss
Mary dotes on him: he saved her life in the river
when she was a girl. The very miners give him
a good word, though he is very strict with them; and
as for Bartley, it’s my belief he owes all his
good luck to Will Hope. And to think he was born
in this village, and left it a poor lad; ay, and he
came back here one day as poor as Job, seems but t’other
day, with his bundle on his back and his poor little
girl in his hand. I dare say I fed them both
with whatever was going, poor bodies.”
“What was she like?”
“A poor little wizened thing. She had beautiful
golden hair, though.”
“Like Miss Bartley’s?”
“Something, but lighter.”
“Have you ever seen her since?”
“No; and I never shall.”
“Who knows?”
“Nay, sir. I asked him after her one day
when he came home for good. He never answered
me, and he turned away as if I had stung him.
She has followed her mother, no doubt. And so
now she is gone he’s well-to-do; and that is
the way of it, sir. God sends mouths where there
is no meat, and meat where there’s no mouths.
But He knows best, and sees both worlds at once.
We can only see this one—that’s full
of trouble.”
Monckton now began to yawn, for he wanted to be alone
and think over the schemes that floated before him
now.
“You are sleepy, sir,” said Mrs. Dawson.
“I’ll go and see your bed is all right.”
He thanked her and filled her glass. She tossed
it off like a man this time, and left him to doze
in his chair.
Doze, indeed! Never did a man’s eyes move
to and fro more restlessly. Every faculty was
strung to the utmost.