Adam minded the less about sitting by Mr. Casson,
because this position enabled him to see Hetty, who
was not far off him at the next table. Hetty,
however, had not even noticed his presence yet, for
she was giving angry attention to Totty, who insisted
on drawing up her feet on to the bench in antique
fashion, and thereby threatened to make dusty marks
on Hetty’s pink-and-white frock. No sooner
were the little fat legs pushed down than up they
came again, for Totty’s eyes were too busy in
staring at the large dishes to see where the plum pudding
was for her to retain any consciousness of her legs.
Hetty got quite out of patience, and at last, with
a frown and pout, and gathering tears, she said, “Oh
dear, Aunt, I wish you’d speak to Totty; she
keeps putting her legs up so, and messing my frock.”
“What’s the matter wi’ the child?
She can niver please you,” said the mother.
“Let her come by the side o’ me, then.
I can put up wi’ her.”
Adam was looking at Hetty, and saw the frown, and
pout, and the dark eyes seeming to grow larger with
pettish half-gathered tears. Quiet Mary Burge,
who sat near enough to see that Hetty was cross and
that Adam’s eyes were fixed on her, thought
that so sensible a man as Adam must be reflecting
on the small value of beauty in a woman whose temper
was bad. Mary was a good girl, not given to indulge
in evil feelings, but she said to herself, that, since
Hetty had a bad temper, it was better Adam should
know it. And it was quite true that if Hetty had
been plain, she would have looked very ugly and unamiable
at that moment, and no one’s moral judgment
upon her would have been in the least beguiled.
But really there was something quite charming in her
pettishness: it looked so much more like innocent
distress than ill humour; and the severe Adam felt
no movement of disapprobation; he only felt a sort
of amused pity, as if he had seen a kitten setting
up its back, or a little bird with its feathers ruffled.
He could not gather what was vexing her, but it was
impossible to him to feel otherwise than that she was
the prettiest thing in the world, and that if he could
have his way, nothing should ever vex her any more.
And presently, when Totty was gone, she caught his
eye, and her face broke into one of its brightest smiles,
as she nodded to him. It was a bit of flirtation—she
knew Mary Burge was looking at them. But the
smile was like wine to Adam.
When the dinner was over, and the first draughts
from the great cask of birthday ale were brought up,
room was made for the broad Mr. Poyser at the side
of the table, and two chairs were placed at the head.
It had been settled very definitely what Mr. Poyser
was to do when the young squire should appear, and
for the last five minutes he had been in a state of
abstraction, with his eyes fixed on the dark picture
opposite, and his hands busy with the loose cash and
other articles in his breeches pockets.
