THE ROMANCE OF MUTBY WORKHOUSE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1425, 22 June 1899, Page 19

THE ROMANCE OF MUTBY WORKHOUSE.

(By Mrs Isabel Smith, in " Chembers's Journal/')

The guardians of Mutby Workhouse had just finished their ordinary meeting, when the master, with rather a sheepish expression of countenance, observed—- " I think, gentlemen, I ought to lay before you a letter I received yesterday, First one of the sort I ever had/ "Dear me, Tripp, what's that: exclaimed the chaplain, otherwise the rector of Mutby, commonly called Parson "Weaver, a round, rosy-faced mar., who more resembled a farmer than a clergyman. The other members of the board ceased their various conversations, and looked expectant, all except 1").' i>:'a...'.;n. ...'• men. cal officer. For the last halt-hour he had heard every impatient thud of his handsome chestnut's hoofs on the gravel cutside and felt that what might be an agreeable method of passing a little spare time to his confreres was a waste of precious moments to a busy man like himself. The whole business might be settled so much more quickly had they been concise in stead of rambling and disputative. lie have been accepted a: a pcy.rla- *act > ■>' have been accepted as a poular fact that hi 3 °ex were behindhand in the matter or speech, when this new delay occurred. He was a man of about 35, quiet and reserved, living by himself, and accustomed to long, lonely drives about the Suffolk country on his professional eiv. ids. •'Well, Tripp, what is it? repeated Parson Weaver, rather impatiently. Me had been interrupted in an interesting discussion with his neighbour, the squire, about the trotting hackney and "gate-post mangolds that he had got first prizes tor at the recent agricultural show. The master cleared his throat ,and read, somewhat nervously, the following epistle: " Sept. 15, 18—. " To the Master of Mutby Workhouse. " Sir,—l am a native of Thorpe St. Barnabas, and left this country forty years ago for Australia, where I made a comfortable fortune. I am now returned to my native land, but find nearly all my friends are gone and scattered. I am 58 years of age, strong and hearty, and want a wife to help to spend my savings. Can you recommend me a nice, respectable young woman among your inmates? I should prefer a single woman, not a widow, and would make her a good husband. Please write by return to Stephen Yaxley, Bell Inn, Thorpe St. Barnabas, Suffolk." A smile appeared on most of the faces round the baize-covered table as the Master finished. " Dear me, Tripp," said the parson, are you to be turned into a matrimonial agent at your old age?" The master half laughed. "It would seem so, sir. Curious letter, isn't it, gentlemen? But I thought it my duty to show it you." " Certainly, certainly," echoed all. Dr Evesham was gazing intently out of the big window at a distant view of stained wherry-sails gliding up the river. "What is your opinion, Evesham?" asked the squire rather pettishly. He thought the medical officer might take a little interest in the subject, so that he could get back the sooner to the more interesting one of agriculture, and convince Parson Weaver that the prize for mangolds had been unfairly bestowed. "My opinion? I have hardly had time to form one," answered the doctor, coolly. " But I don't know that I should take anv notice of the letter." The master cmTghed deprecatingly. " Well, sir, if I may be so bold as to suggest, I just mentioned the matter to my wife, and she says she thinks he might do for Susannah West." " Susannah West I" exclaimed the doctor, bringing the legs of his chair to the

ground so violently as to make the otiiers start. *’ Is that the girl with the reddish hair?” asked the Squire, screwing up his eyes meditatively. “ And violet eyes,” said the parson; " very .much like some of the old masters’ portraits of the Madonna.” ” The young woman’s father was a small farmer at Cutton A 111 Saints,” said the master, “ and failed. She was iii for a long while alter she got here. It seemed to prey upon her mind.'’ Yes, yes, we ail remember,” said the medical officer. "She had lew fever; it was a tough job to pull her through.” “ You ordered port wine for her, sir,” said the butcher, cheerfully. He did. not object to what some members called extravagance in the sick-dieting, which generally included a good supply of beef-tea. " A sad case, a sad case,” said the squire. " But 1 don’t see why the young woman can’t go out to service. ’ “Not strong enough," replied the doctor, “ nor brought up to that kind of work. She has the instincts of a lady, but unfortunately not enough education to fit her for teaching.” " Then, from what I can see of it,” said the squire, “ she will be here for the rest of her days—like old Molly Mobbs, that was Reckoned to have cost the ratepayers over one thousand pounds altogether.”’ “ Unless she accepts this offer,” said the chaplain. “Eh, gentlemen?” All looked a little doubtful, as if not quite certain whether to treat the suggestion seriously. At that moment a troop of little workhouse children filed past the window,, followed by a young woman, clad in the lilaccheck Union gown ami hideous black straw Union bonnet with its purple ribbon. “ There goes Susannah West!” exclaimed the master; “she’s just bringing the little ones home from a walk. A rare hand with them, she is. too.” The sun was shining straight upon the young woman in question, and the. Board caught a glimpse of a dazzling wild-rose complexion and hands of red-gold, waving hair. “A very respectable girl indeed,” said the parson; “and I for one suggest that we follow this offer up. We ought to make inquiries; and, though f have plenty to do in the parish” (the others exchanged quietly amused glances at this assertion,

for it was well known that the parson took his parochial duties very lightly, “I will go over to Thorpe St. Barnabas myself and find out all I can of Mr Stephen Yaxley. But in the meantime, Tripp, say nothing to the girl.” A special Board meeting was held a few days later. The parson’s inquiries proved satisfactory, and it now only remained to inform the yeur.g woman of the proposal. “ I suppose you’ve quite settled it shall be Susannah West, gentlemen?” said themaster, a little diffidently. “ I suppose so, Tripp. Why?” asked the squire. Well, sir, for the matter of getting rid of one of the women I’d sooner it was Mary Pott. She’s such a grumbling creature—never satisfied.” “So she is, Tripp; but, then, she’s a widow, and that is against Mr Yaxley’s specifications.” Tripp scratched his head. “ Not a badlooking woman, sir,” lie observed. “No, no. But a stipulation is a stipulation; and I, for my part, consider that Providence has sent this special offer on ■purpose for Susannah west!” A murmur of approval followed this assertion; only the butcher ventured to demur. “ Seeems a bit oldish for the girl, don't he, gentlemen?” “Old? Pshaw! What’s fifty-eight ?” cried one and all. “ zietter aisle to take care of a wife. Got a position,” etc. “Yes, yes; to be sure. Of course that makes up,” said the butcher. “ Very well,” said the parson; “ then let it be settled once for ail that he have Susannah West.” “ Yes, gentlemen; that is all very well as far as it goes,” observed the medical officer, who had not yet spoken. “ But I ho question still remains, Yvill Susannah West have him r” The others looked a little foolish, as though this side of the argument had not struck them. “That we can soon -nd out,” said the Parson, irritably. “ Tripp, fetch the grl here.” In a few minutes the girl stood before them; she looked shy and half frightened, wondering what the Board could want of her. "Ha! Susannah, my dear,” began the parson—he hacl called her Miss West in the days of her prosperity, but one cannot expect compliment;.ry tithes in the workhouse —•" we hav > mt for you—because —in short—well, v.e have had a very advantageous offer, which we think will just suit you.” Before Susannah West could make any reply, the squire, determined that the chaplain should r.ot have re all his own way, exclaimed in his hearty voice What would you say to a good husband and a kind husband, my girl?” The colour flooded Susannah's fact-. Jit* gave one startled glance, then stood, wilh her eye 3 on the floor, nervo i-l.v plaiting a corner of her checked apron. “ Perhaps it would be as well if I lead

the letter we have received/'’ said tlie parson, glamig disapproval at his neigh bour for having forced his hand. Then he put on his spectacle), and read in slow and ponderous tones Mr Stephen Yaxley’s epistle, pausing every new nni then to see the effect. If lie expected rapturous gratitude when he finished lie was disappointed. • Susannah lie 1 er raised her eyes. Her colour came end went, and her lips trembled; but she said not a word. " "Well, my girl,” cried the squire, unable to restrain his impatience, " what do you say to this? Isn tit a fine chance? I wouldn’t think twice about it if I were you. Just look at your position. Here you are in the workhouse at ycur age, and, like a rat, wthout a friend in the world. Not any fault of yours, of course, he added, as a pained expression flitted across the girl's face. ” Perhaps she would like a little time to think it over,” suggested the butcher in his thick, husky voice. " Have you got nothing to say, hosannah?” inquired the parson, rather sternly. The girl’s fingers interlaced nervously. "You are very kind, gentlemen; but I — X —don’t know what to say.” She looked round appealingly, desperately. . , " Come, come, be quick to settle, giri. We don’t want another special meeting called,” cried the squire. " The medical officer rose j I thm.c, gentlemen, perhaps if 1 saw Miss West aicue for a minuto she might give an answer. She feels embarrassed, i can see. “ Quite right, Evesham,” said the parson. " They can go into your room, Tripp, can t they Tripp, jumping up with alacrity, led the way to hiq tobacco-scented little sanctum. ” Sit down, Susannah,” said the doctor, kindly. "Now don’t be flurried. You have heard this offer; it seems a good one for you. But don’t say * Yes if you d rather not. Just think it over a little. He turned his back on her, and, going over to the mantelpiece, examined a quaint old china group of an Englishman, Scotchman, and Irishman, seated together, entitled "Auld Lang Syne.” A long silence follewed; then Susannah spoke. She had a remarkably sweet, soft voice, and the doctor looked round quickly. • If I do say ‘Yes/ Dr Evesham,” she said, tremblingly, " it will be because—you wish iv.a to; ior no ether reason.” She raised hc-r eyes to him as she spoke. They were beautiful yes, and sent a thrill through the medical omcer. "I wish you to say ‘Yes’?” he exclaimed, coming towards her. " You have been so good to me; you saved my life when I first came here. I should never have recovered but for your care and attention. 1 always eel she clasped her hands tightly together -‘ jqu are the only friend I have, and tbeiv^ is nothing I would not do for ycur sake. ’ The passionate warmth of her true startled Dr Evesham. He caught both the hands with which, ashamed of her freedom, she was about to cover her face, and s-aid tenderly, "My poor girl! Then you shall never say ‘Yes’ to this offer!” The Board was waxing impatient, fid the squiro and parson nad almost broken their long friendship over the prize " galepost” mangolds, when Dr Evesham returned without Susannah West. " Well, doctor, I hope you have hrouei’t the young woman to see reason, ’ said the former. , , "I hope so,” replied the doctor, drv'y. "Has she said ‘Yes then?” asked the squiro an dthe butcher in a breath. ‘‘She has to me, gentlemen,’ said Dr Evesham, reddening. "I am going to marry her myself.”