A DAY AFTER THE FAIR.

Otago Witness, Issue 3522, 13 September 1921, Page 58

A DAY AFTER THE FAIR.

By

R. MURRAY GILCHRIST.

The quaint old grocer’s shop at the Nether End of Milton had already been lighted for the evening. When Sarah Hodgson opened 4he door and entered, no customers stood beside the counter save Mrs Wallis, a stout, middle-aged widow, with a round, comfortable face and merry black eyes. She had been tasting cheese, and she still held a longbladed knife in her right hand. “It'll do, it'll do, and I’ll take a pound,” she said to Mr Cobb, the proprietor. “I don’t say ’tis as good as it used to be when I was a lass; but then everything’s changed.” “Ay, and it has,” acquiesced Mr Cobb. “Bacon double the cost, and without half the flavour ! I’m sure I don’t know how poor folk manage to live! All the same it has to be, and we’ve gotten to bow our heads. ’Tisn’t for us to complain ” “A contented mind’s as good as a purse of gold any day,” said Mrs Wallis,, wisely. “No good’s to be got with brooding over changes for the worse. . . I’ll take half an ounce o’ twist for my sister Phoebe —that I p,ot last Saturday was a bit mouldy for sure, and, poor soul, she’d some difficulty in keeping it alight.” As Mr Cobb placed her several purchases in the brown market-basket, nhe turned round and faced the new-comer, and her pleasant countenance rippled with smiles. “Why, Sarah, my deir,” she cried, “you look as if you’d been rubbing your cheeks wi’ red roses —ne’er have I seen you carrying such a rare colour!” “The air’s a bit fresh,” responded the young women with the hesitation of one who prevaricates, “and I’ve had to hurry along ’’ “Why, I was saying to Mr Cobb as ’twas mild as summer !” said Mrs Wallis, “and as I couldn’t believe ’twas only tlie end o’ April. Trees almost fullleafed,- and birds a-ncsting all along the hedges. Would you believe—cuckoo sang yester morning—I heard him with my own ears !’’ “And so did I,” said Sarah. “I turned my money and wished.” “You did right, my lass—there's nought like keeping to old customs. We hold by ’em up at our place. My brother Ezekiel, he was in the cart-shed, but he flew like mad indoors and cried out for his cjuart o’ cuckoo ale—ay, and tossed it off without stopping to breathe !” The shop door opened again, and a strapping lad. with a young moustache that stained his upper lip as with iron rust, came halfway to the counter, stopped short, then resolutelv turned his attention upon a trestled table to the left, whereon was piled a fine assortment of enamelled kitchenware, of plough-lines, and rakes and forks and hoes. A moment afterwards the latch rose once more, and a stout fellow of forty odd came boldly to the women’s side. “And how are you to-day, Mrs Wallis?” he said. “As fresh as a flower at daybreak, for all your years! You’re like to the cross in the churchyard—there’s ne’er to be seen the least change.” Mrs Wallis smiled, though in truth lu3 allusion to her age sounded anything but pleasant, “I’m pretty middling, Mr Higgle,” she replied. “There’s an old saying, nought's ne’er in danger, and I take it for myself.” “He-hee ! I always did reckon .vou a witty women,” said the men. “Heigh, but I often laugh to think o’ you and your brotner and sister living together up at Hollow End. Is th’ old lad well? This last winter I thought’d turn him into crow-pie !” Before .she could reply he had turned his attention to Sarah, after' carefully examining and admiring the frugal neatness of her costume. “I didn’t expect for to have the please o> o’ seeing you here,” he said. But . had to get a drink for my roan row —she’s not looked up after getting a.-i'-ay and eating some vew-tree leaves. B"t . 11 see you later. I’ll come up same 1. cow or no cows!’ then Mr Cobh, with, the air c-f engaged upon very serious business, to<k down a tin box from the nearest slmlf and removed the lid, uncovering a layer of curly white-paper packing. “’Tis surprising what folk do’invent nowadays.” he said mysteriously. “To look at these ’twould be next to impossible for one to say as they weren’t real. Marchpane they re called—happen because some birds do settle down to nesting in that month.” Then, very carefully, he lifted the covering, and showed to the customers a dozen eggs, big as a bantam’s—blue, pease-porridge tawny, and white as snow. The voting man left the hardware table, and. being a head taller, looked over the others. “As natural as natural can be !” exclaimed Mrs Wallis. “Why. I do declare those o’ dirty g ceil are peewits’ !” "One penny apiece,” said the grocer. “Thev ve got a yolk and a white inside, iust like the real thing. Come, Miss Hodgson, I’m sure vou’ve a sweet tooth But Sarah, having no more money than was necessary for the week’s stores shook her head in nielanchol- fashion. “Another time, Mr Cobb, another time.” she replied. “I'll own they’re vastly pretty, and I’ll bear ’em in mind. I must be getting home.” Mrs Wallis jogged the stout man’s arm, then jerked her thumb towards the box, hut he affected to take no notice. Then the good dame, after a slight shrug of the shoulders, did the same thing to the

lad. Their e/es met, and both nodded understandlugly. Sarah said good-even-ing. Mrs Wallis herself departed soon afterwards. As the latter paused near the Hall gates to change her burden from one arm to the other, she heard the sound of footsteps, and, turning, saw the youngster, whose blushing face was veiled with the twilight. “I felt as if I must have a word wi’ you, ma’am,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t reckon myself amongst the sharpest, and after the first moment I thought happen Ed made a mistake!” “You thought wrong, then,” said Mrs Wallis, with pleasant tartness. “I made it as clear as clear could be to both Mr Higgle and to you what ought for to be done. Like as not you’ve lost the chance, and he’s brought all the peewits’ eggs.” “And that he hasn’t, ma’anw All he got was a tin o’ salmon for his Sunday dinner, and half ’n ounce o’ Topmill snuff . ” “To think o’ it!” cried the widow, “and him the warmest man all the township ! Tinned salmon for his Sunday dinner, when lie’s gotten six pounds a week coming in from his property, besides what he makes on the farm! _ I do hope and trust as when Sarah marries him she’ll teach him how to live. Though for sure he’s fat enow—’tis said as lie fattens on oat-porridge!” “You think as she will say yes?” inquired the young man. “I've little to offer her .” “Nay, ’tis more nor I can say,” she replied. “He’s been courting her after a fashion for the last twelvemonth, and surely he ought for to make up his mind. I’m not sure I’d be glad to see her change her name to Higgle; she’s nigh twenty years younger. lie’s a mean chap, but then most people are so nowadays. I’d fain youth mated with youth ; Sarah’s husband oughtn’t to be more nor a few years older nor herself.” “I’d give my right hand if that same husband was to be me,” said the young man heartily. & “Well,” said Mrs Wallis, “that’d be a foolish thing to do, and so it would. You’ve been champion ploughboy a good while, but you’d ne’er manage a straight furrow wi’ a hook instead o’ a right hand. But I’m not going to waste rov time talking. I thought you had a bit more sense.” “What d’you mean, ma’am? ’Tis like as if you were asking me riddles.” “I mean a wink’s as good as a nod to a blind horse!” she said crossly. “If I’d been you, I’d have bought every blessed one o’ those coloured eggs.” “That’s just what I did,” he cried laughingly, “the moment Mr Higgle l§ft the shop !” Mrs Wallis caught his right hand with her left. “You’re a young rogue, Charley Hawes, and that's what you are!” she said merrily. “And if I was Sarah, with liberty to choose, I’d not hesitate a moment. Good-e’en to you, my lad, ay, and good luck.” Meanwhile Sarah Hodgson hastened up the long village street, crossed a rough bridge, under which flowed a merry little stream from the limestone, then climbed the narrow lane, overhung with ancient thorn trees, to a little farmstead at the end of a marshy croft. Her aunt Ailce, known to the countryside as “Ailce Hodgson,” heard the sound of her approach, and opened the narrow door, so that a faint glow of lamplight fell to the stony path. She was a wizened spinster of 50, with a shrewd and pleasant face. Rheumatism had cripplied her left knee, and she walked with the help of a stout blackthorn. “There was ne’er such a lass as you for punctuality,” she said. “I don’t like being left alone, I confess, but I’d be willing for you to be a bit later if only you’d bring back some news. Seems to me as you don’t care a jot about what happens in the valley. .All as I e’er hear comes from other tongues.” “Why, ’twas you as always taught me to beware o’ gossip!” said Sarah, laying down her parcel and taking off her hat and jacket. “You raid as ’twasn’t becoming for girls to tittle-tattle.” “Happen I did, and happen you’re right,” said the aunt. “But there’s a difference between gossip and news. Hast hear nought?” “Nought at all,” said the girl. “But I’ve seen something as pretty as aught I ever saw in my life. Mr Cobh showed a box o’ eggs made o’ sweetstuff, and coloured so as you couldn’t believe ’em not to be the real thing. If I’d had a penny to spare, I’d have bought a peewit's just for to show you.” The old woman sighed dolorously. “ ’Tis a pity money’s so scarce, my dear,” slip said, “for sure I’d like you to give yourself a bit o’ pleasure now and then. But strive as we may, there ne’er seems aught to spare.” “You’ve got your own money coming in,” said Sarah, “and ’twould be quite enow to keep you if I weren't here .” “None o’ that sort o’ talk!” cried Old Ailce. “You work as hard as any man to keep the spot a-going, and you’re welcome to anything I have. Howsoe’er, let’s talk o’ something else. We’ve good cause to be content with things, seeing as we owe nob’dy a farthing piece. Didst see Air Higgle?” “He came into Cobb’s to get a drink for an ailing cow,” replied Sarah with some constraint. “He said as he’d come up this evening same as e'er.” “ ’Twasn’t needful to tell you, my dear, since he hasn’t missed a Saturday for a good twelvemonth. I do wish he’d get to the point. There's no doubt as he wants to marry you.” “I’m not so sure as ’tis same on my side,” said Sarah. “Mr Diggle’s all very well; but there’s something about him 1 don’t care about.” “Ay, lie’s near in his ways, I acknowledge,” said her kinswoman ; “but ’twill bo your duty to teach him otherwise. He’s well-to-do —he could buy us up twenty times o’er.” “Hr might, if we were for sale,” responded Sarah. Happen I’Ll marry him if he asks me. I can’t say yet. Seems

always as if he’d been studying whether I was good enow.” “ ’Tis a way old bachelors have. We didn’t outfit to blame ’em for being prudent and far-seeing,” said Ailce. “I wish he’d been a bit nearer your age; but ’tis of little consequence. Now, if only Charley Hawes had come forward—why, then, I’d have been rare and glad. But he means to look about him. I’d not be surprised if he chose for wife someone o’er the moor. Bless my soul, but your colour it has risen!” “Mr Hawes is always the gentleman,” said Sarah embarrassedly. “But ’tis certain sure he’s ne’er given me a thought!” “I’d not go so far as to say that,” cried the aunt, “seeing as you’re far and away the prettiest lass roundabout. But time’s passing, and Mr Higgle, who’s as regular, as yon old clock itself, will be here ere another hour’s gone by, £o we’d best get our supper.” She hobbled about the big house-place, laying a cloth on the round table and bringing a heel of cheese and a nut brown cob from the larder. The drink provided was flat herb-beer—an anchorite might have shared that meal without compunction. When all was ready Sarah, who had retired to her chamber, appeared wearing a fresh white blouse and a blue skirt, with a little bunch of wallflowers stuck inside her glossy leather belt. The old maid opened a drawer of the oaken dresser, brought out a halffinished grey stocking, and sitting beside the white hearth where the crickets chirped, began to knit. After a few minutes there sounded a sharp knock on the door, and Mr Diggle, dressed in his second-bast suit, entered, shook hands with both, then, as accustomed by use, took the opposite chair, whilst Sarah sank into a corner of the well-cushioned lang-settle and set herself to the hemming of a- duster. “Hast gotten any news?” inquired Aunt Ailce. Sarah here’s not use for bringing tales to the house?” “That’s one of the things I admire her for,” said Mr Diggle. 'T can’t abide women as go nagging about the place. There’s more harm done wi’ tale-bearing nor ought else in the world. Leastways, that’s my opinion!” “Ay, tale-bearing’s one thing and bringing news is anothe-r, as I’ve just told Sarah,” said the dame, not without sharpness. “You ought for to bear in mind as my knees being crippled, I can’t get about as I’d like. And surely I’ve a right to know who’s gotten engaged—-—” “Nob’dy as I’m aware o’,” said the man ; “but happen before very long you’ll hear summat o’ that kind. . . . Did Sarah tell you as me and her’a met in Cobb’s shop already?” “Ne’er a word! Lawful case, but she gets closer and closer every day. All she said about Cobb’s was as she’d seen a vastly fine box o’ spice eggs, and as she’s have liked to have bought one.” “If she’d asked me I’d have gi’en her more nor one,” said Mr Diggle. “Well, ’twas scarcely likely I’d have asked!” said Sarah. “Mercy upon us, how folk would have talked ! Mrs Wallis is as good a woman as one might wish for, but I’d not rely on her keeping such a tale to herself.” Mr Diggle edged his -chair closer to the settle. “Tell you what,” he said importantly. “Next Sat’day night I’ll bring you half-a-dozen, and each a different colour!” “That’s very good o’ you, I’m sure,” said the girl indifferently; “but by that time rav fancy’ll be passed, so you needn’t trouble.” He looked meaningly at her aunt, who was busily counting stitches. “There’s no chance of talking private here,” he said. “Why not don your hat and come out for a stroll?” What Sarah would have replied must remain for ever in doubt, since at that moment a less assured hand knocked on the door. She raised the latch and admitted Charles Dawes, who entered blushing and smiling sheepishly. Aunt Ailce dropped her knitting and approached him with outstretched hand. “Well, for sure!” she exclaimed. “ I am pleased to see you—you’re as welcome as flowers in May. Come and sit you down—we’re having quite a party!” Air Diggle nodded patronisingly to the newcomer, then repeated his invitation to Sarah in an audible whisper. She frowned and shook her head, and returning to the settle, resumed her sewing. After his first embarrassment had pa-ssed the lad began to talk very brightly, and soon the two women were laughing as they had not laughed for years. But Air Diggle’s face grew sour and peevish, and when the clock struck nine he rose abruptly and took im his hat. “ ’Tis time all honest folk were go inn- ” he said. “I can see as you’re getting tired, Sarah, and Ell come on again when you've no other company.” “There’s no call for you to go, ' said Aunt Aifoc; “but if you must, you must. I feel a bit giddy to-night, and that’s truth.” Air Diggle laid a hand on Sarah’s arm. “Come, iny dear, let’s tro a bit o’ a walk,” lie said in her ear. “I’m not accustomed to be crossed.” “ ’Tisn’t any use,” the girl replied after a glance at Dawes and the old woman, who were holding their sides after a merry tale. “I couldn’t think o’ it when there’s anyone else about. Another time, happen ” “I’ve summat to say to you, Sarah,” he murmured, “and I’ll hang about and come back after this chap’s gone. I can't abear his silly talk. Good-night for the present.” Without taking any further notice of the others he left the place. Aunt Ailce was not aware of his departure until she heard the banging of the door. “Save us all!” she cried in some alarm. “I do hope and trust Mr Diggle hasn’t taken offence at ought. I’ve ne’er known him carry on in such a fashion before!” Then, after a sly wink at Dawes, she moved towards the foot of the staircase. “I’m going for more wool,” she said ; '“this ball's all o’ a tangle—l reckon the

cat’s been playing wi’t. I don’t reckon I’ll be long ; but I’ll not be missed—you’ll keep each other company.” After her departure Dawes opened the door and took a brown-paper parcel from the stone bench that stood outside. This, with some -diffidence, he placed in Sarah’s hands. “When I was in Cobb’s shop I saw as you longed for the spice-eggs,” he said, “and as soon as him and me were alone I bought the whole box for you.” “You hadn’t ought for to have done so,” cried Sarah, whose eyes for the moment wer all veiled with tears. “Nob’dy’s e’er flattered my fancy so afore.” “Ay, -*but when a ’ad's in love with a lass,” stammered her swain, “ ’tis his duty to please her in every fashion. I was proud to buy ’em for you. Sarah, I’d be the happiest man i’ th’ world if you’d wed wi’ me!” “Give me time to think,” she said feebly. “You carry me right off my feet, you do!” Then Aunt Ailce came down again, heralding lier appearance with a warning cough. Dawes sat until ten, then, very reluctantly, took leave, after declaring that for certain he’d return on the morrow, av, and every evening until the day when they went to church together. Sarah permitted him to kiss, and kissed him in return ; then, when the sound of his footsteps had died away, she remembered that Air .Higgle had announced his intention of coming back as soon as the wav was clear. In some confusion she told this to her aunt, who before replying turned out the lamp and lighted two chamber-candles. ‘He’s wanting to propose, but lie’ll be -a day alter the fair!” she said laughingly. \\ cll lock the door and go bedward. . . . Ho ought for to have bought the eggs mmself ■” „ “Kush !” whispered Sarah, after she had slipped oolt into socket and turned the heavy key “Hush—the gate’s clanged tind Mr Diggle’s nigh!” Then, very quietly, like two children, tearful of being detected in some mischief, tney crept lip to their chambers and buried their heads beneath the bedclothes.