ANOTHER SURPRISE.
Among those present the only one who came to the assistance of Jonas
Kink was his brother-in-law, Thomas Rocliffe, who, thinking that
Bideabout was going to have a fit, ran to him and unloosed his
black satin cravat.
The revulsion of feeling in the rest was so sudden that it produced
a laugh. He who had been exulting in having put their necks under
his foot had been himself struck down in the moment of his triumph.
He had sought to humble them in a manner peculiarly mean, and no
compassion was felt for him now in his distress.
The guests filed out without a word of thanks for the meal of which
they had partaken, or an expression of pity for the downcast man.
For some while Bideabout remained motionless, looking at the letter
before him on the table. Mehetabel did not venture to approach or
address him. She watched him with anxiety, not knowing in which
direction the brooding rage within him would break forth. He was
now like a thunder-cloud charged with electricity and threatening
all with whom he came in contact.
Hearing the wail of her child, she was glad noiselessly to leave
the room and hasten to comfort it. Presently Jonas rose, and in a
half stupefied condition went to the stable and saddled old Clutch
that he might ride to Godalming and learn whether things were as
bad as represented.
In his impatience to announce to his guests that he had them under
his control he had been somewhat premature. It was true that the
negotiations were complete whereby their mortgages and obligations
were transferred to him, but the money that he was to pay therefor
had not been made over. Now it would not be possible for him to
complete the transaction. Not only so, but he had incurred expenses
by his employment of a solicitor to carry out his design which it
would be extremely difficult for him to meet, if the bank had
actually failed.
He alone of all the squires in the Punch-Bowl had put his savings
into a bank, and he had done this because he was so frequently
and so long from home that he did not dare to leave them anywhere
in his house, lest it should be broken into during his absence.
As the Broom-Squire approached Thursley village his horse cast a
shoe, and he was obliged to stop at the farrier's to have old
Clutch shod.
"How do'y do, Squire?" said the blacksmith. "Been christenin' your
baby, I hear."
Bideabout grunted in reply.
"One comes and another goes," said the farrier. "S'pose you've
heard the news?"
"Think I have," retorted Jonas, irritably. "It's them banks is
broke."
"I don't mean no banks," said the blacksmith. "But Susanna Verstage.
I s'pose you've heard she's gone?"
"Gone, where to?"
"That's not for me to say. She's been ailin' some time and now has
gone off, sudden like. O' course we knowed it must come, but nobody
didn't think it would ha' come so sudden--and she seemed such a
hearty woman, only a few months ago. Well, I s'pose it's ordained."
The Broom-Squire did not ask questions. He took very little
interest in the matter of the death of the hostess of the Ship.
His mind was engrossed in his own troubles.
As soon as old Clutch had his shoe fitted on, and the other shoes
looked to, Bideabout pursued his way.
His progress was not fast. Clutch was personally unaffected by the
failure of the bank, and could not be induced to accelerate his
speed. Beating only made him more stubborn, and when Bideabout
stretched his legs out to the furthest possible extent apart
that was possible, and then brought them together with a sudden
contraction so as to dig his heels into the horse's ribs, that
brought Clutch to an absolute standstill.
On reaching Godalming, the worst anticipations of Jonas were
confirmed. The bank was closed; his savings were lost. Nothing
had been withdrawn in time to secure them by giving him a hold
on the squatter settlements of his neighbors. And he himself had
incurred liabilities that might bring him into the same pit that
he had digged for his fellows.
He turned homewards in great discouragement and acridity of
heart. His fellows in the Punch-Bowl had never regarded him with
cordiality; now they would be his combined enemies. The thoughts
of his heart were gloomy. In no direction could he see light. He
now did not urge Clutch along beyond the pace at which the old
horse had made up his mind to go; it was immaterial to Jonas
whether he were on the road or at home. Nowhere would he be free
from his trouble.
He would, perhaps, have turned into the Ship for a glass of spirits
but, remembering that he had been told the hostess was dead, he
did not feel inclined to enter a house where he would be still
further depressed. He had not, however, gone far out of the
village, before he heard his name called from behind, and on
turning his head saw Joe Filmer in pursuit.
The ostler came up to him, panting and said--
"Ter'rible news, ain't it? The old lady gone. But that ain't why
I've stopped you. 'Tis she bade me give your missus a message--as
she hadn't forgot the bequest of money. But we're that muddled and
busy at the Ship, I can't go to the Punch-Bowl, so I just runned
after you. You'll take the message for me, won't you?"
"Money!" exclaimed Bideabout, reining in old Clutch, who now
objected to be stayed on his way to the familiar stable. "Money!"
repeated Bideatout, and then lugged at old Clutch's rein till he
had turned the brute about.
The horse had sufficient obstinacy in him to persist in his
intentions of not being stopped on the high-road, and though
turned round he continued to scramble along in the reverse direction
to his home.
"Hang you, you old toad!" exclaimed Jonas. "If you will, I don't
care. Be it so. We will go to the Ship. I say, Joe! What was that
about money?"
"It was that the missus made me promise to inform your missus,
that she'd not forgotten her undertakin', but had made provision
that she should have the money as she wished."
"The money--how much?"'
"I do not know. She did not say."
"And she has left money to Matabel?"
"I suppose so. She was always amazin' fond of her. She was a savin'
woman, and had put away something of her own."
"I'll go to the Ship. I will, certainly. I ought not to have passed
without a word with Simon on his loss. I suppose he's sure to know
how much it is?"
"I suppose so. Missus would consult him. She made a show o' that
always, but nevertheless followed her own head."
"And Simon is terrible cut up?"
"Bears it like a man."
"Here, take old Clutch; give him some oats, and kick him, he
deserves it, he's been so unruly. But, stay--no. Hold his head,
and I'll kick him, afore he's had his oats. He's a darned malicious
old Radical. Put in some pepper to his nose when he's done his
oats."
Bideabout went into the house, through the porch, and entered the
bar.
Simon was seated there smoking a long clay, with his feet on the
fender, before a glowing fire, and with a stiff glass of hot punch
on the table at his side.
"Sorry for you," was Jonas's brief address of salutation and
condolence.
Mr. Verstage shook his head. "That's what my old woman said."
Seeing an expression of surprise and query in the Broom-Squire's
face, he explained: "Not after, afore, in course. She said, 'Very
sorry for you, Simon, very. It's wus for you than for me, I shall
die--you'll make yourself ridic'lous.'"
"What did she mean?"
"Can't think," answered Simon, with great solemnity. "Will you have
a drop of something? In this vale of tears we want consolation."
Then, in a loud voice, "Polly--another glass."
After looking steadily and sadly into the embers, Mr. Verstage
said: "I don't believe that woman ever made a mistake in her
life--but once."
"When was that?"
"When she gave Matabel to you. We wanted her in this house. Her
proper place was here. It all comes wi' meddlin' wi' what ort to
be let alone--and that is Providence. There's never no sayin' but
Iver--"
Dimly the old host saw that he was floundering upon delicate
ground. "My doctrine is," said he, "let things alone and they'll
come right in the end."
Bideabout moved uneasily. He winced at the reference to Iver. But
what he now really was anxious to arrive at was the matter of money
left by Mrs. Verstage to Mehetabel.
"Now," said Simon, looking after the serving-maid, as she left the
bar, when she had deposited the tumbler beside Bideabout. "Now, my
old woman was amazin' set against that girl. Why--I can't think.
She's a good girl when let alone. But Sanna never would let her
alone. She were ever naggin' at her; so that she upset the poor
thing's nerve. She broke the taypot and chucked the beer to the
pigs, but that was because she were flummeried wi' my old woman
going on at her so. She said to me she really couldn't bear to
think how I'd go on after she were gone. I sed, to comfort her,
that I knowed Polly would do her best. 'She'll do the best she can
for herself,' answered Sanna, as sharp as she said 'Yes, I will,'
when we was married. I don't know what her meanin' was. You won't
believe it, but it's true what I'm going to tell you. She said to
me, did Susanna, 'Simon there was Mary Toft, couldn't die, because
there were wild-fowl feathers in her bed. They had to take her off
the four-poster and get another feather-bed, before she could die
right off. Now,' said Sanna, 'it's somethin' like that with me. I
ain't got wild-bird feathers under me, but there's a wild fowl in
the house, and that's Polly. So long as she's here die I can't,
and die I won't.' 'Well, old woman,' sed I, if that's all, to
accommodate you, I'll send Polly to her mother,' and so I did--and
she died right on end, peaceable."
"But Polly is here."
"Oh, yes--when Sanna were gone--we couldn't do wi'out her. She
knowed that well enough and came back--runnin' like a long dog,
and very good and thoughtful it was of her. Most young wimen ain't
considerate like that."
This was all wide of the subject that engrossed the interest of
Bideabout, and had induced him to revisit the Ship. As the host
made no allusion to the topic, the Broom-Squire plunged into the
matter, headforemost.
"Joe Filmer," said he, "called me back. I didn't wish to come in
and trouble you now. But Joe said as how you wanted to speak to me
about some money as your wife had left with you for my Matabel;
and I thought it might be botherin' your mind when you wanted to
turn it to religious thought, and so I came back to say I'd
relieve you of it and take it at once."
"Money! Oh!" Mr. Verstage was a little difficult to turn from one
line of thought to another. "Polly never stood out for higher
wages. Not like some who, when they've been with you just long
enough to learn the ways of the house, and to make themselves
useful, and not to break everything they handle, and spoil
everything they touch, ask, 'Please will you advance my wages?'
Polly never did that."
"I am not speakin' of Polly," said Jonas, peevishly, "but of some
money that Joe Filmer told me you wanted to tell me about. Something
that your poor wife desired you to give to Matabel."
"Oh, you mean that hundred pounds. I wasn't against it. On the
contrary, I said I'd add fifty to it. I always said Sanna did wrong
in giving Matabel to--I mean flying in the face of Providence."
"I shall be very glad to take it, and thus relieve your mind of
all care."
"Oh, it's no care at all."
"It must be, and besides--it must interfere with your turning your
mind to serious thoughts."
"Oh, not at all. I can't give you the money. It is not for you."
"No; but it is for Matabel, and we are one."
"Oh, no; it's not for Matabel."
"The hundred and fifty pounds is not for Matabel? And yet you said
it was intended to make up to her for something you did not exactly
explain."
"No, it is not for Matabel. Matabel might have had it, I daresay,
but my old woman said she was set against that."
"Then we are to be deprived of it by her folly?" The Broom-Squire
flushed purple.
"Oh, no. It is all right. It is for the child."
"For the child! That is all the same. I am the father, and will
take care of the money."
"But I can't give it you."
"Have you not got it?"
"The money is all right. Sanna's hundred pounds--I know where that
is, and my fifty shall go along with it. I was always fond of
Matabel. But the child was only baptized to-day, and won't be old
enough to enjoy it for many years."
"In the meantime it can be laid out to its advantage," urged
Bideabout.
"I daresay," said Simon, "but I've nothin' to do with that, and
you've nothin' to do with that."
"Then who has?"
"Iver, of course."
"Iver!" The Broom-Squire turned livid as a corpse.
"You see," pursued the host, "Sanna said as how she wouldn't make
me trustee, I was too old, and I might be dead, or done something
terrible foolish, before the child came of age to take it on itself,
to use her very words. So she wouldn't make me trustee, but she
put it all into Iver's hands to hold for the little chap. She were
a won'erful shrewd woman were Sanna, and I've no doubt she was
right."
"Iver trustee--for my child!"
"Yes--why not?"
The Broom-Squire stood up, and without tasting the glass of punch
mixed for him, without a farewell to the landlord, went forth.