"THE FANCY."
"All impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy."
JUDY THE FANCY was one of the most prominent characters about Crowmore.
She lived at the Cross, and haunted that well-beaten thoroughfare from
early morn till dewy eve. Despite her name, "The Fancy" was certainly
no beauty; she had a yellow, wrinkled face, a pair of greedy little
black eyes, and features which bore a ludicrous resemblance to a turnip
ghost. Although she went bare-footed, she wore good, warm clothes, and
a respectable white cap; and no stranger could have guessed at her
profession until she struck up her habitual whine of—"Give the poor
ould woman the price of a cup of tay, your honour, the price of a cup
of tay, and I'll pray for ye; andeed ye might do worse than have the
prayers of the poor!"
Sitting basking at her post, she taxed all comers, and taxed them most
successfully; for the little world of Crowmore were mortally afraid to
draw down the "Fancy's" tongue, and she received propitiatory offerings
of sods of turf, and "locks of male" from her own class, and numerous
sixpences, and coppers, from well-to-do neighbours.
She was the mother of Andy All Right, and looked to the Castle with
confidence for the supply of her wardrobe, and praties, and sweet milk.
She would sorely vex the spirits of those who figuratively buttoned
up their pockets, by loud, uncomplimentary remarks on their personal
appearance, painful allusions to family secrets, and dismal prophetic
warnings of their future downfall. Many a stout-hearted man would
rather (if he had no small change), go a round of two miles, than run
the gauntlet of the "Fancy's" corner.
She had also other means of levying tribute that rarely failed; not
begging with gross directness, or angry importunity, as I regret to say
was her occasional wont, but merely exclaiming aloud, as if talking to
herself,—
"Musha! and it's Mrs. Megaw! and 'tis herself has the finest young
family in the whole side of the country; faix, no one denies that, not
wan; and signs on it, 'tis the mother they takes afther!"
Or to a victim of the sterner sex (who are equally vulnerable in such
matters),—
"And so that's Tim Duffy!"—in a tone of intense surprise—"sure,
an' I hardly know him. Troth, and it's a _trate_ to sit here and see
the likes of him going by. It's an officer in the army he should be,
instead of trailing there, afther a cart of turf!"
These little speeches, had an excellent effect, and generally bore a
rich harvest. She had also an unfailing method of raising a spirit of
emulation among her benefactors. As for instance, having received,
we will say sixpence, from some charitable hand, she would turn it
over rather contemptuously in her palm, and exclaim, in a tone more of
sorrow than of anger,—
"Well, I always thought ye were as free-handed as Mrs. Ryan; and _she_
never asks me to look at less than a shilling! But maybe ye can't so
well afford it, dear; and God bless ye all the same."
As Helen and her cousins returned from church on Sunday, they descried
the "Fancy" sitting on the hall door-steps; a clean cap on her head,
and a pipe in her mouth.
"Your servant, ladies," she said, without rising, and gazing over their
heads in a rather abstracted (not to say embarrassing) fashion.
"Well, Judy, and what is it to-day?" inquired Dido.
"Oh, it's only Mr. Barry. He is inside"—with a wave of her pipe. "He
is a Justice of the Pace now, and I want him to do a small turn for me.
Just go in and don't trouble yourself about me, dearie."
"So Barry is here!" cried Katie, visibly delighted. "What brings him?
Sunday is never his day?"
"No," admitted her sister, as she followed her into the hall; "but he
has come to see Helen; and it gives him an excuse for his best clothes."
Two large pointers with swaggering bodies, animated tails, and muddy
paws, now rushed out of the drawing-room to meet them; and in the
drawing-room, extended full length on the sofa, in an easy, negligent
attitude, they discovered the pointers' master. Turning his face
towards the door, he said,—
"So you are back at last," then rising slowly, and putting his boots
on the ground, he raised himself to his full height, shot his cuffs,
and stared fixedly at Helen, and she at him (it must be confessed); he
was far, far worse than she had expected. She beheld a middle-sized
man, with bandy legs, a red face, and beaming countenance,—lit up by
an inward sun of self-complacency—dressed in a short cutaway coat,
a white waistcoat, and brilliant tie,—the sleeves of his coat and
the legs of his trousers revealed an unusual margin of red wrist and
grey stocking; but these discrepancies did not occasion the smallest
embarrassment to their wearer.
"I hope you have been pretty comfortable, Barry?" inquired Dido, with a
rueful glance at the tumbled cushions and antimacassars.
"No; that old bench of yours is as hard as a board! This is Miss Denis,
isn't it? Miss Denis," laying his hand on his heart, and making a low
bow, "your most humble."
Which salute the young lady acknowledged by sweeping him a somewhat
disdainful curtsey.
"Many in church?"—now looking at Katie.
"Oh, the usual set, Reids and Redmonds. Mr. Redmond walked down the
avenue with Helen. Helen, you have certainly made a conquest _there_."
"Of course she has," quoth Barry, seating himself; "it is not every day
he sees a pretty girl in these parts." Thus administering a compliment
to her, and a backhander to his cousins in the same breath.
"What was Miss Calderwood saying to you, Dido?" inquired
Katie,—totally ignoring the foregoing agreeable speech!
"Oh, she talked of the weather, and about Helen. She wanted to know
when she came, how long she was going to stay, and if it was true she
was a governess?"
"Odious girl!" cried Katie, "she has a knack of asking nasty questions.
I can't endure her—nor the glare of her cold grey eyes."
"Oh, she is not a bad sort of young woman," protested Barry, sticking
his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and leaning back in his
chair. "She and I get on first-class; but all the same, and quite
between ourselves, girls, I would never think of marrying her!"
Helen stared in astonishment. Unquestionably here was a creature who
pressingly invited the most inflexible snubbings! He on his part had
been gazing at her with untrammelled amazement and admiration, and
now that these feelings had slightly subsided, began to engage her in
conversation.
"And how do you like this part of the world?"
"Very much indeed."
"Humph! I would not have thought you were so easily pleased; it will
seem uncommonly dull after all your fine times in the East; there you
had balls, and parties, and admirers by the score."
Helen drew up her neck, and looked dignified, and he said to himself,
"Ha, ha, my fine madam, I'll have to take you down a peg, if that's
your style."
"Had you a comfortable situation in London at that school?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied haughtily.
"Well, we shall not allow you to go back this long time! Dido, we
must take Helen (could she believe her ears?) over to the band at
Terryscreen next week. I'LL treat you all at the hotel. You don't
mind me calling you Helen, do you? You know we are all cousins here!"
concluded Barry, with a discriminating readiness to claim kinship with
a pretty girl.
"Yes," he said to himself, "Katie and Dido were not bad in their way,
but this new connection was really splendid!"
In his mind's eye he already saw himself proudly parading her at the
band, and driving his intimates, and maybe the officers (who were _not_
his intimates) simply mad with envy.
She was a little bit stiff now, but that would soon wear off.
"And how is the great inventor?" he inquired facetiously.
"As usual," responded Dido, "quite well and very busy."
"Is luncheon ready? for I'm as hungry as a hawk," he said. "I hope you
have got something decent to-day. None of your bacon and eggs! Mind,
Helen, you don't let them starve you, they are by no means liberal
with their butcher's meat," and he laughed uproariously, and evidently
considered that he had said something exquisitely witty.
"We always have meat on _Sundays_," said Dido sarcastically, as she led
the way to an excellent repast in the dining-room.
When Barry had taken the edge off his appetite, which he compassed in
a manner that excited Helen's disgust, he looked across at her, and
said abruptly,—
"What's the name of those islands you were at?"
"The Andamans."
"You had fine times; twenty men to one girl, and no end of tennis and
parties; it's the other way about here," grinning complacently, "twenty
girls to one man, and no parties, balls, or fun of any kind."
"I was only at one dance all the time I was at Port Blair."
"Port Blair! _now_ i have it!" suddenly laying down his knife and fork,
and speaking in a loud, exultant tone, "I _thought_ i had heard of the
place somewhere. Girls, I'll tell you who was at those islands for
months, old Redmond's nephew! I say, Helen, did you ever come across a
fellow, of the name of Lisle?"
"Yes, I knew him," returning his gaze with calm, untroubled eyes.
"He was there for a long time. What was the attraction, eh?"
"How can I tell you? Sport, I believe."
"Oh!" with a palpable wink at Katie. "Sport! There are a good many
different kinds of _sport_. And now tell me what you think of him."
"I'm not prepared with an opinion at such short notice."
"Which means that you don't like him! Neither do _I_. Come, that's one
bond of union—give us your hand on it," jumping up and stretching
an eager red member across the table,—where it remained alone, and
unsought!
"I never said that I did not like Mr. Lisle," returned Helen, with
freezing politeness.
"Oh!" drawing back, visibly affronted. "So that's the way with you,
is it? Well, he is not a bad-looking chap, and you know he is a great
catch! Plenty of _other_ girls would give their ears to marry him."
"Pray explain yourself, Mr. Sheridan," said Helen, fiercely. "Do you
mean me to understand that _I_ would have given my ears to marry him?"
Her eyes were flashing and her colour rising, and there was every
indication of a domestic storm.
"Don't mind him! Don't mind him!" cried Katie, gallantly turning the
tide of battle, "it's only his chaff; he _loves_ to put people in a
passion. Barry, you must really remember that Helen is not used to your
jokes _yet_."
"Nor ever would be," thought that young lady, wrathfully.
"Oh, well, no offence, no offence; I did not know you were so _touchy_
about him! He is a great favourite with the old boy—I mean his
uncle,—but he is hardly ever here, always rambling about the world. I
think myself, he is by no means the saint his fond relations imagine,
and that he has a screw loose somewhere."
"And I'm sure he has not," rejoined Dido, hotly. "I like him, though
I've only met him once or twice. He is a gentleman, which is more than
I can say for other people in this part of the world. He is delightful
to talk to, very good-looking, never gives himself airs, never
brags——"
"One would think you were his hired trumpeter," interrupted Barry,
angrily. "What do _you_ know, a girl like _you_! Believe me, still
waters run deep. Give me a jolly, above-board chap that will light a
pipe, and mix a tumbler of whisky punch, and open his mind to you! None
of your cool, deliberate fellows, who smoke cigarettes, drink claret,
and look as if you have seven heads when you make a little joke."
"I wonder if he is coming for the shooting," said Katie, amiably
anxious to smooth matters. "He is fond of it, I know."
"Yes, and a fair shot, but jealous, as I found the only day I was out
with him; _twice_ he took my bird."
"Perhaps because you missed it," retorted Dido, coolly. "Sometimes he
comes for a month's hunting in winter,"—turning to Helen. "He's a
splendid rider, the best in the county."
"Well, I don't know about that, Dido! Ahem! I don't wish to praise
myself, but I'll be glad to hear of a more forward man with the Bag Fox
pack, than Barry Sheridan, Esq., J.P. Why, the very last time I was out
I jumped a gate—a five-barred gate!" addressing himself specially to
Helen.
"Then if you did, Barry," said Dido, rising and pushing back her chair,
"it must have been on the _ground_! You know very well that you can't
ride a yard. Your shooting I don't deny; but when you boast of jumping
five-barred gates, you know you are talking nonsense." So saying,
she walked out of the room, followed by the two girls and Barry—who
brought up the rear after a considerable interval, muttering wrathfully
to himself.
As he passed into the hall, he came in full view of the "Fancy," seated
on the steps. On beholding him, she called out in her most dulcet
coaxing key,—
"Oh, my own darling young gentleman, you are a sight for sore eyes;
your 'Fancy' has been waiting on you these two hours!"
"Then she _must_ wait," he growled, nevertheless approaching, with his
hands in his pockets and a rather important strut.
"Oh, then, I know ye don't mane _that_. An' sure now, Miss," appealing
to Helen, and languishing at her with her head on one side, "and isn't
he an ornament to any country?"
Helen became crimson with suppressed laughter, and was totally unable
to utter any reply. However, her levity was not lost on Barry, who made
a note of it against some future occasion, when she should be repaid in
kind.
"Well, Judy, what is it?" impatiently.
"Only a whisper, darlin'. 'Tis just this," suddenly rising to her feet,
"ever since I lost me health, come Christmas twenty years, and manny
and manny a time before that, I washed for your mother——"
"Just cut all that part, will you?"
"Well thin, I'm here at the Cross, a poor, lone widder, that has
buried all belonging to me but Andy, and living on the charity of the
public, as ye know, this blessed nineteen years! And now, a thief of
a black stranger from beyant Terryscreen, has come and set himself
down alongside of me. A _blind_ man itself—any way it's what he lets
on—and every one knows I'm _not_; and they are all for giving to the
poor dark creature. And sure, he has me ruined and destroyed entirely!"
now raising her voice a full octave, and commencing to cry with
alarming energy.
"You know if I did right I'd give you six weeks of Terryscreen jail for
begging in the public highway," said Barry, magisterially.
"An' if ye did that same," drying her eyes, and stretching out her
hands, "I take these beautiful angels as mee witnesses, I'd rather have
six weeks from your honour, than six days from another; and that's as
sure as I'm standing here!"
Barry was palpably flattered, and grinned, and looked at Helen out of
the corner of his left eye to see if she was impressed, as much as
to say, "What do you think of _that_?"—But, unfortunately, she was
grinning also.
"Indeed, it's bitterly cold in winter," put in Dido, "and I'm not a bit
sorry that some one has taken your corner. With Andy in constant work,
and milk, and potatoes, and a pinch of tea from us, you know you will
_never_ miss it."
"Arrah, Miss Dido! sure ye don't know what you are talking about.
And how would ye? If that rapscallion gets a footing in my holding,
it's ruin and destruction that's in it; just that, and no more! Why,"
lowering her voice mysteriously, "sure it's as good as a _farm_ to me,
darlin'! Aye, and betther; it's all in-comings, and no stock, and no
rint."
This amazing confidence threw an entirely new light on the subject. Her
three listeners stared at the old woman in respectful astonishment.
They would have stared still more, could they have seen the
comfortably-filled stocking that was hidden away under the thatch of
Judy's cabin.
"Well, I can't stay here all day. I'll see what I can do for you," said
Barry, abruptly. "I've important papers to sign at home, and I must be
off."
The truth was, that the good gentleman was ruffled at Helen's attitude
of repressed amusement, and at Dido's courageous candour; and he felt
that he could not punish the offending couple more simply, or more
effectually, than by removing himself, and leaving them to their own
devices all through the long Sunday afternoon. He flattered himself
that Miss Denis would _soon_ learn his value.
Now Barry was the only eligible bachelor, in a neighbourhood where
there were legions of girls,—and was fully sensible of his own
importance. In his secret heart, he believed that he had only to ask
any young woman within a radius of say twenty miles, and, in his own
homely parlance, "she would be thankful to jump at him." And he felt
conscious that he was dealing a cruel blow to the little circle at
Crowmore when, seizing his hat and stick, and calling his dogs, he bade
them a general farewell, and hurried down the steps.
His departure was the signal for the "Fancy" to take leave. Willy
nilly, she escorted him to the gate,—to the intense delight of the
spectators in the doorway. Vainly he tried to shake her off; vainly
he increased his pace; his manœuvres were totally unavailing, his
companion still trotted bare-footed beside him, gesticulating as she
went with both head and hands. Her eloquence undoubtedly had its
reward, for within a week "the dark man from beyond Terryscreen" had
mysteriously disappeared, and she reigned in undisputed possession of
her own warm corner.