TEA.
Now here was a business! The typical Anglican and the typical Dissenter,
as Phoebe said, with only that clever young woman to keep them from
flying at each other's throats; the one obstinately holding his place by
her side (and Phoebe began to have a slight consciousness that, being
without any chaperon, she ought not to have kept Reginald May at her
side; but in the Tozer world, who knew anything of chaperons?), the
other advancing steadily, coming up the Lane out of the glow of the
sunset, showing square against it in his frock-coat and high hat, formal
and demagogical, not like his rival. The situation pleased Phoebe, who
liked to "manage;" but it slightly frightened her as well, though the
open door behind, and the long garden with its clouds of crocuses, was a
city of refuge always within reach.
"Is it really you, Mr. Northcote?" she said. "You look as if you had
dropped out of that lovely sunset I have been watching so long--and I
thought you were at the other end of the world."
"I have been at the other end of England, which comes to the same
thing," said Northcote, in a voice which was harsh by nature, and
somewhat rough with cold; "and now they have sent me back to Salem
Chapel, to take Mr. Thorpe's place for three months. They asked for me,
I believe; but that you must know better than I do."
It was not in the nature of man not to be a little proud in the
circumstances, and it is quite possible that he considered Phoebe to have
something to do with the flattering request.
"No, I have not heard; but I am glad," said Phoebe; "and if it is not
wicked to say so, I am glad Mr. Thorpe is to be away. Let us hope it
will do him good. I am sure it will do the rest of us good, at all
events."
Northcote made no answer; but he looked at the other, and several
questions began to tremble on his lips. That this was a Churchman did
not immediately occur to him; for, indeed, various young pastors of his
own body put on the livery which he himself abjured, and the sight of it
as a servile copy filled him with a certain contempt.
"Mr. May has been stopped in his way by the beauty of the skies," said
Phoebe, rather enjoying the position as she got used to it. "Mr.
Northcote--Mr. May. It is not easy to pass such an exhibition as that,
is it?--and given to us all for love, and nothing for reward," she
added; for she was a well read young woman, and did not hesitate to
suffer this to appear.
And then there was a momentary pause. Northcote was confused, it must be
allowed, by thus coming face to face, without previous warning, with the
man whom he had so violently assailed. Reginald had the best of it in
every way, for he was the man injured, and had it in his power to be
magnanimous; and he had the advantage of full warning, and had prepared
himself. Besides, was not he the superior by every social rule? And that
consciousness is always sweet.
"If Mr. Northcote is new to Carlingford, he will probably not know what
a fine point of view we have here. That, like so many other things,"
said Reginald, pointedly, "wants a little personal experience to find it
out."
"For that matter, to see it once is as good as seeing it a hundred
times," said Northcote, somewhat sharply; for to give in was the very
last thing he thought of. A little glow of anger came over him. He
thought Phoebe had prepared this ordeal for him, and he was vexed, not
only because she had done it, but because his sense of discomfiture
might afford a kind of triumph to that party in the connection which was
disposed, as he expressed it, to "toady the Church."
"Pardon me, I don't think you can judge of anything at a first view."
"And, pardon me, I think you see everything most sharply and clearly at
a first view," said the Nonconformist, who was the loudest; "certainly
in all matters of principle. After a while, you are persuaded against
your will to modify this opinion and that, to pare off a little here,
and tolerate a little there. Your first view is the most correct."
"Well," said Phoebe, throwing herself into the breach, "I am glad you
don't agree, for the argument is interesting. Will you come in and fight
it out? You shall have some tea, which will be pleasant, for it shall be
hot. I really cannot stay out any longer; it is freezing here."
The new-comer prepared to follow; but Reginald hesitated. Pride
whispered that to go into the house of Tozer, the butterman, was
something monstrous; but then it might be amusing. This "Dissenting
fellow," no doubt, was a drawback; but a kind of angry antagonism and
disdain half-attracted him even to the Dissenting fellow. It might be
well, on the whole, to see what kind of being such a person was. All
curious phenomena are attractive to a student. "The proper study of
mankind is man," Reginald said to himself. Before he had got through
this little argument with himself, Phoebe had gone in, and Northcote,
whose disgust at the interposition of an adversary had no such softening
of curiosity, followed her abruptly, without any of those graces which
are current in society. This rudeness offended the other, who was about
to walk on indignant, when Phoebe turned back, and looked out at him from
the open door.
"Are not you coming, Mr. May?" she said softly, looking at him with the
least little shrug of her shoulders.
Reginald yielded without further resistance. But he felt fully that to
see him, the chaplain of the old College, walking down through Tozer's
garden, between the two rows of closed-up crocuses which glimmered
ghostly by the side of the path, was one of the strangest sights in the
world.
Phoebe, to tell the truth, was a little confused as to where to convey
her captive, out of whom she meant to get a little amusement for the
long winter afternoon. For a girl of her active mind, it may easily be
imagined that a succession of long days with Mrs. Tozer was somewhat
monotonous. She did her duty like a hero, and never complained; but
still, if a little amusement was possible, it was worth having. She
carried in her two young men as naughty boys carry stag-beetles, or
other such small deer. If they would fight it would be fun; and if they
would not fight, why, it might be fun still, and more amusing than
grandmamma. She hesitated between the chilly drawing-room, where a fire
was lighted, but where there was no evidence of human living, and the
cozy parlour, where Mrs. Tozer sat in her best cap, still wheezy, but
convalescent, waiting for her tea, and not indisposed to receive such
deputations of the community as might come to ask for her. Finally,
Phoebe opened the door of that sanctuary, which was dazzling with bright
fire-light after the gloom outside. It was a very comfortable interior,
arranged by Phoebe to suit her own ideas rather than those of grandmamma,
though grandmamma's comfort had been her chief object. The tea-things
were sparkling upon the table, the kettle singing by the fire, and Mrs.
Tozer half-dozing in the tranquillity and warmth.
"Grandmamma, I have brought Mr. May and Mr. Northcote to see you," she
said.
The poor old lady almost sprang from her chair in amazement.
"Lord bless us, Phoebe, Mr. May!"
"Don't disturb yourself, grandmamma; they will find seats. Yes, we were
all looking at the sunset, and as I knew tea must be ready--I know you
want it, dear granny--I asked them to have some. Here it is, as I told
you, quite hot, and very fragrant this cold night. How cold it is
outside! I think it will freeze, and that skating may come off at last,
Mr. May, that you were talking of, you remember? You were to teach your
sisters to skate."
"Yes, with the advantage of your example."
Reginald had put himself in a corner, as far away as possible from the
old woman in the chair. His voice, he felt, had caught a formal tone. As
for the other, his antagonist, he had assumed the front of the
battle--even, in Tozer's absence, he had ventured to assume the front of
the fire. He was not the sort of man Reginald had expected, almost hoped
to see--a fleshy man, loosely put together, according to the nature, so
far as he knew it, of Dissenters; but a firmly knit, clean-limbed young
man, with crisp hair curling about his head, and a gleam of energy and
spirit in his eye. The gentler Anglican felt by no means sure of a
speedy victory, even of an intellectual kind. The young man before him
did not look a slight antagonist. They glared at each other, measuring
their strength; they did not know, indeed, that they had been brought in
here to this warmth and light, like the stag-beetles, to make a little
amusement for Phoebe; but they were quite ready to fight all the same.
"Mr. Northcote, sir, I'm glad to see you. Now this is friendly; this is
what I calls as it should be, when a young pastor comes in and makes
free, without waiting for an invitation," said Tozer kindly, bustling
in; "that speech of yours, sir, was a rouser; that 'it 'em off, that
did, and you can see as the connection ain't ungrateful. What's that you
say, Phoebe? what? I'm a little hard of hearing. Mr.--May!"
"Mr. May was good enough to come in with me, grandpapa. We met at the
door. We have mutual friends, and you know how kind Miss May has been,"
said Phoebe, trembling with sudden fright, while Reginald, pale with rage
and embarrassment, stood up in his corner. Tozer was embarrassed too. He
cleared his throat and rubbed his hands, with a terrible inclination to
raise one of them to his forehead. It was all that he could do to get
over this class instinct. Young May, though he had been delighted to
hear him assailed in the Meeting, was a totally different visitor from
the clever young pastor whom he received with a certain consciousness of
patronage. Tozer did not know that the Northcotes were infinitely
richer, and quite as well-born and well-bred in their ways as the Mays,
and that his young Dissenting brother was a more costly production, as
well as a more wealthy man, than the young chaplain in his long coat;
but if he had known this it would have made no difference. His relation
to the one was semi-servile, to the other condescending and superior. In
Reginald May's presence, he was but a butterman who supplied the family;
but to Horace Northcote he was an influential member of society, with
power over a Minister's individual fate.
"I assure you, sir, as I'm proud to see you in my house," he said, with
a duck of his head, and an ingratiating but uncomfortable smile. "Your
father, I hope, as he's well, sir, and all the family? We are a kind of
neighbours now; not as we'd think of taking anything upon us on account
of living in Grange Lane. But Phoebe here--Phoebe, junior, as we call's
her--she's a cut above us, and I'm proud to see any of her friends in my
'umble 'ouse. My good lady, sir," added Tozer, with another duck,
indicating with a wave of his hand his wife, who had already once risen,
wheezy, but knowing her manners, to make a kind of half-bow,
half-curtsey from her chair.
"You are very kind," said Reginald, feeling himself blush furiously, and
not knowing what to say. The other young man stood with his back to the
fire, and a sneer, which he intended to look like a smile, on his face.
And as for Phoebe, it must be allowed that, notwithstanding all her
resources, even she was exquisitely uncomfortable for a minute or two.
The young people all felt this, but to Tozer it seemed that he had
managed everything beautifully, and a sense of elation stole over him.
To be visited in this manner by the gentry, "making free," and "quite in
a friendly way," was an honour he had never looked for. He turned to
Northcote with great affability and friendliness.
"Well," he said, "Mr. Northcote, sir, it can't be denied as this is a
strange meeting; you and Mr. May, as mightn't be, perhaps, just the best
of friends, to meet quite comfortable over a cup of tea. But ain't it
the very best thing that could happen? Men has their public opinions,
sir, as every one should speak up bold for, and stick to; that's my way
of thinking. But I wouldn't bring it no farther; not, as might be said,
into the domestic circle. I'm clean against that. You say your say in
public, whatever you may think on a subject, but you don't bear no
malice; it ain't a personal question; them's my sentiments. And I don't
know nothing more elevatin', nothing more consolin', than for two public
opponents, as you may say, to meet like this quite cozy and comfortable
over a cup o' tea."
"It is a pleasure, I assure you, which I appreciate highly," said
Reginald, finding his voice.
"And which fills me with delight and satisfaction," said Northcote.
Those stag-beetles which Phoebe, so to speak, had carried in in her
handkerchief, were only too ready to fight.
"You had better have some tea first," she said breathless, "before you
talk so much of its good effects. Sit down, grandpapa, and have your
muffin while it is hot; I know that is what you like. Do you care about
china, Mr. May? but every one cares for china now-a-days. Look at that
cup, and fancy grandmamma having this old service in use without knowing
how valuable it is. Cream Wedgwood! You may fancy how I stared when I
saw it; and in everyday use! most people put it up on brackets, when
they are so lucky as to possess any. Tell Mr. May, grandmamma, how you
picked it up. Mr. Northcote, there is an article in this review that I
want you to look at. Papa sent it to me. It is too metaphysical for me,
but I know you are great in metaphysics--"
"I am greater in china; may not I look at the Wedgwood first?"
"Perhaps you will turn over the literature to me," said Reginald,
"reviews are more in my way than teacups, though I say it with
confusion. I know how much I am behind my age."
"And I too," whispered Phoebe, behind the book which she had taken up.
"Don't tell any one. It is rare, I know; and everybody likes to have
something that is rare; but I don't really care for it the least in the
world. I have seen some bits of Italian _faience_ indeed--but English
pottery is not like Italian, any more than English skies."
"You have the advantage of me, Miss Beecham, both as regards the pottery
and the skies."
"Ah, if it is an advantage; bringing poetry down to prose is not always
an advantage, is it? Italy is such a dream--so long as one has never
been there."
"Yes, it is a dream," said Reginald, with enthusiasm, "to everybody, I
think; but when one has little money and much work all one's
life--poverty stands in the way of all kinds of enjoyment."
"Poverty is a nice friendly sort of thing; a ground we can all meet on,"
said Phoebe. "But don't let us say that to grandpapa. How odd people are!
he knows you are not Croesus, but still he has a sort of feeling that you
are a young prince, and do him the greatest honour in coming to his
house; and yet, all the same, he thinks that money is the very grandest
thing in existence. See what prejudice is! He would not allow that he
had any class-reverence, and yet he can no more get rid of it--"
"Miss Beecham, it is very difficult for me to say anything on such a
subject."
"Very difficult, and you show your delicacy by not saying anything. But
you know, apart from this, which is not gratifying, I am rather proud of
grandpapa's way of looking at some things. About saying out your
opinions in public, and yet bearing no malice, for instance. Now, Mr.
Northcote is the very Antipodes to you; therefore you ought to know him
and find out what he means. It would be better for you both. That is
what I call enlarging the mind," said Phoebe with a smile; which was, to
tell the truth, a very pretty smile, and filled with a soft lustre the
blue eyes with which she looked at him. Whether it was this, or the
cogency of her argument, that moved the young Anglican, it would be hard
to say.
"If you are to be the promoter of this new science, I don't object to
studying under you," he said with a great deal of meaning in his voice.
Phoebe gave him another smile, though she shook her head; and then she
turned to the hero on the other side.
"Is it genuine, Mr. Northcote? is it as fine as I thought? There now, I
told you, grandmamma! Have you been telling Mr. Northcote how you picked
it up? I am sure you will present him with a cup and saucer for his
collection in return for his praises."
"Not for the world," said Northcote, with profound seriousness; "break a
set of cream Wedgwood! what do you take me for, Miss Beecham? I don't
mean to say that I would not give my ears to have it--all; but to break
the set--"
"Oh, I beg your pardon! I was not prepared for such delicacy of
feeling--such conscientiousness--"
"Ah!" said Northcote, with a long-drawn breath, "I don't think you can
understand the feelings of an enthusiast. A set of fine China is like a
poem--every individual bit is necessary to the perfection of the whole.
I allow that this is not the usual way of looking at it; but my pleasure
lies in seeing it entire, making the tea-table into a kind of lyric,
elevating the family life by the application of the principles of
abstract beauty to its homeliest details. Pardon, Miss Beecham, but Mrs.
Tozer is right, and you are wrong. The idea of carrying off a few lines
of a poem in one's pocket for one's collection--"
"Now that's what I call speaking up," said Mrs. Tozer, the first time
she had opened her lips, "that's just what I like. Mr. Northcote has a
deal more sense than the like of you. He knows what's what. Old things
like this as might have been my granny's, they're good enough for every
day, they're very nice for common use; but they ain't no more fit to be
put away in cupboards and hoarded up like fine china, no more than I am.
Mr. Northcote should see our best--that's worth the looking at; and if
I'd known as the gentleman was coming--but you can't put an old head on
young shoulders. Phoebe's as good as gold, and the trouble she takes with
an old woman like me is wonderful; but she can't be expected to think of
everything, can she now, at her age?"
The two young men laughed--it was the first point of approach between
them, and Phoebe restrained a smile, giving them a look from one to
another. She gave Reginald his cup of tea very graciously.
"Mr. Northcote prefers the Wedgwood, and Mr. May doesn't mind,
grandmamma," she said sweetly. "So it is as well to have the best china
in the cupboard. Grandpapa, another muffin--it is quite hot; and I know
that is what you like best."
"Well, I'll say that for Phoebe," said Tozer, with his mouth full, "that
whether she understands china or not I can't tell, but she knows what a
man likes, which is more to the purpose for a young woman. That's what
she does; and looks after folk's comforts as I never yet saw her match.
She's a girl in a thousand, is Phoebe, junior. There be them as is more
for dress," he added, fond and greasy, looking at her seated modestly in
that gown, which had filled with awe and admiration the experienced mind
of Mrs. Sam Hurst; "and plays the pianny, and that sort of style of
girl; but for one as minds the comforts of them about her----" Tozer
turned back to the table, and made a gulp of his last piece of muffin.
Eloquence could have no more striking climax; the proof of all his
enthusiasm, was it not there?
"Don't you play, Miss Beecham?" said Reginald, half-amused, half-angry.
"A little," said Phoebe, with a laugh. She had brought down a small
cottage piano out of the drawing-room, where nobody ever touched it,
into a dark corner out of reach of the lamp. It was the only
accomplishment upon which she prided herself. She got up from the table,
when she had poured out another cup of tea for her grandfather, and
without saying a word went to the little piano. It was not much of an
instrument, and Reginald May was very little of a _connoisseur_.
Northcote, who knew her gifts, gave himself up to listening, but the
Tozers looked on, shaking their heads, and it was only after some time
had passed, that Reginald began to understand that he was listening to
something which he had never heard before. Ursula's school-girl tunes
had never interested him very much; he did not know what this was which
seemed to creep into his heart by his ears. He got up by and by, and
stole towards the piano bewildered.
"It'll soon be over, sir," said Tozer, encouragingly. "Don't you run
away, Mr. May. Them are queer tunes, I allow, but they don't last long,
and your company's an honour. As for the playing, it'll soon be over;
you needn't run away."