JANET MEDDLES
Bright moonlight sparkled on the snow when Kit left Ashness to post some
letters he had written ordering new machines. He was young, but since he
came home Peter had allowed much of the business of the farm to fall into
his hands. Kit's judgment was sound; he had studied modern methods at the
agricultural college and was progressive without being rash. For the most
part, his experiments had paid, and Peter sometimes thought the lad's
talents were wasted in the quiet dale. Kit had ability, particularly for
management. Then, although he was rather reserved, people trusted him and
often asked his advice.
Peter knew Kit was satisfied to stay at Ashness; but, for all that, if
the lad felt he wanted a wider field for his energies later, he would not
stand in his way. The time might come when he must let him go, for Peter
had a brother who had got rich in America and was willing to give his
nephew a start. Indeed, Adam had written again not long since, asking if
Peter was going to send him. It was a relief when Kit laughed and
declared that he did not mean to leave Ashness yet.
When he passed Allerby mill Kit looked about. Icicles covered the idle
wheel, a snow cornice hung over the flagged roof, and water splashed
softly in the half-frozen race. Farther on, the snowy road was
checkered by the shadows of hedges and bare trees. Low roofs, touched
by hoar-frost, rose behind the trunks, and here and there a gleam of
yellow light shone out. The road, however, was empty, as Kit was
relieved to note.
He had once or twice recently, when he went to the post in the evening,
met Janet Bell coming from the little shop in the village. In fact, the
thing began to look significant. Kit was sorry for Janet, because Bell's
rule was harsh and his neighbors extended their dislike for him to his
family. All the same, Kit did not trust the girl and would sooner she
left him alone. He might be taking too much for granted, but romantic
pity was a treacherous guide; Janet was pretty and clever, and he was
human. He had thought about changing the time he went to the post, but
felt it would be cowardly. Besides, he was occupied all day and letters
could not be written until the outside work was done, while a postman
called at Allerby early in the morning.
There was, however, nobody about and for a minute or two Kit went on at a
quick pace. He passed Bell's house, and then hesitated with a frown as a
figure he thought he knew came round a bend in front. Close by, the tall
hedgerow was broken by a stile, from which a path led across a field and
joined the road farther on. He was in the moonlight and if he vanished
the thing would look too marked. Moreover, there would be something
ridiculous about his running away.
Kit went forward, wondering whether Janet had noted his hesitation, and
she stopped him near a big ash-tree. The shadow of the branches made a
black, open pattern on the snow and a belt of gloom lay behind the wide
trunk. Kit would sooner Janet had stopped in the moonlight, since the
villagers often went to the shop and post in the evening, and his
standing in the shadow gave a hint of secrecy to the accidental meeting.
He thought it strange that Janet did not see this.
"You were walking fast," she said. "I believe you'd have gone by if I
hadn't spoken."
"The frost is sharp enough to make one move briskly and I've something to
do when I get back."
"Busy lad!" said Janet, in a mocking voice. "You're always in a hurry,
Kit I suppose Peter works you hard?"
"He says I work him harder than he likes," Kit replied, smiling. "Perhaps
the truth is he lets me have my way."
"You're lucky," Janet remarked with a sigh. "It's nice to be able
to do what you like. There's only one way at the Mill house, and
that's father's. But I suppose you agree with him that women's
ideas don't count?"
"I daresay their ideas are as sound as ours, but I don't know much about
it. We have no women except old Bella and the dairymaid at Ashness."
"And you never miss them? In that big, lonely house!"
Kit mused for a moment. Sometimes, particularly on summer evenings when
they did not light the lamps and the shadows of the fells rested on the
old building, Ashness was lonely and drearily quiet. He had thought now
and then the difference would be marked if a woman's laugh rang through
the dim rooms and a graceful figure sat by the hearth. Still, his
imagination had not pictured Janet there.
"Oh, well," he said, "we're out all day and when we come home there are
letters to write and books to read."
"Letters and books!" said Janet. "Kit, I wonder if you're quite alive."
Then she laughed, provocatively. "Anyhow, you don't seem to know when
you're given a chance of being nice."
Kit did not answer and wished she would let him go. He felt awkward and
thought Janet knew this, for she resumed: "However, one mustn't expect
too much and you want to get back. It's a habit of yours. You were in a
hurry to get away the last time I saw you, when the stone-boat broke
Creighton's wall."
"I'd been at work since morning in the snow."
"And Miss Osborn was waiting for you in the lonning?"
"No," said Kit sharply; "she was not."
"Anyhow she was with you, before she stole away."
"She didn't steal away," Kit began indignantly, but hesitated. Now he
came to think about it, Grace had gone as quietly as possible.
"You mean Miss Osborn does nothing undignified? For all that, she didn't
want Mrs. Creighton to see her. I don't suppose Osborn would be pleased
to know his daughter and you went for moonlight walks on the fells."
Kit knew Osborn would not like it, and since the dales folk are fond of
gossip saw he must stop the story going round.
"I had not gone for a walk with Miss Osborn. I met her as I came down
from the moor. She didn't know I was coming."
"So she wasn't waiting for you?" Janet remarked, with a hint of mockery.
She stopped, and putting her hand on Kit's arm, pushed him nearer the
hedgerow as a man and woman came round a neighboring corner.
Kit was annoyed, but he waited and watched the people as they passed. The
shadow was not very dark and he thought the woman give him a curious
glance. He knew her and imagined that she knew him. When the people went
through a gate Janet laughed.
"That was very unlucky, Kit! Old Nanny's fond of talking; I'm afraid your
character is gone."
Kit frowned. He did not see much humor in the situation, although Janet
was amused.
"Oh," she said, "you are dull! I expect you couldn't be nice if you
tried. But we were talking about Miss Osborn. You were not riding on the
stone-boat when you met her. I don't suppose you could have stopped it."
"No," said Kit, shortly, "I was not."
"But I saw you and somebody else hardly a minute after the stone-boat hit
the wall."
"You saw _me_."
"I did," said Janet. "The snow was sticking to your clothes as if you
had fallen, and you looked angry when Mrs. Creighton put the lantern
on the wall." She paused for a moment, and went on: "I begin to see;
you did come down on the stone-boat and Miss Osborn came with you. You
were both thrown off by the upset at the wall. Well, if you persuaded
her to join you in an adventure like that, it looks as if you were
pretty good friends."
Kit said nothing. In a sense, Miss Osborn had persuaded him, and it was
difficult to explain that both had really given way to a rash impulse.
Somewhat to his surprise, Janet gently touched his arm.
"Be careful, Kit! I wouldn't like to see you hurt. Miss Osborn's friends
are not your kind of folk; she only wants to amuse herself when they are
not about."
"That's ridiculous," Kit declared. "Miss Osborn is not amusing
herself with me."
"Perhaps you ought to know," Janet rejoined with some dryness. "Now I
come to think of it, you're not always very bright. Anyhow, when she
finds the game tiresome, she'll soon get rid of you."
"I meet Miss Osborn now and then and sometimes she stops and speaks. That
is all," Kit said sternly.
"I imagine it's enough," Janet remarked. "Well, I don't want to see you
made to look a fool; you're rather a good sort, Kit, if you're not very
clever. Be careful and remember you have been warned."
She gave him a friendly nod and went off, but after a few moments turned
and looked back. Kit was walking down the road with swift angry strides.
Janet smiled, but when she entered the mill-house kitchen her face was
flushed. Soon after she sat down by the fire, Bell came in and leaned
against the table with an angry frown.
"There's two mair trucks o' coal, and I canna find room for t' stuff," he
said. "Yards is full and I only sold three or four car loads last week."
Janet knew silence was prudent when her father was disturbed, but he had
given her a lead. Kit was a fool, and although she doubted if he were as
dull as he pretended, she was angry with him. Anyhow, it might be
possible to stop his ridiculous infatuation for Miss Osborn.
"You can't sell coal when the Askews are giving peat away," she said.
"Looks like that," Bell agreed. "I'd ha' broke the others before noo if I
hadn't had Peter and Kit against me. Hooiver, if I canna sell coal, I
canna pay the rent and landlord will have to do something. Mayhappen it
will be easier for him if he kens the Askews started the plot. Osborn's
none too fond of them."
"He wouldn't like them any better if he knew what I know," Janet remarked
with a malicious smile.
"What do you ken about them?" Bell asked scornfully.
"I don't imagine Osborn wants Kit for his son-in-law."
Bell started and then laughed harshly.
"Old wives' crack! Kit's not such a fool!"
"You know best," said Janet. "If you like, I'll tell you what I've seen."
She did so and Bell's mean face got thoughtful. On the whole, Janet did
not exaggerate much, although she now and then made a rather unwarranted
implication. She threw a fresh light on matters the gossips already
talked about; among others were Grace's visit to Mireside the morning
Railton's sheep were counted and her meeting with Kit before he went to
look for the Herdwicks. When she stopped Bell knitted his brows.
"If it was used right, I might mak' some use o' this," he
observed. "We'll see what Osborn says about coal yards and the
alterations at mill."
He went to his office and Janet sat quietly by the fire. Her plot would
work; Miss Osborn should not have Kit.
Bell made some calculations. His money was getting short; he had bills to
pay, and his stock of coal was large. He could not hold it much longer,
and since the Askews were bringing down large quantities of peat, there
was no ground for imagining the dalesfolk would give way. It looked as if
he must meet them and he wrote a notice that coal would be delivered by
the trailer lurry at a reduction of two-and-six a ton.
When he had put this in an envelope for the printers, Bell knitted his
brows. Although his neighbors would sooner burn coal than peat, he was
not sure the reduction would stimulate the demand for the former and he
must look for relief in some other direction. He paid a high rent for
the yards and the landlord ought to help. Osborn would, no doubt, be
reluctant, but he might be forced. Bell's lease of the mill would soon
run out; nobody else could pay as much as he paid, and he would demand
certain expensive alterations. Furthermore, Osborn did not like the
Askews, and Bell imagined he saw how to strike a blow at Kit; Janet had
shown him the way. It would be some satisfaction to punish the
meddlesome fellow.
Two days afterwards the notice was fixed on the gateposts, but a week
went by without its attracting fresh customers. Then a bill from the
colliery arrived and Bell put down his price another two-and-six. For a
day or two, no orders came in, and he resolved to wait until the week was
out and then, if needful, get Hayes to arrange for a meeting with Osborn.
On the last evening of the week, a number of the co-operators met in the
kitchen at Ashness and for a time talked about the weather and the price
of sheep. Askew let them talk and Kit was too preoccupied to give them a
lead. He had been thoughtful since he met Janet Bell, for she had
banished the self-deception he had unconsciously used and thrown a new
and disturbing light on his friendship with Grace. Ridiculous as it was
in many ways, he was falling in love with Grace Osborn. Moreover, he had
met her an hour since and she had talked with a friendly confidence that
made his heart beat. The girl liked and trusted him, and although he
durst not look for more, this in itself was much. It was plain that he
ought to conquer his infatuation, but he doubted if he could.
Listening to the others mechanically, he was silent and absorbed until
one asked, "Weel, what's to be done aboot coal noo? Are we gan t' buy?"
"I dinna ken," said another. "My womenfolk are grumelling an' it's
lang sin' we had good light bread, but they're none for letting Bell
have his way."
"He's come doon five shillings, and we've peat enough to fall back on if
he puts up price again," somebody else remarked. "Hooiver, I reckon he's
forced to sell and we might get anither half-croon off if we wait."
Peter took his pipe from his mouth. "It's a kittle point. T' womenfolk
have been patient and Bell canna rob us much if we buy from him noo. Aw
t' same, we can beat him doon some shillings if we hoad on."
"Then hoad on and break the grasping skinflint!" said one of the
younger men.
"I doot if we can break him and wadn't say it's wise to try. If he'll
come down anither shilling, I think we might tak' his coal. That wad be a
just price and we ought to be satisfied."
"Let him smart!" urged the other. "He's robbed us lang enough."
"Well," said Peter thoughtfully, "I dinna ken if that's a reason for
robbing him, and it's sometimes safer no to push your enemy over hard
when he's willing to give in. You must choose. If you hoad on and
force him to sell at a big loss, the fight can only end in yan o' two
ways. He'll mak' you pay top price for cattle food, lime, and patent
manures; or you'll drive him oot o' dale. You must reckon if you're
strong enough."
"We'll hear what Kit says," one of the rest remarked.
Kit's mood was hardly normal. He was not often rash, but he felt sore and
rebellious and this had a stronger influence than he knew. Miss Osborn
liked him, but her father's rank and traditions were daunting obstacles.
Kit felt this was unjust, and raw passions and prejudices that he was, as
a rule, too sensible to indulge, got the mastery.
"My father is right," he said. "We have started a fight with Bell; he's a
dangerous man to rouse and will make us pay, unless we beat him. Besides,
he has made some pay already. Old rheumatic men and young children
starved by half-empty grates when the snow stopped us getting the peat,
and you have seen the profits you worked hard for melt before the price
Bell charged for cattle-meal. He's been getting greedier, until he
imagined he could rob us as he liked, and since he has forced us into the
quarrel, my notion is we ought to fight it out."
Peter looked surprised, but did not speak, and there was silence for a
few moments. Then one said:
"I'm with Kit. We'll hoad on until Bell comes doon seven-and-six. If he
does, we'll talk aboot it again."
After some argument, the rest agreed, and when they went away Peter
turned to his son.
"Mayhappen you've sent them t' right road, but I dinna ken! I'm none fond
o' fratching, unless I'm forced."
"We are forced," Kit answered moodily.
Peter gave him a keen glance and then spread out his hands.
"It's possible. For aw that, it wadn't ha' done much harm to give t' man
his chance o' makin' peace."
Kit did not answer, but went out, and Askew sat by the fire with a
thoughtful look. Something had happened to the lad, and Peter wondered
what it was. He felt vaguely disturbed, but could see no light.