I got up the next morning just as usual. Nothing should have induced
me to confess that there was anything the matter with me, although my
arm was so stiff that it was with the greatest pain that I carried in
the breakfast urn, and my head ached so from my fall that it was hard
enough to put a good face upon it when mother remarked again upon the
disfigurement that I had upon my cheek. But although I gave no sign, I
was not used to being ill, and it did not improve my temper.
Things were not comfortable in the house, and I did nothing to make
them better. To be sure, I kept my promise of talking to Reuben, but
I'm afraid that I did not even do that in a manner to be of any use. I
met Mr. Harrod as I passed out into the stable-yard, and he asked me
how I did? That alone put me out.
To have been asked how I did by any one that morning would have annoyed
me, but to be asked how I did by the man who was somehow connected
with my doing ill annoyed me specially. I fancied it would have been
in better taste if he had not remarked upon a body's appearance when
she was looking her worst; and anyhow it seemed to me an unnecessary
formality. I feel really ashamed now to write down such nonsense, but
there is no doubt that such were my feelings at the time. I do not
think that I even answered him by anything more than a "good-morning,"
but passed on as though I had the affairs of the world on my shoulders.
I found Reuben rubbing down the mare who was to go into town with
father. She neighed as I came in, and stretched out her neck. I had no
sugar, but she licked my hand nevertheless; and I remembered Reuben's
compliment to me about my ability to win the love of beasts. It
consoled me a little at a time when I thought I should always stand
aloof, not only from the love but even from the comradeship of human
beings. And it gave me courage to say what I wanted to say to Reuben.
It was something to know that I was at least the old man's favorite.
"Reuben," I began, plunging boldly into the matter, "whatever made you
behave so badly to father's bailiff when he came round the place?"
There had been a special cause of complaint that very morning when
father had first taken Mr. Harrod round the farm, so I had a handle
upon which to begin.
"Don't you know," I went on, "that this gentleman has got to be master
over you?"
"Master!" repeated Reuben, stopping his work, and looking straight at
me; "no, miss, I knows nothing about that."
I had used the word on purpose to draw out the whole sting at once.
"Yes," continued I, "he's going to be father's bailiff."
"Bailiff!" repeated Reuben, again putting on his most stolid air. "I
knows nothing about that."
"Well," explained I, trying neither to laugh nor to be annoyed, "that
means that he is going to manage the land and give orders the same as
father, so that there'll be two masters instead of one."
Reuben continued rubbing down the mare's coat till it began to shine
like satin.
"I've heard tell," answered he at last, "there's something in the Book
that says a man don't have no call to serve two masters."
This time I did laugh outright. "Oh, that's different, Reuben," said
I--"that's different; but these two masters will both be good, and both
will want you to do the same thing."
"Do ye know that for sure, miss?" asked Reuben, again, and I had a
lurking suspicion that he did not ask in a perfectly teachable spirit.
"I've heard tell as when there be two masters, they always wants a man
to do just the opposite things."
I paused a moment. I did not know what to answer, for it seemed to me
as though there might be a great deal of truth in this.
But I said, bravely, "Oh no, Reuben."
Reuben scratched his head. "Well, miss, Farmer Maliphant, he have been
my master fifteen year come Michaelmas, and he have been a good master
to me. Many another would have turned me away because o' the drink. It
was chill work at times down there on the marsh when I was with the
sheep, and the drink was a comfort. I nigh upon died o' the drink, but
Farmer Maliphant he have been patient with me, and he give me another
chance when others would have sacked me without a word. And now I be
what parson calls a reformed character."
"Well, you are quite right to avoid drinking, Reuben," said I, chiefly
because I did not know what to say.
"Yes; but I don't mind tellin' you, miss," continued Reuben,
confidentially, "that farmer he have more to do with making a pious man
of me than parson had; not but what I respec's the Church; but bless
you, parson wouldn't ha' given me nothing for giving up o' my bad ways,
and where's the use of doing violence to yerself if ye ain't a goin' to
get something by it?"
Reuben wiped his brow. This long and unwonted effort of speech was
almost too much for him.
"Nay, parson he didn't offer me no reward," added he, "but farmer
he did. He says to me, 'Reuben,' he says, 'if you give up the drink
you shall stay on as long as I'm above-ground;' and three times I
backslided, I did, and three times he give me another chance; and now
as I'm a respectable party, and a honor to any club as I might belong
to, I means to stick to my old master, and not be for going after
follerin' any other mammon whatsomever."
I brightened up at this declaration.
"Well, I'm glad of that, Reuben," said I. "I'm sure we none of us want
you to leave us after all these years."
"Lord bless you, I ain't a-going to leave," answered he, simply.
"Then that's all right," answered I. "If you have made up your mind
to do as you're bid, I know father will be true to his word, and will
never turn you off so long as he is alive."
"Ay, the master'll be true to his word," echoed the old man, nodding
his head, "and I'll be true to mine, but I won't go follerin' after no
new masters. One master's enough for me, and him only will I serve."
He gave the mare a smack upon her haunches, and turned her off; the
light of reason faded from his face, and I knew that it was absolutely
useless to say another word to him on the subject. I turned to go
within, and in the porch, with a bowl in her hand, stood Deborah facing
me, with an exasperating smile on her wide red face, and something more
than usually aggressive in her broad, strong figure. I looked round and
saw that the gate of the yard was open, and that Mr. Harrod, with his
heavy boots and gaiters on, ready for work, stood just behind me. I
could have cried with vexation.
"Mr. Maliphant is waiting," said he, going up to the animal that Reuben
had just finished harnessing, and fastening the last buckle himself.
"I'll drive the cart round to the front myself." And he took the reins
and jumped up while Reuben, in gloomy silence, tightened up one of the
straps. I went and opened the gates, and with a nod of thanks to me,
Mr. Harrod dashed out.
I cannot tell whether it was the strap that he had fastened himself, or
whether the one that had been Reuben's doing, but something galled the
mare. She reared and began to kick. Without a smile upon his face, and
without moving an inch, Reuben said, "Ay, it takes a man to hold that
mare."
"You fool!" cried I, quite forgetting myself. "It isn't the man, it's
the harness."
I flew down the gravel after the cart. The horse was still kicking
violently. Every muscle on Mr. Harrod's dark face was set in hard lines.
"Leave her alone," cried he, as I approached; "don't touch her."
Something in his voice cowed me, and apparently cowed the horse
also, for she was quiet in an instant, her sides only quivering with
nervousness. I sprang to her and unloosed the cruel strap. She turned
to me, and I held her by the bridle and patted her neck. Mr. Harrod got
down and examined the cart. Fortunately it was not materially hurt.
"What can Reuben have been about to tighten that so," said I. "It was
enough to madden any horse."
He did not answer.
"I'm afraid he was angry at your giving him an order," said I. "You
must excuse him. He's an obstinate old fellow, but he is a good
servant, and he has been with us many years."
"It's the most natural thing in the world that he should dislike me at
first," answered Trayton Harrod, with that smile of his that was such
a quick, short flash. "I rather like the sort of people who resent
interference. But I don't suppose it was his doing for a moment. I
buckled this up wrong."
He pointed to his part of the job. Father came up, and they drove off
quietly together. I went back into the yard, musing on his words.
"I don't believe you'll find Mr. Harrod an unjust master, Reuben," said
I.
Reuben took no notice; but Deborah laughed, and said, grimly:
"Well, he's a fine-grown young man, anyhow; and he'll know how to drive
a mare, I don't doubt."
But I paid no attention to her words. I was wondering why Mr. Harrod
had said that he rather liked people who resented interference.