Well, as I said, old Master and Mrs. Blake come back together from
the station, and from that day forward Mrs. Blake was unbearabler
than ever. And one day when Mr. Sigglesfield, the lawyer from Lewes,
was in the parlour, she a-talking to him after he'd been up to see
master (about his will, no doubt), she opened the parlour door sharp
and sudden just as I was bringing the tea for her to have it with
him like a lady--she opened the door sudden, as I say, and boxed my
ears as I stood, and I should have dropped the tea-tray but for me
being brought up a careful girl, and taught always to hold on to the
tea-tray with all my fingers.
I'm proud to say I didn't say a word, but I put down that tea-tray
and walked into the kitchen with my ear as hot as fire and my temper
to match, which was no wonder and no disgrace. Then she come into
the kitchen.
'You go this day month, Miss,' she says, 'a-listening at doors when
your betters is a-talking. I'll teach you!' says she, and back she
goes into the parlour.
But I took no notice of what she said, for Master Harry, he hired
me, and I would take no notice from any one but him.
Mr. Sigglesfield was a-coming pretty often just then, and Harry he
come to me one day, and he says--
'It's all right, Polly, and I must tell you because you're the same
as myself, though I don't like to talk as if we was waiting for dead
men's shoes. Long may he wear them! But father's told me he has left
everything to me, right and safe, though I am the second son. My
brother John never did get on with father, but when all's mine,
we'll see that John don't starve.'
And that day week old master was a corpse.
He was found dead in his bed, and the doctor said it was old age and
a sudden breaking up.
Mrs. Blake she cried and took on fearful, more than was right or
natural, and when the will was to be read in the parlour after the
funeral she come into the kitchen where I was sitting crying
too--not that I was fond of old master, but the kind of crying there
is at funerals is catching, I think, and besides, I was sorry for
Master Harry, who was a good son, and quite broken down.
'You can come and hear the will read,' she says, 'for all your
impudence, you hussy!'
And I don't know why I went in after her impudence, but I did. Mr.
Sigglesfield was there, and some of the relations, who had come a
long way to hear if they was to pull anything out of the fire; and
Master Harry was there, looking very pale through all his
sun-brownness. And says he, 'I suppose the will's got to be read,
but my father, he told me what I was to expect. It's all to me, and
one hundred to Mrs. Blake, and five pounds apiece to the servants.'
And Mr. Sigglesfield looks at him out of his ferret eyes, and says
very quietly, 'I think the will had better be read, Mr. Alderton.'
'So I think,' says Mrs. Blake, tossing her head and rubbing her red
eyes with her handkerchief at the same minute almost.
And read it was, and all us people sat still as mice, listening to
the wonderful tale of it. For wonderful it was, though folded up
very curious and careful in a pack of lawyer's talk. And when it was
finished, Master Harry stood up on his feet, and he said--
'I don't understand your cursed lawyer's lingo. Does this mean that
my father has left me fifty pounds, and has left the rest, stock,
lock and barrel, to his wife Martha. Who in hell,' he says, 'is his
wife Martha?'
And at that Mrs. Blake stood up and fetched a curtsy to the company.
'That's me,' she said, 'by your leave; married two months come
Tuesday, and here's my lines.'
And there they were. There was no getting over them. Married at St.
Mary Woolnoth, in London, by special licence.
'O you wicked old Jezebel!' says Master Harry, shaking his fist at
her; 'here's a fine end for a young man's hopes! Is it true?' says
he, turning to the lawyer. And Mr. Sigglesfield shakes his head and
says--
'I am afraid so, my poor fellow.'
'Jezebel, indeed!' cries Mrs. Blake. 'Out of my house, my young
gamecock! Get out and crow on your own dunghill, if you can find
one.'
And Harry turned and went without a word. Then I slipped out too,
and I snatched my old bonnet and shawl off their peg in the kitchen,
and I ran down the lane after him.
'Harry,' says I, and he turned and looked at me like something
that's hunted looks when it gets in a corner and turns on you. Then
I got up with him and caught hold of his arm with both my hands.
'Never mind the dirty money,' says I. 'What's a bit of money,' I
says--'what is it, my dear, compared with true love? I'll work my
fingers to the bone for you,' says I, 'and we're better off than her
when all's said and done.'
'So we are, my girl,' says he; and the savage look went out of his
face, and he kissed me for the second time.
Then we went home, arm-under-arm, to my mother's, and we told father
and mother all about it; and mother made Harry up a bit of a bed on
the settle, and he stayed with us till he could pull himself
together and see what was best to be done.