From _Ruth_.
In one of her letters George Eliot mentions “the rich humour of
Sally,” and later goes on to say “Mrs. Gaskell has certainly a
charming mind, and one cannot help loving her as one reads her
books.”
Sally was, as usual, the talker; and, as usual, the subject was the
family of whom for so many years she had formed a part.
“Aye! things was different when I was a girl,” quoth she. “Eggs was
thirty for a shilling, and butter only sixpence a pound. My wage when I
came here was but three pound, and I did on it, and was always clean and
tidy, which is more than many a lass can say now who gets her seven and
eight pound a year; and tea was kept for an afternoon drink, and pudding
was eaten afore meat in them days, and the upshot was, people paid their
debts better; aye, aye! we’n gone backwards, and we thinken we’n gone
forrards.”
After shaking her head a little over the degeneracy of the times, Sally
returned to a part of the subject on which she thought she had given Ruth
a wrong idea.
“You’ll not go for to think now that I’ve not more than three pound a
year. I’ve a deal above that now. First of all, old missus gave me four
pound, for she said I were worth it, and I thought in my heart that I
were; so I took it without more ado; but after her death, Master Thurstan
and Miss Faith took a fit of spending, and says they to me, one day as
I carried tea in, ‘Sally, we think your wages ought to be raised.’ ‘What
matter what you think!’ said I, pretty sharp, for I thought they’d ha’
shown more respect to missus if they’d let things stand as they were in
her time; and they’d gone and moved the sofa away from the wall to where
it stands now, already that very day. So I speaks up sharp, and, says I,
‘As long as I’m content, I think it’s no business of yours to be meddling
wi’ me and my money matters.’ ‘But,’ says Miss Faith (she’s always the
one to speak first if you’ll notice, though it’s master that comes in and
clinches the matter with some reason she’d never ha’ thought of—he were
always a sensible lad), ‘Sally, all the servants in the town have six
pound and better, and you have as hard a place as any of ’em.’ ‘Did you
ever hear me grumble about my work that you talk about it in that way?
Wait till I grumble,’ says I, ‘but don’t meddle wi’ me till then.’ So I
flung off in a huff; but in the course of the evening, Master Thurstan
came in and sat down in the kitchen, and he’s such winning ways he wiles
one over to anything; and besides, a notion had come into my head—now,
you’ll not tell” said she, glancing round the room, and hitching her
chair nearer to Ruth in a confidential manner; Ruth promised, and Sally
went on:
“I thought I should like to be an heiress wi’ money, and leave it all to
Master and Miss Faith; and I thought if I’d six pound a year I could,
maybe, get to be an heiress; all I was feared on was that some chap or
other might marry me for my money, but I’ve managed to keep the fellows
off; so I looks mim and grateful, and I thanks Master Thurstan for his
offer, and I takes the wages; and what do you think I’ve done?” asked
Sally, with an exultant air.
“What have you done?” asked Ruth.
“Why,” replied Sally slowly and emphatically, “I’ve saved thirty pound!
But that’s not it. I’ve getten a lawyer to make me a will; that’s it,
wench!” said she, slapping Ruth on the back.
“How did you manage it?” asked Ruth.
“Aye, that was it,” said Sally; “I thowt about it many a night before
I hit on the right way. I was afeared the money might be thrown into
Chancery, if I didn’t make it all safe, and yet I could na’ ask Master
Thurstan. At last and at length John Jackson, the grocer, had a nephew
come to stay a week with him, as was ’prentice to a lawyer in Liverpool;
so now was my time, and here was my lawyer. Wait a minute! I could tell
you my story better if I had my will in my hand; and I’ll scomfish you if
ever you go for to tell.”
She held up her hand, and threatened Ruth as she left the kitchen to
fetch the will.
When she came back, she brought a parcel tied up in a blue
pocket-handkerchief; she sat down, squared her knees, untied the
handkerchief, and displayed a small piece of parchment.
“Now, do you know what this is?” said she, holding it up. “It’s
parchment, and it’s the right stuff to make wills on. People gets into
Chancery if they don’t make them o’ this stuff, and I reckon Tom Jackson
thowt he’d have a fresh job on it if he could get it into Chancery; for
the rascal went and wrote it on a piece of paper at first, and came and
read it me out loud off a piece of paper no better than what one writes
letters upon. I were up to him; and, thinks I, come, come, my lad, I’m
not a fool, though you may think so; I know a paper will won’t stand, but
I’ll let you run your rig. So I sits and I listens. And would you belie’
me, he read it out as if it were as clear a business as your giving me
that thimble—no more ado, though it were thirty pound! I could understand
it mysel’—that were no law for me. I wanted summat to consider about,
and for th’ meaning to be wrapped up as I wrap up my best gown. So says
I, ‘Tom! it’s not on parchment. I mun have it on parchment.’ ‘This ’ill
do as well,’ says he. ‘We’ll get it witnessed, and it will stand good.’
Well! I liked the notion of having it witnessed, and for a while that
soothed me; but after a bit, I felt I should like it done according to
law, and not plain out as anybody might ha’ done it; I mysel’, if I could
have written. So says I, ‘Tom! I mun have it on parchment.’ ‘Parchment
costs money,’ says he very grave. ‘Oh, oh, my lad! are ye there?’ thinks
I. ‘That’s the reason I’m clipped of law.’ So says I, ‘Tom! I mun have
it on parchment. I’ll pay the money and welcome. It’s thirty pound, and
what I can lay to it. I’ll make it safe. It shall be on parchment, and
I’ll tell thee what, lad! I’ll gie ye sixpence for every good law-word
you put in it, sounding like, and not to be caught up as a person runs.
Your master had need to be ashamed of you as a ’prentice if you can’t do
a thing more tradesman-like than this!’ Well! he laughed above a bit, but
I were firm, and stood to it. So he made it out on parchment. Now, woman,
try and read it!” said she, giving it to Ruth.
Ruth smiled, and began to read, Sally listening with rapt attention. When
Ruth came to the word “testatrix” Sally stopped her.
“That was the first sixpence,” said she. “I thowt he was going to fob
me off again wi’ plain language; but when that word came, I out wi’ my
sixpence, and gave it to him on the spot. Now go on.”
Presently Ruth read “accruing.”
“That was the second sixpence. Four sixpences it were in all, besides
six-and-eightpence as we bargained at first, and three-and-fourpence
parchment. There! that’s what I call a will; witnessed according to law,
and all. Master Thurstan will be prettily taken in when I die, and he
finds all his extra wage left back to him. But it will teach him it’s not
so easy as he thinks for, to make a woman give up her way.”