"I said she were 'bout the cleanest woman in these parts, and the way
she'd fettle up a place and side things was wonderful."
"Yow needn't ha' been so nation fast talking 'bout my wife," said Sim.
"I niver said nowt agen her," said the landlord, chuckling to himself.
"And then we got talking 'bout you and the chapel."
"What did he know 'bout me and the chapel?" cried Sim, angrily.
"On'y what I towd him. I said part people went theer o' Sabbath, and
that it was a straange niste woshup."
"Nice woshup, indeed! why you niver went theer i' your life," said Sim.
"I said so I'd heerd," said the landlord, stolidly, "and then I towd him
how you used to preach theer till they turned thee out."
"What call had you to got to do that?" said Sim, viciously.
"Turned thee out, and took thy name off the plan for comin' to see me."
"Well, of all the unneighbourly things as iver I heerd!" exclaimed Sim.
"To go and talk that clat to a straanger."
"Outer kindness to him," said the landlord. "It was a kind o' hint, and
he took it, for I was thinking of his bishop, and he took it direckly,
for he says, says he, `Well, I hope I shan't hev my name took off my
plan for coming to see you, Mr Robinson,' he says. `I hope not, sir,'
I says. `Perhaps you'll take a glass o' wine, sir,' I says. `No, Mr
Robinson,' he says, `I'll take a glass--gill you call it--o' your ale.'
And if he didn't sit wi' me for a good hour, and drink three gills o'
ale and smoke three pipes wi' me, same as you might, ony he talked more
sensible."
"Well, he's a pretty parson, he is," sneered Sim.
"You let him be; he ain't a bad sort at all," said the landlord,
quietly.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Sim. "He's got howlt o' you too, Robinson."
"Mebbe he hev; mebbe he hevn't," said the landlord.
"Did he ask you to go to church?"
"Well, not azackly," said the landlord; "but he said he should be very
happy to see me theer, just like astin' me to his house."
"Ho, ho!" laughed Sim; "and some day we shall have the Bull and
Cowcumber at church."
"What are yow laughin' at, yo' maulkin?" cried the landlord. "Why, I'd
go ony wheer to sit and listen to a sensible man talk."
"Aw raight, aw raight, Robinson; don't be put out," said Sim; "but I
didn't think as yow'd be got over so easy."
"Who's got over?" said the landlord. "Not I indeed."
"Well," said Sim, "did he say anything more?"
"Say? yes, he's full o' say, and it's good sorter say. I ast him if
he'd like to see the farm, and he said he would, and I took him out
wheer the missus was busy wi' her pancheons, making bread and syling the
milk, and he stopped and talked to her."
"But yow didn't take him out into your moocky owd crewyard, did yo'?"
"Moocky crewyard indeed! but I just did, and I tell you what, Sim Slee,
he's as good a judge of a beast as iver I see."
"And then yow showed him the new mare," said Sim, with a grin.
"I did," said the landlord. "`Horncastle?' he says, going up to her and
opening her mouth. `Raight,' I says. `Six year owd,' he says; and then
he felt her legs and said he should like to see her paces, and I had
Jemmy to give her a run in the field. `She's Irish,' he says. `How do
you know?' I says--trying him like to trap him. `By that turn-up
nose,' he says, `and that wild saucy look about the eye and head.'
`You're raight, parson,' I says. And then he says, `she was worth sixty
pun, every pun of it;' and I told him as I got her for nine and thirty,
and ten shillings back. I tell you what, Sim Slee,--Parson's a man,
every inch on him. As for the missus, she's that pleased, she sent him
ower a pun o' boother this morning from our best Alderney."
"O' course," sneered Sim. "That's the way. That's your cunning priest
coming into your house to lead silly women captive, and sew pillows to
their armholes."
"Go on wi' yer blather," cried the landlord.
"Go on, indeed," continued Sim. "That's their way. He's a regular
Jesooit, he is, and your home wean't soon be your own. He's gettin'
ivery woman in the place under his thumb. He begins wi' Miss Eve theer
at the house, and Daisy Banks. Then he's gotten howd o' my missus.
Here's Mrs Glaire allus coming and fetching him out wi' her in the pony
shay, and now he's gotten howd o' your owd woman, and she's sendin' him
pounds o' boother. It was allus the way wi' them cunning priests: they
allus get over the women, and then they do what they like wi' the men.
No matter how strong they are, down they come just like Samson did wi'
Delilah. It was allus so, and as it was in the beginning is now and
ever shall be world without end."
"Amen," said Jacky Budd, coming in at the back door. "Gie's a gill o'
ale, Robinson. I'm 'bout bunt up wi' thirst. Hallo, Slee, what! are
yow preaching agen?"
"Never mind," said Sim, sulkily. "I should ha' thowt parson would ha'
fun you in ale, now."
"Not he," said Jacky. "Drinks it all his sen. He's got a little barrel
o' Robinson's best i' the house, too."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed Sim, holding his sides and stooping. "I say,
Jacky, put some new basses in one o' the pews for Mester Robinson,
Esquire, as is going to come reg'lar to church now. That's the way they
do it: `Send me in a small barrel o' your best ale, Mr Robinson,' he
says, `and I shall be happy to see you at church.'"
"If yow use up all yer wind, Sim Slee," said the landlord, sturdily,
"yow wean't hev none left to lay down the law wi' at the meeting
to-night."
Volume 1, Chapter XVII.