Jill was quite willing to accompany Silas home for the tea-drinking. He
told her about it on Sunday when he went to see her in her little flat.
"Yer to come down looking as peart as you can. Jill," he said to her.
"The folks in Newbridge beats all folks livin' for contrariness. They
think that God Almighty did right when He made a lovely flower, and
mortal wrong when He made a lovely woman. They think as sweetness and
beauty can go together in flowers but not in gels, so I want you to look
your werry beat, my dainty little cuttin', and show 'em as they are all
hout for once in their reckonin's. I'm thinkin' as maybe yer would like
a new bit of a gownd; what do yer say to a yaller cotton now, made werry
stylish? I don't mind paying a real good dressmaker to put it together.
Come, now, would you like it, ah?"
"No, thank you, Silas," said Jill. "I'll feel more at home like in my
old black gownd, which has in a sort of a way growed to me. I'd like
best to wear that with a bit of a posy that you'll pick out of the
garden fresh for me when I get down."
"You're to stay for the night, mind, when you do come," said Silas. "An
aunt o' mine, a Mrs Royal, a werry decent body, can share my bed with
yer, and I'll go and have a shake-down at Peters's. You'll be sure to
come in good time, and a-lookin' yer best; Jill."
"Yes, Silas," she replied, with a meekness which would have puzzled him
very much had he known her better. He was too happy and content,
however, for even the faintest suspicion of anything not being quite
right to enter his mind.
Jill Robinson was like the mignonette and the lavender and the
cherry-pie for sweetness of character, while she resembled the crimson
rose-bud in the richness of her beauty.
Yes, surely the Lord had given up chastening Silas when so great a prize
as Jill was to be his.
The invited guests were only too eager to come to the tea-drinking.
Notwithstanding the disapproval of the congregation at Silas's choice,
those of them who were favoured with an invitation to see his bride were
by no means slow of availing themselves of it.
Mrs Hibberty Jones and Miss Mary Ann Hatton went, it is true, under a
protest, but Hibberty Jones himself and Peters owned that they did not
object to seeing beauty when they could do so in a good cause. It was
distinctly to Silas's advantage that the foremost members of the
congregation should support him at this critical juncture, and if
possible take early steps to convert Jill to her future husband's faith.
So, dressed in their best, the homely village folk walked across the
fields, on this lovely summer's evening, to Silas Lynn's tea-drinking.
Silas had ordered a new suit of strong rough frieze for his wedding.
The suit had been made in a great hurry by the village tailor, and was
sombre both in its cut and its colour. But the gloomy effect of coat
and trousers was much relieved by a gay waistcoat of white with a
coloured sprig bedecking it all over. This waistcoat had belonged to
Silas's father, and was regarded in the family as a very precious
heirloom. He wore in his button-hole three large crimson carnations,
and altogether made an imposing spectacle as he stood in the porch of
the little cottage to receive his visitors.
Aunt Hannah was busy inside the house. She wore a dark plum-coloured
dress, and a little tight black net cap, tied under her chin with a bow
of yellow ribbon.
Jill had not yet arrived, and Silas, while he held out his great hands
in hearty greeting to his visitors, could not help letting his eyes
wander anxiously up the path which led from the railway station direct
to the cottage.
"How do you do, Mr Lynn?" said Miss Mary Ann Hatton in an acrid voice.
"Allow me to congratulate you. Oh, pray don't let us keep your
hattention. Where the heyes stray is where the 'eart is to be found.
Ain't that so, Mrs Jones?"
"It ain't modest to speak o' them sort of things aloud," said Mrs
Jones, in a hushed voice to the spinster. "Don't let yer feelin's get
the better of yer, Mary Ann--you're disappointed, but keep it dark, for
the sake of feminine modesty. Well, Mr Lynn, we're proud to come and
meet this young gel what is soon to be yer wife. Have she come yet? Or
are you looking for 'er over the brow of the 'ill, that you keep your
eye fixed on that one pint so constant?"
"She ain't come, but I'm expectin' of her every minute," said Silas.
"I'm real proud to welcome yer, neighbours. Come in, come in. My aunt,
Mrs Royal, is in the house a-brewing the tea. Come in, neighbours, and
make yerselves at home."
Mr and Mrs Hibberty Jones and Miss Hatton stepped immediately across
the threshold, but old Mr Peters stood still, and put one of his
wrinkled hands, with marked solemnity, on Silas Lynn's shoulder.
"Wanity of wanity, Silas," he said in a mournful tone. "I didn't think
as you'd have been tuk in by a bit of a gel to the extent of wearin' a
flowered waistcoat. You has had a sudden fall, Silas."
"Go right into the house, Mr Peters," said Silas. "There Jill a-coming
down the field. You look at her, and tell me arterwards ef you think
she wor worthy of a sprigged waistcoat or not."
When Jill and Silas entered the little cottage side by side, the rest of
the visitors were seated in some impatience round the tea-table. The
board was well supplied with a large brown cake in the centre, a freshly
cooked ham at one end, and the tea equipage, containing the delicate
white and gold tea-service, at the other. Bread in great junks, hot
cake, butter in several fancy devices, and a large dish of honey
completed the repast.
Hibberty Jones had placed himself as near that end of the table where
the ham stood as possible. Miss Hatton sat pensively where she could
keep control of the honey, and Mrs Hibberty Jones made up her mind that
she would act as cutler of the cake.
When Silas and Jill entered the whole company arose, and each in turn
offered a cold handshake to the London flower girl. Room was made for
her to sit down beside Silas at the end of the board, and Aunt Hannah,
with a loud "a-hem," lifted the teapot to dispense the tea.
"May I ask, Mrs Jones," she inquired, "'ow you like your tea sarved, or
ef you has no wishes on the subjec'? Some folk ain't particular, but
it's best to know."
"I ain't what's called particular," said Mrs Jones.
"No honey, I thank you, Miss Hatton--but I likes my tea to lay for a
good eight or ten minutes arter it is made. I will own that I likes it
bitter; flavoured with one spoonful of thick rich cream and three good
lumps of castor sugar. Jones goes in for four lumps, but I say so much
sugar is apt to lay heavy, so three's my quantity. I'll trouble you not
to give me more than one teaspoonful of cream, Mrs Royal."
"Sech strong tea is wonderful bad for the narves," said Miss Hatton.
"May I ask, miss," turning to Jill, "'ow you takes it in the City? I'm
told, but I don't know ef it's true, that you mostly uses our tea-leaves
over agen."
"I don't think it's true," replied Jill, "though maybe there air some
folks poor enough even for that." She raised her great dark eyes as she
spoke, and looked sadly at Miss Hatton.
The spinster turned away with a toss of her head. "Why, she's foreign,"
she muttered. "It's worse even than I feared."
"I have no doubt, miss, whatever, that _you_ always drinks the best o'
tea," said Hibberty Jones with a gallant bow. "So purty a bit of a
young gel couldn't but have the werry best."
"Quite so--I agrees with you, Mr Jones," said Mr Peters.
The women could not forbear snorting audibly, and Miss Hatton in her
agitation dropped a spoonful of honey on the white cloth, and the next
moment one of the delicate white saucers with the convolvulus lying
across its smooth surface had been pushed by her awkward elbow on to the
floor. It lay there in shivers. Aunt Hannah gave an unearthly groan,
and Silas felt the purple colour of rage dyeing his face.
"Don't say a word, Silas," said Jill in a soft tone.
She sprang lightly to her feet, ran round to Miss Hatton's side, picked
up the broken crockery, which she put out of sight, placed another
saucer beside Miss Hatton's plate, and returned to her place by Silas.
Her little action was so swift and graceful, and the lovely colour which
mantled her cheeks was so becoming, that the three men could not help
expressing their approval by a low sort of underground cheer.
"You have a kind heart, I see, my lass," said old Peters; "a kind heart
as well as a purty face. I never knew 'em go together afore. I divided
the world o' women afore into two lots. There was the illigant
faymales, with their fine faces, and their fine walk, and their fine
bits o' ways; and there was the plain, downright women, like my old
missis, wot died, and like our good friend, Mrs Hibberty Jones" (Mrs
Hibberty Jones turned white with suppressed anger at this marked
allusion to her present appearance), "and like Miss Hatton," continued
Peters, "sterling bodies both o' them, but awk'ard outside. _We_ must
own as plain women is awk'ard outside. Well, I thought as the plain
'uns were the good 'uns, and the purty 'uns the bad 'uns. Never thought
as they'd get mixed; never did, never. But the ways of the Lord are
wonderful, and I can't but b'lieve that there's a purty nature inside
that bonny face o' yourn, my gel."
Jill received old Mr Peters's rather embarrassing compliments with a
calm indifference that greatly amazed the three other women present.
"I don't think nobody ought to think o' looks one way or t'other," she
said, after a pause. "We're as we're made--it's the inside as is
everything. I never know'd kind, rich, grand sort of folks like these
here afore. I wor brought up rough, although I don't like roughness;
and some o' the people I has met were real ugly in feature, but oh, the
'earts in 'em--the kindness o' 'em--the beautiful look as love had put
in their eyes. I don't think the looks matters at all, it's the 'earts
as is everything."
Jill looked so sweet when she said this that even the angry women were
appeased, and Miss Hatton, suddenly moving her chair, made room for Jill
to sit opposite the honey.
"You come nigh to me," she said; "I own as I'm awk'ard, and I'm sorry I
broke a bit of your chaney."
"Go and set near her, Jill," whispered Silas; "your winnin' of 'em all,
my little cuttin'; I knew as yer would."
"Jill," said Aunt Hannah, "I 'ope as you're a gel as is willin' to hact
up to your own words. I will say as you looks well-meaning. It worn't
your fault as you were made handsome--it's a trial, I will own; but you
must try and take it patient. But what I wants to know is this--'ave
you or 'ave you not got a light hand with chaney? Chaney is more
delicate nor a woman; it has, so to speak, no constitootion. Any
minute, by a rough knock or a push, or the awkardness jest now shown by
Mary Ann Hatton, and there--it'll go, shivered. The gel what can manage
chaney has something to be proud on. When I was married I got a
tea-sarvice of white chaney with a gold rim, and a scalloped edge round
the saucer. It wor werry neat, but not a patch on this, for this blue
convolvuly is too cunnin' for anything. Well, when you come to see me,
Jill, I'll show you my chaney, every piece complete, not a crack in it,
nor a chip; all the little cups, and the scalloped saucers and the
plates, jest as I got 'em when I wor married. Why wor this? I'll tell
you why. I put 'em in a glass cupboard, and I never used 'em 'cept at
christenings. Ef you keep this chaney for christenings why it'll last,
Jill, but ef you uses it every day, it stands to reason as the
constitootions of these cups and saucers'll give way. I ask yer now, in
the presence of yer future husband, Mr Peters, Mr Hibberty Jones, the
good wife of the latter, and Miss Mary Ann Hatton, what is yer
intentions with regard to this beautiful chaney?"
"How can she tell jest now, Aunt Hannah?" said Silas.
"In the matter of wedding the gel I leave everything to you, Silas,"
remarked his aunt, "but in the cause of the chaney I must speak my mind.
Consider this question, my gel, and hanswer me true."
There was a dead pause when Aunt Hannah came to the end of her oration.
The other women, and even the men, looked at Jill with some small
anxiety. She was quite silent for a moment, looking down at the
delicate little cup and saucer which stood by her plate.
"I think," she said, after a minute's silence, "that we might have a
little cupboard made for this yere chaney, Silas. The cupboard could
face the door and the two windows, and when the sun come in it 'ud shine
on the cups and saucers and make 'em look real fine, and when Aunt
Hannah came to see us we could use the chaney. I has got some cups and
saucers at home as 'ud do for you and me every day, Silas."
"My gel," said Aunt Hannah, "come here and kiss me. Silas, I withdraw
all my hopposition to yer wedding this gel; the Lord has seen fit to
give her a mind to match her face. She spoke now with rare wisdom, and
my own three delf cups as I spoke on to yer last week, I'll give to this
gel as a wedding present."