It was not many days since the resurrection of those ill-omened stocks,
and it was evident already to an ordinary observer, that something wrong
had got into the village. The peasants wore a sullen expression of
countenance; when the Squire passed, they took off their hats with more
than ordinary formality, but they did not return the same broad smile to
his quick, hearty "Good day, my man." The women peered at him from the
threshold or the casement, but did not, as was their wont (at least the
wont of the prettiest), take occasion to come out to catch his passing
compliment on their own good looks, or their tidy cottages. And the
children, who used to play after work on the site of the old stocks, now
shunned the place, and, indeed, seemed to cease play altogether.
On the other hand, no man likes to build, or rebuild, a great public
work for nothing. Now that the Squire had resuscitated the stocks, and
made them so exceedingly handsome, it was natural that he should wish to
put somebody into them. Moreover, his pride and self-esteem had been
wounded by the Parson's opposition; and it would be a justification to
his own forethought, and a triumph over the Parson's understanding, if
he could satisfactorily and practically establish a proof that the
stocks had not been repaired before they were wanted.
Therefore, unconsciously to himself, there was something about the
Squire more burly, and authoritative, and menacing, than heretofore. Old
Gaffer Solomons observed, "that they had better moind well what they
were about, for that the Squire had a wicked look in the tail of his
eye--just as the dun bull had afore it tossed neighbor Barnes's little
boy."
For two or three days these mute signs of something brewing in the
atmosphere had been rather noticeable than noticed, without any positive
overt act of tyranny on the one hand, or rebellion on the other. But on
the very Saturday night in which Dr. Riccabocca was installed in the
four-posted bed in the chintz chamber, the threatened revolution
commenced. In the dead of that night, personal outrage was committed on
the stocks. And on the Sunday morning, Mr. Stirn, who was the earliest
riser in the parish, perceived, in going to the farmyard, that the knob
of the column that flanked the board had been feloniously broken off;
that the four holes were bunged up with mud; and that some jacobinical
villain had carved, on the very centre of the flourish or scroll work,
"Dam the stoks!" Mr. Stirn was much too vigilant a right-hand man, much
too zealous a friend of law and order, not to regard such proceedings
with horror and alarm. And when the Squire came into his dressing-room
at half-past seven, his butler (who fulfilled also the duties of valet)
informed him with a mysterious air, that Mr. Stirn had something "very
particular to communicate, about a most howdacious midnight 'spiracy and
'sault."
The Squire stared, and bade Mr. Stirn be admitted.
"Well!" cried the Squire, suspending the operation of stropping his
razor.
Mr. Stirn groaned.
"Well, man, what now!"
"I never knowed such a thing in this here parish afore," began Mr.
Stirn, "and I can only 'count for it by s'posing that them foreign
Papishers have been semminating"--
"Been what?"
"Semminating"--
"Dissemminating, you blockhead--disseminating what?"
"Damn the stocks," began Mr. Stirn, plunging right _in medias res_, and
by a fine use of one of the noblest figures of rhetoric.
"Mr. Stirn!" cried the Squire, reddening, "did you say 'Damn the
stocks?'--damn my new handsome pair of stocks!"
"Lord forbid, sir; that's what _they_ say: that's what they have digged
on it with knives and daggers, and they have stuffed mud in its four
holes, and broken the capital of the elewation."
The Squire took the napkin off his shoulder, laid down strop and razor;
he seated himself in his arm-chair majestically, crossed his legs, and,
in a voice that affected tranquillity, said--
"Compose yourself, Stirn; you have a deposition to make, touching an
assault upon--can I trust my senses?--upon my new stocks. Compose
yourself--be calm. NOW! What the devil is come to the parish?"
"Ah, sir, what indeed?" replied Mr. Stirn: and then laying the
forefinger of the right hand on the palm of the left, he narrated the
case.
"And whom do you suspect? Be calm now, don't speak in a passion. You are
a witness, sir--a dispassionate, unprejudiced witness. Zounds and fury!
this is the most insolent, unprovoked, diabolical--but whom do you
suspect, I say?"
Stirn twirled his hat, elevated his eyebrows, jerked his thumb over his
shoulder, and whispered--"I hear as how two Papishers slept at your
honor's last night."
"What, dolt! do you suppose Dr. Rickeybockey got out of his warm bed to
bung up the holes in my new stocks?"
"Noa; he's two cunning to do it himself, but he may have been
semminating. He's mighty thick with Parson Dale, and your honor knows as
how the Parson set his face agin the stocks. Wait a bit, sir--don't fly
at me yet. There be a boy in this here parish"--
"A boy!--ah fool, now you are nearer the mark. The Parson write 'Damn
the stocks,' indeed! What boy do you mean?"
"And that boy be cockered up much by Mister Dale; and the Papishers went
and sat with him and his mother a whole hour t'other day; and that boy
is as deep as a well; and I seed him lurking about the place, and hiding
hisself under the tree the day the stocks was put up--and that ere boy
is Lenny Fairfield."
"Whew," said the Squire, whistling, "you have not your usual senses
about you to-day, man. Lenny Fairfield--pattern boy of the village. Hold
your tongue. I dare say it is not done by any one in the parish, after
all; some good-for-nothing vagrant--that cursed tinker, who goes about
with a very vicious donkey--whom, by the way, I caught picking thistles
out of the very eyes of the old stocks! Shows how the tinker brings up
his donkeys! Well, keep a sharp look-out. To-day is Sunday; worst day of
the week, I'm sorry and ashamed to say, for rows and depredations.
Between the services, and after evening church, there are always idle
fellows from all the neighboring country about, as you know too well.
Depend on it, the real culprits will be found gathering round the
stocks, and will betray themselves: have your eyes, ears, and wits about
you, and I've no doubt we shall come to the rights of the matter before
the day's out. And if we do," added the Squire, "we'll make an example
of the ruffian!"
"In course," said Stirn; "and if we don't find him, we must make an
example all the same. That's where it is, sir. That's why the stock's
ben't respected: they has not had an example yet--we wants an example."
"On my word, I believe that's very true; and the first idle fellow you
catch in any thing wrong we'll clap in, and keep him there for two hours
at least."
"With the biggest pleasure, your honor--that's what it is."
And Mr. Stirn, having now got what he considered a complete and
unconditional authority over all the legs and wrists of Hazeldean
parish, _quoad_ the stocks, took his departure.