"Through slush and squad,
When roads was bad,
But hallus stop at the Vine and Hop."
_Tennyson_.
Through all Pucklechurch's objections and evident contempt for his
fancies, and those of young madam, Captain Carbonel insisted on the
clearance of the yard. He could not agree with the old man, who made
free to tell him that, "Such as that there muck-heap was just a bucket
to a farmer's wife, if she was to be called a farmer's wife--was that
it."
With some reflection, Captain Carbonel decided that a bucket might mean
a bouquet, and answered, "Maybe she might have too much of a good thing.
When I went down to Farmer Bell's the other day, they had a famous
heap, and I was struck with the sickly look of his wife and daughters."
"His missus were always a poor, nesh 'ooman," returned Pucklechurch.
"And I don't mean mine to be like her if I can help it," said the
captain.
But he did not reckon on the arrival of a prancing pair of horses, with
a smart open carriage, containing two ladies and a gentleman, in the
most odorous part of the proceedings, when he was obliged to clear the
way from a half-loaded waggon to make room for them, and, what was quite
as inconvenient, to hurry up the back stairs to his dressing-room to
take off his long gaiters, Blucher boots (as half high ones were then
called) and old shooting coat, and make himself presentable.
In fact, when he came into the room, Dora was amused at the perceptible
look of surprised approval of the fine tall soldierly figure, as he
advanced to meet Mr and Mrs Selby and their daughter, the nearest
neighbours, who were, of course, in the regular course of instruction of
the new-comers in the worthlessness and ingratitude of Uphill and the
impossibility of doing anything for the good of the place.
Mary was very glad that he interrupted the subject by saying merrily,
"You caught me in the midst of my Augean stable. I hope next time you
are kind enough to visit us that the yard may be in a more respectable
condition."
Mr Selby observed that it was unpardonable not to have done the work
beforehand, and the captain answered, "On the contrary, it was reserved
as a fragrant bucket, or bouquet for a farmer's wife."
Whereat the visitors looked shocked, and Mary made haste to observe:
"But we do hope to make a better road to the house through the fields."
"There is a great deal to be done first," said Dora, who thought the
observation rather weak.
Nothing else that was interesting took place on this occasion. Mr
Selby asked the captain whether he hunted, and gave him some information
on the sport of all kinds in the neighbourhood. Miss Selby asked Dora
if she liked archery, music, and drawing. Mrs Selby wanted to
recommend a housemaid, and advised Mrs Carbonel against ever taking a
servant from the neighbourhood. And then they all turned to talk of the
evil doings of the parish thieves, poachers, idlers, drunkards, and to
warn the Carbonels once more against hoping to improve them. The horses
could be heard pawing and jingling outside, and, as the ladies rose to
take leave, Captain Carbonel begged leave to hurry out and clear the
coast. And it was well that he did so, for he had to turn back a whole
procession of cows coming in to be milked, and sundry pigs behind them.
The farm court was finished, and never was so bad again, the animals
being kept from spending their day there, except the poultry, in which
Mary took great delight. Soon came more visitors, and it became a joke
to the husband and sister that she always held out hopes of "the future
drive" when they arrived, bumped or mired by the long lane. "Mary's
Approach," as Edmund called it, had to be deferred till more needful
work was done. The guests whom they best liked, Mr and Mrs Grantley,
the clergyman and his wife from the little town of Poppleby, gave an
excellent and hopeful account of their rector, Dr Fogram, who was, they
said, a really good man, and very liberal.
Mrs Grantley was interested in schools and poor people, as it was easy
to discover, and Mary and Dora were soon talking eagerly to her, and
hearing what was done at Poppleby; but there were gentry and prosperous
tradespeople there, who could be made available as subscribers or
teachers; so that their situation was much more hopeful than that of the
Carbonels, who had not the authority of the clergyman.
Poppleby was a much larger place than Downhill, on the post road to
London. The mail-coach went through it, and thence post-horses were
hired, and chaises, from the George Inn. The Carbonels possessed a
phaeton, and a horse which could be used for driving or riding, and thus
Captain Carbonel took the two ladies to return the various calls that
had been made upon them. They found the Selbys not at home, but were
warmly welcomed by the Grantleys, and spent the whole afternoon with
them, and, at Dora's earnest request, were taken to see the schools. So
different was the taste and feeling of those days that, though Poppleby
Church was a very fine old one--in grand architecture, such as in these
days is considered one of the glories of the country--no one thought of
going to look at it, and the effect of Mr Grantley's excellent sermons
had been the putting up of a new gallery right across the chancel arch.
It had a fine tower and steeple, and this Dora thought of as a
delightful subject for a sketch from the Parsonage garden. She made
great friends with Lucy Grantley, the eldest daughter, over their tastes
in drawing, as well as in the Waverley novels and in poetry, and was
invited to spend a long day at Poppleby and take a portrait of the
steeple.
After the calls had been made and returned, began the dinner-parties.
Elmour Priory was so near Greenhow that it would have been easy to walk
there across the fields, or to drive in the phaeton, especially as the
hours were much earlier, and six or half-past was held to be a late
dinner hour, but this would have been contrary to etiquette, especially
the first time, with people who evidently thought much of "style," and
the Carbonels were not superior to such considerations, which were--or
were supposed to be--of more importance in those days. So a chaise was
ordered, and they went in state, and had a long, dull evening, chiefly
enlivened by the Miss Selbys and Dora playing on the piano.
As they were going home, all round by the road, when they were near the
top of the hill, before they came to the "Fox and Hounds," the postilion
first shouted and then came to a sudden stop. The captain, putting his
head out at the window, saw by the faint light of a young moon, going
down in the remains of sunset, that he was jumping off his horse,
growling and swearing, but under his breath, when the captain sprang
out. A woman was lying across the road, and had barely escaped being
run over. Mary and Dora were both out in a moment.
"Poor thing, poor thing! Is it a fit? She is quite insensible."
"A fit of a certain kind," said the captain, who was dragging her into
the hedge, while the post-boy held the horses. "Go back, Mary, Dora!"
"It is Nanny Barton!" said Dora in horror.
Mary took down one of the carriage lamps and held it to the face. "Yes,
it is!" said she. "Can't we take her home, or do anything?"
"No, no; nonsense!" said Edmund. "Don't come near, don't touch her.
Don't you see, she is simply dead drunk."
"But we can't leave her here."
"The best thing to do! Yes, it is; but we will stop at the `Fox and
Hounds,' if that will satisfy you, and send some one out to see after
her."
They were obliged to be satisfied, for the tones were authoritative, and
they had to accept his assurance that the woman was in no state for them
to meddle with. She would come to no harm, he said, when he had put her
on the bank, and it was only to pacify them that he caused the postilion
to stop at the public-house, whence roaring, singing, and shouts
proceeded. The landlord came out, supposing it was some new arrival,
and when Captain Carbonel jumped out, and, speaking severely, desired
that some one would go to look after the woman, who was lying in the
road, and whom the horses had almost run over, he answered as if he had
been doing the most natural and correct thing in the world.
"Yes, sir; I had just sent her home. They had been treating of her, and
she had had a drop too much. She wasn't in a proper state."
"Proper state! No! I should think not! It is a regular shame and
disgrace that you should encourage such goings on! Where's the woman's
husband? Has no one got the humanity to come and take her home?"
Oldfellow called gruffly to some of the troop, who came reeling out to
the door, and told them it was time to be off, and that some one, "You
Tirzah had best see to that there Barton 'oman."
Captain Carbonel wished to keep his ladies from the sight, but they were
watching eagerly, and could not help seeing that it was Tirzah Todd,
more gipsy-looking than ever, who came out. Not, however, walking as if
intoxicated, and quite able to comprehend Captain Carbonel's brief
explanation where to find her companion.
"Ah, poor Nanny!" she said cheerfully. "She's got no head! A drop is
too much for her."
The chaise door was shut, and they went on, Dora and Mary shocked
infinitely, and hardly able to speak of what they had seen.
And they did not feel any happier when the next day, as Mary was feeding
the chickens, Nanny came up to her, curtseying and civil.
"Please, ma'am, I'm much obliged to you for seeing to me last night. I
just went in to see if my husband was there, as was gone to Poppleby
with some sheep, and they treated me, ma'am. And that there Tirzah and
Bet Bracken, they was a-singing songs, as it was a shame to hear, so I
ups and rebukes them, and she flies at me like a catamount, ma'am; and
then Mr Oldfellow, he puts me out, ma'am, as was doing no harms as
innocent as a lamb."
"Well," said Mrs Carbonel, "it was no place for any woman to be in, and
we were grieved, I cannot tell you how much, that you should be there.
You had better take care; you know drunkenness is a really wicked sin in
God's sight."
"Only a little overtaken--went to see for my husband," muttered Nanny.
"I didn't take nigh so much as that there Tirzah Todd, that is there
with Bet Bracken every night of her life, to sing--"
"Never mind other people. Their doing wrong doesn't make you right."
"Only a drop," argued Nanny. "And that there Tirzah and Bet--"
Mary was resolved against hearing any more against Tirzah and Bet, and
actually shut herself into the granary till Nanny was gone. And there
she sat down on a sack of peas and fairly cried at the thought of the
sin and ignorant unconsciousness of evil all round her. And then she
prayed a little prayer for help and wisdom for these poor people and
themselves. Then she felt cheered up and hopeful.