"And leave them laughing, Ho! Ho Ho!"--_Robin Goodfellow_.
Notice was sent from the Bishop of the diocese that he was about to hold
a Confirmation at Poppleby in six weeks' time. This was matter of
rejoicing to Mr Harford, who had mourned over the very few
communicants. Before he came the Celebrations had been only three times
a year, and were attended by most of the aged paupers. To the joy of
the Carbonels, the feast was monthly after his coming; but the first
time the aged people were there, and all lingered, George Hewlett, the
clerk, said, when the curate looked to him for information--
"The alms, sir. They be waiting for the money in the plate."
"Why, that is to be reserved for sick and distressed."
"Mr Selby, he always give it out to them, and so did Mr Jones afore
him, sir. They be all expecting of it."
Mr Harford thought that it might be best not to disappoint the old
people suddenly, so he stood at the vestry door counting heads, and
numbering among them two whom he had already been somewhat startled to
see present themselves, namely, Dame Spurrell, whom he had heard abusing
her neighbour with a torrent of foul words, and who pretended to be a
witch, and Tom Jarrold, whom Hewlett had described to him as the
wickedest old chap in the parish.
He took counsel with the churchwardens, Farmers Goodenough and Rawson,
who both agreed that they were a bad lot, who didn't deserve nothing,
but it helped to keep down the rates. Then he talked to Captain
Carbonel, who, being a reverent man, was dismayed at what he heard.
"Just paying the old souls for coming in no fit state," he said.
"Then you advise me to change the system?"
"You have no other choice," returned the soldier. "Read out your
standing orders, and preach, if you will, explaining the matter."
This Mr Harford did, but not by any means all the persons concerned
were present, and he afterwards went round among them explaining that,
though they were to be helped in any distress, and the alms would be
kept for the purpose, it was profane to give them out as a sort of
payment to those who partook. Old Redford, Widow Mole's father, was the
only person who seemed to enter into the scruples.
"Yes, sir," he said, "it went agin me to sim to be paid for coming to
the Lord's Table, and I wouldn't ne'er ha' done it, but a shilling is a
shilling to my poor daughter, and when I could get to church, it was
hard on her to miss the chance."
The next Celebration was only attended by the Carbonels, old Mrs
Rawson, and Redford; nor at the next ensuing Whitsuntide were the
numbers much increased. In spite of all that Mr Harford could preach,
and say in private, the main body of the parishioners would not listen
to the invitation. And the disaffected grumbled among themselves, that
he kept the money for himself, and no one would never see the colour of
it. There really were only thirteen communicants in the parish when
these had seceded. And Mr Harford looked to the Confirmation to bring
more intelligent and devout worshippers, though the time for preparation
was short.
He found that most people had been confirmed at Minsterham Cathedral,
and there were reminiscences of great holidays, few and far between, and
no difficulty was made as to the young people, up to twenty years old,
being nominated for Confirmation. There was some disappointment that it
should be only at Poppleby, as furnishing so much less of a day's
pleasure; and when it was found that Mr Harford expected the candidates
at regular classes and private lectures, there were objections. Farm
lads could not be spared, maids in farmhouses still less.
"What should parson want to be always at 'em," said Mrs Goodenough.
"Old Mr Jones, he never made no work with them."
However, she had two daughters to be confirmed, and the reigning
"Lizzie" was allowed to go as an escort to them. The elder lads, who
were really grown men, would not come at all, and could never be found.
"They wouldn't be catechiz--not they." The Sunday scholars, male and
female, came pretty well, but not in large numbers, and the age fixed
for Confirmation was fifteen, so that those who were fresh from teaching
were not many. Sophia Carbonel was a candidate, and very much in
earnest, but Mr Harford preferred giving her books to read and
questions to answer in private, as with most of the others he had to
begin at the very beginning. The Misses Goodenough knew almost
nothing--far less than Susan Pucklechurch and Rachel Mole, who were the
gems of the female class, as was Johnnie Hewlett of that of the youths.
The brightest of these was, however, in some respects, Fred Allen, of
the general shop. He had been at school at Downhill, and could really
read and write better than Johnnie, and far better than any one else;
for the chief scholars only made what Betty Pucklechurch called "a sad
hackering job of un," and most scarcely knew a letter, having forgotten
whatever they might have learnt at Dame Verdon's before they went out
bird-starving. Fred Allen began by answering, when asked what was done
in Confirmation, "Taking all your godfather's and godmother's sins upon
you, and becoming liable to be balloted for the militia!" It was a
startling view, and, as far as Mr Harford could make out, it was shared
by most of the candidates; but, then, they had very little notion of
what sin meant, as, if they had a general idea, it was plain that they
did not seriously expect to suffer for their sponsors sins after
Confirmation, or that the sponsors suffered for theirs previously.
The curate taught, questioned, explained, and exhorted. Fred Allen knew
little, but his wits were sharper, and he took in Mr Harford's
instructions more readily, and remembered them better, while apparently
most of the other minds were, and remained, a blank. Only he could not
refrain from causing horse-laughs outside, and making grins at every
opportunity.
But, with much anxiety, and after many exhortations, Mr Harford gave
out his tickets. The girls were to be conveyed--the most of them--in
the Greenhow waggon, driven by old Pucklechurch, the boys to walk. Mr
Goodenough would drive his daughters; and Sophia, in her white dress and
cap (nobody wore a veil then), would be with her sisters and brother in
the chariot with post-horses. Captain Carbonel and Mr Harford went
outside on the box.
They had passed Downhill, and were getting on, as well as their horses
could, through the muddy ground at the bottom, freshly stirred up by a
previous wet day. Before them was a steep, short ascent, but at the
bottom of this there was a sudden stop. The captain put his head in at
the window and said, "Only the cart--no harm," and strode on following
Mr Harford, while the ladies craned their heads out, and Dora,
exclaiming "An accident," ran after him, and Mary only just withheld
Sophy, in consideration of her white dress, on the post-boy's assurance,
with a scarcely suppressed grin, "No harm done, ma'am. Only they lads."
For what the two gentlemen and the amused post-boy had seen was this.
The squadron of boys had overtaken the cart full of girls, when, just as
the waggon had come to the pitch of the hill, all the load of maidens
were seen tumbling out at the back, and as the horses of the chariot
halted, the girls' screams, mingled with the horse-laughter of the boys,
was plainly to be heard. Only Susan Pucklechurch, sitting on the front
seat with her father, remained in her place. The girls were giggling
and helping one another up, nearly all unhurt, but some very angry, and
Bessy Linwood was scolding violently, Pucklechurch likewise in his most
growling voice, "Ye young good-for-noughts! I'll lay the cart whip
about your idle, mischievous backs," while the party of boys were still
laughing, and one voice was heard to shout, "Rubbish shot here." A peal
of laughter followed, but was cut short by Bessy Linwood's, "Here's
parson; you'll catch it." Then, at the top of her voice, "Sir, 'tis
them boys! They've bin and pulled out the linch-pins and shot us all
down into the mud!"
"Is this so?" said the captain sternly, while silence came down on the
party, except for the sobs of Jenny Hewlett, who had gone into a dirty
pool, and whom Rachel Mole and Betsy Seddon were brushing down
vigorously.
"Quite true, sir," returned Pucklechurch. "They young dogs got behind,
and played the poor maids this trick."
"Who did?" demanded Mr Harford.
Bessy Linwood spoke up and said it was "all on 'em," but she saw Fred
Allen at it.
No doubt, the fun of the thing had been too much for the boys, in their
holiday mood of thoughtlessness, and they stood looking sheepish, but
Mr Harford was very stern and sharp with them.
"Lads, do you think that, if you could play such a trick, you can be in
a fit state to take solemn vows upon you?"
No one spoke up except Fred Allen. "We didn't do 'em no harm," he said.
"No harm! To disturb all good thoughts in their minds and your own, and
drive out all serious impressions by this mischievous trick! Now, will
any one come forward and say he is sorry?"
Mr Harford waited, but no one stirred. He bade the girls get in again,
and Pucklechurch drive them on. He waited again, but no one spoke.
Indeed, Allen and another big youth were seen making for a gap in the
hedge.
"Will no one say he is sorry for what was an idle trick, but very wrong
when you ought to be thinking how you would be giving yourselves up to
God?"
They stood like stocks, and Captain Carbonel said, "Has no one the grace
to regret a very improper and thoughtless action?"
Still no one moved.
"Then," said the clergyman, "there is no choice left to me. It would be
profanation to take persons in such a mood to make vows, and kneel to
receive God's grace, which they evidently make light of. Whoever will
not come and apologise must go home."
There was no movement among the white round frocks. Boys are like
sheep: what one does, the others do, and few are to be found to stand
alone. Mr Harford looked anxiously at Johnnie Hewlett and one or two
more, from whom he expected better things, but they only looked down,
with their hands in their pockets and sullen faces; and Captain Carbonel
held up his watch to show that they should all be too late. There was
nothing to be done but to return to their seats, and urge the post-boy
to hurry on.
The bells of Poppleby church might ring merrily, but the heart of the
curate was very heavy with the questions--whether this misfortune could
be owing to his not having impressed the lads enough while preparing
them, or to his having been too hasty and peremptory in his indignation.
Captain Carbonel said they were such intolerable louts that to
disappoint them was all the better, and they would know how to present
themselves more seriously another time, but Mr Harford much doubted
whether they would ever present themselves again.
"It would just be mockery for them to make the vow," said the captain.
"Ah! they miss the grace," said the curate.
Harriet Allen was crying all through the time of the Confirmation when
she perceived that her brother's head was not among the boys. Indeed
the only male candidate from Uphill was Will Cox, who had gone with his
cousins from Downhill. Most of the boys were glad to have got off
making the vow, for, in spite of all Mr Harford's teaching, there were
some who still believed that they would take all their god-parents' sins
upon them, or, at any rate, that they should feel more bound to take
heed to their ways.
Johnnie Hewlett indeed was sorry when he went home to his aunt, and had
to tell her why he had not been confirmed after all.
"Oh, Johnnie, Johnnie, you didn't go for to upset the maids?"
"I? No. I was at the bottom of the hill with Harry Coles."
"Then why couldn't you have said so?" He hung his head and twisted his
hands. "Oh, Johnnie, what was it? Was it only the going along with the
others?"
Still he made no reply, but Judith saw in his face that this was the
reason.
"Oh, my boy! To think that you did not feel that God's blessing and
grace were worth standing out for against a lot of idle chaps; and now
you won't be able to take the Sacrament!"
"Father never would let I," returned the boy.
"Oh, my dear, dear lad, don't you know that you might have got strength,
and would get strength, to stand up for yourself, and do what you ought.
Oh dear! My hope is gone!" she cried bitterly, and though Johnnie got
away from the sight, her distress really found its way into his heart,
while he said very little except, "There, there, auntie, never mind.
Maybe I'll try again next time."
"You promise me, John Hewlett; even if I'm not here to see?"
"Yes, I promise, aunt," said he, glad to have silenced her regrets, and
hoping the fulfilment was a good way off.
The parishioners, especially those who had only sons and not daughters,
were very angry. They did not value Confirmation greatly, but that the
curate after "making such a work with the poor lads as never was,"
should have presumed to reject them made them furious. Mr Allen even
threatened to write to Dr Fogram, but as he did not know how to address
a letter, to what he called "Oxford College," he contented himself with
walking off with his belongings to Downhill church every Sunday--that
is, when they went anywhere.