by subtle commiseration with him on the 'slackness' of trade, as also
by a wonderful submissiveness, even to the extent of going without
bacon for breakfast in order that she might save enough to buy him
tobacco. Now this form of procedure with a selfish man usually
produces excellent results. If he is sufficiently selfish, he does not
stay to inquire why or wherefore, but takes all he can, as a cat her
cream, without delay, without a thank you--nay, unlike tabby, without
even an inward purr.
It was so with Geordie, who began incontinently to brag about his
'missus's trainin',' and how he was 'champion' at 'fettlin' a wife's
nonsense,' and, swollen with self-satisfaction, began now to treat her
with a sort of contemptuous toleration.
A fortnight or so after Mary had made trial of her puddings, Geordie
carelessly mentioned the fact that he would be away over the
'week-end' in and about Bridgeton, and demanded some 'brass' from her
for the replenishing of his 'pack.'
Outwardly submissive, she gave him five shillings from her small
savings, but inwardly determined that it was the last sum of money he
should have from her.
On Friday night Geordie departed gaily for Bridgeton, and on the
Saturday afternoon Mary followed suit, clad in a thick cloak which
might serve her for a disguise upon occasion.
When she arrived there, the main street and market were thickly
crowded with a swarm of holiday-making pitmen, country folk, farmers
and their wives, hinds, male and female, for it was the date of the
annual fair and hiring, of 'the general assembly' of tramps, pedlars,
'tinklers' (tinkers), show-men, and the like, whose business it is to
attend such gatherings.
In such a crowd Mary felt safe from recognition, but it might be a
difficult task to discover her 'man' in all that company.
An hour or two passed, and she had been up and down the long street
twice without success; but just as she was turning into a cheap
refreshment-room, with 'Tea and coffy always redy' written in a
slovenly hand upon a dirty placard in the window, she caught the sound
of a voice raised in semi-drunken irritation close behind her which
caused her to turn her head hurriedly in that direction.
Yes, there he was without doubt, her Geordie, heavy with liquor
already--not 'mortal' yet, but quarrelsome. Aha! and that was the
'fancy' wife, of course, who had him fast by the arm--a blousy,
red-faced, fat-armed, big chested woman, who was evidently trying to
persuade her charge to come home much against his inclination. At
sight of her rival--immodest, gross, overpowering--Mary shrank back
aghast, and it was only after a struggle with herself and a forcible
iteration of her wrongs, that she could persuade herself slowly and
reluctantly to follow the couple in front of her.
'Ho-way!' shouted Geordie; 'there's Tom Turnbull ower by there tryin'
ti lift weights an' show 's strength. Wey, but Tom cannet lift
weights, he's nowt but a wee bit beggor. Tom, thoo beggor!' he
challenged across the intervening throng of heads, 'thoo cannet lift
weights; wey, Aa'l lift weights wi' thoo for a bottle o' whisky!'
'Ho-way, then, thoo aad fightin'-cock! but Aa give thoo fair warnin'
Aa can beat thoo, for Aa's champion.'
At this, the 'fancy' wife seized her 'man' firmly by the sleeve,
fearing doubtless lest, in his then 'muzzy' condition, Geordie would
waste the scanty remainder of his brass upon a vain endeavour, and, by
way of effectually dissuading him, indiscreetly praised his rival's
prowess.
'No, no, Geordie, my man, come this way, an' give us my fairin'; wey,
there's a mort o' things ti see yet; there's the shuttin'-gall'ry, an'
the twa-headed cat, an' the giant, an' the fat woman, an' aal--ho-way.
Ay, an' Geordie, hinny, Tom Turnbull's tarr'ble clivvor at liftin'
they handles things an' drivin' the bolt up the stick wi' the hammer,
an' Aa's warn'd but he'll bang thoo at that game.'
'Tom Turnbull!--that haalf-grown, bandy-legged beggor ov a bit tailor
ov a man bang me? Gox! but Aa'll larn him a lesson. Aa'll cut his
comb, Aa's warn'd!' and Geordie forthwith, murmuring maledictions,
thrust blindly through the crowd till he reached the spot where his
rival stood, the centre of an admiring circle of friends.
'Noo,' cried Geordie, turning up his wrist-cuffs, 'Aa'll show thoo hoo
the thing's done when it's done proper. Wey, this bolt 'll hit the
beam at the top when Aa gie the stump a bat!' and without more
ado--amidst the jeers of some, and the encouragement of a few false
friends--he seized the hammer, swung it round his head, and brought it
down some feet wide of the mark--smash upon the cobble-stones of the
market-place. 'That's done the business!' cried Geordie triumphantly,
conscious from the stinging of his hands that he had 'gi'en it a
champion bat,' and certain that he had driven up the bolt some feet
above his rival's mark.
Through the roar of laughter, which Geordie complacently accepted as
the proper accompaniment of Tom's defeat, a voice pierced suddenly
with a shrill note as of a fife.
'Thoo great clumsy lubbert, see what thoo's done! Thoo's broke the
hammer's head off! That's half a crown, my man, for the hammer, an' a
penny for the shot; an' if thoo disn't hand it ower, I'll call the
pollis, for it's fair takin' the livin' oot ov a poor weeda woman's
mouth to break her hammer thet fashion!' and a thin-faced female, with
a red-lined nose, sharp cheekbones, and watery eyes, held up two
skinny fists in anger against him.
'Gan on, woman, gan on!' retorted Geordie indignantly; 'wey, it's thoo
sh'd pay us, or gie us a cigyar, or a cokienut; for that bat o' mine
hit the bull's-eye, Aa's warned.'
The shrill-voiced female renewed her protestations, and some of the
bystanders joined in with additional explanations; but Geordie would
have none of them. 'Gan on,' he retorted; 'gan awa home, an' wesh yor
feyce! Wey, the hammer's as rotten as pash, for Aa brought her fair
doon like a pick reet on top o' the stump. What else should maa hands
be tinglin' for?'
The proprietress of the hammer, however, continued to assail Geordie
with abuse, while at the same time the 'fancy' wife upon his other
side endeavoured to drag him away, so that it need not surprise us if
Geordie suddenly lost his temper, and turned heavily upon his
tormentors.
He shook off the one, and flung down a shilling in payment of the
supposed damage to the hammer; the other--the 'fancy' wife--he pushed
roughly from him, with the result that she lost her balance, and fell
whimpering in the mud, while Geordie lurched off to the nearest
hostelry, muttering indignantly as he went, 'Aa's been fair mucked
ower wi' women the day--just fair mucked ower.'
A swift inspiration gleamed in Mary's mind. For the punishment of
Geordie she had already made due preparation, and now, if she could
only persuade the 'fancy' wife, her triumph would be complete.
She noticed the woman angrily brushing the muck off her 'feast gown,'
and at once made her way up to her and touched her gently on the arm.
'Ay,' she said quietly, as the other looked up with red and testy
face, 'an' it's the same way he treats me;' holding her left hand
loosely so that her marriage-ring was plainly conspicuous.
'So he has a lawful wife, an' yore her?' And the speaker gave a
suspicious, all-embracing stare. 'Well,' she continued slowly,
jealousy slipping, like some slow portcullis, from her eyes, 'he's had
a change, has my lord! Forst, it was a thin lass like yorsel', an' noo
it's a plump one like me. Ay, he's greedy, is Geordie; he winna be
content wi' the one, like Jack Spratt, but wants both.'
'Ay, lass,' replied the other woman quietly, 'yore right: he's greedy
an' selfish. That's the sort--a selfish good-like nowt, that lives on
women, makes them keep him through life just as one does a babby; an'
he's treated the pair ov us shameful--just shameful; but, hinny, I've
a plan for a bit payment for him, an' if ye come aside a bit wi' me,
I'll tell ye o't.' And she laid an appealing hand upon the other's,
and affected with the disengaged one to brush the remaining dirt from
the 'fancy' wife's skirt.
'Well, what is't?' said the latter, suffering herself to be led
through the crowd to a quiet corner.
Mary at once proceeded, but with a cautious self-effacement, to detail
her schemes for Geordie's discomfiture. 'It will not hurt him,' she
protested, as her rival still sat silent, 'but it will pay him a bit
for the way he's treated us'--here Mary's hand again occupied itself
with the soiled dress--'and it will give ye the laugh over him. I've
done wiv him mysel; I'm awa to France to-night or morning--that's
where Grandfeyther was bred; he came to these parts selling onions at
first, an' finally settled doon here to 'scape the soldierin'. An'
I've money enough to pay the expenses,' she continued; 'an' for
suthin' to eat an' drink an' the ticket.'
The 'fancy' wife looked at her somewhat hardly, suspicion rising to
the surface of her eye. 'An' sae yore off to France, are ye?' she
queried; 'ay, an' yore tired ov him? Well, mevvies he would say as he
was tired o' thoo; but I've a grudge again' him for the way he's treat
us to-day, spendin' aal my brass ower himsel' an' clartin' my gown an'
all, an' I'll pay him for't, I's warn'd.' And her face darkened
vindictively.
'That's right,' replied Mary swiftly. 'And now for the plan. Here's
money for you to treat him with. Get him awa oot o' the public before
he's had too much, an' bring him along wi' you by the last train from
Bridgeton, an' I'll meet you wi' the "stang" ready for him, an' the
lads, an' the music, an' all. Oh, but it'll all gan fine, ye-es,
ye-es!'
So Mary, having handed over all that she could spare to her rival,
departed for the railway-station with a view to catching an earlier
train, and revising her preparations at the other end.
Her elation was complete. The only possible flaw in her subtly-devised
plan lay in the moods of the 'fancy' wife. If Geordie continued to
treat her roughly--and as he had now evidently settled down to the
drink, he was almost certain to do so--she would be true to the
arrangement; if not, she might relent, and keep Geordie from his house
that night.
* * * * *
The train was overdue, and Mary waited with a feverish expectation at
the station's descent amidst a small crowd of young men and boys to
whom the idea of making anyone 'ride the stang' had appealed with an
irresistible sense of novelty.
The custom, indeed, was obsolete, but all had heard of it, and the
older men had often witnessed it in their youth, and some of them had
collected near the station to criticise and superintend the
performance.
The 'stang' itself was in readiness--having been lent to Mary on this
occasion by the schoolmaster and antiquary of the village, whose
father had been, as constable, its custodian in the old days.
And now at last the rumble of an approaching train was audible, and
the group at once assumed an alert and eager air.
A crowd of tired excursionists slowly descended the narrow path from
the station, men and women together, but there was no sign of Geordie
or the 'fancy' wife. Mary's heart grew heavy within her; after all,
then, she would have to depart without that sweet morsel--her revenge.
The 'fancy' wife must have relented and informed Geordie of her plans.
'Ho-way,' cried a man in her ear, 'he's not comin' back the night;
thoo's gi'en him a gliff mevvies.'
'Stay!' cried she swiftly, detaining him by the arm. 'What's that,
then?' she whispered triumphantly, as at the tail of the procession of
pleasure-seekers a couple became visible descending fitfully with
wayward lurches.
'See there!' continued Mary eagerly, 'it's Geordie an' his "fancy"
wife with him. Catch tight haud of him, an' mount him, an' carry him
through the length o' the village on the "stang"--right to his very
door; he canna get in though, for I've the key i' my pocket,' and Mary
laughed with an inward glee.
Down came the couple slowly, Geordie abusing his companion, as he
lurched against her heavily, for not progressing with more even
footsteps, the woman saying nothing, but tightly gripping him by the
arm, in order, doubtless, to keep him upright and also to prevent any
attempt at escape.
The wicket-gate swung open, Geordie lurched through, and in a moment
he was seized, hoisted into the air, a rough pole thrust through his
legs, and the triumphal march began to the tune of a penny whistle,
played by the local champion, a carter to trade, and a number of Jews'
harps and toy trumpets with which a herd of small boys poured forth
discordant revel.
'Gox! Aa's fallen intiv a sorcus (circus),' cried Geordie, in the
first moment of astonishment, then, 'Leave haud ov us, ye great
flamin' Irish---- What the devil's this Aa's astride o'?' adding with
solemn dignity, 'Yore makin' a tarr'ble mistake. Aa's not Blondin, ti
walk on a tight rope for ye; Aa's Geordie Campbell o' the Raa (Row),
whe lives i' the hoos wi' the brass handle tiv't.'
'Ay, ay, we knaa thoo!' cried the chorus of urchins; 'thoo's Geordie,
drunken Geordie, Geordie wi' the "fancy" wife. Geordie, Geordie
ride-the-stang! Eh, what a clivvor rider is Geordie! Thoo's a proper
jockey, Geordie, an' thoo'll mevvies ride the winner i' "the
Plate"[20] before thoo's finished wiv it.'
This idea tickled the carriers of the 'stang,' and Geordie's bearers
were forthwith transformed into thorough-breds with a tendency to
buck-jump. Hither and thither he rolled, dazed and bewildered,
helplessly clutching at the heads of those near him for support, but
his arms were seized, his legs tightly crossed below the 'stang,' and
he swung from side to side, while the rougher boys, chanting rude
doggerel over him, gathered and threw mud upon him. A trombone and a
'sarpint' here joined the noisy crowd, and to the varied strains of
'The Campbells are coming,' 'Weel may the keel row,' and 'Canny Dog
Cappie,' Geordie was borne in triumph up the Row.
A 'furrinor' (foreigner, stranger) here joined the medley, a 'South
countryman' from Yorkshire, who, chancing to have lately come to the
village after some private experience of his own in stang-riding in
one of the remoter Yorkshire vales, at once placed his services at the
crowd's disposal.
Marching at the head of the procession, like the drum-major of a band,
and beating together two saucepan-lids, he led the anthem.
Between the 'cling, cling, cling' of the lids his voice rose lustily:
'Ah tinkle, ah tinkle, ah tinkle tang,
It's not foor your part nor mah part
'At ah ride the stang,
But foor you, Geordie Robertson, who his wife did bang.'
Scarcely had he ended when the shrill trebles of the boys took up the
wondrous tale, and in antiphony chanted their response:
'Up wiv a bump and down wiv a bang
Gans Geordie, Geordie ride-the-stang;
A bump an' a bang for his deed sae wrang,
An' we'll larn him a lesson for ever sae lang.'
Then, to the full chorus, with complete orchestra of flute and fife,
trombone and triangle, tin whistle and 'sarpint,' brass pot, pan, and
saucepan-lids, the entire procession moved slowly onward.
Mary's eyes burned bright with exultation as she marched along in the
crowd, not letting a single incident of the spectacle escape her
notice, and as she watched she too joined in the chorus of 'Geordie,
Geordie ride-the-stang' without restraint.
The sound of the familiar voice roused the victim from the stupor into
which the hustling, peltings, and shoutings had reduced him.
'Thoo ----,' he yelled, as he caught sight of her; 'then it's thoo
that's at the bottom o' this? By, but if Aa wes free Aa'd----' But a
stalk of cabbage thrown at a venture by a small boy on the skirts of
the crowd here impeded his utterance, and Mary's voice rang out
perhaps more triumphantly than before.
The 'fancy' wife, meanwhile, who had at first discreetly retired from
public view and looked on at the procession from a distance, had
shortly after joined the noisy throng, moved thereto by a sense of
isolation, and also by a certain smouldering compunction. She looked
around her irresolutely; she felt she had acted precipitately;
certainly she was not deriving any advantage from the proceedings,
whereas her rival was the leader of the revelry, dancing, clapping her
hands, and carrying on like a 'Maypole lass.'
At this moment Mary inadvertently brushed against her, and in a moment
the 'fancy' wife turned upon her like a spitfire. Clenching her fists
and shouting vituperations, she tried to seize her by the hair. Foiled
in this by an adroit swerve of Mary's under the 'stang,' she turned
her fury upon Geordie's bearers, and with such success that to defend
themselves they were forced to lower the pole to the ground. 'Noo,
Geordie,' cried she, promptly thrusting the wooden weapon into his
hands, 'mak' play wiv it, my man, ho-way,' and Geordie, realizing he
was now free, lunged furiously in all directions, and scattered the
crowd like chaff before him.
Steered by his 'fancy' wife, a way grew clear about them, and Geordie
marched slowly, unsteadily forward, bearing the 'stang' like a
battering-ram straight in front of him, down the remaining length of
the Row, accompanied at a respectful distance by a rabble of the
smaller urchins.
Right on past his house he went, out into the darkness beyond, and
over the bridge at the end of the village, still tightly grasping the
'stang' himself, and tightly grasped in his turn by his 'fancy' wife.
The last train to Oldcastle happened to pass above the bridge at that
moment, and a head leant far out through a carriage window.
'Ay!' a clear voice sounded, with a touch of derision on the night
air--'Ay! that's right, haud him tight, for he wants it badlies.'
FOOTNOTES:
[19] Mr. Brockett died in 1842.
[20] The Northumberland Plate.
YANKEE BILL AND QUAKER JOHN
Quaker John was one of the best known figures in the small seaport
town of Old Quay. Short of stature, heavy of tread, always quietly
attired in a black suit, which varied not in cut from year to year;
indeed, the same suit had once been known to do duty for three years
together, till his wife one day, so 'twas said, handed them over to
the chimney-sweep in mistaken identity. You might have told that he
was of Puritan descent some yards away, but the 'letter of the law' in
him had been softened down by the kindly genius of the old-fashioned
Quaker. A genial twinkle lay in hiding at the back of his steadfast
eye, and a smile was always 'at heel' beside his big and honest mouth.
A broad and spectacled nose completed the portrait of one in whom the
harmlessness as of a dove did not of necessity efface the wisdom of
the serpent. At least, so said Yankee Bill, who read character 'at
sight'; but then, Bill was a disciple of that cynical logic which
proclaims not only all priests to be humbugs, but all men immersed in
business who make pretensions to piety to be hypocrites or fools.
He had happened to pass along the street one 'fourth-day' morning as
John came out of the meeting-house, and overheard him address a remark
about business to a Quaker friend at his side, and thereafter was
merciless in ridicule. 'John's patent incubator,' he styled the
meeting-house, 'for plot-hatching,' and pretended to be afraid of
doing business with him on Wednesday afternoons for fear of being
'skinned.'
Bill was a waif from the seas who had somehow been thrown up at Old
Quay a few years back, and having 'prospected around' and 'pegged out
a claim' for himself in the indiscriminate region of commission
business, life insurance, advertising agencies, secretaryships, and
other nebulous formative processes, was now almost as well-known a
figure in the town as Quaker John himself.
The chief foundation in any abiding friendship is a certain diversity
of temperament which those who wondered at the mutual liking that had
sprung up between the retiring stockbroker's clerk and the worldly
Yankee had evidently overlooked. To John the American's audacity was a
perpetual delight, tempered by occasional Puritan scruples as to
whether he was justified in associating with so hardened an
unbeliever. To Bill Coody the Quaker's reposefulness and quiet
self-sufficiency were both a sleeping-draught and irritant.
Nothing delighted him more than to get a rise out of John; but John
was hard to catch, and even when craftily inveigled into a theological
argument, was extremely chary of entering into definite statements.
Even when his position was most hotly assailed by the other, who made
unsparing use of the _argumentum ad hominem_, reinforced by a store of
malicious anecdotes of religious 'professors' all the world over, John
never lost his temper, but mildly suggested that his antagonist was an
Anarchist in disguise.
John himself, though immersed in business which some of the 'plain
people' have been used to look askance at, lived after the simple
fashion of the straiter sect.
After his day's work at the office, where as head clerk much
responsibility lay on his shoulders, he would go straight home and
employ his leisure on fine days in his garden, and on wet days in his
library, for John was not only a book-collector, but also a reader.
One pipe of tobacco he allowed himself before going to bed on week
days and two on 'first-days,' and flavoured his tobacco with a chapter
of 'George,' as he styled in affectionate intimacy his favourite
author (Mr. Meredith) on week-days, but a portion of Barclay's
'Apology' on 'first-day' evenings.
One evening John was sitting reading as usual, when the maid-servant
came in to say that Mr. Coody wished to have a few words with him.
'Very well,' replied her master, laying aside 'George' with a sigh,
and wondering what business Bill might have on hand to come at such an
untimely hour.
In came his friend as unceremoniously as ever, and, sitting himself
down on the sofa, drew vigorously at his cheroot for a minute or two
before entering upon the topic that had brought him thither.
'Look here, John,' he exclaimed all at once, 'you're a confidential
cuss, I guess, and I've got a scheme on hand that will "scoop the
boodle" if properly carried out; and what I want to know is, whether
your people will take a hand in it or no. It's a certain thing, and
will go ahead like a runaway buggy anyway; but the less friction the
better, so that if your people will grease the wheels a bit, so much
the better for them and all consarned.'
'Tell me precisely what it is,' replied John cautiously, 'then I may
be able to offer an opinion; but, of course, I can't say off-hand
whether the firm will entertain the idea or not.'
'Waal,' replied Bill, 'I guess you're the firm pretty often, for your
bosses are generally away huntin' or shootin' or foolin' around
somewhere; anyway, your advice is generally listened to, I guess.
Waal, to come to business. I'm fixin' up a new store on the most
modern principles. I sell everything cheaper than anybody else
anywhere in this little country of yours; any bloomin' thing that's
asked for, why, it's there, delivered free to any part of the United
Kingdom. Everybody comes along--Noah's Ark on a wet day ain't in it
for the pushin' there'll be at our doors once we get opened out--and,
another thing, everybody gets made into an automatic shareholder; for
profits have to lie till they reach £5, when each man, woman, and
child gets a share given them, will they, nill they--and you bet,
John, they will. I tell you, the thing's fixed up, and is goin' to
give Old Quay shocks. Why, I'm buyin' up here and there bankrupt
stocks enough to bust the place with--pianners, hardware, bicycles,
rose-trees, fam'ly Bibles, rat-traps--every taste will be suited, for
I tell you cosmopolitanism ain't in it with Bill Coody. I tell you
I'll be in a position to bust every single bicycle dealer in this
little one-hoss place; every pianner dealer can shut up shop when I
get started. Why, there won't be a pitman in Northumberland who hasn't
got a demi-grand Eureka B. C. piano in his house in another three
weeks' time, and every colliery village will have its Bayreuth
Festival with "Canny Dog Cappie" and "Weel may the keel row" tinklin'
away down each row.'
'But think of the poor shopkeeper!' John interrupted, aghast at this
slaughter of the innocents.