Chapter XXIII
Dinner-Time
WHEN Adam heard that he was to dine upstairs with the large tenants, hefelt rather uncomfortable at the idea of being exalted in this way abovehis mother and Seth, who were to dine in the cloisters below. ButMr. Mills, the butler, assured him that Captain Donnithorne had givenparticular orders about it, and would be very angry if Adam was notthere.
Adam nodded and went up to Seth, who was standing a few yards off."Seth, lad," he said, "the captain has sent to say I'm to dineupstairs--he wishes it particular, Mr. Mills says, so I suppose it 'udbe behaving ill for me not to go. But I don't like sitting up above theeand mother, as if I was better than my own flesh and blood. Thee't nottake it unkind, I hope?"
"Nay, nay, lad," said Seth, "thy honour's our honour; and if thee get'strespect, thee'st won it by thy own deserts. The further I see theeabove me, the better, so long as thee feel'st like a brother to me.It's because o' thy being appointed over the woods, and it's nothing butwhat's right. That's a place o' trust, and thee't above a common workmannow."
"Aye," said Adam, "but nobody knows a word about it yet. I haven't givennotice to Mr. Burge about leaving him, and I don't like to tell anybodyelse about it before he knows, for he'll be a good bit hurt, I doubt.People 'ull be wondering to see me there, and they'll like enough beguessing the reason and asking questions, for there's been so much talkup and down about my having the place, this last three weeks."
"Well, thee canst say thee wast ordered to come without being told thereason. That's the truth. And mother 'ull be fine and joyful about it.Let's go and tell her."
Adam was not the only guest invited to come upstairs on other groundsthan the amount he contributed to the rent-roll. There were other peoplein the two parishes who derived dignity from their functions rather thanfrom their pocket, and of these Bartle Massey was one. His lame walk wasrather slower than usual on this warm day, so Adam lingered behind whenthe bell rang for dinner, that he might walk up with his old friend;for he was a little too shy to join the Poyser party on this publicoccasion. Opportunities of getting to Hetty's side would be sure to turnup in the course of the day, and Adam contented himself with that forhe disliked any risk of being "joked" about Hetty--the big, outspoken,fearless man was very shy and diffident as to his love-making.
"Well, Mester Massey," said Adam, as Bartle came up "I'm going to dineupstairs with you to-day: the captain's sent me orders."
"Ah!" said Bartle, pausing, with one hand on his back. "Then there'ssomething in the wind--there's something in the wind. Have you heardanything about what the old squire means to do?"
"Why, yes," said Adam; "I'll tell you what I know, because I believe youcan keep a still tongue in your head if you like, and I hope you'llnot let drop a word till it's common talk, for I've particular reasonsagainst its being known."
"Trust to me, my boy, trust to me. I've got no wife to worm it out ofme and then run out and cackle it in everybody's hearing. If you trust aman, let him be a bachelor--let him be a bachelor."
"Well, then, it was so far settled yesterday that I'm to take themanagement o' the woods. The captain sent for me t' offer it me, whenI was seeing to the poles and things here and I've agreed to't. But ifanybody asks any questions upstairs, just you take no notice, and turnthe talk to something else, and I'll be obliged to you. Now, let us goon, for we're pretty nigh the last, I think."
"I know what to do, never fear," said Bartle, moving on. "The news willbe good sauce to my dinner. Aye, aye, my boy, you'll get on. I'll backyou for an eye at measuring and a head-piece for figures, againstany man in this county and you've had good teaching--you've had goodteaching."
When they got upstairs, the question which Arthur had left unsettled, asto who was to be president, and who vice, was still under discussion, sothat Adam's entrance passed without remark.
"It stands to sense," Mr. Casson was saying, "as old Mr. Poyser, as isth' oldest man i' the room, should sit at top o' the table. I wasn'tbutler fifteen year without learning the rights and the wrongs aboutdinner."
"Nay, nay," said old Martin, "I'n gi'en up to my son I'm no tenant now:let my son take my place. Th' ould foulks ha' had their turn: they munmake way for the young uns."
"I should ha' thought the biggest tenant had the best right, more north' oldest," said Luke Britton, who was not fond of the critical Mr.Poyser; "there's Mester Holdsworth has more land nor anybody else on th'estate."
"Well," said Mr. Poyser, "suppose we say the man wi' the foulest landshall sit at top; then whoever gets th' honour, there'll be no envyingon him."
"Eh, here's Mester Massey," said Mr. Craig, who, being a neutral in thedispute, had no interest but in conciliation "the schoolmaster ought tobe able to tell you what's right. Who's to sit at top o' the table, Mr.Massey?"
"Why, the broadest man," said Bartle; "and then he won't take up otherfolks' room; and the next broadest must sit at bottom."
This happy mode of settling the dispute produced much laughter--asmaller joke would have sufficed for that Mr. Casson, however, did notfeel it compatible with his dignity and superior knowledge to joinin the laugh, until it turned out that he was fixed on as the secondbroadest man. Martin Poyser the younger, as the broadest, was to bepresident, and Mr. Casson, as next broadest, was to be vice.
Owing to this arrangement, Adam, being, of course, at the bottom of thetable, fell under the immediate observation of Mr. Casson, who, too muchoccupied with the question of precedence, had not hitherto noticed hisentrance. Mr. Casson, we have seen, considered Adam "rather lifted upand peppery-like": he thought the gentry made more fuss about thisyoung carpenter than was necessary; they made no fuss about Mr. Casson,although he had been an excellent butler for fifteen years.
"Well, Mr. Bede, you're one o' them as mounts hup'ards apace," he said,when Adam sat down. "You've niver dined here before, as I remember."
"No, Mr. Casson," said Adam, in his strong voice, that could be heardalong the table; "I've never dined here before, but I come by CaptainDonnithorne's wish, and I hope it's not disagreeable to anybody here."
"Nay, nay," said several voices at once, "we're glad ye're come. Who'sgot anything to say again' it?"
"And ye'll sing us 'Over the hills and far away,' after dinner, wonnaye?" said Mr. Chowne. "That's a song I'm uncommon fond on."
"Peeh!" said Mr. Craig; "it's not to be named by side o' the Scotchtunes. I've never cared about singing myself; I've had something betterto do. A man that's got the names and the natur o' plants in's head isnalikely to keep a hollow place t' hold tunes in. But a second cousin o'mine, a drovier, was a rare hand at remembering the Scotch tunes. He'dgot nothing else to think on."
"The Scotch tunes!" said Bartle Massey, contemptuously; "I've heardenough o' the Scotch tunes to last me while I live. They're fit fornothing but to frighten the birds with--that's to say, the Englishbirds, for the Scotch birds may sing Scotch for what I know. Give thelads a bagpipe instead of a rattle, and I'll answer for it the corn 'llbe safe."
"Yes, there's folks as find a pleasure in undervallying what they knowbut little about," said Mr. Craig.
"Why, the Scotch tunes are just like a scolding, nagging woman," Bartlewent on, without deigning to notice Mr. Craig's remark. "They go on withthe same thing over and over again, and never come to a reasonable end.Anybody 'ud think the Scotch tunes had always been asking a question ofsomebody as deaf as old Taft, and had never got an answer yet."
Adam minded the less about sitting by Mr. Casson, because this positionenabled him to see Hetty, who was not far off him at the next table.Hetty, however, had not even noticed his presence yet, for she wasgiving angry attention to Totty, who insisted on drawing up her feet onto the bench in antique fashion, and thereby threatened to make dustymarks on Hetty's pink-and-white frock. No sooner were the little fatlegs pushed down than up they came again, for Totty's eyes were too busyin staring at the large dishes to see where the plum pudding was forher to retain any consciousness of her legs. Hetty got
quite out ofpatience, and at last, with a frown and pout, and gathering tears, shesaid, "Oh dear, Aunt, I wish you'd speak to Totty; she keeps putting herlegs up so, and messing my frock."
"What's the matter wi' the child? She can niver please you," said themother. "Let her come by the side o' me, then. I can put up wi' her."
Adam was looking at Hetty, and saw the frown, and pout, and the darkeyes seeming to grow larger with pettish half-gathered tears. Quiet MaryBurge, who sat near enough to see that Hetty was cross and that Adam'seyes were fixed on her, thought that so sensible a man as Adam must bereflecting on the small value of beauty in a woman whose temper was bad.Mary was a good girl, not given to indulge in evil feelings, but shesaid to herself, that, since Hetty had a bad temper, it was better Adamshould know it. And it was quite true that if Hetty had been plain, shewould have looked very ugly and unamiable at that moment, and no one'smoral judgment upon her would have been in the least beguiled. Butreally there was something quite charming in her pettishness: it lookedso much more like innocent distress than ill humour; and the severe Adamfelt no movement of disapprobation he only felt a sort of amused pity,as if he had seen a kitten setting up its back, or a little bird withits feathers ruffled. He could not gather what was vexing her, but itwas impossible to him to feel otherwise than that she was the prettiestthing in the world, and that if he could have his way, nothing shouldever vex her any more. And presently, when Totty was gone, she caughthis eye, and her face broke into one of its brightest smiles, as shenodded to him. It was a bit of flirtation--she knew Mary Burge waslooking at them. But the smile was like wine to Adam.