Chapter XXXII
Mrs. Poyser "Has Her Say Out"
THE next Saturday evening there was much excited discussion at theDonnithorne Arms concerning an incident which had occurred that veryday--no less than a second appearance of the smart man in top-boots saidby some to be a mere farmer in treaty for the Chase Farm, by others tobe the future steward, but by Mr. Casson himself, the personal witnessto the stranger's visit, pronounced contemptuously to be nothing betterthan a bailiff, such as Satchell had been before him. No one had thoughtof denying Mr. Casson's testimony to the fact that he had seenthe stranger; nevertheless, he proffered various corroboratingcircumstances.
"I see him myself," he said; "I see him coming along by the Crab-treeMeadow on a bald-faced hoss. I'd just been t' hev a pint--it washalf after ten i' the fore-noon, when I hev my pint as reg'lar as theclock--and I says to Knowles, as druv up with his waggon, 'You'll geta bit o' barley to-day, Knowles,' I says, 'if you look about you'; andthen I went round by the rick-yard, and towart the Treddles'on road, andjust as I come up by the big ash-tree, I see the man i' top-boots comingalong on a bald-faced hoss--I wish I may never stir if I didn't. And Istood still till he come up, and I says, 'Good morning, sir,' I says,for I wanted to hear the turn of his tongue, as I might know whether hewas a this-country man; so I says, 'Good morning, sir: it 'll 'old hupfor the barley this morning, I think. There'll be a bit got hin, ifwe've good luck.' And he says, 'Eh, ye may be raight, there's nootallin',' he says, and I knowed by that"--here Mr. Casson gave awink--"as he didn't come from a hundred mile off. I daresay he'd thinkme a hodd talker, as you Loamshire folks allays does hany one as talksthe right language."
"The right language!" said Bartle Massey, contemptuously. "You're aboutas near the right language as a pig's squeaking is like a tune played ona key-bugle."
"Well, I don't know," answered Mr. Casson, with an angry smile. "Ishould think a man as has lived among the gentry from a by, is likely toknow what's the right language pretty nigh as well as a schoolmaster."
"Aye, aye, man," said Bartle, with a tone of sarcastic consolation,"you talk the right language for you. When Mike Holdsworth's goat saysba-a-a, it's all right--it 'ud be unnatural for it to make any othernoise."
The rest of the party being Loamshire men, Mr. Casson had the laughstrongly against him, and wisely fell back on the previous question,which, far from being exhausted in a single evening, was renewed inthe churchyard, before service, the next day, with the fresh interestconferred on all news when there is a fresh person to hear it; andthat fresh hearer was Martin Poyser, who, as his wife said, "neverwent boozin' with that set at Casson's, a-sittin' soakin' in drink, andlooking as wise as a lot o' cod-fish wi' red faces."
It was probably owing to the conversation she had had with her husbandon their way from church concerning this problematic stranger thatMrs. Poyser's thoughts immediately reverted to him when, a day or twoafterwards, as she was standing at the house-door with her knitting,in that eager leisure which came to her when the afternoon cleaning wasdone, she saw the old squire enter the yard on his black pony,followed by John the groom. She always cited it afterwards as a case ofprevision, which really had something more in it than her own remarkablepenetration, that the moment she set eyes on the squire she said toherself, "I shouldna wonder if he's come about that man as is a-going totake the Chase Farm, wanting Poyser to do something for him without pay.But Poyser's a fool if he does."
Something unwonted must clearly be in the wind, for the old squire'svisits to his tenantry were rare; and though Mrs. Poyser had during thelast twelvemonth recited many imaginary speeches, meaning even more thanmet the ear, which she was quite determined to make to him the next timehe appeared within the gates of the Hall Farm, the speeches had alwaysremained imaginary.
"Good-day, Mrs. Poyser," said the old squire, peering at her with hisshort-sighted eyes--a mode of looking at her which, as Mrs. Poyserobserved, "allays aggravated me: it was as if you was a insect, and hewas going to dab his finger-nail on you."
However, she said, "Your servant, sir," and curtsied with an air ofperfect deference as she advanced towards him: she was not the womanto misbehave towards her betters, and fly in the face of the catechism,without severe provocation.
"Is your husband at home, Mrs. Poyser?"
"Yes, sir; he's only i' the rick-yard. I'll send for him in a minute, ifyou'll please to get down and step in."
"Thank you; I will do so. I want to consult him about a little matter;but you are quite as much concerned in it, if not more. I must have youropinion too."
"Hetty, run and tell your uncle to come in," said Mrs. Poyser, as theyentered the house, and the old gentleman bowed low in answer to Hetty'scurtsy; while Totty, conscious of a pinafore stained with gooseberryjam, stood hiding her face against the clock and peeping roundfurtively.
"What a fine old kitchen this is!" said Mr. Donnithorne, looking roundadmiringly. He always spoke in the same deliberate, well-chiselled,polite way, whether his words were sugary or venomous. "And you keep itso exquisitely clean, Mrs. Poyser. I like these premises, do you know,beyond any on the estate."
"Well, sir, since you're fond of 'em, I should be glad if you'd let abit o' repairs be done to 'em, for the boarding's i' that state as we'relike to be eaten up wi' rats and mice; and the cellar, you may stan' upto your knees i' water in't, if you like to go down; but perhaps you'drather believe my words. Won't you please to sit down, sir?"
"Not yet; I must see your dairy. I have not seen it for years, and Ihear on all hands about your fine cheese and butter," said the squire,looking politely unconscious that there could be any question on whichhe and Mrs. Poyser might happen to disagree. "I think I see the dooropen, there. You must not be surprised if I cast a covetous eye on yourcream and butter. I don't expect that Mrs. Satchell's cream and butterwill bear comparison with yours."
"I can't say, sir, I'm sure. It's seldom I see other folks's butter,though there's some on it as one's no need to see--the smell's enough."
"Ah, now this I like," said Mr. Donnithorne, looking round at the damptemple of cleanliness, but keeping near the door. "I'm sure I shouldlike my breakfast better if I knew the butter and cream came from thisdairy. Thank you, that really is a pleasant sight. Unfortunately, myslight tendency to rheumatism makes me afraid of damp: I'll sit downin your comfortable kitchen. Ah, Poyser, how do you do? In the midst ofbusiness, I see, as usual. I've been looking at your wife's beautifuldairy--the best manager in the parish, is she not?"
Mr. Poyser had just entered in shirt-sleeves and open waistcoat, with aface a shade redder than usual, from the exertion of "pitching." Ashe stood, red, rotund, and radiant, before the small, wiry, cool oldgentleman, he looked like a prize apple by the side of a withered crab.
"Will you please to take this chair, sir?" he said, lifting his father'sarm-chair forward a little: "you'll find it easy."
"No, thank you, I never sit in easy-chairs," said the old gentleman,seating himself on a small chair near the door. "Do you know, Mrs.Poyser--sit down, pray, both of you--I've been far from contented, forsome time, with Mrs. Satchell's dairy management. I think she has not agood method, as you have."
"Indeed, sir, I can't speak to that," said Mrs. Poyser in a hard voice,rolling and unrolling her knitting and looking icily out of the window,as she continued to stand opposite the squire. Poyser might sit down ifhe liked, she thought; she wasn't going to sit down, as if she'd give into any such smooth-tongued palaver. Mr. Poyser, who looked and felt thereverse of icy, did sit down in his three-cornered chair.
"And now, Poyser, as Satchell is laid up, I am intending to let theChase Farm to a respectable tenant. I'm tired of having a farm on myown hands--nothing is made the best of in such cases, as you know. Asatisfactory bailiff is hard to find; and I think you and I, Poyser,and your excellent wife here, can enter into a little arrangement inconsequence, which will be to our mutual advantage."
"Oh," said Mr. Poyser, with a good-natured blankness of imaginati
on asto the nature of the arrangement.
"If I'm called upon to speak, sir," said Mrs. Poyser, after glancing ather husband with pity at his softness, "you know better than me; but Idon't see what the Chase Farm is t' us--we've cumber enough wi' our ownfarm. Not but what I'm glad to hear o' anybody respectable coming intothe parish; there's some as ha' been brought in as hasn't been looked oni' that character."
"You're likely to find Mr. Thurle an excellent neighbour, I assureyou--such a one as you will feel glad to have accommodated by the littleplan I'm going to mention, especially as I hope you will find it as muchto your own advantage as his."
"Indeed, sir, if it's anything t' our advantage, it'll be the firstoffer o' the sort I've heared on. It's them as take advantage that getadvantage i' this world, I think. Folks have to wait long enough aforeit's brought to 'em."
"The fact is, Poyser," said the squire, ignoring Mrs. Poyser's theory ofworldly prosperity, "there is too much dairy land, and too little ploughland, on the Chase Farm to suit Thurle's purpose--indeed, he will onlytake the farm on condition of some change in it: his wife, it appears,is not a clever dairy-woman, like yours. Now, the plan I'm thinking ofis to effect a little exchange. If you were to have the Hollow Pastures,you might increase your dairy, which must be so profitable under yourwife's management; and I should request you, Mrs. Poyser, to supply myhouse with milk, cream, and butter at the market prices. On the otherhand, Poyser, you might let Thurle have the Lower and Upper Ridges,which really, with our wet seasons, would be a good riddance for you.There is much less risk in dairy land than corn land."
Mr. Poyser was leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees, his headon one side, and his mouth screwed up--apparently absorbed in making thetips of his fingers meet so as to represent with perfect accuracy theribs of a ship. He was much too acute a man not to see through the wholebusiness, and to foresee perfectly what would be his wife's view of thesubject; but he disliked giving unpleasant answers. Unless it was on apoint of farming practice, he would rather give up than have a quarrel,any day; and, after all, it mattered more to his wife than to him. So,after a few moments' silence, he looked up at her and said mildly, "Whatdost say?"
Mrs. Poyser had had her eyes fixed on her husband with cold severityduring his silence, but now she turned away her head with a toss, lookedicily at the opposite roof of the cow-shed, and spearing her knittingtogether with the loose pin, held it firmly between her clasped hands.
"Say? Why, I say you may do as you like about giving up any o' yourcorn-land afore your lease is up, which it won't be for a year come nextMichaelmas, but I'll not consent to take more dairy work into my hands,either for love or money; and there's nayther love nor money here, as Ican see, on'y other folks's love o' theirselves, and the money as is togo into other folks's pockets. I know there's them as is born t' ownthe land, and them as is born to sweat on't"--here Mrs. Poyser pausedto gasp a little--"and I know it's christened folks's duty to submit totheir betters as fur as flesh and blood 'ull bear it; but I'll not makea martyr o' myself, and wear myself to skin and bone, and worretmyself as if I was a churn wi' butter a-coming in't, for no landlord inEngland, not if he was King George himself."
"No, no, my dear Mrs. Poyser, certainly not," said the squire, stillconfident in his own powers of persuasion, "you must not overworkyourself; but don't you think your work will rather be lessened thanincreased in this way? There is so much milk required at the Abbeythat you will have little increase of cheese and butter making fromthe addition to your dairy; and I believe selling the milk is the mostprofitable way of disposing of dairy produce, is it not?"
"Aye, that's true," said Mr. Poyser, unable to repress an opinion on aquestion of farming profits, and forgetting that it was not in this casea purely abstract question.
"I daresay," said Mrs. Poyser bitterly, turning her head half-waytowards her husband and looking at the vacant arm-chair--"I daresayit's true for men as sit i' th' chimney-corner and make believe aseverything's cut wi' ins an' outs to fit int' everything else. If youcould make a pudding wi' thinking o' the batter, it 'ud be easy gettingdinner. How do I know whether the milk 'ull be wanted constant? What'sto make me sure as the house won't be put o' board wage afore we'remany months older, and then I may have to lie awake o' nights wi' twentygallons o' milk on my mind--and Dingall 'ull take no more butter, letalone paying for it; and we must fat pigs till we're obliged to beg thebutcher on our knees to buy 'em, and lose half of 'em wi' the measles.And there's the fetching and carrying, as 'ud be welly half a day's workfor a man an' hoss--that's to be took out o' the profits, I reckon? Butthere's folks 'ud hold a sieve under the pump and expect to carry awaythe water."
"That difficulty--about the fetching and carrying--you will not have,Mrs. Poyser," said the squire, who thought that this entrance intoparticulars indicated a distant inclination to compromise on Mrs.Poyser's part. "Bethell will do that regularly with the cart and pony."
"Oh, sir, begging your pardon, I've never been used t' havinggentlefolks's servants coming about my back places, a-making love toboth the gells at once and keeping 'em with their hands on their hipslistening to all manner o' gossip when they should be down on theirknees a-scouring. If we're to go to ruin, it shanna be wi' having ourback kitchen turned into a public."
"Well, Poyser," said the squire, shifting his tactics and looking as ifhe thought Mrs. Poyser had suddenly withdrawn from the proceedings andleft the room, "you can turn the Hollows into feeding-land. I can easilymake another arrangement about supplying my house. And I shall notforget your readiness to accommodate your landlord as well as aneighbour. I know you will be glad to have your lease renewed for threeyears, when the present one expires; otherwise, I daresay Thurle, whois a man of some capital, would be glad to take both the farms, as theycould be worked so well together. But I don't want to part with an oldtenant like you."
To be thrust out of the discussion in this way would have been enough tocomplete Mrs. Poyser's exasperation, even without the final threat.Her husband, really alarmed at the possibility of their leaving the oldplace where he had been bred and born--for he believed the old squirehad small spite enough for anything--was beginning a mild remonstranceexplanatory of the inconvenience he should find in having to buy andsell more stock, with, "Well, sir, I think as it's rether hard..." whenMrs. Poyser burst in with the desperate determination to have her sayout this once, though it were to rain notices to quit and the onlyshelter were the work-house.
"Then, sir, if I may speak--as, for all I'm a woman, and there's folksas thinks a woman's fool enough to stan' by an' look on while the mensign her soul away, I've a right to speak, for I make one quarter o' therent, and save another quarter--I say, if Mr. Thurle's so ready to takefarms under you, it's a pity but what he should take this, and see ifhe likes to live in a house wi' all the plagues o' Egypt in't--wi'the cellar full o' water, and frogs and toads hoppin' up the steps bydozens--and the floors rotten, and the rats and mice gnawing every bito' cheese, and runnin' over our heads as we lie i' bed till we expect'em to eat us up alive--as it's a mercy they hanna eat the children longago. I should like to see if there's another tenant besides Poyser as'ud put up wi' never having a bit o' repairs done till a place tumblesdown--and not then, on'y wi' begging and praying and having to payhalf--and being strung up wi' the rent as it's much if he gets enoughout o' the land to pay, for all he's put his own money into the groundbeforehand. See if you'll get a stranger to lead such a life here asthat: a maggot must be born i' the rotten cheese to like it, I reckon.You may run away from my words, sir," continued Mrs. Poyser, followingthe old squire beyond the door--for after the first moments of stunnedsurprise he had got up, and, waving his hand towards her with a smile,had walked out towards his pony. But it was impossible for him to getaway immediately, for John was walking the pony up and down the yard,and was some distance from the causeway when his master beckoned.
"You may run away from my words, sir, and you may go spinnin' underhandways o' doing us a mischief, for you
've got Old Harry to your friend,though nobody else is, but I tell you for once as we're not dumbcreatures to be abused and made money on by them as ha' got the lash i'their hands, for want o' knowing how t' undo the tackle. An' if I'm th'only one as speaks my mind, there's plenty o' the same way o' thinkingi' this parish and the next to 't, for your name's no better than abrimstone match in everybody's nose--if it isna two-three old folks asyou think o' saving your soul by giving 'em a bit o' flannel and a dropo' porridge. An' you may be right i' thinking it'll take but little tosave your soul, for it'll be the smallest savin' y' iver made, wi' allyour scrapin'."
There are occasions on which two servant-girls and a waggoner may be aformidable audience, and as the squire rode away on his black pony, eventhe gift of short-sightedness did not prevent him from being awarethat Molly and Nancy and Tim were grinning not far from him. Perhaps hesuspected that sour old John was grinning behind him--which was alsothe fact. Meanwhile the bull-dog, the black-and-tan terrier, Alick'ssheep-dog, and the gander hissing at a safe distance from the pony'sheels carried out the idea of Mrs. Poyser's solo in an impressivequartet.
Mrs. Poyser, however, had no sooner seen the pony move off than sheturned round, gave the two hilarious damsels a look which drove theminto the back kitchen, and unspearing her knitting, began to knit againwith her usual rapidity as she re-entered the house.
"Thee'st done it now," said Mr. Poyser, a little alarmed and uneasy, butnot without some triumphant amusement at his wife's outbreak.
"Yes, I know I've done it," said Mrs. Poyser; "but I've had my say out,and I shall be th' easier for't all my life. There's no pleasure i'living if you're to be corked up for ever, and only dribble your mindout by the sly, like a leaky barrel. I shan't repent saying what Ithink, if I live to be as old as th' old squire; and there's littlelikelihood--for it seems as if them as aren't wanted here are th' onlyfolks as aren't wanted i' th' other world."
"But thee wutna like moving from th' old place, this Michaelmastwelvemonth," said Mr. Poyser, "and going into a strange parish, wherethee know'st nobody. It'll be hard upon us both, and upo' Father too."
"Eh, it's no use worreting; there's plenty o' things may happen betweenthis and Michaelmas twelvemonth. The captain may be master afore them,for what we know," said Mrs. Poyser, inclined to take an unusuallyhopeful view of an embarrassment which had been brought about by her ownmerit and not by other people's fault.
"I'm none for worreting," said Mr. Poyser, rising from histhree-cornered chair and walking slowly towards the door; "but I shouldbe loath to leave th' old place, and the parish where I was bred andborn, and Father afore me. We should leave our roots behind us, I doubt,and niver thrive again."