Sparrows Part 60

"Do you know what you're asking?" laughed Mavis.

"It's the anniversary of the day on which I first met Trivett, and I've made a moorhen and rabbit-pie to celebrate it," declared Mrs Trivett.

Mavis was a little surprised at this piece of information, but she very soon learned that Mrs Trivett's life was chiefly occupied with the recollection and celebration of anniversaries of any and every event which had occurred in her life. Custom had cultivated her memory, till now, when nearly every day was the anniversary of something or other, she lived almost wholly in the past, each year being the epitome of her long life. When Trivett shortly came in from his work, he greeted Mavis with respectful warmth; then, he conducted his guest over the farm.

Under his guidance, she inspected the horses, sheep, pigs and cows, to perceive that her conductor was much more interested in their physical attributes than in their contributive value to the upkeep of the farm.

"Do 'ee look at the roof of that cow barton," said Trivett presently.

"It is a fine red," declared Mavis.

"A little Red Riding Hood red, isn't it? But it's nothing to the roof of the granary. May I ask you to direct your attention to that?"

Mavis walked towards the granary, to see that thatch had been superimposed upon the tiles; this was worn away in places, revealing a roof of every variety of colour. She looked at it for quite a long time.

"Zomething of an artist, miss?" said Trivett.

"Quite uncreative," laughed Mavis.

"Then you're very lucky. You're spared the pain artists feel when their work doesn't meet with zuccess."

They returned to the kitchen, where Mavis feasted on newly-baked bread smoking hot from the oven, soaked in b.u.t.ter, home-made jam, and cake.

"I've eaten so much, you'll never ask me again," remarked Mavis.

"I'm glad you've a good appet.i.te; it shows you make yourself at home,"

replied Mrs Trivett.

After tea, they went into the parlour, where it needed no second request on Mavis' part to persuade Mr Trivett to play. He extemporised on the piano for the best part of two hours, during which Mavis listened and dreamed, while Mrs Trivett undisguisedly went to sleep, a proceeding that excited no surprise on the musician's part. Supper was served in the kitchen, where Mavis partook of a rabbit and moorhen pie with new potatoes and young mangels mashed. She had never eaten the latter before; she was surprised to find how palatable the dish was. Mr and Mrs Trivett drank small beer, but their guest was regaled with cowslip wine, which she drank out of deference to the wishes of her kind host and hostess.

After supper, Mr Trivett solemnly produced a well-thumbed "Book of Jokes," from which he read pages of venerable stories. Although Mrs Trivett had heard them a hundred times before, she laughed consumedly at each, as if they were all new to her. Her appreciation delighted her husband. When Mavis rose to take her leave, Trivett, despite her protest, insisted upon accompanying her part of the way to Melkbridge.

She bade a warm goodbye to kindly Mrs Trivett, who pressed her to come again and as often as she could spare the time.

"It do Trivett so much good to see a new face. It help him with his music," she explained.

"We might walk back by the ca.n.a.l," suggested Trivett. "It look zo zolemn by moonlight."

Upon Mavis' a.s.senting, they joined the ca.n.a.l where the tow-path is at one with the road by the railway bridge.

"How long have you been in Pennington?" asked Mavis presently.

"A matter o' ten years. We come from North Petherton, near Tarnton."

"Then you didn't know my father?"

"No, miss, though I've heard tark of him in Melkbridge."

"Do you know anything of Mr Perigal?" she asked presently.

"Which one: the old or the young un?"

"Th--the old one."

"A queer old stick, they zay, though I've never set eyes on un. He don't hit it off with his zon, neither."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Both. Do 'ee know young Mr Charles?"

"I've met him."

"H'm!"

"What's the matter with him?"

Mr Trivett solemnly shook his head.

"What does that mean?"

"It's hard to zay. But from what I zee an' from what I hear tell, he be a deal too clever."

"Isn't that an advantage nowadays?"

"Often. But he's quarrelled with his feyther and zoon gets tired of everything he takes up."

Trivett's remarks increased Mavis' sympathy for Perigal. The more he had against him, the more necessary it was for those who liked him to make allowance for flaws in his disposition. Kindly encouragement might do much where censure had failed.

Days pa.s.sed without Mavis seeing more of Perigal. His indifference to her existence hurt the little vanity that she possessed. At the same time, she wondered if the fact of her not having written to thank him for the violets had anything to do with his making no effort to seek her out. Her perplexities on the matter made her think of him far more than she might have done had she met him again. If Perigal had wished to figure conspicuously in the girl's thoughts, he could not have chosen a better way to achieve that result.

Some three weeks after her meeting with him, she was sitting in her nook reading, when she was conscious of a feeling of helplessness stealing over her. Then a shadow darkened the page. She looked up, to see Perigal standing behind her.

"Interesting?" he asked.

"Very."

"Sorry."

He moved away. Mavis tried to go on with her book, but could not fix her attention upon what she read. Her heart was beating rapidly. She followed the man's retreating figure with her eyes; it expressed a dejection that moved her pity. Although she felt that she was behaving in a manner foreign to her usual reserve, she closed her book, got up and walked after Perigal.

He heard her approaching and turned round.

"There's no occasion to follow me," he said.

"I won't if you don't wish it."

"I said that for your sake. You surely know that I didn't for mine."

"Why for my sake?"