The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax Part 40

"I did hear something of a pan new bottomed to mend a hole in its side; but what is that amongst friends? Mistakes will occur in the best-regulated businesses."

"You're likely to know, sir--there's a sight o' folks dropping off quite unaccountable else. I'm not dependent on one nor another, and what I says I stands to: I'll never call at Dr. Carnegie's back door again while that Irish la.s.s is about his kitchen; she's give me the rough side of her tongue once, but she won't do it no more."

"Then good-day to you, Gampling; I can't part with the Irish la.s.s at your price."

A st.u.r.dy laborer came along the road eating a hunch of bread and cheese.

Mr. Carnegie asked him how his wife did. The answer was crabbed: "She's never naught to boast on, and she's allus worse after a spiritchus visit: parson's paying her one now. Can you tell me, Mr. Carnegie, sir, why parson chooses folk's dinner-time to drop in an' badger 'em about church? Old parson never did." He did not stay to have his puzzle elucidated, but trudged heavily on.

"Mr. Wiley does not seem very popular yet," observed Bessie.

"He is more so than he was. But his wife, who helps the poor liberally in the winter, is of twice the use in the parish that he is, with his inopportune 'spiritchus visits.' I have remonstrated with him about going to the cottages between twelve and one, when dinner is being eaten and the men want a bit of rest, but he professes that it is the only time to catch them in-doors. I suppose Molton won't bear it, and takes up his food and walks out. Yet Beechhurst might have a worse pastor than poor Wiley. He is a man I pity--a martyr to dyspepsia and a gloomy imagination. But I will not deny that he often raises my choler still."

The doctor was on the verge of having it raised now.

At the last bend of the road to the village, and nearly opposite the forge, was a small cabin of one room, the abode of the respectable Mrs.

Wallop, the mainstay of Beechhurst as a nurse in last illnesses and dangerous cases--a woman of heart and courage, though perhaps of too imaginative a style of conversation. Although it was but a work-day, she was sitting at her own door in her Sunday black gown and bonnet, and, like Niobe, all tears. Mr. Carnegie pulled up in sheer amazement at the deplorable spectacle his valued right hand was making of herself in public, and, as if she had been on the watch for him, up she rose from her stool and came forward to answer his unspoken questions.

"Ay, Mr. Carnegie, sir, you may well ask what I am doing at home all day idle," said she. "It is a Judas I feel, and if I don't get it off my mind it will be too much for me: I can't bear it, sir."

"Then out with it, Mrs. Wallop," said the imperative doctor. "It is nothing very private, or you would not advertise it by crying at the corner of the street."

"No, sir, but it shames me to tell it, that it do, though you're one o'

them that well knows what flesh and blood comes to when the temptation's strong. I've took money, Mr. Carnegie, wage for a month, to go nowheres else but to the rectory; and n.o.body ill there, only a' might happen. It never occurred to me the cruel sin I'd done till Robb came along, begging and praying of me to go to them forlorn poor creturs at Marsh-End. For it is the fever, sir. Mr. Wiley got wind of it, and sent Robb over to make sure."

"Lost in misery they are. Fling away your dirty hire, and be off to Marsh-End, Mrs. Wallop. Crying and denying your conscience will disagree very badly with your inside," said Mr. Carnegie, angry contempt in his voice.

"I will sir, and be glad to. It ain't Christian--no, nor human natur--to sit with hands folded when there is sick folk wanting help. Poor Judas!"

she went on in soliloquy as the doctor trotted off. "I reckon his feelings changed above a bit between looking at the thirty pieces of silver and wis.h.i.+ng he had 'un, and finding how heavy they was on his soul afore he was drove to get rid of 'em, and went out and hanged himself. I won't do that, anyhow, while I've a good charicter to fall back on, but I'll return Mrs. Wiley her money, and take the consequences if she sets it about as I'm not a woman of my word."

A few minutes more brought Mr. Carnegie home with Bessie Fairfax to his own door. Hovering about on the watch for the doctor's return was Mr.

Wiley. Though there was no great love lost between them, the rector was imbued with the local faith in the doctor's skill, and wanted to consult him.

"You have heard that the fever has broken out again?" he said with visible trepidation.

"I have no case of fever myself. I hear that Robb has."

"Yes--two in one house. Now, what precautions do you recommend against infection?"

"For nervous persons the best precaution is to keep out of the way of infection."

"You would recommend me to keep away from Marsh-End, then? Moxon is nearer, though it is in my parish."

"I never recommend a man to dodge his duty. Mrs. Wallop will be of most use at present; she is just starting."

"Mrs. Wallop? My wife has engaged her and paid her for a month in the event of any trouble coming amongst ourselves. You must surely be mistaken, Mr. Carnegie?"

"Mrs. Wiley was mistaken. She did not know her woman. Good-morning to you, sir."

CHAPTER XLI.

_FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES._

Mrs. Carnegie from the dining-room window witnessed the colloquy between the rector and her husband, and came out into the porch to receive her dear Bessie. "They will not expect you at Fairfield until they see you; so come in, love," said she, and Bessie gladly obeyed.

The doctor's house was all the quieter for the absence of the elder boys at Hampton. The other children were playing in the orchard after school.

"It is a great convenience to have a school opened here where boys and girls are both taught from four up to ten, and very nicely taught," said the mother. "It gives me a little leisure. Even Totty goes, and likes it, bless her!"

Mr. Carnegie was not many minutes in-doors. He ate a crust standing, and then went away again to answer a summons that had come since he went out in the morning.

"It will be a good opportunity, Bessie, to call on Miss Buff and Miss Wort, and to say a word in pa.s.sing to the Semples and Mittens; they are always polite in asking after you," Mrs. Carnegie mentioned at the children's dinner. But Miss Buff, having heard that Miss Fairfax was at the doctor's house, forestalled these good intentions by arriving there herself. She was ushered into the drawing-room, and Bessie joined her, and was embraced and rejoiced over exuberantly.

"You dear little thing! I do like you in your habit," cried she. "Turn round--it fits beautifully. So you have been having a ride with the doctor, and seeing everybody, I suppose? Mrs. Wiley wonders when you will call."

"Oh yes, Bessie dear, you must not neglect Mrs. Wiley," said Mrs.

Carnegie.

"It will do some day with Lady Latimer--she has constant business at the rectory," Bessie said. She did not wish to waste this precious afternoon in duty-visits to people she did not care for.

"Well, I was to have written to you, and I never did," recommenced Miss Buff.

"Out of sight, out of mind: don't apologize!"

But Miss Buff would explain and extenuate her broken promise: "The fact is, my hands are almost too full: what with the school and the committee, the organ and church, the missionary club and my district, I am a regular lay-curate. Then there is Mr. Duffer's early service, eight o'clock; and Fridays and Wednesdays and all the saints' days, and decorating for the great festivals--perhaps a little too much of that, but on Whitsunday the chancel was lovely, was it not, Mrs. Carnegie?"

Mrs. Carnegie nodded her acquiescence. "Then I have a green-house at last, and that gives me something to do. I should like to show you my green-house, Bessie. But you must be used to such magnificent things now that perhaps you will not care for my small place."

"I shall care as much as ever. I prefer small things to great yet."

"And my fowl-house--you shall see that--and my pigeons. You used to be so fond of live creatures, Bessie."

"By the by, Miss Buff, have you discovered yet the depredator of your poultry-yard?" Mrs. Carnegie asked.

"No, but I have put a stop to his depredations. I strongly suspect that pet subject of Miss Wort's--that hulking, idle son of Widow Burt. I am sorry for _her_, but _he_ is no good. You know I wrote to the inspector of police at Hampton. Did I not tell you? No! Well, but I did, and said if he would send an extra man over to stay the night in the house and watch who stole my pigeons, he should have coffee and hot b.u.t.tered toast; and I dare say Eppie would not have objected to sit up with him till twelve. However, the inspector didn't--he did not consider it necessary--but the ordinary police probably watched, for I have not been robbed since. And that is a comfort; I hate to sleep with one eye open.

You are laughing, Bessie; you would not laugh if you had lost seven pigeons ready to go into a pie, and all in the s.p.a.ce of ten days. I am sure that horrid Burt stole 'em."

Bessie still laughed: "Is your affection so material? Do you love your pigeons so dearly that you eat them up?" said she.

"What else should I keep them for? I should be overrun with pigeons but for putting them in pies; they make the garden very untidy as it is. I have given up keeping ducks, but I have a tame gull for the slugs. Who is this at the gate? Oh! Miss Wort with her inexhaustible physic-bottle.

Everybody seems to have heard that you are here, Bessie."

Miss Wort came in breathless, and paused, and greeted Bessie in a way that showed her wits were otherwise engaged. "It is the income-tax," she explained parenthetically, with an appealing look round at the company.

"I have been so put out this morning; I never had my word doubted before. Jimpson is the collector this year--"

"Jimpson!" broke out Miss Buff impetuously. "I should like to know who they will appoint next to pry into our private affairs? As long as old Dobbs collected all the rates and taxes they were just tolerable, but since they have begun to appoint new men every year my patience is exhausted. Talk of giving us votes at elections: I would rather vote at twenty elections than have Tom, d.i.c.k, and Harry licensed to inquire into my money-matters. Since Dobbs was removed we have had for a.s.sessors of income-tax both the butchers, the baker, the brewer, the miller, the little tailor, the milk-man; and now Jimpson at the toy-shop, of all good people! There will soon be n.o.body left but the sweep."

"The sweep is a very civil man, but Jimpson is impertinent. I told him the sum was not correct, and he answered me: 'The government of the country must have money to carry on; I have nothing to do with the sum except to collect it. If you don't like it, ma'am, you've got to appeal and go before the commissioners.' He may puzzle me with his figures, but he will never convince me I have the income, for I have not. And he said if I supposed he was fond of the job I was mistaken."