A Drake by George! Part 10

CHAPTER VII

SCANDAL AND EXPOSURE

Squinting Jack declared there were some things better than a murder. He referred to the mystery which surrounded the unnatural tenants of Black Anchor Farm. They had received a visitor, who was neither honest gentleman, nor respectable lady; but a woman with bold red cheeks. She had driven through Highfield, staring at the inhabitants and smiling at their dwelling places; her driver had inquired of the first gentleman in the place--George being set up above the vicar because he did no work--which of the lanes ahead would be most likely to lead towards Black Anchor; and a few days later this same red-cheeked lady had been driven back through the village, staring and smiling as before. Her clothes where the saddest part about her; for she was dressed in the height of fas.h.i.+on.

So far the Dismal Gibcat had defended the Brocks because every other person was against them; he admired their poverty and loved their humility; he prophesied kindly concerning their future, and sent them superfluous vegetables. The three stages of manhood were at last represented in Highfield parish by righteous men: old Brock, young Sidney, and his middle-aged self. But the vision and visit of the painted lady caused two vacancies. The Dismal Gibcat drew the line at well dressed women.

The Yellow Leaf was consulted because of his knowledge of the world's history, and he gave it as his opinion that the atmosphere of Highfield had been deprived by the nameless visitor of a considerable amount of moral oxygen: in the first place she belonged to a higher cla.s.s than the Brocks; in the second place she came upon a secret mission, and in the third place she entered a house which it was notorious contained no other woman. She could not be a relation; while, if she had come as a friend, all he could say was heaven preserve Highfield from such friends.h.i.+ps.

"Some poor folk do have rich relations, though mine ain't come along yet," said Squinting Jack.

"What would you be saying about me, if I wur to receive a visit from a young lady wi' red-hot painted cheeks?" inquired the Yellow Leaf.

"I should say you wur lucky," replied Squinting Jack.

"Her cheeks wur warmish, I allow; but I wouldn't exactly call 'em painted," observed the Dumpy Philosopher.

"You'm mixing it up wi' doorpost paint. Ask your missus if her cheeks warn't plastered wi' cosmetics," said the Yellow Leaf crossly.

"I'd rather not," retorted the Dumpy Philosopher.

"There be two ways of looking at pretty nigh everything, a gude way and a bad way," urged the Gentle Shepherd. "There be ladies who take a kindly interest in young men, and try to help 'em along a bit. Us knows the Brocks ain't got much money, vor they ha' took the poorest farm in the whole parish. Maybe this lady is helping young Sidney a bit, and her come along to see how he wur doing."

The others listened doubtfully, then turned to hear the oracle's opinion.

"I ha' heard tell o' such ladies, but I ain't seen one of 'em; and I wants to see a thing avore I believes--ay, I wants to see it two or dree times," said the Yellow Leaf. Then he asked, "How old do you say her wur?"

The Dumpy Philosopher fancied the region of twenty; the Gentle Shepherd thought the neighbourhood of forty; while Squinting Jack suggested second childhood.

"You can tell an old lady when you sees one," replied the Yellow Leaf, "and you can tell a young maid when you sees one; but when you can't tell whether a woman be old or young, then you'm looking at something what ain't respectable. 'Tis old folk what be charitable, and she warn't old; and when young ladies be charitable to young men, their charity ain't far away from home, I reckon. They Brocks ha' no woman to mind vor 'em; 'tis because they don't dare to; 'tis because this lady wouldn't like it, and they can't tell when she may be coming. She'm a jealous lady vor certain, and she won't have no woman to Black Anchor 'cept it be herself. And she couldn't come to the farm if they had another woman, vor her wouldn't have the face to do it."

This was one of the longest, and quite the wisest, of all the opinions stated by the Yellow Leaf. Although it could hardly add to his reputation, it destroyed entirely the credit of the Brocks.

"The old man don't hardly ever come into the village, 'cept it be to church, and he don't pa.s.s the time o' day to no one," said the Dumpy Philosopher.

"Now I come to think of it, young Sidney has a funny, uneducated sort o'

way of answering," added Squinting Jack.

"They'm mysteries," concluded the Yellow Leaf, "and I hopes to live to see 'em all exposed to the vull light o' day."

Robert pa.s.sed this scandal to Bessie, and she hurried it across to Kezia, who carried it while still fresh into the parlour, and presented it to both the ladies. Miss Yard expressed no interest, but Mrs. Drake was painfully distressed. She was ageing rapidly, and beginning to lose her memory too; she had forgotten what a very favourable impression the boy had made upon her.

"Are you quite sure she did go to Black Anchor?" Mrs. Drake inquired.

"Yes, Aunt," said George, who was busy designing locomotives. "She asked me the way--at least the driver did. They were both strangers to me."

"Quite a young gal, warn't she, Mr. George?" appealed Kezia.

"Not more than eighteen, I should think. But she wore a wedding ring; I saw it distinctly."

"Yes, mum; I saw her drive past, so bold and staring. They say she's an actress, mum."

"How awful! I suppose she's his wife."

"Well, mum, us all hopes she is."

"The wretched young man! How can he be so wicked!"

"Is anybody wicked?" asked Miss Yard vacantly.

"Never mind, Sophy. It's n.o.body you care about. Has she been told? You know who I mean."

"Oh no, mum. We wouldn't like to say anything much to her. But of course she mustn't go out with him any more."

"Of course not," said George vigorously.

"I suppose I must break it to her," said Mrs. Drake. "And he sings in the choir too--miserable wretch!"

"I warned you, Aunt," said George.

"He must never come into the house again. Ask Robert to tell him."

"Oh no, mum! We couldn't drink coffee with him now. He seemed such a nice young man too. Robert thought him almost like a gentleman."

"It's often these nice young men who turn out the greatest humbugs,"

said Mrs. Drake severely.

"What is she saying? I do hope there are no such things in the house,"

Miss Yard cried anxiously.

Nellie was thoroughly well told. Kezia, Bessie, and Robert were alike eager to play the part of candid friend because they liked her so much; indeed, they somewhat overwhelmed her with candid affection. According to Bessie, the mysterious lady had been overheard imploring Sidney to return with her; while Robert declared the young man had confessed the whole truth. Kezia could invent nothing, so contented herself with moaning over life's tragedies like the chorus of a Greek play. Nellie, being a wise maid, argued with n.o.body, and smiled at everyone; but her eyes made people sorry for her; and because of their sympathy they brought yet other charges against Sidney.

Nellie waited for choir practice, when she hoped to hear a healthier story. She expressed no grat.i.tude when the heroic George offered to accompany her to church, lest the dragon Sidney should abduct her forcibly and add her to his collection in the cupboard at home. He explained these references according to the best of his historical information, quoting the story of Bluebeard at some length. He was still talking when Nellie escaped from the house, and went to church by herself.

During practice the other members of the choir shrank from Sidney, as if afraid he should make some evil communication; and they practised the hymns, which were of a penitential nature, at him. It was never the custom in Highfield to allow even one sinner to go unpunished.

"At last!" exclaimed Nellie, when they were out of the church and alone together in Dartmoor wind and darkness. "Of course you know what I am going to say?" she added.

"You'm going to say this place be vull o' liars," suggested Sidney.

"Oh no, indeed! Our friends.h.i.+p is quite over, and you are not to come near Windward House again."

"What's it all about, Nellie?"

"You know perfectly well. I'm walking with you this evening just to hear what you have to say."

"You think I'm a bad lot?"