Johnny Ludlow First Series Part 65

Mrs. Todhetley elbowed her way amongst them. So did I. She spoke to one or two, but nothing came of it. Whom should we come upon, to my intense surprise, but our dairy-maid--the one who had taken herself off the previous day!

"I hope you will get a better place than you had with me, Susan," said the Mater, rather sarcastically.

"I hopes as how I shall, missis," was the insolent retort. "'Twon't be hard to do, any way, that won't, with that there overbearing Molly in yourn."

We went on. A great hulking farmer as big as a giant, and looking as though he had taken more than was good for him in the morning, came lumbering along, pus.h.i.+ng every one right and left. He threw his bold eyes on one of the girls.

"What place be for you, my la.s.s?"

"None o' yourn, master," was the prompt reply.

The voice was good-natured and pleasant, and I looked at the girl as the man went shouldering on. She wore a clean light cotton gown, a smart shawl all the colours of the rainbow, and a straw bonnet covered with sky-blue bows. Her face was fairer than most of the faces around; her eyes were the colour of her ribbons; and her mouth, rather wide and always smiling, had about the nicest set of teeth I ever saw. To take likes and dislikes at first sight without rhyme or reason, is what I am hopelessly given to, and there's no help for it. People laugh mockingly: as you have heard me say. "There goes Johnny with his fancies again!"

they cry: but I know that it has served me well through life. I took a liking to this girl's face: it was an honest face, as full of smiles as the bonnet was of bows. Mrs. Todhetley noticed her too, and halted. The girl dropped a curtsey.

"What place are you seeking?" she asked.

"Dairy-maid's, please, ma'am."

The good Mater stood, doubtful whether to pursue inquiries or to pa.s.s onwards. She liked the face of the girl, but did not like the profusion of blue ribbons.

"I understand my work well, ma'am, please; and I'm not afraid of any much of it, in reason."

This turned the scale. Mrs. Todhetley stood her ground and plunged into questioning.

"Where have you been living?"

"At Mr. Thorpe's farm, please, near Severn Stoke."

"For how long?"

"Twelve months, please. I went there Old Michaelmas Day, last year."

"Why are you leaving?"

"Please, ma'am"--a pause here--"please, I wanted a change, and the work was a great sight of it; frightful heavy; and missis often cross. Quite a herd o' milkers, there was, there."

"What is your name?"

"Grizzel Clay. I be strong and healthy, please, ma'am; and I was twenty-two in the summer."

"Can you have a character from Mrs. Thorpe?"

"Yes, please, ma'am, and a good one. She can't say nothing against me."

And so the queries went on; one would have thought the Mater was hiring a whole regiment of soldiers. Grizzel was ready and willing to enter on her place at once, if hired. Mrs. Thorpe was in Worcester that day, and might be seen at the Hare and Hounds inn.

"What do you think, Johnny?" whispered the Mater.

"I should hire her. She's just the girl I wouldn't mind taking without any character."

"With those blue bows! Don't be simple, Johnny. Still I like the girl, and may as well see Mrs. Thorpe."

"By the way, though," she added, turning to Grizzel, "what wages do you ask?"

"Eight pounds, please, ma'am," replied Grizzel, after some hesitation, and with reddening cheeks.

"Eight pounds!" exclaimed Mrs. Todhetley. "That's very high."

"But you'll find me a good servant, ma'am."

We went back through the town to the Hare and Hounds, an inn near the cathedral. Mrs. Thorpe, a substantial dame in a long cloth skirt and black hat, by which we saw she had come in on horse-back, was at dinner.

She gave Grizzel Clay a good character. Saying the girl was honest, clean, hardworking, and very sweet-tempered; and, in truth, she was rather sorry to part with her. Mrs. Todhetley asked about the blue bows.

Ay, Mrs. Thorpe said, that was Grizzel Clay's great fault--a love of finery: and she recommended Mrs. Todhetley to "keep her under" in that respect. In going out we found Grizzel waiting under the archway, having come down to learn her fate. Mrs. Todhetley said she should engage her, and bade her follow us to the hotel.

"It's an excellent character, Johnny," she said, as we went along the street. "I like everything about the girl, except the blue ribbons."

"I don't see any harm in blue ribbons. A girl looks nicer in ribbons than without them."

"That's just it," said the Mater. "And this girl is good-looking enough to do without them. Johnny, if Mr. Todhetley has no objection, I think we had better take her back in the carriage. You won't mind her sitting by you?"

"Not I. And I'm sure I shall not mind the ribbons."

So it was arranged. The girl was engaged, to go back with us in the afternoon. Her box would be sent on by the carrier. She presented herself at the Star at the time of starting with a small bundle: and a little birdcage, something like a mouse-trap, that had a bird in it.

"Could I be let take it, ma'am?" she asked of Mrs. Todhetley. "It's only a poor linnet that I found hurt on the ground the last morning I went out to help milk Thorpe's cows. I'm a-trying, please, to nurse it back to health."

"Take it, and welcome," cried the Squire. "The bird had better die, though, than be kept to live in that cage."

"I was thinking to let it fly, please, sir, when it's strong again."

Grizzel had proper notions. She screwed herself into the corner of the seat, so as not to touch me. I heard all about her as we went along.

She had gone to live at her Uncle Clay's in Gloucesters.h.i.+re when her mother died, working for them as a servant. The uncle was "well-to-do,"

rented twenty acres of land, and had two cows and some sheep and pigs of his own. The aunt had a nephew, and this young man wanted to court her, Grizzel: but she'd have nothing to say to him. It made matters uncomfortable, and last year they turned her out: so she went and hired herself at Mrs. Thorpe's.

"Well, I should have thought you had better be married and have a home of your own than go out as dairy-maid, Grizzel."

"That depends upon who the husband is, sir," she said, laughing slightly. "I'd rather be a dairy-maid to the end o' my days--I'd rather be a prisoner in a cage like this poor bird--than have anything to say to that there nephew of aunt's. He had red hair, and I can't abide it."

Grizzel proved to be a good servant, and became a great favourite in the house, except with Molly. Molly, never taking to her kindly, was for quarrelling ten times a day, but the girl only laughed back again.

She was superior to the general run of dairy-maids, both in looks and manners: and her good-humoured face brought sweethearts up in plenty.

Two of them were serious. The one was George Roper, bailiff's man on a neighbouring farm; the other was Sandy Lett, a wheelwright in business for himself at Church d.y.k.ely. Of course matters ran in this case, as they generally do run in such cases, all cross and contrary: or, as the French say, _a tort et a travers_. George Roper, a good-looking young fellow with curly hair and a handsome pair of black whiskers, had not a coin beyond the weekly wages he worked for: he had not so much as a chair to sit in, or a turn-up bedstead to lie on; yet Grizzel loved him with her whole heart. Sandy Lett, who was not bad-looking either, and had a good home and a good business, she did not care for. Of course the difficulty lay in deciding which of the two to choose: ambition and her friends recommended Sandy Lett; imprudence and her own heart, George Roper. Like the donkey between the two bundles of hay, Grizzel was unable to decide on either, and kept both the swains on the tenter-hooks of suspense.

Sunday afternoons were the great trouble of Grizzel's life. Roper had holiday then, and came: and Lett, whose time was his own, though of course he could not afford to waste it on a week-day, also came. One would stand at the stile in one field, the other at a stile in another field: and Grizzel, arrayed in one of the light print gowns she favoured, the many-coloured shawl, and the dangerous blue-ribboned bonnet, did not dare to go out to either, lest the other should pounce upon his rival, and a fight ensue. It was getting quite exciting in the household to watch the progress of events. Spring pa.s.sed, the summer came round; and between the two, Grizzel had her hands full. The other servants could not imagine what the men saw in her.