The Parson O' Dumford Part 26

"Say, Joe Banks," said Sim, quite unabashed, "as I have met thee I should just like to say a word or two to thee."

"Say away then."

"Nay, nay. Not here. Say, mun, that's a fine primp hedge o' yourn," he continued, pointing to the luxuriant privet hedge that divided the garden of the snug house from the road.

"You let my primp hedge bide," said Joe, sharply; "and if you've got any mander o' message from your lot, spit it out like a man."

"Message! I a message!" said Sim, with a surprised air. "Not I. It was a word or two 'bout thy la.s.s."

Joe Banks's face became crimson, and he turned sharply to see if any one was at door or window so as to have overheard Sim's words.

As there was no one, he came out of the gate, took his caller's arm firmly in his great fist, and walked with him down the lane out of sight of the houses, for the foreman's pretty little place was just at the edge of the town, and looked right down the valley.

Sim's heart beat a little more quickly, and he felt anything but comfortable; but, calling up such determination as he possessed, he walked on till Joe stopped short, faced him, and then held up a menacing finger.

"Now look here, Sim Slee," said Joe; "I just warn thee to be keerful, for I'm in no humour to be played wi'."

"Who wants to play wi' you?" said Sim; "I just come in a neighbourly way to gi'e ye a bit o' advice, and you fly at me like a lion."

"Thou'rt no neighbour o' mine," said Joe, "and thou'rt come o' no friendly errant. Yow say yow want to speak to me 'bout my la.s.s. Say thee say."

"Oh, if that's the way you tak' it," said Sim, "I'm going."

"Nay, lad, thee ain't," said Joe. "Say what thee've got to say now, for not a step do yow stir till yo' have."

Sim began to repent his visit; but seeing no way of escape, and his invention providing him with no inoffensive tale, he began at once, making at the same time a good deal of show of his bound-up hand, and wincing and nursing it as if in pain.

"Well, Joe Banks, as a man for whom, though we have differed in politics and matters connected with the wucks, I always felt a great respect--"

"Dal thee respect!" said Joe; "come to the point, man."

"I say, Joe, that it grieves me to see thee stick so to a mester as is trying to do thee an injury."

"An yow want to talk me over to join thy set o' plotting, conspiring shackbags at the Bull, eh?"

"I should be straange and proud to feel as I'd browt a man o' Joe Banks's power and common sense into the ways o' wisdom, and propose him as a member o' our society," said Sim.

"I dare say thee would, Sim; strange and glad. But that's not what thee come to say. Out wi' it, mun; out wi' it."

"That is what I come to say, Joe," said Sim, turning white, as he saw the fierce look in Joe's eyes.

"Nay; thee said something 'bout my la.s.s."

"I only were going to say as I didn't like to see such a worthy man serving faithful a mester as was trying to do him an injury."

"What do you mean?" said Joe, quite calmly.

Sim hesitated, but he felt obliged to speak, so calmly firm was the look fixed upon him, though at the same time the foreman's fists were clenched most ominously.

"Well, Joe," said Sim, with a burst, "d.i.c.ky Glaire's allus after thy bairn, and I saw him the other night, at nearly midnight, trying to drag her into the counting-house."

"Thee lies, thee chattering, false--hearted maulkin!" roared Joe, taking the trembling man by the throat and shaking him till his teeth clicked together.

"Don't! don't! murder!" cried Sim, holding up his injured hand with the rag before Joe's face. "Don't ill-use a helpless man."

"Thou chattering magpie!" roared Joe, throwing him off, so that Sim staggered back against the p.r.i.c.kly hedge, and quickly started upright.

"I wish thee weer a man that I could thrash till all thee bones was sore. Look here, Sim Slee, if thee says a word again about my la.s.s and the doings of thee betters it'll be the worse for thee."

"My poor hand! my poor hand!" moaned Sim, nursing it as if it were seriously injured.

"Then thee shouldn't ha' made me wroth," said Joe, calming down, and blaming himself for attacking a cripple.

"I didn't know that thou wast going to wink at thee la.s.s being d.i.c.ky Glaire's mis--"

Sim did not finish the word, for Joe Banks's fist fell upon his mouth with a heavy thud, and he went down in the road, and lay there with his lips bleeding, and a couple of his front teeth loosened.

"Thou lying villin," said Joe, hoa.r.s.ely, "howd thee tongue, if thee wants to stay me from killing thee. I'd ha' let thee off, but thou wouldst hev it. Don't speak to me again, or I shall--"

He did not trust himself to finish, but strode off, leaving Slee lying in the dust.

"Poor Master Richard," he muttered--"a scandal-hatching, lying scoundrel--as if the lad would think a wrong word about my la.s.s. Well,"

he added, with a forced laugh, "that has stopped his mouth, and a good many more, as I expect."

As he disappeared, Sim Slee slowly sat up, took out his handkerchief and wiped his bleeding mouth. Then rising he walked on half a mile to where a stream, known as the Beck, crossed the road, and there he stooped down and bathed his cut lip till the bleeding ceased.

"All raight, Mester Joe Banks," he said, with a malicious look in his eye. "All raight, I'll put that down to you, my lad. I shan't forget it. Some men fights wi' their fists, and some don't. I'm one as don't; but I can fight other ways. I'll be even wi' you, Joe Banks; I'll be even wi' you. Thou blind owd bat. Think he'll marry her, dosta! Ha!

ha! ha! ha! All raight. Let it go on. Suppose I help it now, and then get thee on our side after--a blind old fool, I shan't forget this."

Sim Slee washed his handkerchief carefully in the brook, spread it in the sun to dry, and then lay down amongst the furze bushes to think, till, seeing a couple of figures in the distance on the hill-side, he caught up his handkerchief and, stooping down, ran along under the shelter of the hedge, and on and on till he reached a fir plantation, through which he made his way till he was within easy reach of the two figures, in utter ignorance of his proximity.

"'Tis them," he muttered, peering out from the screen of leaves formed by the undergrowth of the edge of the plantation. "'Tis them. Got his arm round her waist, eh! A kiss, eh! Ha--ha--ha! Joe Banks, I shall be upsides wi' you yet."

He glided back, and then, knowing every inch of the ground, he went to the end of the copse, out on to the open hill-side, and, running fast, made a circuit which brought him out on the track far beyond the figures, who were hidden from him by the inequalities of the waste land, close by where the vicar found Tom Podmore on his arrival.

Then, hastening on, he approached, stooping until he had well measured his distance, when, pausing for a few minutes to gain his breath, he walked on with his footsteps inaudible on the soft, velvety turf, till, coming suddenly upon the two figures, seated behind a huge block of stone, he stopped short, as if in surprise.

"Beg pardon, sir, didn't see," he said, with a smile and a leer.

"What the deuce do you want?" said Richard Glaire, starting to his feet, while, with a faint cry, Daisy Banks ran a few steps.

"Why you quite scar'd me, sir," said Sim, "starting up like that. I've only been for a walk out Chorley way. It's all raight, Miss Banks, don't be scar'd; it's only me. I know, Mr Glaire, sir, I know. Young folks and all that sort o' thing. We ain't friends about wuck matters, but you may trust me."

He gave Richard a peculiar smile, shut one eye slowly, and walked on, smiling at Daisy, whose face was crimson as he pa.s.sed.

"Oh, Richard! oh, Richard!" she sobbed, "why did you tempt me to come?

Now he'll go straight home and tell father."

"Tempt you to come, eh, Daisy!" said Richard. "Why, because I love you so; I'm not happy out of your sight. No, he won't tell--a scoundrel.