Breakfast at Mr. Burke's
A sturdy boy of four, roaring and blubbering]
We will leave Lucy and Emily making their doll's clothes, and go withMr. Fairchild and Henry.
They were off by six o'clock in the morning for the Park. Sir CharlesNoble's place was about two miles from Mr. Fairchild's house, but Mr.Burke, the steward, lived as much as half a mile nearer, on Mr.Fairchild's side, so that Henry had not two miles to walk, for hisfather was to leave him at Mr. Burke's, whilst he went on to pay hisvisit to Mr. Darwell.
The first part of their walk lay along a lane, deeply shaded on oneside by a very deep dark wood--it was Blackwood.
Henry saw the chimneys of the old house just rising above the trees;they were built of brick, and looked as if several of them had beentwisted round each other, as the threads of thick twine are twisted;they looked quite black, and parts of them had fallen.
Mr. Fairchild and Henry next crossed the corner of a common, where theysaw several huts built of clay, with one brick chimney each, and veryragged thatch; and going a little farther, they saw Mr. Burke's housebefore them. It was a large farmhouse, with a square court before it,and behind it a quantity of buildings and many ricks. Mr. Burke was thesteward of the estate, and he was also a farmer, and he was reckoned tobe a rich man; but he and his wife were very plain sort of people, andthough they had got up in the world, they carried with them all theirold-fashioned ways.
They had eight children; the eldest was in his sixteenth year, theyoungest between two and three. There were four boys and four girls,and they had come in turns; first a boy, and then a girl, and so on.The three elder boys and the three elder girls went to boarding-schools;but it was holiday time, and they were all at home.
There was no sign about the old people themselves of being rich,excepting that they had both grown very stout; but they were hearty andcheerful.
Mr. Burke spied Mr. Fairchild before he got to the house, and called towelcome him over a hedge, saying:
"You have done right to take the cool of the morning; and you and thelittle gentleman there, I dare say, are ready for your breakfasts. Goon, Mr. Fairchild, and I will be with you before you get to the house."
Mr. Fairchild and Henry crossed the fold-yard, and coming into theyard, which was surrounded by a low wall, with a paling at the top ofit, they saw Mrs. Burke standing on the kitchen steps, and feeding animmense quantity of poultry of all sorts and kinds. She called towelcome her visitors; but though she spoke in a high key, it wasimpossible to hear a word she said for the noise made by the geese,ducks, hens, turkeys, and guinea-fowl--all crowding forward for theirfood. Besides which, there was a huge dog, chained to a kennel, whichset up a tremendous barking; and, before he could be stopped, wasjoined by other dogs of divers sorts and sizes, which came running intothe yard, setting up their throats all in different keys. They did not,however, attempt to do more than bark and yelp at Henry and his father.
"Come in, come in, Mr. Fairchild," said Mrs. Burke, when they could getnear to her through the crowd of living things; "come in, the tea isbrewing; and you must be very thirsty." And she took up an end of herwhite apron and wiped her brow, remarking that it was wonderful fineweather for the corn.
Mr. Fairchild and Henry followed Mrs. Burke through an immense kitcheninto a parlour beyond, which was nothing in size compared to thekitchen; and there was a long table set out for breakfast.
The table was covered with good things; a large pasty, which had beencut; a ham, from which many a good slice had already been taken; a potof jam, another of honey; brown and white loaves; cream and butter andfruit; and the tea, too, was brewing, and smelt deliciously.
Mr. Burke followed them in almost immediately, and shook Mr. Fairchildby the hand; complimenting Henry by laying his large rough hand on hishead, and saying:
"You are ready for your breakfast, I doubt not, little master;" adding,"Come, mistress, tap your barrel. But where are the youngsters?" He hadhardly spoken, when a tall girl, very smartly dressed, though with herhair in papers, looked in at the door, and ran off again when she sawMr. Fairchild.
Her father called after her:
"Judy, I say, why don't you come in?" But Miss Judy was gone to takethe papers out of her hair.
The next who appeared was little Miss Jane, the mother's pet, becauseshe was the youngest. She came squalling in to tell her mother thatDick had scratched her, though she could not show the scratch; andthere was no peace until she was set on a high chair by her mother, andsupplied with a piece of sugared bread-and-butter.
A great sturdy boy in petticoats, of about four years old, followedlittle Miss Jane, roaring and blubbering because Jane had pinched himin return for the scratch; but Mrs. Burke managed to settle him alsowith a piece of ham, which he ate without bread--fat and all. Dicky waspresently followed into the room by the three elder boys, James,William, and Tom. Being admonished by their father, they gave Mr.Fairchild something between a bow and a nod. James's compliment mighthave been called a bow; William's was half one and half the other; andTom's was nothing more than a nod. These boys were soon seated, andbegan to fill their plates from every dish near to them.
Mrs. Burke asked James if he knew where his sisters were; and Tomanswered:
"Why, at the glass to be sure, taking the papers out of their hair."
"What's that you say, Tom?" was heard at that instant from someonecoming into the parlour. It was Miss Judy, and she was followed by MissMary and Miss Elizabeth.
These three paid their compliments to Mr. Fairchild somewhat moreproperly than their brothers had done; and in a very few minutes allthe family were seated, and all the young ones engaged with theirbreakfasts.
It was Mr. Fairchild's custom always, when he had business to do, totake the first opportunity of forwarding it: so he did not lose thisopportunity, but told his reasons for begging a breakfast that morningfrom Mrs. Burke.
Mr. Burke entered kindly into what his neighbour said, and had nodifficulty, though the surname was not known, in finding out who thegrandmother of Edward and Jane was.
He told Mr. Fairchild that she bore a good character--had suffered manyafflictions--and, if she were ill, must be in great need. It was thensettled that as he was going in his little gig that morning to thepark, Mr. Fairchild should go with him; that they should go round overthe common to see the old woman, who did not live very near to thefarm, and that Henry should be left under Mrs. Burke's care, as the gigwould only carry two persons.
When Mr. Burke said the gig would only hold two, James looked up fromhis plate, and said:
"I only wish that it would break down the very first time you andmother get into it."
"Thank you, Jem, for your good wishes," said Mr. Burke.
"For shame, Jem!" cried Miss Judy.
"I don't mean that I wish you and mother to be hurt," answered theyouth; "but the gig is not fit for such a one as you to go in. Ideclare I am ashamed of it every time you come in sight of ourplayground in it; the boys have so much to say about it."
"Well, well, Jem!" said Miss Judy.
"Well, well, Jem!" repeated the youth; "it is always 'Well, well!' or'Oh fie, Jem!' but you know, Judy, that you told me that your governessherself said that father ought to have a new carriage."
"I don't deny that, Jem," said Judy; "Miss Killigrew knows that fathercould afford a genteel carriage, and she thinks that he ought to getone for the respectability of the family."
"Who cares what Miss Killigrew thinks?" asked Tom.
"I do," replied Judy; "Miss Killigrew is a very genteel, elegantwoman, and knows what's proper; and, as she says, has the good of thefamily at heart."
"Nonsense!" replied James; "the good of the family! you mean her owngood, and her own respectability. She would like to see a fine carriageat her door, to make her look genteel; how can you be bamboozled withsuch stuff, Judy?"
Mr. Burke seemed to sit uneasily whilst his children were going on inthis way. He was thinking how all this would appear
before Mr.Fairchild--that is, he was listening for the moment with Mr.Fairchild's ears.
When we keep low company we are apt to listen with their ears; and whenwe get into good company we do the same: we think how this will sound,and that will sound to them, and we are shocked for them, at thingswhich at another time we should not heed; this is one way in which weare hurt by bad company, and improved by good.
Mr. Burke had never thought his children so ill-bred as when he heardthem, that morning, with Mr. Fairchild's ears; and as he was afraid ofmaking things worse by checking them, he invited him to walk out withhim, after he saw that he had done his breakfast, to look at a famousfield of corn near the house.
When this had been visited the gig was ready, and they set out, leavingHenry at the farm; and it was very good for Henry to be left, for hehad an opportunity of seeing more that morning than he had ever yetseen of the sad effects of young people being left to take their ownway.
The Fairchild Family Page 27