Clara Vaughan, Volume 1 (of 3)
Page 23
CHAPTER V.
That same evening, as I was sitting in my lonely room, yet not quitealone,--for little Sally, who always did as I bade her, was scratchingand blotting her best copy-book, under my auspices,--in burst Mrs.Huxtable, without stopping to knock as usual.
"Oh Miss Clerer, what _have_ e been and doed? Varmer's in crule trouble.Us'll arl have to goo to gaol to-morrow, chillers and arl."
She was greatly flurried and out of breath, and yet seemed proud of whatshe had to tell. She did not require much asking, nor beat about thebush, as many women do; but told me the story shortly, and then asked meto come and hear all particulars from Tim Badcock the farm-labourer, whohad seen the whole.
Tim sat by the kitchen fire with a pint of cider by him on the littleround table; strong evidence that his tidings, after all, were not sovery unwelcome.
"Wull, you zee, Miss," said Tim, after getting up, and pulling his roughforelock, "you zee, Miss, the Maister coom out this arternoon, in aweist zort of a wai, as if her hadn't had no dinner." Here he gave asly look at "the Missus," who had the credit of stopping the supplies,when the farmer had been too much on the cruise.
"What odds to thee, Tim," she replied, "what odds to thee, what theebetters has for dinner?"
"Noo fai," said Tim, "zo long as ai gits maine, and my missus arlwayshas un raddy. Zo I zed to Bill, zays I, 'Best maind what thee's at boy,there's a starm a coomin, zure as my name's Timothy Badcock.'Howsomever her didn't tak on atarl wi we, but kitched up a shivel, andworked awai without niver a ward. 'Twur the tap of the clave, 'langsideof the beg fuzz, where the braidle road coomth along 'twixt that and thedouble hadge; and us was arl a stubbing up the bushes as plaisant ascould be, to plough thiccy plat for clover, coom some rain, plase God."
"Git on, Tim, wull e," cried his impatient mistress, "us knows arl aboutthat. Cas'n thee tull it no quicker?"
"Wull, Miss," continued Tim, in no hurry whatever, "prasently us zees agirt beg chap on a zort of a brown cob, a coomin in our diraction"--Timwas proud of this word, and afraid that we should fail to appreciateit--"they was a coomin, as you might zay, in our diraction this begchap, and anither chap langside on him. Wull, when 'um coom'd withinspaking room of us, beg chap a' horsebarck hollers out, 'Can 'e tell, mymen, where Jan Uxtable live?' Avore I had taime to spake, Maister liftshissell up, and zaith, 'What doo 'e want to know for, my faine feller?'every bit the zame as ai be a tullin of it to you. 'What's the odds tothee,' zays tother chap, 'thee d'st better kape a zivil tongue in theehead. I be Tom Gundry from Carnwall.' And with that he stood up in hisstarrups, as beg a feller as iver you zee, Miss. Wull, Maister knowedall about Tom Gundry and what a was a coom for, and zo did I, and theboy, and arl the country round; for Maister have gotten a turble namefor rarstling; maybe, Miss, you've a heer'd on him in Lunnon town?"
"I have never been in London, Tim, since I was a child; and I knownothing at all about wrestling."
"Wull, Miss, that be nayther here nor there. But there had been a daleof brag after Maister had thrown arl they Carnishers to Barnstable vair,last year, about vetching this here Tom Gundry, who wor the best man inCornwall, to throw our Maister. Howsomever, it be time for ai to crackon a bit. 'Ah,' zays the man avoot, who zimth had coom to back un, 'ah,'twor arl mighty faine for Uxtable to play skittles with our zecond ratemen. Chappell or Ellicombe cud have doed as much as that. Rackon JanUxtable wud vind a different game with Tom Gundry here.' 'Rackon hewud,' zaith Gundry, 'a had better jine a burial club, if her've got erea waife and vamily.'"
"Noo. Did a zay that though?" inquired Mrs. Huxtable, much excited.
"'Coom now,' my maister zaith, trying to look smarl behaind the fuzz,'thee must throw me, my lad, avore thee can throw Jan Uxtable. He be abetter man mainly nor ai be this dai. But ai baint in no oomer forplayin' much jist now, and rackon ai should hoort any man ai kitchedon.' 'Her that be a good un, Zam, baint it now?' zaith Gundry to littlechap, the very zame as ai be a tullin it now, 'doth the fule s'pose aibe ratten? Ai've half a maind to kick un over this hadge; jist thee holdthe nag!' 'Sober now,' zaith varmer, and ai zeed a was gettin' rad inthe chakes, 'God knows ai don't feel no carl to hoort 'e. Ai'll giethee wan chance more, Tom Gundry, as thee'st a coom arl this wai framCarnwall. Can 'e trod a path in thiccy country, zame as this here be?'And wi' that, a walked into the beg fuzz, twaice so haigh as this hereroom, and the stocks begger round nor my body, and harder nor wroughthiern. A jist stratched his two hons, raight and left, and twitched unup, wan by wan, vor ten gude lanyard, as asily as ai wud pull springinyons. 'Now, wull e let me lone?' zaith he, zo zoon as a coom barck,wi his brath a little quicker by rason of the exarcise, 'wull 'e let melone?' 'Ee's fai, wull I,' zaith the man avoot. 'Hor,' zaith TomGundry, who had been a[#] shopping zumwhere, 'thee cans't do a gudedai's work, my man, tak that vor thee's wages.' And wi' that a lets flyat Maister's vace wi' a light hash stick a carr'd, maning to raide offavore Maister cud coom to's brath again. In a crack Jan Uxtable zetboth his hons under the stommick of the nag, one avore the starrup andone behaind, zame as I maight to this here little tabble, and haved un,harse and man, clane over hadge into Muster Yeo's turmot falde. Thenwith wan heft, a kitched up tother chap, and zent un sprarling after un,zame as if 'twor this here stule after the tabble."
[#] _i.e._ dealing commercially where the staples are liquid.
I thought poor Tim, in the excitement of his story, would have throwntable and stool over the settle to illustrate it; and if he had, Mrs.Huxtable would have forgiven him.
"'Thar,' zaith our Maister, as plaisant as cud be, and ai thought usshud have died of laffing, 'thar now, if zo be the owner of thiccy faldezummons e for traspash, you zay Jan Uxtable zent e on a little arrand,to vaind a Carnisher as can do the laike to he.' And wi' that, a waipedhis hons with a slip of vern, and tuk a little drap of zider, and fullto's wark again."
"Wull, but Tim," asked the farmer's wife, to lose no part of the effect,"what zort of a hadge wor it now? Twor a little hadge maybe, no haighernor the zettle barck."
"Wor it though?" said Tim, "thee knows better nor that, Missus. It bethe beggest hadge on arl the varm, wi' a double row of saplin hash atap.Her maks the boundary betwixt the two parishes, and ain't been trimmedthese vaive year, ai can swear."
"And how be the both on 'em now, Tim? A must have gone haigh enough tochannge the mune.
"Wull, Miss," said Tim, addressing me, for he had told his Mistress allthe story twice, "Tom Gundry brak his collar boun, and zarve 'un raight,for a brak Phil Dascombe's a puppose whun a got 'un in a trap, thattaime down to Bodmin thar; and harse gat a rick of his taial; but thelittle chap, he vell upon his hat, and that zaved him kindly. But Iheer'd down to Pewter Will's, whur I gooed for a drap of zumthin for mywaife's stommick, ai heer'd zay there, as how Constable was a coomin toMaister this very naight, if Carnishers cud have perswadded un. ButConstable zaith, zaith he, 'Twor all along o you Garnish chaps, fustbattery was mad, and fust blow gien, and wi'out you can zhow me SquaireDrake's warrant, I wunt have nout to do wi' it, not ai; and that be lawand gospel in Davonsheer and in Cornwall.'"
"Tim," said Mrs. Huxtable, "I'se warrant thee's niver tould so long aspin up in thee's laife avore. And thee's tould it wonnerful well too;hathn't un Miss Clerer? Zuke, here be the kay of zellar, gie Tim a halfa paint more zider; and thee mai'st have a drap theesell, gall. Waipethee mouth fust."
"Ah," said Tim, favouring me with a wink, in the excess of his glory,"rackon they Carnishers 'll know the wai off Tossil's Barton varm nexttaime, wi'out no saign postesses."[#]
[#] Every word of Tim's story is true, except as regards the names.