While Silas and Eppie were seated on the bank discoursing in the fleckered shade of the ash tree, Miss Priscilla Lammeter was resisting her sister's arguments, that it would be better to take tea at the Red House, and let her father have a long nap, than drive home to the Warrens so soon after dinner.The family party (of four only) were seated round the table in the dark wainscoted parlour, with the Sunday dessert before them, of fresh filberts, apples, and pears, duly ornamented with leaves by Nancy's own hand before the bells had rung for church.
A great change has come over the dark wainscoted parlour since we saw it in Godfrey's bachelor days, and under the wifeless reign of the old Squire.Now all is polish, on which no yesterday's dust is ever allowed to rest, from the yard's width of oaken boards round the carpet, to the old Squire's gun and whips and walking-sticks, ranged on the stag's antlers above the mantelpiece.All other signs of sporting and outdoor occupation Nancy has removed to another room; but she has brought into the Red House the habit of filial reverence, and preserves sacredly in a place of honour these relics of her husband's departed father.The tankards are on the side-table still, but the bossed silver is undimmed by handling, and there are no dregs to send forth unpleasant suggestions: the only prevailing scent is of the lavender and rose-leaves that fill the vases of Derbyshire spar.All is purity and order in this once dreary room, for, fifteen years ago, it was entered by a new presiding spirit.
"Now, father," said Nancy, "_is_ there any call for you to go home to tea? Mayn't you just as well stay with us?--such a beautiful evening as it's likely to be."The old gentleman had been talking with Godfrey about the increasing poor-rate and the ruinous times, and had not heard the dialogue between his daughters.
"My dear, you must ask Priscilla," he said, in the once firm voice, now become rather broken."She manages me and the farm too.""And reason good as I should manage you, father," said Priscilla, "else you'd be giving yourself your death with rheumatism.And as for the farm, if anything turns out wrong, as it can't but do in these times, there's nothing kills a man so soon as having nobody to find fault with but himself.It's a deal the best way o' being master, to let somebody else do the ordering, and keep the blaming in your own hands.It 'ud save many a man a stroke, _I_ believe.""Well, well, my dear," said her father, with a quiet laugh, "Ididn't say you don't manage for everybody's good.""Then manage so as you may stay tea, Priscilla," said Nancy, putting her hand on her sister's arm affectionately."Come now;and we'll go round the garden while father has his nap.""My dear child, he'll have a beautiful nap in the gig, for I shall drive.And as for staying tea, I can't hear of it; for there's this dairymaid, now she knows she's to be married, turned Michaelmas, she'd as lief pour the new milk into the pig-trough as into the pans.That's the way with 'em all: it's as if they thought the world 'ud be new-made because they're to be married.So come and let me put my bonnet on, and there'll be time for us to walk round the garden while the horse is being put in."When the sisters were treading the neatly-swept garden-walks, between the bright turf that contrasted pleasantly with the dark cones and arches and wall-like hedges of yew, Priscilla said--"I'm as glad as anything at your husband's making that exchange o'
land with cousin Osgood, and beginning the dairying.It's a thousand pities you didn't do it before; for it'll give you something to fill your mind.There's nothing like a dairy if folks want a bit o' worrit to make the days pass.For as for rubbing furniture, when you can once see your face in a table there's nothing else to look for; but there's always something fresh with the dairy; for even in the depths o' winter there's some pleasure in conquering the butter, and making it come whether or no.My dear,"added Priscilla, pressing her sister's hand affectionately as they walked side by side, "you'll never be low when you've got a dairy.""Ah, Priscilla," said Nancy, returning the pressure with a grateful glance of her clear eyes, "but it won't make up to Godfrey: a dairy's not so much to a man.And it's only what he cares for that ever makes me low.I'm contented with the blessings we have, if he could be contented.""It drives me past patience," said Priscilla, impetuously, "that way o' the men--always wanting and wanting, and never easy with what they've got: they can't sit comfortable in their chairs when they've neither ache nor pain, but either they must stick a pipe in their mouths, to make 'em better than well, or else they must be swallowing something strong, though they're forced to make haste before the next meal comes in.But joyful be it spoken, our father was never that sort o' man.And if it had pleased God to make you ugly, like me, so as the men wouldn't ha' run after you, we might have kept to our own family, and had nothing to do with folks as have got uneasy blood in their veins.""Oh, don't say so, Priscilla," said Nancy, repenting that she had called forth this outburst; "nobody has any occasion to find fault with Godfrey.It's natural he should be disappointed at not having any children: every man likes to have somebody to work for and lay by for, and he always counted so on making a fuss with 'em when they were little.There's many another man 'ud hanker more than he does.
He's the best of husbands."
"Oh, I know," said Priscilla, smiling sarcastically, "I know the way o' wives; they set one on to abuse their husbands, and then they turn round on one and praise 'em as if they wanted to sell 'em.But father'll be waiting for me; we must turn now."The large gig with the steady old grey was at the front door, and Mr.Lammeter was already on the stone steps, passing the time in recalling to Godfrey what very fine points Speckle had when his master used to ride him.
