The walk had made them hungry, Angel in particular, who was now an outdoor man, accustomed to the profuse dapes inemptae of the dairyman's somewhat coarsely-laden table.But neither of the old people had arrived, and it was not till the sons were almost tired of waiting that their parents entered.The self-denying pair had been occupied in coaxing the appetites of some of their sick parishioners, whom they, somewhat inconsistently, tried to keep imprisoned in the flesh, their own appetites being quite forgotten.
The family sat down to table, and a frugal meal of cold viands was deposited before them.Angel looked round for Mrs Crick's black-puddings, which he had directed to be nicely grilled, as they did them at the dairy, and of which he wished his father and mother to appreciate the marvellous herbal savours as highly as he did himself.
`Ah! you are looking for the black-puddings, my dear boy,' observed Clare's mother.`But I am sure you will not mind doing without them, as I am sure your father and I shall not, when you know the reason.I suggested to him that we should take Mrs Crick's kind present to the children of the man who can earn nothing just now because of his attacks of delirium tremens; and lie agreed that it would be a great pleasure to them; so we did.'
`Of course,' said Angel cheerfully, looking round for the mead.
`I found the mead so extremely alcoholic,' continued his mother, `that it was quite unfit for use as a beverage, but as valuable as rum or brandy in an emergency; so I have put it in my medicine-closet.'
`We never drink spirits at this table, on principle,' added his father.
`But what shall I tell the dairyman's wife?' said Angel.
`The truth, of course,' said his father.
`I rather wanted to say we enjoyed the mead and the blackpuddings very much.She is a kind, jolly sort of body, and is sure to ask me directly I return.'
`You cannot, if we did not,' Mr Clare answered lucidly.
`AH - no; though that mead was a drop of pretty tipple.'
`A what?' said Cuthbert and Felix both.
`Oh--'tis an expression they use down at Talbothays,' replied Angel, blushing.He felt that his parents were right in their practice if wrong in their want of sentiment, and said no more.
Chapter 26 It was not till the evening, after family prayers, that Angel found opportunity of broaching to his father one or two subjects near his heart.He had strung himself up to the purpose while kneeling behind his brothers on the carpet, studying the little nails in the heels of their walking boots.When the service was over they went out of the room with their mother, and Mr Clare and himself were left alone.
The young man first discussed with the elder his plans for the attainment of his position as a farmer on an extensive scale either in England or in the Colonies.His father then told him that, as he had not been put to the expense of sending Angel up to Cambridge, he had felt it his duty to set by a sum of money every year towards the purchase or lease of land for him some day, that he might not feel himself unduly slighted.
`As far as worldly wealth goes,' continued his father, `you will no doubt stand far superior to your brothers in a few years.'
This considerateness on old Mr Clare's part led Angel onward to the other and dearer subject.He observed to his father that he was then six-and-twenty, and that when he should start in the farming business he would require eyes in the back of his head to see to all matters - some one would be necessary to superintend the domestic labours of his establishment whilst he was afield.Would it not be well, therefore, for him to marry?
His father seemed to think this idea not unreasonable; and then Angel put the question--`What kind of wife do you think would be best for me as a thrifty hard-working farmer?'
`A truly Christian woman, who will be a help and a comfort to you in your goings-out and your comings-in.Beyond that, it really matters little.
Such a one can be found; indeed, my earnest minded friend and neighbour, Dr Chant--'
`But ought she not primarily to be able to milk cows, churn good butter, make immense cheeses; know how to sit hens and turkeys, and rear chickens, to direct a field of labourers in an emergency, and estimate the value of sheep and calves?'
`Yes; a farmer's wife; yes, certainly.It would be desirable.' Mr Clare, the elder, had plainly never thought of these points before.`I was going to add,' he said, `that for a pure and saintly woman you will not find more to your true advantage, and certainly not more to your mother's mind and my own, than your friend Mercy, whom you used to show a certain interest in.It is true that my neighbour Chant's daughter has lately caught up the fashion of the younger clergy round about us for decorating the Communion-table - altar, as I was shocked to hear her call it one day - with flowers and other stuff on festival occasions.But her father, who is quite as opposed to such flummery as I, says that can be cured.It is a mere girlish outbreak which, I am sure, will not be permanent.'
`Yes, yes; Mercy is good and devout, I know.But, father, don't you think that a young woman equally pure and virtuous as Miss Chant, but one who, in place of that lady's ecclesiastical accomplishments, understands the duties of farm life as well as a farmer himself, would suit me infinitely better?'
His father persisted in his conviction that a knowledge of a farmer's wife's duties came second to a Pauline view of humanity; and the impulsive Angel, wishing to honour his father's feelings and to advance the cause of his heart at the same time, grew specious.He said that fate or Providence had thrown in his way a woman who possessed every qualification to be the helpmate of an agriculturist, and was decidedly of a serious turn of mind.
