Margaret Oliphant The Cuckoo in the Nest; vol. 1/2
CHAPTER I
The usual traffic was confined to the village; to now and then a pedestrian jogging along on foot, sometimes a tramp, sometimes a tourist; or to a farmer going by to market, who remembered the day when the Hewitts of the Seven Thorns were as substantial a family as his own. It was a house which had come down in the world, with a downfall as greatly felt, as much rebelled against, as the fall of the proudest family in the county could have been. The Hewitts had no pretension to be gentry, but they had been yeomen, farming their own land, and giving a large and well-paid hospitality to man and beast, which involved little that was menial to the family itself. The Richard Hewitt of the day had stood with his hands in his pockets, on his own threshold, talking to his guests about public matters, or the affairs of the county, while his ostlers looked after the horses, and his buxom maid, or rough waiter, brought the gentlemen their beer or more potent draught. He did not touch either horse or glass, but admired the one or shared the other, like any other rustic potentate; and if his pretty daughter glanced out of an upstairs window upon the group at the door, Sir Giles himself would take off his cap, and though perhaps there might be a touch of extravagance in the obeisance, which meant, in his intention, that Patty or Polly was not in the least upon his own level, yet the Patty or Polly of the moment remained completely unconscious of that exaggeration, and blushed, and retired from the window with a delighted sensation of being admired by the gentleman who was always so civil. Alas! these fine days were all past: and when Patience Hewitt now swept out the parlour briskly, as she did everything, and threw fresh wholesome sand upon the floor, and brought in the beer which the young squire, loitering upon the forbidden threshold of the great kitchen, had already several times asked for, the sense of that downfall was as strong in her mind as if she had been the old aunt Patty, old as the world itself, the girl thought, to whom old Sir Giles had taken off his cap.
Patty! Patty! bring us some beer; and be done with that sweepin, and come, theres a ducky, and pour it out yourself.
Go to the parlour, Mr. Gervase; thats your place and not here. If you will have beer in the morning, which is so bad for you, Ill bring it presently; but you know father wont have you here.
If youll have me, I dont mind old Hewitt, not that! said Gervase, snapping his thumb and forefinger.
But I do, said Patience, with a frown. Old Hewitt is my father, and those that dont speak respectful of him had better get out of here, and out of there, too. I wont have a man in the house that dont know how to behave himself, if he was a dozen times the squires son.
The young man in question was a lanky youth, long and feeble upon his legs, with light hair longer than is usual, and goggle eyes, in which there was no speculation. He was very much cowed by Pattys energetic disapproval, and looked as if about to cry.
Dont go on at me like that, Patty, dont, now! Ill swallow old Hewitt, dirty boots and all, before Ill have you frown. And do, do have done with your sweepin and bring us the beer. I never feel right in the morning till I have had my beer.
If you didnt have too much at night, Mr. Gervase, you wouldnt want it in the morning.
Well, and whose fault is that? Ill drink no more beer. Ive promised you, if
If! said Patty: its a big if. If Ill take you up on my shoulders, that aint fit for such a job, and carry you through the world.
Come, thats
too bad, said the young man. Do you think I cant take care of my own wife! I never had any intentions that werent honourable, and that you well know.
You well know, cried Patty, with a flush of anger, that the mere saying you hadnt is enough for me to bundle you neck-and-crop out of this house, and never to speak to you again.
Well! said poor Gervase, youre hard to please. If he cant say that he means well, I dont know what a fellow may say.
If I were in your place, Id say as little as possible, said the maid of the inn.
What a one you are! cried the young squire, admiringly. When were married Ill let you do all the talking. Youll bring round the father and mother a deal sooner than I should. Indeed, they never hearken to me; but, Patty, when you speak
What happens when I speak?
The very rector turns round his head. Ive seen him do it at the church door.
Pooh! the rector! said Patty. Tell me something a little fresher than that.
For, in fact, this young woman scorned the rector as one whom she could turn round her little finger. Had not she, ever since the days when she was the quickest at her catechism, the readiest to understand everything, the sharpest to take any hint, the most energetic in action, been known as the rectors favourite and ally in all parish matters for miles around?
Is that all you think of him? but hes of as good a family as we are; and I shouldnt wonder, said the young man, with a giggle, if Mrs. Bethell were to die, as folk say, that he mightnt come a-wooing to Patty, of the Seven Thorns, same as me.