Now, whether this scene, or the parlour at the Seven Thorns, where the sages of the village opened their mouths every five minutes or so to emit a remark or a mouthful of smoke, or to take in a draught of beer, was the most or rather the least enlivening, it would be hard to say. The sages of the village are sometimes dull and sometimes wise in a book. They were full of humour and character in George Eliots representation of them, and they are very quaint in Mr. Hardys. But I doubt much if they ever say such fine things in reality, and I am sure, if they did, that Gervase Piercey was not capable of understanding them. The beer and the tobacco and the sense of freedom and of pleasing himself also of being entirely above his company, and vaguely respected by them made up the charms of the humbler place to Gervase. And Patty Patty had got by degrees to be the soul of all; but even before Pattys reign began he had escaped with delight from these home evenings to the Seven Thorns. Why? For Sir Giles, even in his enfeebled state, was better company than old Hewitt and his cronies; and Lady Pierceys sharp monologue on things in general was more piquant than anything the old labourers found to say; and Mrs. Osborne was a great deal handsomer than Patty, and would willingly have exerted herself for the amusement of her cousin. But this is a problem to which there is no answer. Far better and cleverer young men than Gervase make this same choice every day, or rather every evening; and no one can tell why.
But Gervase had turned over a new leaf. He went out to the door and took a few whiffs of his pipe, turning his back to the road which led to the Seven Thorns, that the temptation might not be too much for him, and repeating dully to himself what Patty had said to him. And then he went into the library, where they were all assembled, and pushed Dunning away, who was just arranging the board for Sir Giles game. Here! look out; Im going to play with you, father, Gervase said. The old gentleman had been delighted the first
night, pleased more or less the second, fretful the third. You dont understand my play, Gervase, he said.
Oh! yes, I understand your play, father: Dunning lets you win, and thats why you like Dunning to play with you; but Im better, for I wake you up, and youve got to fight for it when its me.
Dunning does nothing of the sort, cried Sir Giles, angrily, Dunning plays a great deal better than you, you booby. Do you let me win, Dunning? Its all he knows!
I ought to be good, Sir Giles, playin with a fine player like you; but I never come up to you, and never will, for I havent the eddication you have, Sir Giles, which stands to reason, as Im only a servant, Dunning said.
There! You hear him: go and play something with Meg; youre never still with those long legs of yours, and I like a quiet game.
Ill keep as quiet as pussy, said Gervase. Whichll you have, father, black or white? and lets toss for the first move.
Now, everybody knew that Sir Giles always played with the white men and always had the first move. Once again the old gentleman had to resign himself to the noisy moves and shouts of his son over every new combination, and to the unconscious kicks which the restlessness of Gervases long limp legs inflicted right and left. Dunning stood behind his masters chair, with a stern face of disapproval, yet trying hard by winks and nods to indicate the course which ought to be pursued, until Gervase threw himself back in his chair, almost kicking over the table with the corresponding movement of his legs, and bursting into a loud laugh. What dye mean, ye old fool, making faces at me over fathers shoulder? Do you mean Im to give him the game, like you do? Come on, father, lets fight it out.
I never said a word, Sir Giles! I hope as I knows my place, cried Dunning, alarmed.
Hold your tongue, you big gaby, cried Sir Giles; but presently the old gentleman thrust the board away, overturning it upon his sons long legs. Ill not play any more, he said: Ive had enough of it. I think I was never so tired in my life. Backgammons a fine game, but one cant go on for ever. Fetch me my drink, Dunning; I think Ill go to bed.
Its all because hes losing his game, cried Gervase, with a loud ha! ha! He had something like the manners of a gentleman at the Seven Thorns, but at home his manners were those of the public-house. The old man dont like to be beaten; he likes to have everything his own way. And Dunnings an old humbug, and lets you have it. But it aint good for you to have too much of your own way. Ive been told that since I was a little kid like Osy; and whats sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, father, dont you know.
Gervase, how dare you speak so to your papa? Come over here, sir, and leave him a little in peace. Where did you learn to laugh so loud, and make such a noise? Come here, you riotous boy. You always were a noisy fellow, making ones head ache to hear you. Sit down, for goodness sake, and be quiet. Meg, cant you find something to amuse him? I dare say hed like a game at cards. How can I tell you what game? If you cant, at your time of life, find something that will occupy him and keep him quiet ! Here, Gervase, hold this skein of silk while Parsons winds it, and Meg will go and get the cards, and perhaps youd like a round game.