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“Let that man bear the loss who loosed it from its moorings。”
But that will not save the vessel—the pretty thing that might
have been a lasting joy。
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Chapter XXXII
Mrs。 Poyser “Has Her Say Out”
HE next Saturday evening there was much excited
discussion at the Donnithorne Arms concerning an
T
incident which had occurred that very day—no less than a
second appearance of the smart man in top…boots said by some to
be a mere farmer in treaty for the Chase Farm； by others to be the
future steward； but by Mr。 Casson himself； the personal witness to
the stranger’s visit； pronounced contemptuously to be nothing
better than a bailiff； such as Satchell had been before him。 No one
had thought of denying Mr。 Casson’s testimony to the fact that he
had seen the stranger； nevertheless； he proffered various
corroborating circumstances。
“I see him myself；” he said； “I see him coming along by the
Crab…tree Meadow on a bald…faced hoss。 I’d just been t’ hev a
pint—it was half after ten i’ the fore…noon； when I hev my pint as
reg’lar as the clock—and I says to Knowles； as druv up with his
waggon； ‘You’ll get a bit o’ barley to…day； Knowles；’ I says； ‘if you
look about you’； and then I went round by the rick…yard； and
towart the Treddles’on road； and just as I come up by the big ash…
tree； I see the man i’ top…boots coming along on a bald…faced
hoss—I wish I may never stir if I didn’t。 And I stood still till he
come up； and I says； ‘Good morning； sir；’ I says； for I wanted to
hear the turn of his tongue； as I might know whether he was a
this…country man； so I says； ‘Good morning； sir： it ’ll ’old hup for
the barley this morning； I think。 There’ll be a bit got hin； if we’ve
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good luck。’ And he says； ‘Eh； ye may be raight； there’s noo tallin’；’
he says； and I knowed by that”—here Mr。 Casson gave a wink—
“as he didn’t come from a hundred mile off。 I daresay he’d think
me a hodd talker； as you Loamshire folks allays does hany one as
talks the right language。”
“The right language！” said Bartle Massey； contemptuously。
“You’re about as near the right language as a pig’s squeaking is
like a tune played on a key…bugle。”
“Well； I don’t know；” answered Mr。 Casson； with an angry
smile。 “I should think a man as has lived among the gentry from a
by； is likely to know what’s the right language pretty nigh as well
as a schoolmaster。”
“Aye； aye； man；” said Bartle； with a tone of sarcastic
consolation； “you talk the right language for you。 When Mike
Holdsworth’s goat says ba…a…a； it’s all right—it ’ud be unnatural for
it to make any other noise。”
The rest of the party being Loamshire men； Mr。 Casson had the
laugh strongly against him； and wisely fell back on the previous
question； which； far from being exhausted in a single evening； was
renewed in the churchyard； before service； the next day； with the
fresh interest conferred on all news when there is a fresh person
to hear it； and that fresh hearer was Martin Poyser； who； as his
wife said； “never went boozin’ with that set at Casson’s； a…sittin’
soakin’ in drink； and looking as wise as a lot o’ cod…fish wi’ red
faces。”
It was probably owing to the conversation she had had with her
husband on their way from church concerning this problematic
stranger that Mrs。 Poyser’s thoughts immediately reverted to him
when； a day or two afterwards； as she was standing at the house…
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door with her knitting； in that eager leisure which came to her
when the afternoon cleaning was done； she saw the old squire
enter the yard on his black pony； followed by John the groom。 She
always cited it afterwards as a case of prevision； which really had
something more in it than her own remarkable penetration； that
the moment she set eyes on the squire she said to herself； “I
shouldna wonder if he’s come about that man as is a…going to take
the Chase Farm； wanting Poyser to do something for him without
pay。 But Poyser’s a fool if he does。”
Something unwonted must clearly be in the wind； for the old
squire’s visits to his tenantry were rare； and though Mrs。 Poyser
had during the last twelvemonth recited many imaginary
speeches； meaning even more than met the ear； which she was
quite determined to make to him the next time he appeared within
the gates of the Hall Farm； the speeches had always remained
imaginary。
“Good…day； Mrs。 Poyser；” said the old squire； peering at her
with his short…sighted eyes—a mode of looking at her which； as
Mrs。 Poyser observed； “allays aggravated me： it was as if you was a
insect； and he was going to dab his finger…nail on you。”
However； she said； “Your servant； sir；” and curtsied with an air
of perfect deference as she advanced towards him： she was not the
woman to misbehave towards her betters； and fly in the face of the
catechism； without severe provocation。
“Is your husband at home； Mrs。 Poyser？”
“Yes； sir； he’s only i’ the rick…yard。 I’ll send for him in a minute；
if you’ll please to get down and step in。”
“Thank you； I will do so。 I want to consult him about a little
matter； but you are quite as much concerned in it； if not more。 I
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must have your opini